#I’ve just been listening to his playlist and pacing around in the kitchen

[rozugold]

I can do whatever I want forever I can do whatever I want forever I can do whatever I want fo

[sanakimohara]

[ YOU ] PT. 2 B. C.

pairing: chan x fem! reader

summary: Stalker AU

playlist:

warnings: MDNI + NSFW + ANGST + SMUT + KIDNAPPING + STALKING + STOCKHOLM SYNDROME + CNC + MENTIONS OF MURDER + TRAUMA + CHOKING + SLIGHT EXHIBITIONISM

type: full fic / angst / smut / horror

a/n: thinking of putting this one on AO3…also did you guys watch their AMAs performance last night?

“Here, baby. It’s your favorite, just like you wanted.”

Chan’s smile stretched wider as he set the items on the table, his eyes full of obsessive warmth as he watched your every move….

Every expression you made.

Every ghost of a shiver that ran up your spine.

Three weeks into being safe and sound with him, you still hadn’t learned to trust him completely:

To completely twist yourself free from the gut-wrenching fear of him.

What would a man like Christopher Chan Bahng do if you made one wrong move, said one nasty word, or refused one of his heartfelt offerings?

You hadn't the courage to get an answer to the question.

Not yet, anyway.

Sitting there in a kitchen you’d only just learned existed down the hall from the room he’d kept you for the first week and a half felt oddly freeing.

It was one of the few places Chan let you roam around in his part-time abode -and only if he was present when you did so.

“There are rules,” he’d told you the first night, having coaxed you to listen to what he had to say if he agreed to unbind you from the bed and against your better judgment and the prying instinct to make a run for the unlocked door behind him…

You sat idly as he eased into a one-sided conversation.

“You have rules…here…with me,” Chan clarified, smiling small, but his voice still holding twinges of directness. “There’s not a lot, and I know you’ll be able to remember them. Responsible as you are…”

He trailed off, eyes softening on you as admiration clouded them.

That singular stare numbed your nerves in the moment. A blatant indication to you of how long and thoroughly he’d been watching you.

He'd been cataloging your life and all its highs and lows.

Chan knew you were responsible because he’d seen it from afar, observing how dedicated you were to keeping the shop in order when your boss wouldn’t. How you made it a point to check your surroundings every time you ventured from your apartment alone.

Now you realize you hadn't been as vigilant or responsible as you thought.

Chan intended to fix that.

Your heartbeat dropped its pace, slowing to a lowered thrum in your ears as you watched him watch you.

Expectations and boundaries spilled from his lips like all those fleeting compliments he’d given you in the record store.

“You have a beautiful smile. Adorable even…”

“Never leave this room without my permission. Everything you’ll ever need is already here, and if you don’t have it, I’ll get it for you. Just ask…”

“I like your taste in music. It’s refreshing to get someone else’s opinions…”

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you. Always. So I know you’re listening and understand what I’m telling you.”

“Sorry, this may be a little forward of me, but would you like to hang out sometime?”

“You will take care of yourself. Shower, get ready, get dressed, and eat every meal I give you. No exceptions. No excuses, princess..”

“It was nice to meet you, pretty girl. I’ll give you a call later! Oh, and thanks for the help..”

“I’m doing this for your good, Y/n. All you have to do is listen…don’t think… listen to me.”

Rules.

Sweet nothings.

They mixed when Chan spoke, blending as you swallowed the urge to sob aloud while he eyed you from the edge of the bed. “Tell me you understand what I’ve said, sweetheart.” The blonde tilted his head, voice warm but expression void of lenient compassion for the pain etched across yours.

Your tongue felt drier at the moment, your head spinning, and your blood cold as you refused to speak to him.

Chan’s eyes narrowed an inch; his slight change in expression made you withdraw.

“I said tell me you understand.”

Your lips parted before you could pull your subconsciousness from the grips of instinctual survival. “Y-yes I under…under..stand…” you croaked quietly, curling in on yourself when he let his lips settle into a minuscule smirk.

“Good girl… learning so fast already…”

A knot of pure hatred mixed with an unfamiliar emotion twisted in your chest upon hearing him casually utter such a demeaning phrase.

It still rang in your head every time he was near you. That same unnamed gut feeling rooted itself in your core with each day you remained entangled in his version of contentment.

Trapping you in his sick and twisted version of a happy home.

A happy life with him and only him.

Chan sat next to you at the kitchen island, twisting his barstool to face yours. He pushed the familiar brown bag and plastic cup to you, inching closer.

“…. Just for you, like I promised.”

You didn’t move, frozen in place by practiced stubbornness and conflicted with your thoughts as you stared at the treat you’d been craving for what felt like half a lifetime…

But if you were doing your math right, counted the hours he was away, and constructed them into the time he spent with you, then that meant…

It’d been three Sundays since he’d taken you from that brick alleyway.

Three…long…tense…suffocating, and confusing …weeks.

The air under your nose wafted with the crisp tinge of warm pastry puff and strawberry filling. Your eyes settled on a dollop of whipped cream melting into the drink.

Your mouth watered, having been stripped of anything overly sweet for weeks, all thanks to Chan’s intentional and well-balanced meals for you.

What he ate, you ate.

The same went for almost anything else you’d experienced in his care.

What he laid out for you to wear, you wore.

What he watched, you watched.

What he said, you obeyed.

Weeks of falling into a nearly sunless state of compliance, unsure of how to feel about it, and even more affairs of becoming entirely comfortable with it sent your mind into a leveled frenzy.

You were beginning to feel odd…

Longing to hear Chan’s keys jingle from down the hall, and his footsteps echoing closer to the locked door of your room, rather than fearing the sounds.

You looked forward to seeing him after hours of being kept alone in a room with only a stack of books to read, a pad of paper and pen, and a strange amount of various stuffed animals to keep you company. Once or twice, you caught yourself beginning to smile when you saw him slip into your room after unlocking it. He greeted you every time, inviting you out of the room for two hours until dinner -which promptly occurred at 10 PM every night.

A twisted sense of security wrestled itself into your psyche. Your heart switched between racing in fear and slowing from unconscious infatuation. Your breaths came easier, and your body relaxed a tad more in his presence.

It was…

Alarming.

So much so that the moment Chan stopped mid-step on his way out of your room for the night before to ask you a question, your sensible train of thought nearly reignited.

Unfortunately, that trickle of sense fizzled back into a fog of conscious paralysis, hearing his voice envelop the room.

“Anything in particular you want tomorrow?”

You swallow hard, slipping underneath the heavy duvet before answering him quietly.

“What..? What do you mean?..”

That is a fair question.

Chan didn't blame you for asking it and was unsure whether to proceed with his offer.

But the pure, unguarded curiosity in your eyes and expression made him continue. “Is there anything special you’d like to have?..” he clarified.

You still said nothing.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before showing a tender smile as if he’d become embarrassed of having to explain his sudden thoughtfulness.

“Think of it like a gift from me to you, princess. Something special since you’ve been so …”

He paused, eyes lowering from your face for a moment, momentarily distant as they settled on the cover pulled over your knees and to your chest.

The straps of the cream-colored chiffon night dress he’d picked out for you that night lowered from your shoulder as you shifted, waiting to hear the rest of his reasoning, and Chan reluctantly drew his gaze back up to your face.

“Good for me…” he clarified under a heavy breath, glad the door partially hid the hardening in his crotch from your wandering eyes.

“I can have..anything?” You pried for options, having narrowed the most apparent forms of escape or attempt at communication with the outside world out of the realm of possibilities.

Chan was an intelligent man.

A highly intuitive one at that.

A man who paid attention to the most minor details. Obvious or not.

Getting anything past him felt like running into a cement wall and hoping it’d eventually vanish and let you pass.

It wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

When you caught his slow nod of approval at your question, you decided that asking a small, harmless question would be a safe decision.

“I want something from the cafe….please…the one I used to. “

“Yeah, no. I remember which one it is, sweetheart….” Chan cut into your response, mind wandering to dangerous places, watching you sink further into the corners and set your doe eyes on him as you did.

It’s sickened him to some degree how hot his blood ran seeing you vulnerable and comfortable all at once in his presence.

There wasn’t a chance in the world he’d be able to keep his hands off you for another week if you kept affecting him this way. Chan purposefully attempted to avoid the feeling, but there was only so much he could do before everything you did affected him.

Called to him…

Begged for him…

God, he wanted to hear you beg for him…

Scream for him…

Chan sucked in a quick breath, head leaning on the doorframe as he shut his eyes and mumbled back to you, “I’ll bring you something from there in the morning. Night, princess..”

And then he was gone again.

You slept a little easier last night, hoping his gesture of intentional goodwill was a sign he was starting to regret his actions. Still, now that hope died in your chest, seeing the pure content on his face as he observed you tentatively reaching for the pastry and latte he'd brought back just for you.

Chan was never going to feel guilty.

Not when everything was perfect between you, especially for him.

The pastry melted on your tongue, warm and sweet but barely easing the weight in your chest, sensing Chan’s gaze on you. Every bite you took was less and less soothing, hardly washed down any more accessible with the few sips of cold caffeine you took between each one, but you refused to give him any more signs of your distress.

If you did, it always seemed to go straight to his head.

Chan fed off of it.

You’d learned that much about him in less than a week.

Despite his constant attempts at heartfelt kindness, your fear of him was his fix.

What a sick bastard…

You swallowed the last bite of the pastry as the thought crossed your mind, crumpling up the parchment it was wrapped in before dropping it into the bag but leaving the half-full cup alone.

“Thank you,” you forced a smile, hints of genuine gratitude coaxing the pleasant expression onto your face, but it was short-lived as Chan shook his head. “Finish all of it,” he instructed, nudging the cup closer to you without glancing at it. “Don’t waste what I give you…”

You stiffen in your seat, “I’m fine. I've had enough, really-“

Your lips immediately pressed shut when he stood, closing in on you until your head lulled back to keep him in your sight. Chan stared down at you, right hand raised to brush across your cheek, and the left picking the latte up from the counter. Every nerve you had spanned to life, chills rising on your skin as he invaded your space and fixed you in place with a void glare.

Chan exhaled slowly, reducing the anger he felt when you refused his demand and replacing it with a controlled ease. “I took time out of my day to get you something special, and I expect you to appreciate it. Open up…” his hand falls to cup your chin, grip tight and promising. You swallow hard, eyes dilating with anxiety as he applies more pressure, progressing until you utter a whine of pain and let your mouth fall slack. “Atta girl…” Chan praises under his breath, caging you in the seat and easing the drink to your parted lips.

Your stomach drops, feeling helpless as he forces you to gulp down the remaining half of the cold caffeinated drink. Your legs twitch and shift between his, nails clawing at the sheer stockings covering your thighs underneath the sweater you wore, and your breaths struggle to remain constant as the liquid pours down your throat and from the corner of your lips.

His hold on your jaw is painful but not as tortuous as the thoughts racing through your mind as you peer up at him through teary eyes.

It hurts, but it feels so…

Why won’t he stop…? Do I want him to…stop?…

You choked as the last drops of the latte drizzled onto your tongue, gasping for air quietly as he released your jaw and tapped your cheek gently. A phantom of pain blooms on your skin, disappearing seconds after the tender slap occurs but snapping you back to reality to hear him speak.

“I need you wide awake for me today. Can’t have you looking too tired when Bin comes over for a visit.”

You stare at him, half dizzy and confused, hearing him mention another’s name.

He hadn’t mentioned his friends, family, or acquaintances before…

Though your throat still burned and your eyes had yet to un-blur completely, you asked, “W-who’s Bin?”…”

Chan smiled, gently kissing your nose since you weren’t in any shape to reel away from him like you had before. Your face warmed from the gesture, your heart fluttering a bit as the distinct feeling of his lips brushing your skin was mildly delightful.

“He's a good friend of mine. Someone I work with often, too. I think you’ll like him a lot.”

Your lips twitched into a timid smile, a mix of relief and desire hanging over your head. “I…I can't wait to meet him. " You shifted around, swiping the back of your right hand across your damp lips to wipe away the coffee left on them and swiftly cover the vague happiness that begged to show itself.

Maybe this ‘Bin’ could be your way out of all of this - a saving grace from the hell you were beginning to settle into.

“Good. Now, get cleaned up. He’ll be here soon.” Chan lifts you from the chair, steadying your drowsy weight against him for a moment before you give him a solemn nod and carefully step past him. An array of ideas starts to cloud your head, gathering traction and precedence over any other thought you have, but they're shattered to pieces when Chan calls out to you from the kitchen.

“Y/n..”

You freeze, hand pressed to the corner of the hallway for support as you peer at him over your shoulder.” Yes?...” you breathe out, uneased by the pleasant smile he flashes you before leaning against the center island. " Don't try anything cute when he's here. Asking for his help won't change a thing.”

“I won’t…”

God fucking damn it-

The sound of another’s voice from down the hall catches your attention, melting into laughter and warm words toward your captor a moment later.

‘Bin’ must be here…

You sniffle at the realization, dabbing the damp white cloth over your mouth several times before rinsing and wringing it out into the bathroom sink. Droplets of caramel coffee swirled down the drain, disappearing like your will to escape began to. Chan’s warning to you was a simple threat—a nicely put one but still a promise of consequences to your preemptive attempts for escape.

A lump settled in your throat as you stared in the mirror above the sink, silently trying to convince your reflection that everything was fine.

That you’d find a way out of this soon.

You wanted to believe the determination written across your features would remain, but it consciously vanished when you quietly stepped out of the bathroom and down the dim hallway. You came to a stop at the hall's edge, peeking from behind it to glimpse at the man Chan seemed to be enjoying a conversation with.

He had black hair, and he was around Chan’s height, too, but a bit more muscled than him. And he sounded pleasant, but by now, you’d learned that assuming a stranger's length of kindness by their words was never a good idea.

With pursed lips and a soft gulp, you shifted to hide behind the corner again, unnerved by the prospect of meeting anyone who took to Chan’s company and afraid of having to endure meeting them yourself without the chance to beg for their help to get away from him.

“Shff..*

Your stockings brush along the floor, catching Chan’s attention and bringing his conversation with Changbin to a sudden halt. He glanced at the corner you hid behind, watching Changbin do the same before saying anything. “Baby, come here. Could you introduce yourself to my friend? Don’t be shy..”

You swallow a groan, peeking around the corner again as if he hadn’t caught your presence already, “H-Hi…” you greet the man sitting across from him in the living room.

Chan shakes his head, eyeing you intently. “Don’t be rude, princess. Come out here and meet him.” Changbin laughs, smiling warmly as he shifts in his seat to see your hidden form better. “I swear I don’t bite:” he joked.

Oh…

He seems harmless, but still...

Your heart jumps with a sense of joy you thought had been snuffed out weeks ago. Warmth floods your cheeks, and seeing him stretch out a hand for you to shake is an added sign of goodwill from him.

“Okay…” you mumble, slipping from the hallway to tentatively shake his hand before repeating your greeting upfront. “Hi.”

Changbin chuckled, his brows raising a bit. “I’m Changbin, and you are? " He seemed genuinely intrigued, glancing between you and Chan before the latter cleared his throat.

“Bin, this is Y/n, the girl I told you about…”

“Oh,” Changbin grinned, holding your hand longer than needed as he stared up at you. “She is cute. No wonder you talk about her so much. " He met your lowered eyes, offering a warm smile you barely returned before retracting his hand from yours. “Wait, how long did you say you’ve been together?”

Chan sighed, shrugging at the question despite knowing its exact answer.

Three weeks, sixteen hours, and forty-three minutes is how long you’d been trapped in his sick fantasy.

He’d been counting every second, and now you were, too.

“Six months next week, Bin.”

“And you've already moved in with him? Must be love at first sight…” Changbin looked between you both, ignoring your aversion to looking at Chan directly or oblivious to the tension between you two.

You didn't answer him, lips pressed shut, and your hands nervously twiddling behind your back. Chan answered for you, rising from his spot on the couch to pat Changbin’s stout shoulder as he came to stand by your side. “Must be. Right, sweetheart?” The skin of your lower back gathers goosebumps, feeling his hand firmly plant itself there, thumb tracing the trial of your spine as he eases you closer to him. Your tongue falls flat in your mouth, your body weak and tense all at once from the weight of his touch. Afraid to use your voice without letting out an unseemly sound, you give a gentle no, eyes fluttering between Changbin and Chan, who smile at your silent agreement.

“Are you always this quiet around strangers?” Changbin chuckles, and you embarrassingly shake your head, pressing against Chan’s side as he speaks for you. “Or maybe you're just really loud,” he retorts, inwardly brimming with pride, feeling your body shift towards his for comfort.

Finally.

You were learning to trust him.

To depend on him.

Changbin rolls his eyes, his mouth ticking into an unaffected smirk. “I'm the right amount loud. Otherwise, your tracks would only get so far.” Chan’s body goes rigid at the teasing jab, startling you when his grip on your lower back shifts to your hip to knead the soft skin. You whine quietly as his fingertips bare down on the muscle. The hold grounds him but unnerved you.

He was upset.

That much you could tell, but Chan didn't let anger cloud his features, shrugging off Changbin’s usual innocent jabs at him, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Bin. “

Said man huffs, staring at Chan for a few seconds before returning to you. “Want to join us for a little bit? I know Chan says you like to spend your free time alone doing your own thing, but since you're here-”

“I’d love to!” Your mouth moves before your mind computes a careful response, growing into a sheepish smile as Changbin laughs at your impulsive reaction. Conversely, Chan seems stiffer by the second, not angered but vaguely displeased.

You ignored it, forcing your nerves to settle despite feeling the air around him thicken with masked tension. “So, what were two talking about earlier? From what I heard, it sounded like a fun conversation.” You smile at Changbin, hoping he'll see the desperation hidden in your eyes as you slip away from Chan and hurry to sit beside him on the sofa.

You're too close to him.

He's too close to you.

That's your first strike, and you don't even realize it.

Chan makes no move to point out your blatant mistake, either. His expression slips into a hardened glare as the two of you converse without him. His eyes burn into the side of your head, fixated on every fluctuating reaction you have to Changbin.

The spark of yearning that returns to your pretty eyes as they focus on him.

The gentle nods you give while he speaks.

How you are a bit closer to him when an intriguing topic extends itself.

Every little thing begins to irritate Chan.

You'd been huddled close to him only a minute ago like a trapped mouse, scared of a stranger and seeking his protection...

And now, here you are, eating up anything and everything his Changbin did or said.

Ungrateful.

Disrespectful.

A little liar is what you were.

Chan couldn't look past it, even as the hours ticked by. He joined in the pleasant conversations that dwindled into laughter over several shared take-out dishes, but he refused to give you the benefit of the doubt any longer. Barely tempering his envy of the attention and comfort you shared with Changbin when he'd done everything for you to earn such things for himself.

So ungrateful.

So fucking needy for another man's attention…

Chan counted down the seconds until Changbin’s phone rang half past one in the morning, vibrating on the glass coffee table you sat in front of with him.

“Hold on. Let me get this real quick,” Changbin said, snatching his phone from the table. He offered you a kind and apologetic smile to make up for shortening your moving conversation. “It's okay,” you mouthed, hands raised to wave off his unneeded reasoning as you watched him stand up to take the call in the hallway. Changbin ruffled his free hand through your hair, giving a silent ‘thank you’ on his way out of the room, flashing Chan a cheeky grin as he disappeared around the corner.

You stared at the empty spot next to you, still reeling through ideas of how to gain Changhins help or at least convince him to let you use his phone without Chan knowing…

But the blonde hadn't left you alone or taken his eyes off you and Changbin for a second the entire time he was there. If anything, Chan watched you painfully closer, looming like a shadow in every interaction and a little too good at insulating you had a healthy, willing, and established relationship with him.

Even if that was the furthest thing from the truth.

Nonetheless, Changbin hadn't shown any signs of recognizing the reality of your unwanted arrangement. You had no chance to subtly hint at it to him, aware of Chan’s vigilance even when he wasn't directly involved in the friendly exchanges.

You'd more than once caught him staring you down, arms folded over his chest, and his jaw set into a tight angle. A shiver ran up your spine every time you caught the look in his eyes.

How cold those brown irises turned, filling with deepening jealousy.

If you hadn't felt trapped and endangered before…

You felt that way now.

Your gaze refused to shift from the carport you sat on, hands twiddling in your lap as your heart raced a little faster second by second.

“You think I'm stupid, baby girl?”

You immediately shake your head ‘no’ as he speaks under the distant sound of Changbin’s ongoing phone call.

Chan scoffs, his head ticking once, and bites back with a wry smile. “Hm. So, she's a fucking liar too…”

It's a statement—an observation he's made, and you cannot deny it.

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach, lodged there as you shake your head again and finally set your eyes on his.

“Chan, please...I’m not-“

“Shut up.”

Silence.

The moment his command hits your burning ears, a cold, heavy, and suffocating silence blankets the room. He lets it settle, holding your doe-eyed stare with a sharp glare. “Come here.”

Your hands freeze, tears welling in your eyes, but you blink them away.

Crying never works on Chan.

Never.

Your head lowers as you shift onto your knees and grip the coffee table's edge to stand up, a tremble catching your fingers as the cold glass amplifies the heat of anxiety taking over you.

“No,” Chan seethes out, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees, head resting against his left hand as the right beckons you toward him, familiar veins contracting through them from the subtle gestures he makes.“Crawl.”

You swallow like he's shoved a lead pill down your throat by voicing the command, frozen in thinly veiled hesitancy as he waits for you to follow it.

The last remnants of pride and brimming hope melt away from you, drained out of your body as it shifts back from the edge of the table and onto the floor again. Chan watches you lower down to be on your hands and knees, your soft cheeks dampening with a few stray tears as you crawl towards him with timid caution in every move you make. The heat you feel rises to your face, painting it a solemn red when you settle between his legs. Chan plants his feet, making room for you and quickly locking you in his range.

“Turn around,” he whispers, left index finger making a small circle to emphasize the instruction. Slowly, you shift to face away from him, pleading with an invisible force to ease your panic, unable to see what he will do and anticipate when he’ll do so.

Chan hadn’t raised a hand to you. Not once.

He could be rough, drag, and move you with pointed strength when he felt you needed a firmer guide, but hitting you?

Never.

Him showing any sign of brute physicality towards you?

Never.

You’d begun to realize Chan didn’t need to exert force, always expressing it in his words, expressions, and acts of service rather than using violence.

So, your fear -that swirling and dizzying uncertainty you’d felt for weeks- stemmed from a much deeper and deranged concept your mind had conjured up.

You weren’t afraid of Chan.

No…

You were terrified of just how far and how many demented things you’d be willing to let him do to you…

Even if he’d cornered you into them.

Forced you.

You wanted him to do that on a certain level of consciousness. To give up fighting his insistence on loving you his way and bask in it for as long as he’d let you.

You’d begun dreaming about it day and night. Constantly fantasizing about him when you should hate him with every breath you take.

God, you wanted to hate him, claw at him, make him feel the pain you felt sitting alone in the room he kept you locked away in.

But the moment Chan’s breath spanned the nape of your neck, warm and slow as he breathed you in from behind, your head was empty of malicious intent towards him. All you could focus on was him: the smell of his cologne, the heat from his body, and the quiet hum of his satisfaction that seeped straight through your reddened ears down to the space between your legs.

His voice alone made you ache in a way you refused to acknowledge.

You pressed your thighs together, praying the steady pulse in your core would vanish if you tried hard enough to hide it.

You should’ve known better than to hope for any small triumph of self-control being near Chan because the second he saw you tense up and circle your hips, he tugged you back into him.

His left hand grasps the tousled hair at the back of your head, pulling and twisting, while the right grips your throat. A soft gasp of pain and moderate shock left your lips as he reared your head backward with a rough force on your hair, muffling the surprised sighs you let out by pressing the pads of his fingers directly against the nerves of your neck. Chan left you no choice but to inhale sharply through your nose, eyes trained on the twists and turns of your expression while his own remained inches wholly and away stoic.

You clawed at his right hand on intuition, longing for the burning need for air to settle into your lungs. Helpless abs, afraid of your excitement, you struggled against his hold on you, eyes shut tight when he choked you harder and grazed his nose along your cheek until he reached your ear. His lips pressed into a smile, lingering over the sensitive skin as he spoke to you. “I don’t want to hurt you…but,” he exhales, something kin to a groan falling from his mouth before he continues, “…I can’t keep letting you get away with this, baby girl.”

You shudder, stifling a frustrated whimper as Chan places a chaste kiss on the tip of your ear, nuzzling your head with his own as his proper slips under your ankle and forces it apart from your left one—immediate defiance courses through you being put into a new, compromising position.

Held tight against him, barely able to breathe, and legs now spread for him to see what you’d been trying to hide for nearly two weeks.

Clear evidence of how badly you wanted him.

How far you’d fallen into craving him.

Your heart stopped dead in its tracks as cool air enveloped the forming wet patch on your sheer rose pink underwear, barely hidden under the hem of your skirt. Chan whistled lowly at the sight, staring down at the evident mess you were making of yourself.

“Get a look at that, Princess…” he taunted you in a daze, watching your hips twist and buck as you tried to close your legs again and break away from him, but Chan held you steady the more you fought him.

The tears you fought so hard to hold back began to slip past your flutter lashes, dampening your burning cheeks and drizzling down to coat the veiny hand, practically suffocating you. “No…stop…I-it’s not…“ you stumbled to find an excuse, something to say that’d convince him and yourself that your arousal wasn’t natural.

But it was.

And it was thriving by the minute.

Chan bit into his lower lip, glancing over at the corner Changbin had yet to come walking around.

You could faintly hear the other man still speaking to whoever had called him but instantly pushed his princes to the back of your mind, hearing Chan’s voice melt through the air around you. “What am I going to do with you, pretty girl?” He muses, formulating answers to his question while you shiver at its implications. “You’ve been so good, too..” his praise warms your core, numbing your mind as he builds upon it.

“Doing whatever I tell you…” Chan smiles, gaze trained between the hallway entry and your vulnerable position. “Treating yourself better..”

You whine at that, feeling picked apart and full of yourself all at once by him.

“Being the good girl I knew you could be for me,” Chan mutters, his voice warm as new honey and his hand slowly shifting downward in your hair.

Past the nape of your neck, over your shoulder, down to your chest. You tense under his traveling touch, unconsciously arching up against the palm of his heavy hand as it gently kneads your left breast before attending to the right in the same manner.

Your head leers into his shoulder relaxed against the tight muscle he keeps hidden by a black shirt. A soft moan escaped your lips as they parted to attempt to catch a new breath, muffled by the crook of his neck as you inched closer to him the longer he shamelessly groped your chest.

Chan tongued his cheek, feeling your breathy moans fan over his skin, sending rivers of heat down his back, urging him to slip his hand under the hem of the lacey white camisole you wore. “I was so proud of you, baby girl…” he chuckled, eyes cutting towards the hall again before he pushed the half excuse for a shirt up above your perked breasts. You flinched, startled by his intent to fully expose you when his friend was just down the hall, but Chan wasn’t the slightest remorseful or cautious as he palmed your chest. He took his time, thumb rolling over around each of your nipples, slipping to knead your stomach when you arched for more.

“So…so proud,” he mumbles, studying the quick rise and fall of your chest as you try to breathe normally, hands moving to grip your forearm and wrist for a sense of support as he tortures your resolve. “Chan…Chan…please… sorry…I..” you give up speaking, too all over the place mentally to get a coherent sentence out, and ready to accept your fate in any way he gave it to you.

“But I guess even the best of girls need a little reminder, yeah?” Chan peers into your eyes, smiling softly and vaguely playful, but his tone is the furthest thing from it. You shake your head, brows knitting together in desperation. “No!” Chan, please…please, I promise…I’ll be good… I-I promise..”

Your pleading sinks into the room in hushed whispers, scarcely heard by anyone but him, and you watch his expression soften hearing it.

Was that…

Pity…?

Guilt?..

You couldn’t quite place the look on his face as he stared at you, but seconds later, it vanished, replaced with a smile you knew meant nothing good for you.

“I wish I could believe you, baby. I do, but you’ve earned exactly what’s coming to you.”

Chan exhales slowly, letting the hand he has splayed across your stomach inch further down to firmly cup your covered cunt and press his palm against the patch of cum spreading in the thin fabric covering it. You gasped loudly at the contact, hoping Changbin didn’t hear the lewd sound as it dwindled into a low whine.

Chan soaks in your visceral reaction to being touched indirectly, pressing his middle and ring finger into your underwear until he can feel the warmth of your cunt cover then and leak with pent-up arousal. You bit back a strangled scream at the intrusion, reveling in it and greedily rolling your hips forward against his hand for more. The tips of your toes curled through the thigh-high socks you wore because he seemed to like seeing you in them.

Your legs fell further apart, trembling with pleasure as he pumped his thick fingers into your fluttering cunt, soaking them and your ultimately useless panties in cum, and only stopping when the sound of Changbin’s footsteps came from down the hall.

Chan huffed, openly disappointed by the oncoming disruption but content with the state he’d put you in.

“The minute he leaves, you’re mine.” He groans into your ear, releasing you from his hold and readjusting your skirt and shirt before he helps you sit up straight. You blush, rightfully speechless, while he runs a hand through your hair to fix it just as Changbin rounds the corner.

a/n: I have such an intense migraine and it’s killing meeee

other links: n/a yet…

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

Sluttiest thing this man has ever done is that dammed teaser skit with that obnoxious ass stare and deep voice combo. He looked way too fine with that mask on and he knew it!!! 🖤 credits to creator!

[folkloresthings]

TOLERATE IT / FA14.

in which the older sister of lando norris finds herself teetering dangerously towards the precipice of her brother’s, significantly older, colleague.

( fernando alonso x norris!reader )

track one: gold rush. track two: delicate. track three: labyrinth. track four: false god. track five: happiness. track six: the 1. track seven: daylight. track eight: lover.

✩⡱ warnings: age gap! reader is 25, fernando is 41.

TWITTER.

INSTAGRAM.

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yourusername back in london town

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landonorris mum asked if you’re coming to dinner on sunday?

⤷ yourusername tell her yes, i’ll bring dessert, and please teach her how to text

user queen is back in the same city as me i might cry

lewishamilton i’ll be around next week, we should grab coffee!

⤷ yourusername only if you bring roscoe

⤷ lewishamilton yes ma’am 🫡

user im going to miss her in the paddock :(

⤷ user fingers crossed she’s back after the break

it was rather refreshing, to be back in your own apartment after weeks of living hotel to hotel. knowing where everything is, cooking for yourself, spending every night under your own covers. granted, after nights spent close to fernando’s side, your double bed felt much emptier than it did before.

with the summer break begun, the lack of work was leaving you with little to do. and the apartment had been sitting empty for weeks, desperate for a deep cleaning. so, clad in an old shirt and some shorts, you got to work. halfway through wiping down the entire kitchen, your phone rang, silencing the nineties hits playlist you’d had on.

hurrying over in your fluffy socks, you glanced down at the ringing screen. fernando. you hadn’t seen him since that morning lando had shown up in your hotel room. frankly, after your conversation with your brother, you fled the country as quickly as you could.

“hi,” you greeted him tentatively, after answering the call. he was quiet on the other end, your heart picking up its pace with every moment of silence.

“you left without saying goodbye,” he eventually speaks, voice monotone and heavy. you curse him mentally for being so unreadable, so plain when he wants to be.

you sigh, a finger rubbing your brow bone as you settle yourself on the couch. “i’m sorry, ‘nando.”

you weren’t sure of what else to say. you glanced at the time, ten minutes past eleven, wondering what time it was where fernando was. still in belgium? back home in spain? he wasn’t here, and that seemed to squeeze at your heart.

“so, what does this mean?” the question you had been dreading. the question you had asked yourself the whole plane ride home, and every moment since.

“i don’t know,” you murmured, truthfully. “it’s so complicated. if… if we keep this up, we’ll only get attacked. and lando will constantly be on edge — i don’t know if he could ever really accept it.”

“we could make him—” fernando begins to argue, and you can hear the frustration in his voice now.

“please, just listen.” he falls quiet and you lean back into the cushions. “i won’t be able to live knowing my brother didn’t approve. i can’t lose him, ‘nando, he’s my best friend. but…”

your lip wobbles, a tear slipping down your cheek. one you quickly wipe away, willing your emotions to get back in shape. fernando notices the shake in your breath, and his heart breaks when he realises he can’t do anything to help.

“but… the time we spent together, it was wonderful. you’ve taken my whole heart and i’ve happily let you keep it. it’s not something i want to let go of.”

“can’t we have both?” fernando asks, ready to beg you to stay. “lando will come around. and who cares about the press? we’d have each other, that’s what matters.”

“and what if it goes wrong?” you ask, almost too sharply. “what then? i can never come to a race again, because i won’t be able to face you? or we make it awkward between you and lando? he really looks up to you, fernando.”

“what could go wrong?” he asks, though he knows the answer. he knows about his own mistakes, and the reputation that came from it. but he would never dare break your heart, for it would only ruin his own.

“fernando…”

“mi amor, please…” he doesn’t care how desperate he sounds, because he is desperate. desperate to love you, to have you forever. “at least let us try.”

you consider it for a moment, you really do. torn between the possible love of your life and your baby brother, the hellish debacle of the century. but blood ran thicker than water, right?

“we never should have started this,” you brave the words, though they stab you in the process. but you know the only way to do this is to hurt him, to give him a reason to stay away. no matter how it kills you. “we can’t go on. it’s not like it ever could have worked, and you know it’s true.”

“no,” he replies firmly, holding himself together. “no, i’m not letting you go that easily.”

“i’m sorry, fernando. try and enjoy your break, okay?” you click the red end call button before he can reply, turning your phone off and sinking into the cushions, body soon racking with gentle sobs.

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lando.jpg home sweet home

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user back with the y/n content, the people’s princess 🫶🫶🫶

pierregasly y/n’s cooking 🔛🔝

carlossainz55 i want a norris family dinner rn

user Y/N’S SO CUTE

fernandoalo_official enjoy ❤️

writers note: whoopsies. this is short sorry i’m super duper busy atm 💌

[gooddaysmeanwritingdays]

Bad Days

Pairing: Steven Grant x gn!Reader, Marc Spector x gn!Reader, Jake Lockley x gn!Reader Fandom: Moon Knight Warnings: Reader has a bad day and snaps at their darlings, hurt/comfort, so much fluff, swearing Word Count: 3.6k Summary: You had a bad day and your darlings take care of you

A/N: This fic is set after the show (like 4 years? after) where Reader and their darlings are in an established relationship. This is my first fic (and first x Reader fic ever) on here so I really have no idea what I'm doing. It also started out in first person POV before I changed it to 2nd person POV (so let me know if you see any errors

I also made a playlist for this fic you can feel free to listen to as you read this 💖

Divider by @maysdigitalarts

“How was work, love?” Steven asked, smiling as you walked through the door. There was a soft smile on his face—one he always greeted you with—as he stood up from the couch, but it faltered when he noticed your thunderous expression. “That bad, hmm?”

“I swear to fucking God—” you slammed the door “—if I have to listen to Gloria talk about her cat for another fucking minute, I’ll go mad.” Anger bubbled away beneath your skin, and you wanted to scream. “She wouldn’t stop talking, and when I finally got away, I’d missed my bus and got shit on by a bird!”

You threw your bag on the couch, not caring when it dropped to the floor, and everything spilled out. “I’ve told her time and time again that I couldn’t care less about her damn cat, but it’s like she doesn’t care! She just keeps talking!” You paced about the floor, getting angrier by the minute. “And then when I finally got to my car, I got stuck in all the traffic! It’s like every man and his fucking dog was on that road! And you want to know why there was traffic?”

You turned to Steven and he leaned against the kitchen bench, watching you patiently, warmly. “Why?”

“Because there was a fucking parade! But did they think to tell anyone? Nooo!” You threw your hands in the air. “How the fuck are we supposed to plan around it if we don’t even know about it?” You pressed a hand to your hair, knowing you needed to calm down—Steven didn’t need to hear this. “Ugh! A simple sign would have been nice! They have all the fucking voting signs up, why can’t they put one up about a parade blocking half the fucking road?”

You wound your fingers through your hair and pulled until the sting of the roots grounded you. You could hear Steven’s footsteps behind you as he came closer, but when he rested his hands gently on your shoulders you shied away. Hurt flashed in his eyes, but you couldn’t stop to apologise. It felt like the entire world was vibrating and your skin crawled when he touched you. You knew you needed to explain that it wasn’t him—that it was you entirely, but all you could think about then was escape. You needed to get out of there. The fastest way possible. Before you said something you didn’t mean.

“I– I need a minute,” you said in way of the only apology you could make then. “I just– I need a minute.”

Steven covered up the hurt with a nod and a small smile as you started to back away. “I’ll be here, love.”

There was a shift in him as you darted for the balcony; a tightening in his posture and a lowering of his brows as he watched you go. Your heart broke a little as you recognised the switch. After everything that had happened, it was still Marc’s instinct to take control whenever Steven was hurting. And it broke your heart to see them both hurting because of you.

You slipped outside, your skin crackling and soul snapping as everything caught up with you. It was still raining lightly, but you were too hot to care.

You scrabbled for your earphones, snarling at them when they got tangled. Eventually you got them out and into your phone jack, and it felt like you could finally breathe as your music started coming through the tiny speakers. It was a playlist Steven had made specially for your—every song designed to soothe the ache of your soul on the bad days.

You stepped up against the railing and closed your eyes as the rain tapped against your skin and the music wafted through your ears. You dropped your head against the cold metal railing and let out a long breath.

It was like today had been designed just to piss you off. You were good at your job, but today you had made every mistake possible. Half-awake you’d switched the good coffee for the decaf your boss left for the rude guests, then you’d sent the rejection letter to the wrong client, and to top it all off you’d then eaten Kathy’s terrible tuna sandwich instead of the curry you’d been craving since you’d rolled out of bed.

But after all of that, you’d still managed to finish early and laugh with your co-workers about how you needed more sleep. Because you’d been so excited to go home to see the one person you knew could make your whole day brighter that that stuff hadn’t mattered. Not really. Not when you could go home to his arms and just relax.

But then you’d run into Gloria from the accounting firm next door, and it had only gotten worse from there. It was like every possible obstacle and frustration had been placed in your path to keep you away from your darling.

You closed your eyes, your anger switching slowly to regret and self-loathing as you thought of the man back inside. Your darling Steven. The one you’d just snapped at when he’d tried to help you. The one who was never anything but good and kind and wonderfully beautiful. The one who always greeted you with a loving smile and a warm hug. He made your soul sing and your heart soar. The world brightened with every second he was in it, and you’d snapped at him like some hateful idiot.

Suddenly tears were pressing against your eyes, and you were regretting all of it. You swallowed thickly. You turned around and slid to the ground so that your back was against the railing. You pulled your knees to your chest and dropped your head into your arms atop them.

You were always like this. Whenever you got mad, you’d push people away. And if they tried to touch you it only got worse. When you got mad like that, it was like your skin was crawling whenever someone touched you—and you hated it. It was like you could have peeled off your skin just to get away from the touch of someone else’s skin on yours.

Because when you were mad, you just wanted to be left alone.

And it never mattered with anyone else because they never mattered, but with your darling Steven—it broke your heart.

You took a deep breath, clearing out the lump in your throat and tipped your head back to the sky. You and your darlings lived on the fourth floor, and the two floors above you didn’t stick out as far, so whenever it rained, the last two rows of tiles on our balcony would always get wet. Like right now. Right now, the tiles beneath you were wet and soaking into your pants, and the rain above you was dripping down your cheeks. And you loved it.

Anger made you hot, and there was nothing better than cool rain and soft music to calm you down.

Logically, you knew today hadn’t been that bad. Only Brad had been unfortunate enough to drink the decaf before he’d switched it, and the client had laughed with you about the mix-up, glad it wasn’t for them. And Kathy had actually thanked you for the excuse to buy lunch than have that sandwich she’d been dreading.

And on better days you didn’t mind talking to Gloria about her cat. It reminded you of the one you’d had growing up. You’d laugh about the copious amounts of cat fur left behind and the crazy runs they’d do after toilet trips.

And traffic wasn’t fun for anyone, but normally you could deal with it with good music and the windows down.

But today was a bad day. And bad days meant crappy moods and jittery limbs.

Your life had been full of bad days before you’d met your darling. Between your parent’s furious divorce and their absentee parenting skills, bad days had been constant growing up. But then you’d met Steven and Marc and the good days had started to balance out the bad days. Even Jake with his teasing had helped brighten the world.

But being in love didn’t mean good days forever. Sometimes the bad days would creep in, and the only way to get through them was soft music and cold things. And patience.

The cold rain seeped through your pants and the shoulders of your shirt, and you took another deep breath. You filled your lungs and let the cold and the wet and the soft music seep in, and you let out the bad moods and the jittery limbs and the crawling skin.

You took a deep breath.

And another.

And another.

And with every deep breath you breathed in the good and breathed out the bad.

***

By the time you opened your eyes again, the sun had gone down, and the drizzle had stopped. Inside, the lights were on, and you could see your darling moving about the kitchen. Even amidst everything bad, you couldn’t help but smile as you watched him. Your heart ached with how much you loved him—all of them.

Steven had been the first—the easiest—to fall in love with. With his shy smiles and passionate ramblings. There were many nights you’d fallen asleep to the sound of his voice, already head over heels for him—even if you hadn’t known it then. It had been like falling in love with your best friend. Easy, soft, and oh-so right.

Marc had been harder. After everything, he hadn’t believed he was worth loving, or that anyone ever could. And he’d been so angry. The number of arguments the two of you had had in the beginning could have started wars. But somewhere between those arguments, you’d fallen for him. With unwavering determination to do right, and that smile he’d give when he thought you weren’t looking—oh that smile could launch a thousand ships.

And Jake… Jake had been a surprise. Marc and Steven had only been half aware of him when you’d started dating them, but when you’d finally met him, loving him was like falling asleep—ridiculously impossible. Every second with him had infuriated you to no end. With his awful smirks and constant teasing, you’d hated every minute. Except not really. Because with every smirk there was a never-ending supply of morning cuddles and late-night talks. Falling in love with Jake had never been a choice—and certainly not one you’d ever change.

Because falling in love with your darlings was easy and impossible and inevitable.

And hurting them was like nails in your heart.

You could feel tears brewing behind your eyes again as you watched them inside, but you swallowed them down. You didn’t have the energy for tears now. All you wanted was to go back inside, into the arms of the men you loved and ask for their forgiveness.

You stood up, joints crackling with disuse, and walked back inside. Marc turned at the sound of the door and watched you—wariness in his eyes—as you set your phone and earphones down.

“Sorry,” you whispered into the quiet, knowing he wasn’t going to say anything until you did. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. Today was a bad day.”

He leaned against the countertop, setting the towel down slowly. “How do you feel now?”

There was a wariness in his posture that made your heart ache. You’d been together for four years now, and you’d had plenty of bad days—enough for your darling to know that sometimes the rain and the music didn’t always help.

And you couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t mistrust behind that wariness. You knew Marc loved you—it was something he’d never let you forget—but protecting Steven had always been his first priority. And so you couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t—deep down—some part of Marc that thought you would hurt Steven too.

You took a deep breath around the pain that thought brought up. You took your time, wanting to give him an honest answer. “Tired,” you said finally, shoulders slumped. “I just want this day to be over.

Tenderness flooded Marc’s features, and he held his arms out to you. “Come here, baby.”

You were in his arms in an instant, melting when he pulled you in tighter. You breathed him in and shuddered in relief to finally be home.

You pressed your face into the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I shouldn’t have snapped.”

“You don’t need to apologise, baby.” He pressed his lips to the crown of your head. “We don’t get to control our bad days.” He wound his fingers through your hair as his other arm tightened around your waist. And just like he knew what you were going to say, he said, “And even if all you had were bad days, I’d still love you just as much as I do now.”

Marc shifted against you and Steven’s voice whispered through, “We all would, love.”

You whimpered softly at the love in their voices. Because that was always a worry of yours, on the bad days—and even the good ones. That eventually you’d push your darlings away. That there would be something that would finally push them over the edge and be the final straw.

But every time, they’d just pull you closer and tell you how much they loved you.

You pulled him closer and whispered, “Thank you.”

“Always, mi vida.”

***

It was when you started shivering that he finally pulled away. Jake cupped your cheek and tilted his head back to the bathroom behind him. “Shower time. Can’t have you shivering all night—you’ll make me look bad, mi vida.”

You snorted lightly at his teasing, making him grin that full gorgeous grin you so loved.

“There you are,” he murmured, dropping his forehead to yours. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you whispered back, leaning into his touch. “I missed you.”

He kissed your forehead softly. “I missed you too.” Jake interlocked your fingers and pulled you towards the bathroom after him. “Come on. Shower time.”

As he got the water to the perfect temperature—burning hot—you stripped wordlessly before stepping into the shower. You sighed in delight under the water, enjoying the burn to your skin. Jake’s grip on your hand loosened as he stepped back to let you enjoy your shower, but you pulled him closer, not ready to let go of him yet.

He stepped in behind you without hesitation—clothes still on—already knowing what you were asking. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer as he stepped under the spray. You dropped your head to his shoulder and let the rest of the tension melt away. Between the hot water and the arms of your darling around you, you could think of no better place to be.

“Better, mi vida?” he murmured, drawing circles against your skin.

“I’m always better when you’re around,” you sighed, leaning into his touch.

Jake let out a soft, choked noise as he pressed his face into your hair and pulled you closer. “Flirt,” he said in a strangled voice.

You smiled into his shoulder. You’d meant every word of it. Since coming into your life Jake, Marc and Steven had made every second of it better. Even the bad days like today were infinitely better than if you’d been alone.

“We’re better when you’re around too, love,” Steven whispered, holding you so tenderly you could have cried. Instead, you just pressed a kiss to his jaw.

Grabbing the soap behind you, he started gently massaging the suds into your skin. He took his time, and you were content to lean into them entirely. You closed your eyes and let them take care of you. It was rare you all had a chance to take your time like this, and you wanted to bask in it. To bask in the attention of your darlings as they planted soft kisses along your shoulders.

You wanted to stay like this forever.

You didn’t know who was in charge of the body now, but you didn’t mind one bit. You knew each of your darlings loved you entirely—just as you loved them—and in times like these you didn’t need to know when they loved you so wonderfully.

They let you stand under the water for another minute before reaching behind you to turn it off. There was a fond smile in his voice as he said, “Come on, baby.” He wrapped a towel around you as you groaned half-heartedly, your head still resting on his shoulder. He laughed as you tried to reach behind you to turn the water back on. “If I let you stay in until you were finished, baby, the world would run out of water.”

“And?” you murmured, not seeing his point at all.

He chuckled lightly and your lips tipped up at the corners at the beautiful sound. “And you wouldn’t be able to have another hot shower ever again.”

“You make a decent point, my darling.” You lifted your head slightly to level him a serious look, even if he could see the tired amusement in your eyes. “But I have an even better counterpoint.”

“Hmm?” He raised an eyebrow as he dried you off. “And what’s that, love?”

“Hot water,” you replied with finality, and he laughed.

He cupped your cheeks in his warm palms. “You are ridiculous, mi vida.” He pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose with a smile.

“But I’m your ridiculous,” you said with a half-smile, pulling the towel tighter around you.

He shook his head with a smile. “Yes. You are my ridiculous. Our ridiculous.” He pressed a soft, gentle kiss to your lips that you leaned into entirely. “Now—our ridiculous—how about we go to bed?”

That sounded like heaven. “But you’re all wet.” You pointed to his soaking clothes.

“And whose fault is that, love?”

You thought about it for a second. “Yours, darling.”

His smile was soft and endearing as he handed you your pyjamas before grabbing his own towel. You leaned against the sink as you watched him unabashedly. You didn’t even bother getting dressed—you just wanted to watch the loves of your life. To drink up every detail of him like it was the last time.

It was moments like these that made your world spin. That made your heart sing. Just watching the light of your world doing something as normal as dressing—and getting to do that, after everything you’d both been through—was beautiful.

I love you all so much, you thought as you watched him towel-dry his hair. It was so domestic that you couldn’t decide whether to kiss him senseless or melt right there. I never thought I could love someone as much as I love you. And I’m the luckiest person in the world to be loved by you.

“Enjoying the show, mi vida?” Your darling raised an eyebrow at you as he caught you staring.

You shrugged like you weren’t still falling in love with him every second. “It could have been slower.”

He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in to plant a series of kisses across your face. “Here I am trying to do something nice, love, and you’re ogling me,” he laughed between kisses.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and smiled—the first real one all afternoon. “You’re my husband. I’m allowed to ogle.”

“Ogle all you want, baby,” he murmured against your lips before pulling away and resting his forehead against yours. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Your heart soared at the words and your cheeks ached with the smile you were trying to hold back.

Steven brushed his nose against yours. “I love your smile,” he whispered like a confession. “It’s my favourite part of the day when I get to see them, love.”

Even after all these years, he could still make you blush. So you smiled. It was the least you could do for your darling.

“There it is,” Jake whispered, running his thumb over your lips. “Mi sol.”

You closed your eyes, taking the moment to breathe. All you could smell was their cologne; all you could feel was their arms around you; all you could hear was their heartbeat as you rested your head on their chest. You were entirely surrounded by them, and for the first time that afternoon, you were happy.

“How did I get so lucky—” you whispered, “—to be loved by you?”

Their smile was simple. “You loved us first.”

You pulled their head down for a kiss that held every ounce of your love for them, and they responded with all of theirs.

Not one, but three, you thought to yourself, utterly amazed at your luck. Steven, Marc, Jake—you three mean more to me than you could ever know. I love you all. To the moon and back.

You basked in their attention, content to stand there all night in the arms of your darlings. But after a moment, they pulled you to your bedroom. Insisting you put your pyjamas on—even if Jake did send you a wink—before pulling you into bed.

“Gay pirates?” he said the moment you were curled into his side, and you nodded instantly.

“Gay pirates.” Nothing would make you happier than watching Blackbonnet fall in love while you lay in the arms of the man you loved.

You pressed yourself closer to him as his arm curled around your waist. “Thank you,” you whispered as the TV turned on. “Thank you for being here with me. You are exactly what I needed.”

You didn’t have to explain that you didn’t just mean today.

You could see each of them shining through as they smiled your favourite gorgeous smile. “There’s nowhere else we’d rather be.”

A/N: After I wrote this, I came up with like three more ideas for these babies so this is definitely going to turn into a series haha

Let me know what you think 💖

[miyaagis]

oikawa is a handsome man, there’s no denying it. he might be twice your age but his trademark charm never fails to lure you in. too bad he’s your dad’s best friend

+ pairing. oikawa t. / fem reader

+ word c. 2,730

+ warnings. age gap, alcohol, mild degradation, mindbreak, noncon filming, squirting, watersports, mating press, one (1) slap in the ass, u call him uncle but he isn’t, so pseudo-cest? no beta we die like men

+ author n. my piece for the miki mouse whorehouse collab ♡ three weeks late, yes

the mid-afternoon sun burns above you, your exposed skin glowing under its blaze as you try to ignore the bickering of your dad’s friends.

oikawa’s playlist blasts through the speakers, the one with latin songs and that he’s been listening to since he went to argentina (according to uncle makki). you hum along with the beat unconsciously, so close to dozing off that you miss the sound of the approaching steps.

“a drink for the princess.”

flirty brown eyes meet yours through the tinted glass of your sunglasses, his handsome smile making your heart skip as you sit up and take the cold drink from his hands.

oikawa takes the seat next to you, handing his phone over to you to let you choose the next song. his fingers trace the rim of his beer bottle as he watches you type something on the screen before leaning back against the chair.

“my dad will yell at you for giving me alcohol,” you peer up at him, taking the straw between your lips.

he takes a long sip of his beer in hopes of calming down the myriad of thoughts swirling in his mind. it’s sinful how the wet fabric of your swimsuit clings onto your form while you lie under the sun—unbothered. but it’s even worse how the star of those thoughts it’s his best friend’s daughter.

“you’re an adult, you’re allowed to have fun.”

you scoff, “tell him that.”

iwaizumi has never been a strict parent but he likes to play the overprotective dad role every once in a while.

“he’s your dad. it’s kind of his job,” he tilts his head in his friend’s direction, his stare serious before switching into a playful one, “and mine is to be the cool uncle.”

you can’t help but snort, “who said you were cool?”

oikawa fake gasps at your statement, but his posture immediately tenses up as uneasiness takes over his body. 

he doesn’t have an idea when it all started, or when did the playful banter between you two turned into this unbearable sexual tension. many nights he has been haunted in his dreams by your cute but taunting smile, poking fun at him until his lips land on yours, and kissing you until you’re reduced to a pathetic whimpering mess.

“–kawa you asshole!”

hanamaki’s voice snaps him out of his trance, both of your heads turning to look at said man as he scolds matsukawa for spilling his drink on the table.

“don’t stay under the sun for too long,” oikawa suddenly stands up, shooting you a forced smirk, “or you’ll get wrinkles.”

you stick your tongue out at him and watch him walk away, staring at his back while a silly smile settles on your lips.

—

the sun has already set when you make your way inside.

you ignore the two drunk men passed out on the couch as you look around for your dad, but when you fail to catch sight of him, you decide to take a look in the kitchen.

oikawa’s shirtless back greets you, his muscles bulging under his tanned skin as he seems to be struggling with a bottle of wine.

“you’re doing it wrong.”

he immediately halts his movements and turns to look at you, “i’m sorry?”

you smirk, “you’re forgiven.”

he scoffs at your little joke, but when you see the hint of a smirk tugging his lips upwards you know he’s enjoying it as much as you are. with a push of your hips, you shove him aside and grab the corkscrew from his hands.

“this, is how you do it.”

he leans on the kitchen counter with his elbow as he observes you do your thing, “you’re being too awfully cocky lately.”

“not my fault you can’t open a wine bottle the right way,” you shrug before smiling triumphantly once it's open, taking a swig of the bottle.

it’s probably the way your eyes gleam under the dim lights, or how your lips look plump and glossy after drinking the wine. either way, the words leave oikawa’s mouth before he can think twice.

“oh? care to tell me what else i don’t do the right way?”

you watch as he takes the bottle from your hands and takes a sip, “you’d be surprised. i know more than what you may think.”

“i doubt it.”

“try me.”

the words hang in the air, the hidden meaning begging to be addressed but you stare at each other in silence, your chests heaving up as you wait for the other to make a move.

“do you know what’s been on my mind lately?” he’s the first one to break the silence, his figure looming above you while his hand moves to rest on your hip.

your breath hitches as you shake your head. gone is the playful gleam in your eyes, his stare feeling as if he’s a predator and you the helpless prey.

“you.”

he pauses, gauging your reaction while you feel your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

“oi!” 

you both jump at the sound of your dad’s voice. iwaizumi stands behind you with his car keys on hand, exhaustion evident in his posture.

“they’re hammered, i’m going to drive them home. you need a ride?”

the question’s directed at oikawa, who’s suddenly feeling like a deer caught in the headlights.

did he see anything? he wonders. but the tired look in his best friend’s face lets him know he doesn’t suspect a thing.

“nah, i’m good,” the odd look iwaizumi sends his way prompts him to come up with an excuse, “i’ll clean up and then i’ll be on my way out.”

on a normal day, iwaizumi would’ve refused. but if he could escape your mom’s wrath after the mess they made, then he’d take it in a heartbeat. good thing she’s out on her casino night.

“thanks, man. see you around.”

you both watch as he exits the kitchen, the tense atmosphere remaining even after hearing the front door close behind the three men.

you can’t help but deflate a bit, sensing the ‘moment’ between you is gone.

“where were we?”

your eyes widen and refuse to meet his, choosing to fiddle with your fingers as you repeat what he said earlier in a small voice, “you said… you said you were thinking of me.”

oikawa has to stop himself from cooing at your nervousness, humming instead as he takes one step in your direction.

“mhm, all day,” his hands snake around your waist to pull you flush against him, “i’ve been thinking about fucking you.” 

a small gasp leaves your mouth, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“you enjoyed teasing me, didn’t you? parading around in that slutty swimsuit of yours with your tits spilling out of your bra?”

he hauls you up by your waist and places you on the granite counter, settling himself between your legs, “i could see your nipples getting hard, begging to be kissed,” one of his hands leaves your waist and moves upwards to pinch your nipple. he can’t help but coo at the faint whimper that escapes your lips, “hmm, so cute.”

oikawa’s lips connect with yours, his other hand holding you by the back of your head while the other keeps rubbing the hardened nub. once his tongue glides into your mouth, breathless moans fill the kitchen.

“a-ah, uncle tooru,” you run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer.

he starts to make his way down, kissing your neck and collarbone before he reaches your chest. his teeth graze your hard nipple, toying with it while a large hand moves down between your legs and pushes the fabric covering your pussy aside.

two long fingers prod between your folds, sliding in easily and making you groan.

“naughty girl, so wet already,” he rasps in your ear, throat dry at the sight of your wet folds.

the wetness dripping from your hole immediately coats his digits, making it easier for him to tease your insides. the pads of his index and middle fingers curl upwards to touch the soft walls, massaging them in slow movements.

“mm, fuck–” it’s exhilarating how good he’s making you feel just with his fingers, pulling moans so effortlessly out of you.

“feels good, hm?”

“yes, yes, so so good–” your head falls limp against his shoulder, your hands resting on his biceps as you try to hold onto something, “please… faster.”

the pace of his hand picks up while his thumb brushes over your clit, watching you lose yourself in the pleasure. his cock hardens at the filthy sounds of your pussy sucking his fingers in and your wanton moans.

“so needy,” he murmurs, a breathless chuckle falling right in your ear, “be a doll and cum for me. will you? c’mon, baby. i know you can do it.”

your grip on his shoulders tightens, his encouraging words awakening something in you that has you cumming right after. warmth floods your body as you chant his name desperately, the friction of his finger against your clit prolonging your high and making it difficult to catch your breath.

it takes you a minute to recover from the daze, his body-heat overwhelming you and fogging up your mind.

it’s not until he takes his fingers out of your dripping core and has a taste of your juices when he truly feels the lust take over him.

oikawa immediately picks you up from the kitchen counter, your legs wrapping around his torso as he blindly makes his way to your room.

his mouth moves hungrily against yours, your bodies occasionally colliding against the walls since you refuse to let go of each other. once you reach your bedroom, he pushes the door open and places you on the bed, climbing on top of you and latching his mouth onto your neck.

“baby, i need to– hmm,” the roll of your hips against his front causes his cock to twitch in his shorts, “need to fuck you.”

your eyes close when he moves your bra down and starts sucking on your nipple, one of your hands tangling in his hair and pushing his face onto your chest.

“want you so badly, please.”

“don’t worry, princess. i’ll make you cum again, so many times, and fill your needy cunt with my cum,” he murmurs against your chest, his tongue gliding over the sensitive skin while he rolls his hips against your core, “you’re gonna be a good little slut for me, right? bounce on my cock like a bitch in heat?”

you have never heard something so filthy leave his mouth, the promise of another orgasm sending a jolt down to your center.

“y-yes, i’ll do whatever you want! just please, fuck me.”

“yes, what?” his eyes glint with malice as he looks down at you, waiting for you to reply.

“yes... sir.”

a captivating smile graces his lips as he moves up from your chest to your face, his mouth hovering right above yours, “good girl.”

before you can process his words, he flips you on top of him, his hands going straight to your ass and squeezing the flesh. you notice the hardness underneath you and you have to stop yourself from bucking your hips against it.

with a tap on your butt, he signals you to lift your hips, taking off his shorts and turning to the side to place them somewhere. but in your drunken state, all you can focus on is on the cock in front of you, the flushed head glistening with pre-cum and causing your mouth to water.

he’s turning around when you wrap a hand around his girth, making him jolt under you before you lift your eyes to stare back at him.

“patience, baby. i’m not going anywhere,” he chuckles at the same time you rub his cock between your folds. his eyes stare intensely at you, watching you coat him with your juices before aligning him with your hole, “shit, i wish i could watch you like this forever.”

“you can have me whenever you want, sir. i’m yours.”

his cock parts your lower lips as you start sinking down, the vein on the underside of his shaft rubbing deliciously against your walls until he’s bottoming out. his hands rest on your hips, letting you get used to the stretch before he starts to rock you back and forth, slowly.

“feels so good… m-more.”

strong arms wrap around your waist, bringing your torso down until your breasts are pressed against his chest. his thrusts become intense, making you squeal as his laugh reverberates in his chest. he slaps your ass with one hand, groaning when your walls clamp down around him.

“tightest cunt i’ve ever fucked,” he groans.

“h-harder, fuck me harder,” you plead and, in a matter of seconds, he’s ramming his cock into you just like you asked. the friction of his length against your insides makes you dizzy, your mind wandering to how would it feel to be filled with his seed, “god– ugh, want your cum.”

“hm? my pretty little cumslut wants to milk me dry?”

he pushes you up as he slows down his pace, whines leaving your mouth in frustration. oikawa helps you bounce on top of him, his pelvic bone brushing against your swollen clit which causes your orgasm to approach faster than expected.

“‘m so close,” your rhythm falters, hips moving back and forth desperately in search of that delicious friction, “gonna cum, sir. please, make me cum.”

oikawa’s grip on your hips tightens, one of his hands moving down to your clit and rubbing it in fast circles, “shit– so tight,” he moans when you clench your muscles around his cock, feeling it twitch inside of you, “fuck, fuck, i’m cumming!”

he barely manages to rasp out before warm spurts of cum paint your walls, his cock throbbing against them while he keeps moving in and out of your hole. you follow suit, your pussy trembling around him as you both ride out your orgasms.

his cock visibly twitches once it's out of your cunt, lying flat on his stomach while white cum slowly drips on top of it. spreading your asscheeks, he stares at your glistening cunt and watches your juices coat him before flipping you onto your back. his entire weight rests on top of you, caging you in a mating press and entering your raw walls again.

“s-sir, no more! ‘m too sensitive– ah,” your legs are shaking at the overstimulation, his cock reaching so deep that you can feel it nudging at your cervix.

he grunts as he keeps thrusting into you, his balls slapping against your ass while you try to fight him, “one more, baby.”

“i-i can’t! no, no, no, please...” your nails dig in his muscles, a futile attempt to get him to slow down.

the slapping of skin on skin is loud, your cries encouraging him to drill harder into your pussy until he’s flooding it with his thick cum.

“shit, princess. of course you can. isn’t this what you wanted? you’re such a slut for me, i’ve known it all this time.”

you know you want to cum, but another tingling feeling settles on your belly and, after a perfectly directed thrust from his part, you gush around his cock.

“holy shit.”

everything seems to stop around you, drooling and babbling nonsense as you’re sent into a high that leaves your mind floating, your body growing limp under oikawa as he continues to fuck your hole until he’s filling it again.

the euphoria stops you from noticing when he pulls out, also missing how he remains above you with his softening cock in hand and pumping it slowly. a groan escapes your mouth when a sudden warmth soaks your sweaty skin, making you close your eyes and bask in it.

“fuck, baby,” he angles his cock in your direction, allowing his piss to pour down onto your ruined pussy and down your bedsheets, “look at you, my pretty little slut.

your craving for him was so powerful that you failed to notice the phone standing on your bedside table, angled directly at you. even when familiar moans blare through its speakers after oikawa picks it up, smiling down at it as he readies himself to enter you once more.

taglist. @newfriendjen @tsumue @cyb3rbab3​ @lets-go-datehoe @kageyamakock @oneholetickler​ @idiotgu​ @kageyama-i-want-tobiors​​ 

[foreverindreamlandd]

To Be Wanted - Part 4: A Dicey Situation

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Plus Size!Reader

Summary: All your life you have wanted to be loved by someone. But when you don’t look like most “beautiful” women, you learn to stop wanting. You’d never expect someone like the amazing, kind, beautiful Bucky Barnes would desire someone like you.

WC: 6.9k

A/N: The one where I get Bucky to play D&D and there’s some fluff at the end. This was both the hardest and most fun part to write so far. I hope you enjoy. :)

Series Masterlist / Series Playlist

------

Text Message: Eli and Y/n

E: Y/n, please

I need to talk to you.

-----

Text Message: Bucky and Y/n

B: Hey it’s Bucky. Just wanted to make sure you had my number.

*Y/n liked a message*

Y/n: Thanks! :)

B: Np. See you Sunday. :)

Y/n: Yes! Also, idk if you’re free later today but I’ll be at BAM around 5:30 if you want me to throw more books your way 

Sorry, more letters lol. BAM = Books Are Magic!

If not no worries! Just figured I’d offer

Also happy to just throw some at you on Sunday

B: How about I stop by today and you hand me the books. I’m sure they don’t appreciate being thrown.

*Y/n laughed at Bucky’s message*

Y/n: See, I used to think the same thing, but after befriending a few of them I’ve discovered that they actually prefer being thrown 

They find it ~thrilling~ 

;)

-----

Bucky is too busy smiling at his phone to react in time when Sam swipes it from his hands.

“What the fuck dude!” Bucky jumps up to try and grab it back. Sam on the other hand is grinning like a school boy moving his arms around to avoid Bucky.

“Listen man,” Sam says, “I gotta find out what is causing you to have that shit-eating grin on your face. Now, tell me,” he glances down at the screen, “Who is Y/n?” 

Bucky continues his attempts at retrieving his phone without any luck. “None of your damn business, Sam.”

“Oh yeah? So then you won’t mind if I tag along with you to,” Sam looks back at the messages, “Books Are Magic at 5:30?”

Bucky lunges at Sam and tackles him to the ground, pinning him down at the chest with his metal arm. He uses his right arm to finally grab his phone and jumps up, putting about ten feet from him and Sam to prevent another opportunity at a phone robbery. Sam lays there for a few seconds, chuckling to himself.

“Man, come on,” Sam says as he finally pulls himself up into a standing position. “I’ve been on your ass for weeks to get out there and start dating. Please give me something!”

“It’s nothing, Sam,” Bucky grumbles to himself, gripping his phone with his vibranium hand. “I met Y/n the other day and she has some books to recommend for me. She’s just a friend.” I think.

“Sure, Buck. So talking about books needs to happen today and Sunday?” Sam gives Bucky a mischievous smile.

Buck groans, looking up at the ceiling. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I’d love to punch you in the face right now.”

“Hey man, no need to be so touchy. I’m happy for you! I haven’t seen you smile like that in a while. It’s a nice change of pace from your usual scowl.”

At that, Bucky scowls, and Sam laughs. “See,” Sam says, “That is what I’m talking about! No more of that. Go spend some time with this mysterious Y/n and just let me meet her at some point. I gotta let her know that she’s making a huge mistake before it’s too late.”

“Goodbye, Sam,” Bucky growls, grabbing his leather jacket and heading toward the door to leave his apartment. 

Bucky lives on his own, but with all of the work him and Sam had been doing together this past year, they had become close friends, so Sam was almost always at Bucky’s place, even when Bucky wasn’t. 

It all started a few months back when Bucky asked for Sam’s help to fix up his apartment. There was nothing wrong with it, it was just empty, unlived in. Sam would come by to help build furniture, fix the weird plumbing issues Bucky had never really cared about before, and properly stock up his kitchen with items other than Ramen and beer. He even helped Bucky set up a legitimate “office” area which was essentially a mini Avenger’s HQ that he could work from while at home. It wasn’t anything crazy, but he now had a three-monitor setup with software provided by Sharon that gave him access to any necessary intel or forms of communication when working on missions with Sam and Parker. Software that could also help him track down remaining members of Hydra.  

Sometimes Sam would stick around after work was done to eat pizza, drink beer and watch whatever sports game was on or show Bucky a movie he had missed in the 70 years he was...well, not himself. Bucky would always groan about Sam being around all the time and not leaving him alone, but to be honest, he appreciated the company more than he let on. It was nice to have his home actually feel like a space that Bucky felt comfortable in, and not just a place where he would spend sleepless nights on the floor of his living room. There were still nights that he would sleep on the couch or on the floor, but Bucky was able to get himself to sleep through the night in his new bed a couple of times a week. Baby steps. 

If he was feeling really generous, he would invite Parker over to join them. Just as long as he brought soda for himself. 

He had also finally hung up the beautiful landscape painting of Wakanda that had been sitting in his closet. Another gift from Shuri. In the bottom corner of the painting sat a small cabin (Bucky’s former home) and a couple of goats. A reminder of time Bucky felt the most peace in his life ever. It gave him hope that he might someday feel that type of peace again.

Finally, after all the grumbling from Sam, Bucky eventually caved and let Sam have a spare key to his apartment. Just in case something ever happened and Sam needed access to something ASAP. Or if Bucky was sick of Sam’s shit and wanted to leave his apartment with Sam still in it, which was sometimes much easier than kicking Sam out.

Bucky pauses when he steps out onto the streets and looks down at his hands, which are currently glove-free, exposing his metal hand. He frowns, debating whether to go back inside and grab them before heading to the bookstore.

Well, Bucky thinks, she already knows who I am. Guess there’s no real use in hiding it. 

He stares at the door to his building one last time, sighs, and heads down the street towards the bookstore. Towards you.

------

“So, what was up with you and that handsome man who couldn’t keep his eyes off you the other day?” Stephanie asks, helping you set up chairs.

“Ah, Bucky,” you say, lips quirking up into a small smile. “I had just met him that day. He kind of….saved my life.” Stephanie stares at you questioningly. “Long story,” you say, “But yeah, I guess he liked Cerulean Sea. I mean, obviously, how could you not? So he’s stopping by in a few to grab another book.”

“Oh?” Stephanie asks, her eyebrows raising to the top of her head. “Just coming by to get some books? Has nothing to do with seeing you?”

“Steph, stop,” you groan. You grab your bag and start taking out your hoard of dice. “Everyone keeps making this a bigger deal than it really is. Bucky is just a new friend. It’s not like that.”

“Y/n, you must have been missing what I saw on Sunday. The way he was looking at you. The way he smiled when you smiled, frowned when you frowned. There was a tension between you that was so….magnetic. It has to be more than friendship.”

“Listen, Stephanie, I appreciate you saying that. But I don’t want to make it into something it’s not. It’s never going to go that way because it’s me and-”

“And what does that mean?” Stephanie stands straight, putting her hands to her hips.

You pause, closing your eyes for a moment and then look back at her. “Look, you saw him, right? He’s a freaking 15 on the beauty scale. At best, I’ve only been like a…6.”

Stephanie stares at you for a few seconds, a look of pain on her face. “Y/n….what-”

“And it’s just easier to focus on that and not let my brain come up with these crazy scenarios of it being something more. I mean, before I knew who he was and he knew who I was, I loved fantasizing about the idea of being with Bucky Bar-....someone like him. That he would want me. But this is real life. There’s no way he does. No one does. I’m tired of getting my hopes up just to be rejected again and again.” You can feel the sting of tears in your eyes, but you quickly shake your head in an attempt to hold them off.

Stephanie is about to say something, but then pauses and looks over your shoulder. You turn and see Bucky coming through the front door of the store, looking around the space in search of something.

You.

You turn back to Stephanie and her gaze meets yours. “We will talk about this later,” Stephanie says quietly. She walks toward you and pulls you in for a hug and holds you for a moment. After giving you one final squeeze, she walks up the stairs, out of the kids section and toward Bucky.

“Hey, Bucky,” she says, smiling. “Y/n is in the children’s section toward the back.”

Bucky gives her a small smile and heads over to the back of the store. His smile widens when his eyes find you standing by a table in the middle of the room with seven chairs around it. Your gaze meet his, and although you had just told Stephanie that you refused to allow yourself to dream, seeing that look on Bucky’s face when he looks at you makes it impossible for your heart not to flutter. You smile back.

“Hey, Buck,” you say, walking toward him. “I’m glad you made it.”

“Of course, doll,” Bucky says and you beam. He furrows his brows. “What?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” you say. Your face hurts from how wide your smile currently is.

So, he does call people ‘doll.’ I can’t wait to tell Raina and Abby.

Bucky chuckles. “Alright, then. Well, word on the street is that there are some books you’d like to hurl at me?”

“Throw them, Bucky,” you respond, laughing. “I’m not a monster.”

“Alright, alright that’s fair. Well, what do you got?” 

You move to the table and pick up a small stack of books. When you get back to Bucky, you place the stack in his hands. Your hands touch momentarily and you almost startle at the feel of cold metal touching your right hand. You will yourself not to look down, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. Still, you can’t help but take a second to appreciate his vulnerability in allowing his left hand to be exposed in public. 

“Obviously I don’t expect you to buy all of these now. I just wanted to give you some options. Look through them and see if any catch your eye and let me know if you have any questions about any of them.”

“Thanks, Y/n. I really appreciate you taking the time to do this.”

“Oh, literally anytime. If anything, I should be thanking you for letting me share some of my favorites.” You head back to the table to continue setting up. “Just don’t take too long, though. The store closes at 6.”

Bucky's eyes narrow as he watches you place maps, pencils, and figurines on the table, as well as a massive amount of colorful rock-looking things. “If the store is closing, why does it look like you’re planning on hanging out here for the rest of the night? And what is all that stuff?”

You give him a sly grin. “It’s D&D night, baby. Stephanie lets us take over this space after the store closes so we don’t disturb customers when it gets rowdy.”

Bucky gives you an intrigued look. “Rowdy?”

“Oh, you have no idea, Buck. There was one time a few years back when the kids adopted a horse who ended up single-handedly killing a white dragon when everyone else in the party was unconscious. Our hoops and hollers could be heard from blocks away.”

“How can a horse kill a dragon?”

“Dregbert was….the strongest creature I ever accidentally created.”

“...you named a horse Dregbert?”

“Listen, man, don’t judge. I’d like to see you try to come up with a bunch of cool fantasy names on the fly.”

Bucky chuckles. “Fair enough. Well, it does sound like an….interesting time.” It surprises him that he’s not being sarcastic when he says that. 

“Definitely never boring. This game, these kids, they were my lifeline when The Blip happened.” You stare off, remembering the early days when it was just you and four kids who were just as confused and scared as you. “We met once a week here just to try to spend a few hours distracting ourselves from everything we had lost. Then, everyone returned, including siblings and friends of the kids in the group. They started joining the games to try to bring some sense of normalcy into their lives when everything became chaotic again. Obviously, things are much closer to ‘normal’ than they were before, but this has become such a special thing for all of us that we decided to keep playing. We can only meet once a month now instead of weekly, but I’ll take any opportunity I can to hang out with these kiddos.”

You feel tears pricking your eyes and sheepishly look back at Bucky. He looks at you somberly, reflecting on all that he lost during that time as well. First, the five years from being one of the victims of Thanos and the Infinity Stones. Then, right when he returned, he had lost his best friend. It took a long time for Bucky to recover from that. It wasn't until he and Sam teamed up to deal with John Walker and The Red Hand that he finally felt like he wasn’t an agent of destruction. That he could help others. That he could move on, and maybe even forgive himself.

“I think it’s amazing that you were able to do this for those kids, Y/n.”

Heat flares in your cheeks in slight discomfort from his praise. “Yeah, well, they saved me a lot more than I saved them.”

“I doubt that.”

You lock eyes for a moment and Bucky gives you a look of admiration that causes your stomach to fall to the floor. It’s almost too uncomfortable to look at, but it also feels impossible to look away. That ocean-blue gaze is hypnotic.

After a few seconds, Bucky breaks out of his daze and awkwardly looks down at the books you handed him. “I should, uh, look at these before I run out of time to pay for them.”

You give a soft smile. “Sure thing, Bucky. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

“Thanks, doll.” 

With ten minutes left to spare, Bucky walks over to Stephanie at the register with two books. As she rings him out, she gives Bucky a serious look that leaves him slightly unsettled. 

“You know, Bucky,” she says quietly, “Y/n is one amazing person.”

Bucky swallows. “I can see that, ma’am.”

“Good. Cause she has a lot of people who care for her and would be very upset if anyone hurt her in any way.”

Bucky's brows raise as he looks over at you in the back, then returns his focus to Stephanie with a serious expression that matches hers. “Believe me, Stephanie, I would never want to hurt Y/n. I just,” he pauses, trying to come up with the words to accurately describe how someone he just met already means so much to him without sounding like a crazy person. Because, in truth, he does care for you more than he feels comfortable letting on. He just isn’t quite ready to admit that. “I like spending time with her, and I’m grateful that she hasn’t gotten sick of me yet.”

Stephanie smirks, and hands Bucky’s bag of books to him. “Alright, Bucky,” she says, “I appreciate your honesty.” She pauses and looks over at you with a somewhat pained expression on her face that concerns Bucky. “Just make sure you treat her as the gem she is. Inside and out.”

Bucky nods. “Of course, ma’am.”

Stephanie smiles and nods back at him. Bucky heads back over to you, now sitting at the head of the table scribbling furiously on a piece of paper. You look up as he approaches, smiling.

“So,” you say, “What did ya get?”

Bucky places the bag on the table and pulls out the two books: “Six of Crows” by Leigh Bardugo and “Strange the Dreamer” by Laini Taylor. 

“Yes I was hoping you would grab Crows! That’s one of my more recent favorites. I would quite literally die for Nina.”

Bucky raises a brow. “Good to know.”

You nod, then give him a slightly more serious look. “Just a heads up, there are some difficult parts. Those characters are very broken people who are trying to deal with serious shit. So be kind to yourself while reading and don’t push yourself too much to get through.”

“Y/n, what kind of recommendation is that?”

You laugh. “I know, I know. I’m sorry! I promise it’s an amazing book. And,” you pause, “I think it might help you with, you know, everything you’ve been through.”

Bucky stares at you for a moment, then sighs. “Alright,” he says, “I trust you.” He gives you a soft smile and you beam at him.

I trust you.

Suddenly, the front doors open and a short, stocky kid with glasses runs in.

“Adventureeeeeers!” he exclaims, “Assemble!” He runs down and slams into you, giving you a giant hug. You chuckle and hug him back.

“Hi, Jon,” you say. “I take it you’re excited for tonight?”

“Hell yeah, Y/n! My monk gets stunning strike now that we’re level 5. Your monsters are so screwed.”

“Oh, believe me bud, with the monsters I have cooked up for you guys, it’s you who will be screwed.”

“You’re on,” he says, and you laugh. Jon grabs a seat at the table, taking out a notebook and various pieces of paper. Just then, Bucky turns around and notices more kids walking in, talking and laughing with one another.

“Hey guys!” you exclaim. “Y’all ready to get your butts kicked?”

One of them, tall with blond hair in braids, rolls their eyes and laughs at you as they take the seat across from Jon. “In your dreams, Y/n.”

Another kid, short with long black hair and glasses, settles in next to the blond one. “Yeah, Y/n. We totally kicked your butt last time and fully plan on doing the same tonight.”

You give them a mischievous grin as the rest of the group sit down in their respective seats. “We shall see, my friends. We shall see.”

“Where is Caleb?” Jon asks.

“He’s running a little late, but we can do a quick recap from last session and see if anyone needs help with leveling up while we wait for him to get here.”

“Hey, Y/n?” the black-haired girl asks.

“Yeah, Miranda?”

Miranda looks at Bucky. “Who’s this guy?”

All of the kids whip their heads around and stare at Bucky, who responds by giving them an awkward smile and small wave with his right hand.

“Oh, that’s Bucky! He was stopping by to grab a few books before the store closed.”

“Is he going to play?” the other boy sitting next to Jon says.

You look at Bucky with a questioning look. “I mean...he is more than welcome to if he would like. But I’m sure he has other stuff he needs to get to.”

Bucky narrows his eyes at you and you grin, raising your eyebrows as if daring him to say yes. 

And he accepts. As if he could ever in his life say no to you.

“Just as long as I don’t have to play a hobbit,” he says, and the look of surprise on your face is absolutely hilarious. 

“Um, there are no hobbits in D&D,” one girl says, rolling her eyes at Bucky.

“He knows, Kayla,” you say, smiling over at Bucky. “It’s an….inside joke between the two of us.” 

“You also can’t be a monk,” Jon says. “Only I can be a monk!”

“He can totally be a monk, Jon,” Miranda sticks her tongue out at him. “I bet he would be a better monk than you and actually hit things!”

“Hey, that’s not fair! Y/n gave me the cursed dice last game that never roll well. I was cheated!”

“Alright, alright, settle down everyone.” You look over at Bucky and wave him over to the table. “Julia and Miranda, can Bucky sit in between the two of you so you can help him with the rules?” The blond one with braids and Miranda shuffle their chairs apart as you go and grab an extra seat to put between the two of them. You gesture to Bucky for him to sit down and he does so, feeling slightly awkward about sitting at a table with a bunch of kids. But then he looks back up at you and sees the giant grin plastered to your face and immediately feels good about his decision to stay. He would honestly do anything to get you to smile like that.

“So Bucky, what kind of character do you want to be? I have a few character sheets on hand for events like this when we get an extra player. We got a warlock, cleric, fighter, monk…” 

Jon groans when you say monk and Miranda glares at him.

Bucky looks over at Jon and then at you. “Uh, I guess I’ll be….a cleric?”

“Excellent choice! I love clerics,” you say, pulling out two sheets of paper with a bunch of random numbers on it. “Now, let’s get you some dice.” You dig through your bag of what Bucky thought were just colorful rocks and pull out seven dice with swirls of different shades of blue that shimmer in the light. They were the set that reminded you of Bucky’s eyes.

Bucky stares at the dice once you hand them to him. “What are these for?”

“These bad boys will decide how well you do tonight.”

Miranda looks over at Bucky. “You’re lucky,” she says. “That’s one of Y/n’s best sets. She usually uses them herself when she plays.”

Bucky smiles and locks eyes with you and you blush. “Okay, next thing,” you say, “What do you want your name to be?”

“Can’t it just be Bucky?”

“No way!” the boy next to Jon exclaims. “You can’t do your name, that’s totally lame.”

“Leo’s right,” Julia says. “You can choose any name, though. My character’s name is Brenda.”

Bucky raises his eyebrow at Julia. “Brenda?”

“What? It’s funny, and Brenda the Barbarian kicks ass.”

“Language, Julia,” you say warningly.

“Sorry, butts.” Everyone giggles and you roll your eyes.

“Okay,” Bucky says, taking a second to think of a name. He looks up at you and smiles. “How about Linus?” 

You beam at him, realizing the reference to “The House in the Cerulean Sea.”

“Linus? Seriously?” Jon says.

You give Jon The Glare and he quickly cowers, looking down at his notes. “I think Linus is an excellent name.” You look back at Bucky and give him a quick wink. Bucky swears his heart stops for just a second.

“Hey guys!” A tiny redheaded kid runs up and into the remaining empty seat. “Sorry I’m late! I had a dentist appointment.” He quickly takes out all of his notes and supplies.

“No worries Caleb,” you say smiling. “Everything okay?”

Caleb winces. “I have to get braces next month.”

Jon points and laughs at him. “HAHA you’re gonna be a brace face! Loser!”

You whip your head over at Jon. “Jon! Cut it out or you get disadvantage on all rolls tonight.” Jon blushes and mutters an apology to Caleb. “Alright, everyone, let’s do a quick recap of our last session. Who wants to fill Bucky in on what happened?”

Kayla raises her hand and looks over at Bucky. “Well, we had just fought off a pack of Dire Wolves that were guarding the entrance to the Cave of Nightmares….”

-------

“How did Caleb’s hit not kill that thing?” Bucky exclaims, looking at you incredulously. “That fireball just dished out twice as much damage as I did last round!”

You shrug, fighting back a smile. “Listen, I told you this manticore is barely holding on by a thread. Caleb’s hit really messed it up.”

Everyone at the table is radiating stress. Kayla’s head is in her hands and Miranda is staring quietly at her character sheet. She took a few too many hits and is now, as Bucky understands it, unconscious and making death saving throws. She had only succeeded once and failed twice. One more fail and her character is dead dead. 

So yeah, things are a bit tense. Bucky's shocked at how anxious he feels for everyone in this fight. He had managed to hit the manticore a few times, but this thing is hefty. It's been an hour since they started fighting it.

“I still can’t believe my stunning strike hasn’t worked on this thing,” Jon grumbles.

“I know, I’m sorry bud,” you say to him sympathetically. “I’ve just been really lucky with rolls.”

“I’m very glad we added another player tonight,” Leo says, looking at Bucky with a small smile. “We would have been totally screwed without you.”

Bucky smiles back. “Thanks, man. I’m still impressed by the whole you turning into a giant ape and beating the shi-” you glare at Bucky, “....crap out of that thing.” Bucky reaches over to give Leo a fist bump.

“Alright guys, next up is Linus. Bucky, what would you like to do?”

Bucky looks at the map to take inventory of where everyone is placed. Then he looks to Julia and Miranda for guidance.

“What are my options? Y/n said it was hurt, so I should hit it, right?”

Julia glances over Bucky’s list of spells, nodding. “Usually when she says that it means that it has less than 10 hit points, so one or two hits should do the trick.”

Miranda says nothing, too stressed about the fate of her rogue, Sage.

Bucky frowns. “But if I don’t hit it, then it’s Miranda’s turn and she has to make another death save?”

Julia nods. “And if she fails….” 

Miranda winces.

Bucky stares at the spell list. Why is he so stressed out right now? He barely knows these kids and none of this is even real. Still, he feels like if Miranda’s character dies and it was partially his fault he'll never forgive himself.

“Wait,” Bucky says excitedly, “I have a spell called Cure Wounds. Will that help heal Miranda?”

Miranda looks up at Bucky as you smile. “Yeah, Buck,” you say, “If you cast that spell, Sage will be brought back to consciousness and won’t have to make any more death saves.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Bucky says. “I cast Cure Wounds on Sage.”

“Alright, roll to see how many hit points she gets.”

Bucky looks at his set of dice, unsure of which one to use until Julia picks up the diamond-looking die and hands it to him. 

Bucky rolls. “That’s….six points of healing.”

You grin and look over to Miranda. “Alright, Sage is back up with six hp. Mark that down, bud.”

Miranda lets out the loudest sigh Bucky has ever heard come out of such a small body as she writes on her character sheet. She looks up at Bucky and mouths thank you to him, and Bucky’s heart swells. He smiles and nods at her.

“Sage, it’s your turn. What would you like to do?”

Miranda sits up in her seat with a renewed sense of energy and a look of ferocity that leaves Bucky feeling unsettled. “I’m gonna shoot that piece of crap with my crossbow.”

“Go for it. Roll to hit.”

She picks up her d20, closes her eyes and sighs. Everyone in the room is silent as she opens her eyes and rolls. The die jumps around a bit and lands with the number 20 facing up.

The room erupts.

“NATURAL TWENTY!!!!” Jon shouts, jumping out of his chair in excitement. Kayla lifts her hands in the air and Julia high fives Bucky. Bucky is shocked at the amount of adrenaline rushing through his body right now. He feels elated. 

The smile on your face is the biggest Bucky had ever seen. You shake your head in amazement and look back to Miranda.

“Alright, Sage, roll damage.”

Miranda pulls out all of her dice and rolls. She takes a moment to add all the numbers up and anxiously looks up at you. “Twenty-five points?”

You look down at your notes for a second, letting the anticipation slowly drive everyone insane. Finally, you glance back up at Miranda with a smile.

“How do you want to do this?”

And then, Bucky understands why you wait until the store is closed to start playing.

Because even though he had thought the shouts of victory were loud just a moment ago, they have nothing on the cries of the whole group as they realize that they had finally taken down the manticore.

What catches Bucky off guard the most is that he's shouting louder than everyone else. 

Miranda looks as if she's on the verge of tears from relief and excitement. Then, she collects herself and mimes holding a crossbow. “Right through the eye,” she says.

You smile and wink at her, then describe the scene where Sage slays the manticore with an arrow through the eye. You even act out the cries of the beast as it falls to its death. Bucky laughs, not in a condescending way, but in excitement.

The kids stand up and high-five one another, including Bucky, yelling over each other about all of the cool moments of the fight.

You look at your phone to check the time. “Alright pals, it’s 8:30. We gotta wrap it up before your folks kill me.” Everyone groans, wishing they could play longer. Bucky also finds himself bummed that the game is over. They all start to pack up, still talking about tonight’s game.

“Yo, Bucky,” Jon says as he heads to the exit, “You did great tonight for a newbie.”

Bucky chuckles. “Thanks, Jon. I thought you kicked butt, too. You sure know how to punch the crap out of things.”

Jon beams. “You know it,” he says. “You joining us next time?”

Everyone looks at Bucky expectantly. His gaze meets yours as you smile, eyebrows raised questioningly.

“You know,” Bucky says, “I just might.” 

The kids cheer at that and give him a high-five, then run over to give you a hug goodbye. Miranda hangs back, though, and looks up at Bucky.

“Thanks for saving my character, Bucky,” she says quietly. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Bucky’s heart swells once again and he smiles down at her. “No problem, kid. It’s a good thing I did so you could take that thing down.” 

Miranda beams, and gives Bucky a quick hug around his waist before running to catch up with the rest of the group. This time, Bucky is sure his heart has actually melted. So has yours.

“You did good tonight, Buck,” you say as you start cleaning up the table. “Leo was right, if you weren’t here to help do extra damage to that thing, they would have been screwed.” 

Bucky smiles, and walks over to help you pack everything up. “Is it normal to feel such a...rush? Like, none of that was real but I feel like I just ran a marathon.”

You grin. “That’s how it goes. You get so into the game that it all starts to feel real. There’s nothing like the high of taking down a monster like this. It’s….the best.”

“It really is. I can see why you’re such a nerd about it.” He winks at you.

You scoff, and move over to shove him. “Watch it, Bucky, or I’ll kill off Linus next time.”

Bucky feigns a look of horror and puts a hand to his chest. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Keep calling me a nerd and find out.”

The two of you laugh and continue putting everything away, recalling the highlights of tonight’s game.

Your phone buzzes, and Bucky catches the name Eli pop up on the screen. He can’t help but notice the way you frown and flip your phone over, but he decides not to say anything.

Once everything is packed up and the table and chairs are put away, the two of you head to the exit of the bookstore, shut the lights off and head outside, locking the doors behind you.

“Thanks for staying to help clean,” you say, smiling up at Bucky. “That usually takes me way longer to do.”

“No problem,” he says. The two of you stand there for a few seconds in awkward silence. “So...can I walk you home?”

“Oh, you don’t have to! I’ve done this walk a million times so you don’t have to feel obligated-”

“I want to,” Bucky says, eyes meeting yours. “I’m...I’m not ready to say goodnight.”

Your eyes widen, and you give a small nod. “Well, then, yes. That would be nice.”

The two of you turn and head down the street towards your apartment. 

“So,” you say, “I noticed you didn’t wear your gloves tonight..”

Bucky almost stops short and looks down at his metal hand. There was only one moment at the beginning of the game when Jon asked what was up with it, but Bucky was surprised to realize that he didn’t feel as awkward about the question as he normally would. You, on the other hand, looked at Jon in horror and almost hit him across the head. 

Bucky was honest enough, and told Jon that he had lost his arm in the war (not mentioning which war, specifically) and they replaced it with a metal one. Instead of finding fear or disgust in everyone’s eyes, Bucky felt like the kids looked at him like he was some sort of superhero instead.

You had quickly made an effort to change the subject and get the focus back to the game, and after that no one seemed to pay any attention to the hand. Neither did Bucky.

“Yeah,” Bucky says softly, “I guess I’m finally learning to be more comfortable having it out in the open.”

You smile. “That’s amazing, Buck. I’m proud of you.” You stare at the ground. “It can be hard to let yourself be so open and exposed like that,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him.

“You speak as if you have experience with that feeling, doll.”

“Well,” your mind flashes to the moments you had shown your body to some of the men in your life. The ones you thought you could trust. How vulnerable and scared you were to let them see you so exposed. All of the awkward curves, bumps, shapes that didn’t make sense. All of those moments that you thought you could feel comfortable, only to be proven that you shouldn’t. “I don’t have a cool arm made of metal,” you say, trying to joke through the pain and shame you were secretly feeling, “But there are parts of me I have learned are best kept hidden from others.” Bucky frowns and feels a small bubble of rage form in his chest. This time, he does stop and gently grabs hold of your arm to look at you. It’s hard to see his face clearly under the dim streetlights, but you can still feel the intensity of his gaze staring into you.

“Y/n, you should never feel like you have to hide any part of yourself from the world. Everything about you is amazing, and you bring so much light into the lives of others. Hell, I’ve felt happier and laughed more this week since meeting you than I have in like seventy years. Literally. Fuck everyone who ever made you feel like any part of you didn’t deserve to be appreciated.”

You gape up at him, mouth open and eyes wide and you’re pretty sure he can hear your heart beating out of your chest. Unable to say anything, you lean your body into his and wrap your arms around his middle, leaning your head against his solid chest.

Bucky only freezes for a second before wrapping his arms around you and holding you, leaning his cheek on the top of your head. He’s sure you can hear his heart pounding in his chest, but he doesn’t mind. He’s too busy breathing in the scent of lavender in your hair, savoring the way it feels to have you in his arms.

This is way better than any fanfic you had ever read of Bucky holding you, because this isn’t just some Bucky in a story. It isn’t a dream. It's real, and this is your Bucky.

Eventually, you pull yourself away from him even though you would have been totally content with staying like that for the rest of your damn life. “Thanks, Buck,” you say, looking back up at him. You smile. “I know it’s weird to say, but I’m glad I almost got hit by a car and met you.”

Bucky chuckles. “I’m glad I met you too, doll. I definitely wish it wasn’t due to the fact that I almost watched you get crushed by that Subaru, but I’m glad I was there to catch you.”

The two of you continue the rest of the walk to your place in silence, but you feel yourself hovering closer to him as you walk, occasionally allowing your arms to brush against one another. Neither of you make an effort to move away.

Finally, you make it to the steps of your building. Both of you stop and look at one another once more. You swear that you could stare into this man’s eyes for eternity and never grow tired of them.

“Well, this is me,” you say softly, gesturing up to the door.

Bucky looks at the door and then back at you, smiling. “Tell Willa I said hi, will ya?”

“You got it. She’ll be excited to hear from you. I’m pretty sure she has a crush on you.”

Bucky grins. “Does she now?”

“Yeah, totally. The way she purred when you pet her on Sunday? My friend Raina has been trying to get Willa to warm up to her for years and she still runs away when she comes over.” You wink at him. 

Bucky bows his head and puts a hand to his chest. “I’m flattered.”

“I don’t know what she sees in you. She must have eaten too much trash that day,” you say, winking at him.

Bucky scoffs, then puts on the most adorable pouty face. “You wound me, doll.”

The two of you laugh for a moment, and when it finally dissipates into silence, you let out a sigh. “Well, I’ll see you Sund-”

“Can I see you tomorrow?” Bucky asks.

Your words die on your tongue and you stare at him, his face now filled with a mixture of yearning and hope. He continues.

“I mean, you can totally say no. I know that we’ve seen a lot of each other this week and you might be sick of me. But I really like spending time with you and I-” Bucky pauses, allowing himself time to regain his composure. “I would just like to see you again. Before Sunday.”

You can feel your brain short-circuiting as you start blinking rapidly, trying to make sense of everything Bucky has just said to you. Are you actually dreaming? This can’t be real.

“Well, I have work tomorrow, and then I’m going out with some friends from college for a birthday thing,” you can see Bucky start to deflate, “But you could come with us if you want? It’ll be a big group of us at this club we would always go to when we were in school. It’s honestly going to be miserable and I am literally being forced to go, but if you want, I would actually love it if you tagged along.”

Bucky’s smile returns bigger and brighter than ever. “I’ll be there.”

“Great,” you say, unable to contain your shit-eating grin. “I’ll text you the details.”

“Sounds good, doll,” Bucky says. He stands there for a second and then pulls you in for another hug. You inhale the scent of pine from his shirt and it’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever smelled.

Once again, to both your disappointment, the hug comes to an end and you pull away from one another. You head up the stairs and unlock the door to your apartment.

Right before walking through the door, you turn around and give Bucky one last smile. “Goodnight, Buck.”

He smiles back. “Goodnight, Y/n.” 

-----------

Next Chapter

Thank you for reading! Let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list. :)

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[cafedanslanuit]

@rfadaydreaming​ said: ALLIE domestic hawks x reader hcs ple a se <3 love u 🥺🥰 

a/n: i missed writing about my birdman so much!! i had a lot of fun writing these mwah thank u cae

Takami Keigo / Hawks Domestic Headcanons

- When he moves into your apartment, it's not something that happens in a day. It starts little by little. The free t-shirt that came with your pizza order that he now uses as sleepwear, his favourite brand of tea in your kitchen, the extra toothbrush you gave him one night he had a meeting early morning. It’s like he starts building his nest, piece by piece, and one day you realize he has his own drawer.

- He is usually up really early, no matter what time he went to bed. His bird antics plus his training played a part in this, so most mornings he just likes to look at you sleep, a soft smile on his lips to show how grateful he is to be able to wake up next to you.

- Keigo tries to cook, but he isn’t the best at it. His macaroni and cheese are pretty good though. He’s the most happy whenever, for some reason, you get home later than him and he gets to cook something for you.

- Once, he tried to take you out to dinner, but as soon as you had asked for appetizers, a lot of news reporters and fans crashed your date, wanting to get a word out of Hawks and his new ‘fling’. Since he couldn’t really hide his wings, all your dates have been indoors. You usually order take out, put a blanket on the floor and sit there, often accompanied by some candles and music.

- However, every once in a while, he will ask you to dress up and you two have dinner at the balcony. He says just because he can’t take you out without other people bothering you shouldn’t stop you from having special date nights every once in a while. He’ll even order from a fancy restaurant. He makes sure to bring you flowers and also dress up, making sure he uses your favourite shirt he owns.

- I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: Hawks has a playlist that reminds him of you. Actually, it’s two playlists. One is filled with any songs that remind him of you (and yes, some of them are meme songs) and the other is specifically for your dates. Whether you’re eating on the floor or having a balcony date, he will always put that playlist on for you to slow dance with him (you can listen to the playlist here).

- Keigo didn’t get to decorate his own apartment, as it was bought by the Commission. So, once while you are browsing for new curtains, you tell him you want him to pick which ones to buy. He gets really nervous about you putting that much trust into him, knowing you will have to look at those curtains every day. He takes his time choosing, and when the curtains arrive, he insists to help you install them. Sometimes you can still catch him staring at the curtains with a small smile on his lips.

- While he wants his relationship to stay away from the public eye to avoid the Commission trying to interfere, he does post a lot about you in his Instagram private stories. Most of them are candid pictures of you drinking coffee, reading the news on your tablet or cooking with some heart doodles on the side.

- When he comes home after a long day of hero work, he loves to find you laying on your back. That way, he can crawl up and lay between your legs, his head on your chest. There’s something really reassuring for him to fall asleep listening to your heartbeat. 

- During quarantine, you felt really upset about not being able to go out, and he noticed you becoming restless and pacing around the living room more than usual. One night, he took you flying with him and instructed you to close your eyes until he told you to. After some minutes, he landed on one of your favourite parks in town. Since it was really late, no one was around, so it was okay to be without a mask. He took your hand and walked alongside with you, his chest filling with warmth at the sight of your usual smile once again back in your lips.

- He remembers special dates, such as your birthday and your anniversary. Since he always gets up earlier than you, he will bring you breakfast to bed. He’s not the best at cooking, but his special breakfasts always include your coffee just the way you like it, your favourite juice box, slightly burnt toasts (he doesn’t fully believe when you swear you like them like that) and scrambled eggs. After breakfast, he will pull you back into bed and hold you against his chest, whispering reminders about how grateful he is that you came into his life and how much he loves you.

- Having said all this, Keigo also has some bad days. You still don’t know exactly what triggers them, but you can notice him forcing a smile whenever you talk to him. On those days, you take the lead and cook his favourite dinner. You make sure to hold him the rest of the night while running your fingers across his scalp. Most of the time, you stay silent as you do so and press kissed to his forehead and temple every once in a while. You know there is a reason behind him not talking about his family or the nightmares that wake him up in the middle of the night covered in sweat. But for now, you don’t ask any questions, but rather make him feel you’re a secure port for him to land.

- Even if he wakes up first, when you know he has to get to the agency early, you wake up early as well and prepare coffee for him. You bought him a tumbler from Starbucks and he was so happy and giddy about it. He even posts a lot of photos of it on his main Instagram page. There’s something really special for him aout you waking up early even when you don’t really have to and make sure he goes patrolling with freshly brewed coffee. That plus a goodbye kiss from you is all he needs to start his morning on a good note.

- When it’s your turn to come back from work tired, he will help you sit down on the couch and rub your shoulders for as long as you need to. To help you relax, he really likes combing out your hair. He seems to have a lot of fun putting some products on your hair and brushing it out, massaging your scalp every now and then. He can stay hours doing that, a loving stare while he takes care of someone he loves.

[pr1ncessm00n]

for sale or wanted • jean kirstein x fem! reader

seven.

series masterlist

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warnings: cursing, some “friends” (tv show) references, hostility towards reiner >:( and some mentions of a disrespectful relationship. slight ass staring LOL. awkwardness. lots of it. thick tension geesh

*written chapter * THE DATES ARE WRONG. THIS TAKES PLACE IN JANUARY. I REPEAT THE DATES ON THE MESSAGES ARE WRONG I JUST REALIZED. 💔 Proceed.*

[ playlist - more than friends : real life animals ]

“Y/N!” Ymir yelled.

Flinching, Y/N turned to face Ymir, who’s arm was around Historia on the non-Porco couch. That’s what they had coined the couch they actually liked and fit with their theme. Ymir and Historia were currently on it, watching a rerun of Friends. Y/N was making a sandwich. Sasha was snoring loudly on the Porco couch.

“You don’t have to yell,” Y/N rolled her eyes. “What do you want?”

“When’s Kirstein comin’?” Ymir asked.

“I’m not sure,” Y/N responded. “He said around 4.”

“It’s 4:15.” Ymir retorted.

“Your point?” Y/N placed her hand on her hip, butterknife in her hand.

“He’s not coming.” Ymir said smugly. “Typical Kirstein.”

Historia sighed, exasperated. “Just shush Ymir. You haven’t seen Jean in years and you still act rude to him!”

Ymir cackled. “It’s just fun to work you guys up.”

Y/N turned back to making her sandwich. “It’s not like we’re on time for anything either.” She grumbled.

“Defending Kirstein?” Ymir scoffed. “Sounds like you got the hots for him.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Are you 12?” Y/N snapped. “The ‘hots’? Really? Who says that anymore?”

Ymir only cackled in response.

—

Jean clicked his phone off, leaning back in the passenger seat of Reiner’s car.

“Everything good?” Reiner asked.

“Yeah, just Connie and Sasha being aggravating as usual.” Jean explained. Reiner shook his head.

“So this couch, was it really worth it or did you just see a pretty girl and get too embarrassed to say no?” Reiner teased, smirking.

Jean rolled his eyes. “It’s not the best piece of furniture out there but I am, one, BROKE, and two, it was an easy buy.”

Reiner shrugged. “I don’t know, I saw your tweet.”

Jean blushed. “I just tweet my thoughts, we all know that by now.”

Reiner’s smirked deepened. “Not everyday you tweet about a pretty girl.”

It’s not everyday I meet one, Jean thought.

Jean shook his head, looking out the window. He tried to stretch but hit his arms against the truck’s roof. His legs were cramped as well.

“How do you even fit in here?” Jean asked, irritated by the tight fit.

Reiner shrugged. “I’d trade the inconvenience of no leg room for a big pickup bed anyday. It’s useful.”

“Nah, you probably just like to show off your massive truck bed and hope girls find that kinda thing cool.” Jean said.

Reiner laughed. “That too.”

“Has it worked?”

“Nope.” Reiner replied cheerily.

“Is that Becky G!” Jean exclaimed, suddenly hearing the faint sound of “Shower” playing through the truck’s speakers.

“Shit!” Reiner exclaimed, turning red. He quickly rushed to move his hand off the steering wheel and change the song off his phone. Jean continued laughing, the sight of Reiner’s red face, embarrassment clear, only fueling his laughing fit.

“Shut up,” Reiner growled. “It’s a good song.” The thought of the huge guy jamming out to Becky G almost sent him into another fit, but Jean strained to hold it in. The ride remained silent for a few minutes when Reiner spoke again.

“If you ever mention that to anyone, I’ll run you over.” He murmured. Jean chuckled and turned to face Reiner only to see he was being serious, staring intently back at Jean. Jean shut his mouth, nodding.

A few moments after, almost subconsciously, Reiner began to whistle the tune. Jean couldn’t resist the laugh that escaped his throat, earning a dirty look from Reiner.

—

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. “Coming!” Y/N called, taking her apron off and rushing to the door. She opened the door, smiling.

She was met with Reiner’s face.

“Reiner?” She asked, somewhat in disbelief.

“Y/N, put the butterknife down,” Reiner put his hands up, backing up a few steps.

“What-“ Y/N remembered the butterknife in her hands, clenched tightly now between her knuckles. “Oh, sorry.” She went to put it in the kitchen. “Come in!” She called behind her.

Reiner cautiously stepped inside the dorm, eyeing his surroundings.

“Braun.” Ymir greeted, nodding at him.

“Hey!” Historia waved cheerily. Reiner sheepishly greeted them back.

“Ymir, Historia. Good to see you all again.” He managed to get out awkwardly. He tilted his head curiously, looking at Sasha snoozing on the couch. He gestured to Sasha questioningly at Ymir.

Ymir waved her hand dismissively. “She’ll wake up, just give her a minute.” As if in response, Sasha mumbled in her sleep.

“Um,” he scratched the back of his neck. “Jean’s on a phone call, but he’ll be here soon.”

Jean was on the phone with his mother, who called at that exact moment and decided it was a good time to scold him about not calling for a week and a half. Jean was pacing on the sidewalk, his hand in his hair.

“Oh, okay.” Y/N replied. “Um, so how have you been?” The tension in the air was thick, but since neither Y/N or Reiner were confrontational they didn’t know how to address the mood.

“Good, good.” Reiner nodded. “And you?”

Y/N nodded back. “Good, too.”

The room grew silent.

“I’m sorry, but did someone die?” Ymir blurted.

“Ymir!” Historia gasped, slapping her arm. Ymir removed her hand around Historia and sat forward, opening her hands in a What? gesture.

“Well, it feels like a funeral in here!” Ymir said defensively. “Y/N’s over here glaring at Reiner like he’s an enemy of the state.”

“I am not!” Y/N semi-shouted, her voice shrill. Sasha sat up on the couch.

“Can y’all shut up?” She snapped.

“No!” Ymir and Y/N shouted at her. Sasha groaned, throwing her hand over her forehead and falling back on the couch.

“Look, Y/N,” Reiner started awkwardly. “I don’t mean any harm, and I know it’s weird after everything with Porco... but I just wanted to say that I don’t agree with anything he did. And I wouldn’t have just shown up here if I knew it was your place.”

Y/N uncrossed her arms, trying to fix the visible displeasure in her face. She could not hide her emotions if her life depended on it. There was a few beats of silence before Y/N finally spoke.

“Reiner, I don’t hate you,” She said begrudgingly. “It’s not that, it’s just… You knew what Porco did and said behind my back and you just never told me. I always felt like his friends agreed with him that I was crazy or something.”

“No! Not at all,” Reiner reassured her. “To be honest, I didn’t really know what was going on in his life. I haven’t talked to him much since I left Marley. All I knew was that he was dating you. He just told me you broke up and that’s when he finally told me everything he did. I’m so sorry.” Reiner rambled.

Y/N sighed. “I mean, I’m not going to blame you. It was between Porco and I. But I guess that makes me feel better, like you didn’t betray me.” She chuckled awkwardly.

“No, I’d never stand for the stuff Porco did.” Reiner said.

“Did he cheat?” Sasha whispered to Historia. Historia shushed Sasha, swatting her.

“So we’re good?” Reiner asked. Y/N nodded.

“Sorry for the hostility, I just never expected you to be here.” Y/N admitted.

“No, I get it. But I wish Jean would’ve at least given me a headsup you were Sasha’s room mate.” Reiner muttered.

There was a knock on the door then. “Come in!” Y/N shouted. Jean walked in, peeking his head around the corner to where Y/N was standing in the kitchen with Reiner.

“Hey!” Jean said. He waved at Historia and Ymir. “So I assume you met Reiner?”

“Actually,” Y/N chuckled nervously. “We’ve known each other.”

“Oh!” Jean replied, eyes widening. “Even better! So he’s gonna help me move this thing.” He patted the couch Sasha was snoring on.

Y/N nodded, a tight lipped smile.

“Kirstein,” Ymir called. Jean glanced at her. “Long time no see.”

“Oh yeah! How have you been?” He asked Ymir. “And nice to see you too, Historia.”

Historia waved.

“I’ve been pretty good,” Ymir responded. “But I see you’re still late to everything.”

Jean blushed a deep red, running a hand through his hair. “Oh, yeah, I’m sorry. I got a phone call I had to take.” He looked at the floor, embarrassed. Ymir simply grunted.

“So do you want to start moving it?” Jean asked Reiner.

Reiner nodded, walking over to the couch. The men stared down at Sasha’s sleeping figure, unfazed by the commotion. “Do we wake her?” Reiner questioned.

Jean sighed, shoving Sasha. “Hey. Wake up. Wake up. Wake upppp,” He shook the side or her body with his palm.

Sasha groaned. “I’m not ready to say goodbye.” she grumbled sleepily.

“You and Ymir literally bullied me to get rid of it,” Y/N scoffed.

“I had forgotten how comfy it was!” Sasha protested, turning to the opposite side. “Five more minutes.” Y/N scoffed.

“Do you guys want a sandwich while we wait for Sleeping Beauty?” Y/N offered, tilting her head towards the kitchen with the butterknife.

“More like sleeping ugly.” Ymir snorted.

Y/N and Jean made eye contact.

“You get used to it..” Y/N mouthed. Jean nodded, agreeing.

“I heard that!” Sasha exclaimed to Ymir. “Just for that, I’m gonna fart in your bed.”

Reiner turned a deep red. For someone who liked to listen to 2014 pop, he was pretty bashful.

“I’ll take one, if it’s not too much of a bother,” Jean raised a finger, inquiring.

“No problem! Follow me. And you, Reiner?” Y/N walked back to the kitchen, opening the fridge, Jean a few steps behind her.

“I’ll take one too then, thank you.” Reiner accepted. Y/N nodded, bending over into Jean’s line of sight almost unassumingly. Jean’s eyes widened, before looking the other way, a faint blush appearing on his features. He didn’t want to get caught ogling the girl on their second meeting, possibly giving the impression he was a creep. But damn, was it hard. He felt someone staring at him, and when he focused he realized it was Historia, who was holding back a giggle. He got even more flustered, looking away from her too.

“Any specifics? Mayonnaise, mustard, ketchup? We have pickles and a wide variety of condiments and lunch meats.” Y/N listed.

“Y/N,” Ymir scolded. “Those lunch meats are for the fancy guests!”

Y/N shot her a glare. “Ignore Ymir, she’s just grumpy because she hasn’t been fed her daily sacrifice of small children.” Jean laughed a little too hard while Reiner chuckled. It was hard for Jean to focus when she smelled so good and was at a certain angle.

“Um, lies,” Ymir replied nonchalantly. “Children eating is at 12, it’s 4. That’s the senior citizen buffet.”

“Har, har.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “So what do you guys want?”

“Anything is fine, really,” Jean said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Is ham and muenster cheese good?” Y/N asked, standing upright and grabbing the two containers.

“Monster cheese?” Reiner asked, puzzled.

“M-U-E-nster. It’s so good, try it!” Y/N began to assemble both boys their sandwiches. “I’m gonna give you the works! Lettuce, mayonnaise and tomatoes!”

“Is Y/N making sandwiches?” Sasha asked from the couch, eyes tightly shut.

“Yeah, but don’t get your hopes up. There’s no children flavor.” Ymir mocked.

Y/N flicked her off without turning back.

Sasha bolted off the couch. “Can you make me a sandwich, Y/N? Pleaseeee? Pretty please?” Sasha begged, appearing at Y/N’s side and slightly shoving Jean.

“Yeah, yeah. But I’m not cutting the pickles this time. That’s gross.”

Sasha hummed happily, going to the kitchen to hand Y/N her sandwich components.

“Why don’t you just make your own, Sasha?” Jean asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Because!” Sasha exclaimed defensively. “Y/N makes the best ones! They’re so good, and they aren’t lopsided and sloppy like Ymir’s.”

“You could always just starve.”Ymir suggested unhelpfully. She suddenly joined Historia in clapping her hands along to the Friends theme.

“But hello! Cheerio!” Ymir waved frantically to Jean and Reiner. “Don’t y’all got a couch to be moving?”

“Right,” Reiner agreed, walking over to the couch. “Jean, you take that side and we’ll lift it to my truck. Can someone open the door?”

“On it!” Sasha ran over to help.

Jean got on the other side of the couch, and on the count of three him and Reiner lifted it.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Ymir chided. “PIVOT! PIVOT!” she suddenly shrieked, causing Reiner to startle.

“Is she always like that?” He asked, wincing.

“Yes.” Everyone in the room agreed.

As Jean and Reiner moved the couch out of the dorm, Ymir sang the Friends theme song loud enough to be heard from the hallway. Historia harmonized with her happily, leaning into her chest.

Once Reiner and Jean safely secured the couch to Reiner’s truck bed, they returned to the dorm room.

“Yay! It’s gone!” Y/N clapped her hands enthusiastically. “Thanks guys, really.”

“Thank you,” Jean replied. “I really needed a couch.”

“And thank me,” Reiner teased. “For having a truck and upper body strength.”

Y/N laughed. “Here’s your sandwiches, courtesy of Chef Y/N.”

“Five stars!” Sasha banged her first on the table, chewing loudly.

“I put some chips on the side,” Y/N pointed to Jean’s plate. “It just adds that extra flavor.” She admitted almost shyly. Jean’s heart swelled. Why was she acting so.. adorable? There was just no other word for it. It wasn’t a big deal. His friends often acted adorable. Armin, Connie, even Sasha. Eren… On second thought, not Eren.

“Thanks! I love chips!” Jean said. Y/N laughed again, the corners of her eyes crinkling, shaking her head a bit. Even Reiner chuckled.

“Great commentary,” He said, patting Jean on the back with a large hand. “Thanks, Y/N.” He made his way to the couch, where Historia scooted to make room for him, smiling brightly.

“Don’t even try anything,” Ymir warned, holding up a finger to Reiner and giving him a death stare. Reiner shook his head, eyes widened in fear. Ymir borderline barked.

“You can sit!” Y/N motioned to the small breakfast table Sasha was devouring her sandwich at.

Jean quickly glanced at the table, then at Y/N leaning against the counter. “Nah, I’m good here.” He took a bite out of his sandwich.

“Ugh, that’s so barbaric,” Y/N scoffed. “Eating standing up.”

Jean nearly choked on the bite of sandwich. “Weren’t you just thanking me for buying your ugly couch?” He sassed.

Y/N rasied her eyebrows. “Um, you should be thanking me and my ugly couch for saving you from sitting on the floor. Why’d you even buy one if you just eat standing up? You animal.” Jean shook his head, trying to contain his smile.

“That’s rude.” He stated simply.

Y/N punched his shoulder jokingly. “You can handle it.”

Jean shrugged. “I don’t know. I might just cry myself to sleep every night. Who knows how long the guilt will eat you alive for.” He said in a fake menacing tone.

“Oooh, I’m terrified.” Y/N waved her hands.

“For good reason. I’d be a pretty annoying guilt trip.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Y/N agreed. His voice is so deep, Y/N thought.

Sasha stared at them blankly, head on her hand, mouth partially open.

“Uh…”

“Sasha,” Jean rolled his eyes. “Close your mouth, I can literally see the chips.”

Like a fish, Sasha’s mouth closed with a wet sound. She finished chomping and swallowed before getting up.

“You guys are weird.” She said, walking to the couch as well.

Jean and Y/N watched her go, attempting to fit on the medium sized sofa.

“I think we might need another couch.” Y/N commented, watching Sasha try to shove Reiner off her usual seating spot.

“No take backsies,” Jean smirked, looking at her.

“I sold it for a reason, whatever your last name is.” Y/N crossed her arms.

Jean guffawed. “Like you don’t know my last name.”

“I don’t! It’s pretentious.” Y/N insisted.

“Uh, huh.” Jean replied, not believing it, more so hoping it was just a joke. “It’s Kirstein.” He said instead, opting to not find out the hard way.

“I was right, it is pretentious. All fancy soundin’.” Y/N shuddered.

“It is not!” Jean argued.

“Whatever. Do you know mine?”

“Duh,” Jean mocked, staring at Y/N and placing his empty plate on the counter.

“Then what is it?” Y/N shot back, staring just as intently.

“It’s uh- It’s um,” Jean drew a blank. He stuttered, trying to recall the memory.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Uh huh.”

Jean waved his hand dismissively. “It’s probably just basic.”

“Sure, Kirstein,” Y/N dragged out the syllables. “It’s L/N, if you must know.”

“L/N.” Jean repeated. “Nice to meet you.” He stuck his hand out.

“You’re not gonna freeze up now?”

“Very funny. You totally froze up first.”

“You looked like a deer in headlights.”

Jean shook his head, checking his watch. It was 5:15. Connie would be home soon, hungry. “I should head out, I got a lot of stuff to do.”

“More interesting than couch transporting?” Y/N picked up Jean’s plate, moving it to the sink.

“If you can believe it, yeah.” Jean chuckled. “But hey, thank you. It was pretty good.”

“The sandwich or the couch?” Y/N teased.

“Both.”

“Probably the sandwich.” Y/N said.

“Probably.” Jean agreed. “You ready to go?” He asked Reiner. Reiner nodded, getting up from the couch. Sasha scrambled to her feet off the floor to take his spot.

“Bye, everyone,” Reiner waved. “Thanks for the food, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome! Hope you enjoyed it.” Y/N waved.

“And um,” He stepped closer to Y/N, lowering his voice. “I’m sorry about earlier. If you ever want to um, talk about it,” Reiner ran a hand through his hair. “Just text me.”

Y/N grew stiff. Plastering a fake smile on her face, she just nodded. “Thanks, Reiner. I’m okay though.”

Reiner nodded. “I’ll see you outside, I’m gonna start the truck.” Reiner told Jean. He walked out, keys jangling, and shut the door gently. Jean stared at Y/N quizzically. He decided it was best not to ask, not wanting to come off as nosy or creepy. But Y/N could tell he was curious. She figured Reiner would explain and grew flustered just thinking about the humiliation of Jean knowing what Reiner knew. She preferred to leave that to Reiner and Jean to talk about.

“So I’ll see you around?” Jean asked, making his way to the door. Before Y/N could respond, Historia piped up.

“Wait, Jean!” She walked over to the breakfast table, digging into her pink Coach shoulderbag. “Here!” She produced a small pink invite, extending it to Jean.

HISTORIA’S 21ST BDAY BASH <33

Jan. 15 @ 8 PM @ Reiss Estate

2000’s THEMED

wear ur best y2k attire!

can’t w8 to see u there ;)

<3

Jean raised an eyebrow, flipping the card to the back. It was a pic of Historia as a kid, wearing a hot pink feather boa with a pink plastic cellphone against her ear. She looked more or less the same, only more subtler. The girl did like pink.

“You should totally come! Connie’s also invited, and Eren is coming with Mikasa! It’ll be so fun, I hope to see you there.”

“Thanks!” Jean replied, glancing at Y/N. “I’ll be there. Bye guys!” A chorus of “bye!”s ensued. He stepped out the door. 

Outside the dorm, he let out a sigh of relief. Historia’s birthday bash. Another opportunity to see Y/N.

Inside the dorm, Ymir glared at Historia. “Why’d you invite him, babe?” She whined, pouting like a child.

“Many reasons,” Historia began, walking over and sitting on her lap. “One, to spite you. Two, he’s nice! Three, I can’t invite all of his friends and not him. That’s rude. And four, for Y/N.” Sasha and Ymir looked at Y/N.

Y/N’s mouth dropped. “Um, what? I didn’t say anything!”

“Oh, please,” Ymir rolled her eyes in disbelief. “We all saw you canoodling.”

“No, we weren’t.” Y/N grumbled, washing the dishes.”

Historia giggled. “It’s okay, Y/N. You can just talk to Jean at my party.”

Y/N shrugged. “Maybe.”

Pulling out her phone, Y/N found herself re-reading her and Jean’s messages. Not really knowing why, she decided to save his contact.

Just incase, Y/N thought.

—

Later that night, Y/N’s phone dinged.

—

Meanwhile:

—

a/n: hey guys!! i’m sorry for the late update but I made this chapter extra long to make up for it :D so i saw this post and it was like “fanfic authors be going thru the most traumatic shit and then come back like nothing happened with a 6k word count chapter” and LET ME TELL YOU, that is my life. Rn nothing traumatic is happening but man it’s like this fic WANTS to be delayed lol. So i broke my thumbnail and i could NOT type for a few days without excruciating pain!! then i was busy into the night time which is my usual writing time. now i am sick with a fever, sore throat and a stuffy nose!! but i’m here, hopefully i won’t be sick for my graduation lol cus then i won’t be able to go. i hope y’all enjoyed this and ahh i felt so bad being mean to reiner but i feel like this was necessary for the porco plot to develop haha. also this is not proofread it’s 2am and i literally suck at writing first meetings/conversations. can you tell this was rushed lmaoooo. there was a lot more i was going to say but i forgot omfg so tune in to the next chapter!! love you all xx

btw i literally do not know how to do that “keep reading” tab thing where it cuts off your writing so it isn’t one big post so can someone please teach me :)

taglist: @usernamehere91 @calumsfringe @tsunderehokage

[bitch-out]

OKAY i know you didn’t ask for a full length fic but... i couldnt help myself. here it is: 

Four times Alex saw signs that the world was changing to become more accepting of people like him, and the one time he actually realized it.

1. TV SHOW

After finishing practice for the night, the band walked into Julie’s house. Luke immediately walked into the kitchen, wanting to see what meal her dad was whipping up. His obsession with watching lifers eat was starting to get a little concerning. Reggie followed after him, wanting to hang out with Julie’s dad. That was also a little concerning.

Julie plopped down on the couch next to her little brother, Carlos, who was watching a TV show that she didn’t recognize. Alex hopped over the couch and took a seat next to her, looking at the screen intently.

“What is he watching?” Alex asked, reclining into the couch.

Julie shrugged in response. “I’m not sure…”

Carlos looked over to her with a questioning expression. “Huh?” Oh crap. She needed to stop talking to the boys while other people were around. It made her look absolutely bonkers.  

“…what you’re watching! I’m not sure what you’re watching.” She said quickly, trying to avoid any awkwardness. “What is it?”

He seemed to buy it, letting her weirdness go. “Oh, I’m watching this new show. I forget what it’s called. It’s about this girl who accidentally gets musical superpowers after getting stuck by lightning.”

“Cool,” she answered, settling into the couch. She and Alex watched for a few minutes before looking at each other in confusion. They had absolutely no idea what was going on in the show. They looked at the screen as the main character sighed dramatically, slamming her door while running out of her house. “I’m lost. What’s happening? Why is she so mad?” Julie asked.

Carlos rolled his eyes. “She’s in a fight with her dads right now because they won’t let her go to this big party. Now shhh! It’s getting juicy!”

Luke’s eyes went wide as the scene switched to the main characters dads, who were sharing a tender moment while discussing their child. Two dads? On television? Without it being played off as a joke? He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen.

Julie looked at him inquisitively, noticing his surprised expression. She raised an eyebrow.

“I see.” A soft smile settled on his face. “Cool.” He bit his lip and leaned back.

“Cool.” She agreed. She almost said something, but then decided it would be better for her to wait for him to tell her.

2. PUBLIC DISPLAY OF AFFECTION

“People watching in 2020 is way better than people watching in the 90’s.” Reggie stated as they walked through downtown LA. They were killing time while Julie was at school. They passed a man in a superhero costume who was taking pictures with tourists.

“I know right?” Luke agreed. “I love looking over people’s shoulder and watching what they’re doing on those… high tech cellphone things.”

“Smartphones,” Alex offered.

“Smartphones, right.”

Reggie ran over to a middle aged guy in a suit sitting on a bench who was looking intently at his phone. “Look at this guy! He’s looking at an article called ‘How to tell if you have foot fungus’.” He wrinkled his nose. “Gross. You might wanna get that checked out, buddy,” patting his shoulder, his hand passing right through.

Luke looked around for someone else to observe. “Okay see the one over there in the blue striped shirt eating a chili dog?” He pointed over to his left to a man walking away from a hot dog stand.  

The man went to take a bite out of his chili dog but dripped it all down the front of his shirt. “Oooooh…. Missed his mouth on that one,” Luke said, cringing.

“That’s nasty,” Alex chimed in.

A guy who looked to be around their age speed walked past them, looking down. He brushed his shaggy blonde hair out of his face as he grinned down at his phone. He was obviously walking with a purpose.

“This guy is hustling! Cmon!” Reggie grinned, jogging after him. Luke and Alex ran over to catch up, all three of them following in pursuit. They all looked over his shoulder to read his text messages. He was texting someone he had named “babe <3” in his contacts.

Can’t wait to see u, his text read, im right around the corner

Reggie whistled. “His girlfriend’s probably a complete hottie if he’s that excited to see her-”

As they turned the corner, the blonde stranger they were following put his phone away as he caught sight of someone. He broke into a run and bear hugged the person, wrapping his arms around them and lifting them off the ground. As he pulled away, it was revealed that the person he was hugging was a brunette guy around the same age as them.

The brunette murmured something, his lips quirking into a smirk. The blonde teen let out a laugh, then pulled him into a kiss.

Alex nearly gasped in surprise, looking around to notice that… not a singular person was looking over. Everyone was just going about their day as normal. No glares, no sneers, not even a scoff.

It felt like the breath was sucked out of his lungs. Was this… normal? The couple broke apart and joined hands, continuing down the street. Alex couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. No one had even batted an eyelash at the public display of affection.

To him, it hadn’t been that long ago since 1995. When even looking at someone for too long would get you called a slur. When his own father would call him a-

“Alex? You good?” He was broken out of his thoughts by Luke looking over at him concernedly.

Alex opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by someone else.

“There you guys are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

They turned around in tandem to see Julie standing there, her eyes sparkling. And they continued with their day, moment forgotten.

3. MUSIC

Alex found himself once again alone with Julie, hanging out with her in her room. He was the only member of the band she would let hang out with her in here, which filled him with an odd sort of pride.

They were currently listening to one of her Spotify playlists. Julie was doing homework on her bed and Alex was tapping his drumsticks on his knee, following the beat of the song they were listening to. He was getting into the groove of the song “This song has a good beat!” he exclaimed. “What is this?”

She grinned at him. “It’s called ‘Girls like Girls’ by Hayley Kiyoko!” She stood up on her bed, dropping her homework and singing into an imaginary microphone as the chorus hit. She belted at the top of her lungs, “Girls like girls like boys do, nothing new~” She laughed as she flopped back onto her bed.

He gaped at her, surprised that she was treating it with such nonchalance. In the 90’s, this would have been music you listened to at 2 am when your parents were asleep. “Is this a… popular song?” he asked.

“Yeah, I mean it’s from like 2015 so it’s basically ancient but it’s still pretty popular.” She turned back to her homework and picked up her pen. “I think the music video has like over 100 million hits on YouTube or something like that.”

His jaw dropped even further “100 million?”

The timer on her phone went off. The words BAND PRACTICE blared across the screen with the chime of her ringtone. “I’ll show it to you later! But we have to go to rehearsal right now.”

He shook his head and followed her out of the room.

4. COVINGTON

As both his friends were pulled away by girls saucily dancing in feathered blue outfits, Alex stood awkwardly like a fish out of water. Covington slid up to him with a sly smirk on his face. “Come now. You can’t be the only one not dancing.”

“No, I… I know.” Alex sputtered. “I’m just…” Not into dancing with girls? No, he couldn’t just say that. He didn’t want to cause a scene. He pointed over his shoulder. “I’m looking for Willie,” he finished lamely.

Covington seemed to read him like an open book. He smiled and gestured with open palms. “Dante! Fuego!” Two handsome men slid up to either side of him. “Meet Alex.” The linked arms with him.

Alex looked at them, surprised. How did he know? Is this like a theater thing? Or… “You’re welcome,” Covington smirked, ducking down. Is this normal here…?

His thoughts were cut off as he was lifted up over Covington’s head and pulled into a fast-paced dance.

5. PRIDE

“Slow down Willie!” Alex shouted, running after his brunette friend as he skated through lifers and tore down the street.

Willie laughed and hopped off his board, picking it up off the ground. He waited for Alex to catch up with him “Relax, we’re almost here…”

Alex was too busy catching his breath to realize they were in the middle of a giant crowd. Lifers walked through them every few seconds like it was nothing “Wh-What is this?” Alex asked, looking around. Everyone was wearing colorful clothing and most were wearing some kind of glitter.

The skater laughed and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the street. “We’re skating the floats, dude.” He pointed at the bright floats that were parading down the street.

Was this some kind of festival or something? Alex wondered. “Why is everything so… colorful?”

Willie looked at him like he was missing something obvious. “It’s June. Pride month.” Alex didn’t know what that was. He looked around, trying to figure it out. “You’ve never seen a pride parade before?” Willie questioned. Then, he realized. “Right. Right, you’re a 90’s ghost. I keep forgetting about that.” He slapped his forehead.

Then, he realized what this was. Alex turned to his right and saw two women kissing. A couple of guys his age were holding hands right next to him. Signs as far as the eye could see read ‘here and queer’ and ‘all you need is love’ and ‘love is love’ and countless other sayings. His breath stuttered in his chest “This is…”

“I know. Pretty cool, right?” Willie asked, sounding pretty nonchalant. He was scouting out the floats, focused on his task.

“And this is all for…” Alex hesitated, “For gay people?”

“All LGBTQ+ people, technically, but yeah dude.” Willie clarified. He grinned, his eyes set on a float just down the road. He found the perfect route.

“So it really is different now, huh?” Alex asked, his voice cracking slightly. Willie looked back in alarm, not realizing how much this was impacting the drummer beside him. A tear rolled down his cheek, but his smile could not be bigger. Alex continued, “Like I had hoped it was, and there’s been some signs, but this is…” He covered his mouth to hide a sob.

Willie walked over to his side, dropping his skateboard and taking his hand gently. “Yeah, Alex. It’s different. Better. Not perfect, but... a lot better.” He squeezed his hand.

“It’s amazing.” Alex said, wiping the tears from his eyes with his sleeve and grinning. He let out a laugh as a drag queen passed by and waved at the crowd, blowing kisses.

The skater couldn’t take his eyes off of Alex. He was absolutely glowing, basking in the atmosphere of the parade. “You know what? Let’s forget the skating.” Willie decided, taking his skateboard from the side of the street and tucking it in an alley.

“Huh?” Alex was confused. Willie wanted to... not go skating?

“It’s time to get your pride on, Alex.”

Together, they spent the rest of the day exploring every area of pride, ducking through crowds and sneaking onto floats. There was even one point where they ran through a huge glitter cannon, getting absolutely covered in glitter.

After it was all done, Willie teleported back to Julie’s house with him to drop him off.

“That was the most fun I’ve ever had.” Alex admitted, his smile seemed to be permanently glued to his face.

“Me too. I’ve been to tons of pride parades, but none of them were as fun as this one.” Willie admitted.

“Really? What was different about this one? Was it the glitter cannon? It was probably the glitter cannon-”

“It was you, Alex.” The skater said quietly, brushing a couple stray pieces of glitter off of the taller boy’s cheek.

“Oh,” Alex breathed, looking down at Willie. His heart was racing a mile a minute. He hadn’t realized they were standing so close together.

Willie hesitated for a moment. Was this the moment? He didn’t want to rush Alex. He was probably overwhelmed enough after experiencing his first pride. He smiled up at the blonde and patted him on the shoulder. “Goodnight, Alex.” He stepped away and turned to leave.

He was just about to teleport when he heard “Wait!”

Willie turned around Alex kissed him.

He stiffened at first, surprised. Before he could respond, Alex pulled away and looked at him in panic.

“I’m so sorry, I thought-”

Willie grabbed him by the lapels and dragged him down, kissing him heatedly. Alex responded with enthusiasm, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“ABOUT TIME!” someone hollered from behind him.

They broke away to see Luke and Reggie beaming. They both ran over and hugged them both in a group hug. “We thought you two would never figure it out.” Luke said, causing Reggie to laugh. 

“Happy pride, Alex”. Willie murmured, squished up against his side. And Alex couldn’t have been happier.

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Magnolio, part Two

Rating: SFW Length: 1840 Pairing: Cursed Male Werewolf x GN Reader

The second half of my commission for my dearest Ana.

xxx

When you wake up the next morning, it’s with a headache borne of too little sleep. You groan and drag yourself out of bed, shambling to the bathroom and going through your morning routines. You’re halfway through brushing your teeth when you hear singing coming from inside your house, and you nearly have a heart attack before you remember your strange experiences the night before. Was that not just a dream?

You peer out of your bathroom with your toothbrush in hand, then creep out into the hallway and decide to investigate in the direction the sounds are coming from. As you get closer, you hear what sounds like someone cooking breakfast, though they’re nowhere near your kitchen. Instead, they’re coming from the sofa in front of the tv, where you’d placed the mirror the night before and set the tv onto the Discovery channel. When you come around the sofa to stand in front of it, you see Magnolio cooking over a rustic wood stove in his mirror world, shimmying a cast iron pan over the fire and singing in what you can only assume is Italian as he works.

“Good morning,” you say after a moment, sitting on the coffee table in front of the tv.

Magnolio startles but recovers quickly, beaming at you from his kitchen and carefully plating up what looks like a hefty serving of thick-cut bacon. “Buongiorno!” he calls back, bringing his plate of food over to where his mirror rests—his dining table, from the looks of it. “Did you sleep well?”

“Not really,” you reply, putting your toothbrush in your mouth and getting up to take his mirror to the kitchen. “I was awake pretty late last night talking to you. I thought it was a dream, but I guess you’re as real as it gets.”

“I’m afraid so,” Magnolio replies with a sigh, sitting down with a roll of crusty bread and breaking it open. He watches you curiously as you brush your teeth at the kitchen sink, then follows you with his eyes as you bustle around getting food together to eat. “What’s that?” “Cereal,” you say, pouring milk into your bowl and sitting at the counter to eat.

“Is that all you’re eating?” Magnolio asks, frowning at you over his plate of meat and eggs. You wave your spoon at him as though gesturing grandly with a royal sceptre. “Depression fare, my glassy friend.”

Magnolio looks stricken. “There’s a recession?”

“What? No. I’m depressed,” you say, crossing your legs beneath yourself on the counter. “My brain doesn’t produce the right chemicals to keep me happy and capable of things like, y’know, cooking and shit. The most I do is use the microwave to heat up burritos.”

“That won’t do,” Magnolio murmurs, frown returning in full before his face clears into a smile. “Once I’m free, I will cook for you. My ancestors would come back to haunt me if I left someone hungry.”

“You don’t have to,” you reply, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. “I know how to cook, I just… don’t.”

“All the more reason for me to do it for you. It costs me nothing at all. I would be happy to do it for the rest of my life, if it made your life better.”

“Well, thanks, I guess,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on your cereal so you don’t have to look up into Magnolio’s sunny brown eyes. This is so weird.

You leave Magnolio in front of the tv again when you head off to work, but you find it hard to focus once you’re there. Even coffee doesn’t seem to help you as much as it usually does, and as you do inventory, you can’t help but wonder if the man is doing alright with nothing but re-runs of Deadliest Catch for company. You have to admit that it’s nice to have something to look forward to at the end of the day, and catching up with Magnolio becomes that for you. You begin putting together playlists of documentaries after he decides he prefers the History channel, and you listen to him babble about what he learned that day as you go about your chores at home, smiling to yourself as you play video games with him beside you. He tells you stories from Sicily and Austria and France, and he even begins to teach you Italian when you ask him to—a request which delights him.

You look into therapists and consider medication after Magnolio initiates a long talk over your dinner of cold nachos and root beer for the second night in a row. You know you haven’t been taking care of yourself, and you tell yourself that you don’t care, until Magnolio looks at you with tears in his eyes and a plea on his lips. You sit together and create a grocery list of healthy foods for you to buy on your next shopping trip, and you hesitantly begin to try new recipes with Magnolio’s enthusiastic support—nothing too wild, but good enough that you start to feel better about what you’re putting into your body.

The days and nights go by in a blur of constant chatter between the two of you, from early in the morning until late into the night. You never thought yourself much of a talker, but you never seem to run out of things to talk about with Magnolio, and he’s always happy to speak with you even when you both would be better off getting rest. Eventually, the day of the full moon rolls around, and when you put your keys on the hook by the door after a stressful day at work, you find that you want nothing more than to see Magnolio’s face. You can hear the tv droning on in the living room, but you don’t hear Magnolio’s usual cheerful greeting when you close the door behind you.

The mirror is empty.

“Magnolio?” you call, confusion giving way to concern when there’s no response. “Maggie? Where are you? Answer me, please.”

You hear what sounds like the whine of a dog, and you’re confused all over again until a dark shape appears in the mirror. Staring back at you is the face of a wolf, but stranger—more angular in places and rounder in others. It’s also huge, taking up a good portion of the bottom of the mirror from where it’s peering at you as if you might slap it right on the snout at any moment.

You blink. Rub your eyes. Blink again, then plop down on the coffee table in front of the mirror with a rattle of the glass on wood beneath you. “You’re a fucking werewolf?”

“I didn’t want to tell you,” Magnolio moans, his voice laced with that canine whine that tugs at your heartstrings. “I thought you would get rid of me if you knew.”

“You trusted me with ‘man in the mirror’ but not ‘werewolf’?” you waspishly reply, struggling to keep your temper out of your tone.

“You never asked why the villagers wanted me dead,” Magnolio points out, ears drooping down and back. “I was going to tell you tonight, but you came home later than usual.”

“There was overtime at work—fuck, who cares about that, you’re a werewolf. How am I supposed to get you out of the mirror now?”

Magnolio’s ears flicker back up. “You still want to free me from the mirror?”

“Well, yeah, unless you plan on eating me.”

Down again, this time flat against his head as his amber eyes narrowed. “I would never! Humans taste ghastly, let alone the weight on my conscience.”

You snort. “Oh, the weight on your conscience. Nice to know I don’t look like a pork chop.”

“Oh! Did you know? I learned today, humans are referred to as ‘long pork’ among cannibals, because they allegedly taste like—“

“Don’t finish that sentence. I’m still supposed to kiss that mouth.”

Magnolio fidgets in place, clawed hands coming up to groom the dense fur at his neck in a way that you can only assume is self-soothing. “You would still have to do it under the light of the moon.”

You purse your lips at this predicament, getting up to take him with you into the kitchen. You ponder as you pull a container of leftovers out of your freezer, tossing it into the microwave and pacing in your kitchen. “There’s the window in the living room, but I don’t trust that someone won’t just straight up walk in on me making out with a werewolf and call the cops.”

“What is ‘making out’?”

“Not important. The only other window that can get good moonlight is upstairs in my bedroom. We’ll have to do it there.”

“I’ve never been in your bedroom,” Magnolio comments thoughtfully, finding his pendant in the ruff of his neck and toying with it between two fingertips. “Yeah, well, prepare to be underwhelmed,” you mutter, shrugging out of your uniform jacket and tossing it over the back of the nearest chair. Once the microwave beeps, you try to take your time eating, prolonging the inevitable as your nerves fray. It all seems so sudden, now, though you know you’ve had weeks to prepare. Once you’re done, you do the dishes and then haul Magnolio upstairs into your bedroom, where you prop him up against your dresser.

Magnolio looks around curiously, taking in the rumpled sheets on your bed, the clothing on your “floordrobe”, the cups on your nightstand. “It’s bigger than I thought it would be,” is all that he murmurs, and for that, you’re grateful.

“Second only to the living room,” you say, sighing softly and frowning when you catch a whiff of your breath. You stand up and hurry out of your bedroom, barely hearing Magnolio call out behind you.

“Where are you going?”

“To brush my teeth!” you shout back, turning on your bathroom faucet. “My breath smells like calamari!”

Magnolio’s laughter brings a smile to your face. You brush your teeth twice and dig out some mouthwash for good measure, and only then do you return to your bedroom to kneel in front of Magnolio’s mirror. Moonlight makes the silver decorations gleam as you look into each others’ eyes, and when you lean in, Magnolio moves to meet your lips. You feel a tingle and a snap as though zapped by a static shock, and in the next moment, you have your arms full of a very big werewolf.

“I’m out!” gasps Magnolio, touching the floor of your bedroom with something approaching reverence as his tail wiggles behind him.

“You’re out!” you laugh, helplessly cupping his big, furry face in your hands. “Welcome back, Mags.”

Magnolio beams, baring all of his sharp teeth before he presses his lips to yours again. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” he says when he draws away, tail stilling. “You probably don’t feel the same way. I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” you tell him, and kiss him until his tail beats against the floor.

[isolemnlyswearpevensie]

Nothing Changed But Everything’s Different | Sirius Black x Reader

Warning: slowburn angst, mentions of slight violence, alcohol, no happy ending

Time/Era: Marauder Era, Ages 18-21

Word Count: 10.1k

Summary: Sirius found someone who made him believe in love at first sight. 

Request: Okay! :) Well in that case can I have an ANGST Sirius x Reader? Where they’ve been together for a few years (it’s post-hogwarts only a couple years) but the relationship is starting to sour and crumble. Sirius being Sirius is flirting with other girls and just neglecting y/n. They argue a lot and everyone can see that it’s deteriorating. It gets to a point where he just flat doesn’t acknowledge her even though they live together, long and ANGSTY pls 🥺 :) U decide the ending! :) Ty, much love!

A/N: I worked really, really hard on this so I hope you enjoy :) Let me know what you think :)

part 2 | masterlist | marauders era playlist | read on ao3

“She’s absolutely gorgeous, Prongs!” A young Sirius Black twirled around the dorm room and fell onto his bed with a dreamy sigh. “She’s witty and smart mouthed, but she’s so sweet and nice at the same time. She listens to the Weird Sisters and Queen and she’s a total badass.” 

“Y/N L/N?” James scoffs, bending over a sketch he was working on. It appeared to be an intricate building of some sort, complete with four stories and geometric windows. 

“Yes, Y/N L/N! I think it’s love at first sight, Prongsy. I’m going to marry that girl one day.” Sirius laid one of his ankles against the post of his bed. The leather of his boot made a loud squeaking noise, and James cringed.

“Have you ever even talked to Y/N L/N?” James smiled smugly and smudged ink across the side of his hand. 

“Have you ever had an actual conversation with Lily Evans?” Sirius countered, making James sputter. James looked diagonally towards Sirius and moved his head so their corresponding bedposts weren’t in the way. 

“I have! This morning, for example! We talked about the morning toast for a full 3 minutes!” His glasses began to fog as his cheeks warm. Sirius laughed heartily and threw the pillow that was under his head square at James’ face. With a deep ‘oof,’ James looks back towards Sirius, glasses now crooked. “Fine, don’t believe me! You’re just angry Evans is finally starting to fall for my charm.” 

“Ah yes, my bad. I forgot sweat and body odor was irresistible to girls.” 

“Lily isn’t a girl.” James reached his slender fingers to level his glasses. “She’s a woman.” 

Sirius was sent into hysterics; chest heaving, loud laughter, tearful, hysterics. James rolled his eyes and threw the pillow back at Sirius. But, in all of its glory, the cushion hit Sirius’ bedpost and sent feathers flying through the air. Sirius busts out in even more laughter, falling to the floor with a big, dramatic thud. 

“What’s going on here?” Remus asks, entering the room and setting his bag onto his bed. “Why is Pads on the floor?” 

“JP assaulted me!” 

“I DID NOT YOU THREW FIRST!!!” 

Remus chuckled under his breath and unbuckled his bag to retrieve his homework. “And what exactly caused this alleged assault? Did Sirius call you Prancer again?” 

A bark sounding laugh came from Sirius and James scowled. 

“No, we were just talking about his newfound obsession with Y/N L/N and he took an unwarranted dig at mine and Lily’s relationship.” 

Remus snorted and set his work on his desk. “What relationship?” Sirius let out another “HA” and pulled himself back onto his mattress. “And isn’t Y/N L/N the one who called your hair greasy, Pads?” 

“Well, yes, but I like a woman with a bit of attitude,” Sirius sighed dreamily. His left pointer finger, ring and all, came to twirl a chunk of his hair. “I think I want an autumn wedding.” 

“You’re not getting married to her, mate. You don’t even know her.” James came to Remus’ bed and started poking around his bag. “Are you putting on the scar ointment Pomfrey gave you still, Moons? Hey! Stop picking at that one, you’re going to make it worse!” He slapped Remus’ hand away from his face and Remus rolled his eyes. 

“Who are you? My mother?” 

“I am too going to marry her, James! Just watch me!” 

Peter opened the door solemnly, a grumpy look plastered on his face. James turns nervously towards him before slapping him on the back. 

“What happened, Pete? I thought you were supposed to be on a date?” 

“I was, but she stood me up. Again.” Peter responds, making a beeline for the window seat. Conveniently, it was located next to his bed, so he haphazardly tossed his school bag onto the mattress. He grabs hold of one of the pillows before hugging it to his chest and burying his head into it. Sirius and James share a look before Sirius speaks up. 

“Awh, you’ll get ‘em next time. Don’t worry too much about it. It’s her loss, really.” 

“No, it was my loss. It was Abagail Cavin, mate. It was definitely my loss.” Peter’s voice was muffled as he muttered into the soft fabric. 

“Who’s Abagail Cavin?” Sirius asks, looking towards Remus for an answer. He shrugs. 

“I think that’s the ginger girl who always hangs around Y/N L/N? A year or two below us,” James thought aloud. “She��s friends with Lily too, I’ve seen them studying together.” 

Remus snorts. “Of course you have.” 

“I don’t know if I’m sad or angry.” The mousy boy admits, throwing the pillow in his lap at the wall. It hit one of Sirius’ Queen posters, making the frame fall to the floor with a loud crash. James is quick to swoop in and redirect Peter’s attention in fear of him escalating. 

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay, there’s no need to get mad at Abagail. Um, how about we go get some sweets from the kitchens, yeah? Maybe that’ll make you feel better.” 

Peter tightened his jaw, staring at the now shattered frame on the ground. After a moment of silence from all the boys, Peter nodded and the pair exited the room. 

~

“Y/N L/N,” Sirius spoke in his signature flirty voice. He tried to match her walking pace, but she seemed to be in a rush. 

“Sirius Black, what can I do for you?” Y/N answered, her school uniform skirt swaying as she walked. She was on her way to meet Abagail in the library so the two could study together, and she was already 5 minutes late. 

“I was wondering if you would -excuse me, sorry- if you would like to go to the next Quidditch match with me?” Y/N seemed to swerve in and out of the crowded hallway like a car in heavy traffic. “Supposed to be a good game, you know.” 

“Me? Go with you? While you cheer your little boyfriend on? Thanks for offering, but I have to decline.” 

“Come on, you always go anyway! It could be fun!” Sirius finally matched Y/N’s fast gait. “And maybe we could grab some hot butterbeer or cider after.” 

Y/N sighed, suddenly stopping at the entrance of the library. She faced Sirius boldly and grabbed his upper arms with her hands. 

“Listen, it’s really flattering that you want me to go with you, and I have to admit, you’re super cute. But, you don’t exactly have the best track record with girls and I don’t want to be just a checkmark on your list of girls to shag.” 

While any person would be wounded by Y/N’s blunt assumptions, Sirius grins. “That’s where you’re wrong, love. I don’t really have a track record with girls, unless you count the week I dated Marlene McKinnon the October of our 2nd year. It’s our 7th year and I’ve had one kind-of girlfriend.”

Sirius watched as Y/N’s facial expression changed. Taking this as an invitation to keep going, he rubs his hands together and continues. “And if you’re talking about shagging, I’ve shagged maybe three girls who were not on some kind of to-fuck list, thank you very much.” Sirius suddenly leans in so he could whisper. “I’m just flirty. And based on the look on your face, the flirting is working.” 

“Y/N!” Abagail’s voice made Y/N drop her hands and Sirius smirk. “What are you doing?” 

“Oh, we’re just chit chatting,” Sirius answers for Y/N. “But, I do have a question for you, Ab.” 

Abagail’s face scrunched in response. “Don’t call me that. What’s your question?” 

“Why’d you stand up my mate Peter?” Sirius now stood with his feet shoulders width apart, arms crossed over his chest and his hair pulled to one side. Y/N couldn’t help but admire how well Sirius’ uniform pants fit. 

“What do you mean, stand him up? We talked about hanging out, but we never made actual plans. Honestly, I don’t really think I want to make any official plans. Some of the things he says are kinda scary.” Y/N looks sympathetically towards her friend.

“I told you to just ignore him, babes.” 

“I know, I know. I really think he’s a nice guy deep down though.” 

Sirius looked puzzled, “What harmless, little Peter Pettigrew says scares you?” 

Abagail nods frantically, “He came and sat with Lily and me when we were studying in the library last week. He went on a rant about how he can’t wait to become an Auror just to see,” The girl lifted her fingers to so air quotes. “How far he can take it.” 

“That doesn’t sound like Peter at all,” Sirius’ eyebrows knit in confusion. 

“Well, it was. And Y/N and I have a lot of studying to do. So, if you’ll excuse us.” Abagail gently tugged at Y/N’s arm. 

“Wait! So, is it a date, Y/N?” Sirius called after the girls. Y/N turned over her shoulder and beamed. 

“Common room before the match. I don’t like to be kept waiting, Black!”

~

“You don’t like to be kept waiting… but you think it’s perfectly okay to leave me all alone in the common room? That’s not very kind, Y/N.” Sirius watched Y/N descend the stairs to the girls dormitory. He was wearing his Gryffindor sweater and ripped black jeans, his hair tied messily in a bun. A long, striped scarf dangled lazily on his shoulders and draped down his frame to his mid thigh. 

“I said before the match and if I’m not mistaken, it’s before the match.” Y/N tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Are those for me?” 

Sirius quickly stood, holding out a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers. “Heh, yeah. I thought it was fitting because it’s the middle of October and we’re going to a Quidditch match. The leaves are orange and there’s so many colors and the sunflowers have the same kind of color pallet-” 

“Sirius, they’re lovely. Thank you.” Y/N cut off the blabbering boy. She took the flowers happily and observed their pretty petals. Sirius was right; the rich golden color matched the fallen leaves that littered the Hogwarts grounds. Y/N held up a waiting finger to Sirius so she could go leave her flowers in her dorm. 

“It’s pretty cold out, love, do you want to grab a jacket?” Sirius said when she returned. 

“It’s all in the name of fashion, my dear,” Y/N pulls a piece of hair behind her ear and nods towards the portrait hole. “Shall we?” 

Y/N sat in the crowd with her legs crossed; her shoulders were slumped forwards and her hands stayed sandwiched in between her thighs. Gryffindor was absolutely destroying Ravenclaw with the impressive score of 80-10. 

“The snitch is right by Potter’s head!” Y/N screeched, bumping Sirius’ shoulder with her own. 

“Where?! I don’t see it!” 

“To the right! Meadowes needs to catch it before Lockhart sees it!” Y/N shivers in spite of herself, bringing her hands to her mouth in order to warm them. Sirius snickers and loops his scarf around her shoulders. 

“Hopefully that doesn’t ruin your outfit, love.” Sirius winks and turns back to the game. 

The scarf was soft and toasty, and smelt exactly like Sirius. The satisfying mix of leather, butterbeer, pine and smoke engulfed her senses and made her dizzy. Y/N wrapped it around her arms and snuggled deeper into the soft knit. 

“Meadowes spots the snitch!” Remus announces over the intercom. The entire statum seemed to erupt into chaos; cheers and boos echoing off of every surface within 500 feet. 

Y/N had always had a soft spot for Remus; they weren’t friends, but something about him was so warm and inviting. He in no way seemed like the type to announce a Quidditch match, but it appears that when you’re friends with James Potter long enough, anything could happen. 

Dorcas zooms past the Gryffindor student section in her pursuit for the snitch. The entire group, Lily and Marlene especially, scream out loud words of encouragement. Y/N could have sworn she could see a faint smile appear across Dorcas’ features. 

“Potter scores! 10 points to Gryffindor! 90-10! Ravenclaw could still win if Lockhart catches the snitch!” 

“Come on, come on,” Sirius mumbles under his breath. No matter how much he liked to deny it, Sirius got really into Quidditch. He couldn’t play for shit, but he knew the mechanics of the game like the back of his hand. 

“Meadowes catches the snitch! Gryffindor wins!!” The entire crowd goes ballistic. Kids hug, and some kiss, before storming the field to congratulate their team. James stays on his broom, doing small loops in the air in the hopes of impressing a certain redhead. 

Sirius wraps his strong arms around his date, pulling her to her feet and lifting her into the air. “We won, Y/N! We won!!” 

Y/N snakes her arms around Sirius in return, a similar happiness bubbling in her chest. 

“What’d ya say about grabbing some hot cider from the kitchens to celebrate?” Sirius questions, noticing they’re the last students at their seats. 

Y/N nods, a soft smile gracing her face. “Yes, please. I’m fucking freezing.” 

~

“It would be easier if you just levitated the boxes in, love.” Y/N watched as Sirius struggled to carry boxes into the living room of their new flat. She giggled, admiring her boyfriend’s flexed biceps and strong hands. The prominent veins in his hands and forearms were bulging, making the manual labor a show for his very happy girlfriend. 

“I feel like that’s bad luck,” Sirius explained, placing the cardboard onto the floor. “I want to do this right. If I don’t we could be cursed.” 

“Whatever you say, babe. But, just so you know, that box goes into the kitchen.” With a flirty wink and smile, Y/N walked into their bedroom to unpack some of their boxes. 

Their new flat wasn’t overly exciting; it was a one bedroom, one bath flat above a small bakery in the center of London. It was a tiny space, as you’d expect two barely-twenty-year-olds to own, but it would soon be their home. Y/N was just excited the flat had a kitchenette and a small living space. 

The best part, in Y/N’s opinion at least, was the fact that the smell of freshly baked bread filled their flat at the beginning of each day. The elderly bakery owners, Jullian and Caspar, had given the young couple a good price on the flat. According to them, they were waiting for the perfect couple to rent from them. What that meant, Y/N didn’t know, but it made her feel special all the same. 

Y/N looked out of their window to the hustle and bustle on the sidewalk below. The shop was a small, hole in the wall bakery called Dream Puffs, that was oddly popular for its location. And Y/N was quick to understand why. Almost everything they made, especially the sour dough bread and cream puffs, were to die for. Jillian had presented Sirius and her a large loaf of the bread and a dozen cream puffs as a welcome present, most of which had been eaten already. Y/N wished she had known of Dream Puffs and the wonderful owners before, but she supposed she still had a lot to discover in London. 

The one downside was the only way to get into their apartment was by going through the bakery. It’s not the worst thing in the world, but when you’re in a rush or having a bad day, having to face random people isn’t the most ideal situation. Jullian and Caspar were nice enough to close the bakery early for the couple’s move in. 

“I thought you were supposed to be unpacking?” Sirius poked his head into their bedroom with sweat dripping down his brow. 

“Oh right, sorry,” Y/N lazily flicked her wand and their clothing sprang to life. 

“Bad luck, Y/N!” He entered the room and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, laid his chin on her shoulder and looked out the window. The busy streets and buildings were muted by the glass, which made Y/N feel as if they were watching ants in an ant farm. 

“I doubt we’ll get bad luck from levitating a few shirts, darling,” Y/N brought one of his hands to her mouth, gently kissing his knuckles before returning it to her waist. “I can’t believe this place is ours,” 

“Well, technically it’s Jillian’s and Caspars, but yes.” Sirius chuckles directly into Y/N’s ear and kisses her shoulder. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” 

“Are you asking me to marry you?” 

“Yes and no. Not now, obviously, but eventually. We’re going to be together forever anyway, so why should we rush?” 

Y/N sighed happily, feeling very loved. 

~

“Do you think Abagail will ever talk to me again?” Peter asked, laying his head against the armrest of the couch. “I heard she's working at the book shop in Diagon Alley.” 

Y/N snorted, laying her head on her boyfriend’s shoulder and enjoying the sound of the record playing in the corner of the room. Sirius and Y/N were hosting a dinner party for their friends in celebration of James getting accepted into the Auror academy. The nine of them -Sirius, Y/N, James, Lily, Peter, Remus, Marlene, Dorcas, and Mary- were all piled in Sirius and Y/N’s small living room, tipsy and full of warm food. 

“That happened almost two years ago, Pete. Let it go,” Y/N hummed, Sirius’ gentle hand rubbing her back and lulling her to sleep. She could feel the vibrations of Sirius’ laughter through his leather jacket. 

“Yeah, so? I’m not allowed to like someone that long?” Peter’s voice was harsher than he anticipated, making Sirius send a glare his way. 

“She means stop moping around and pining after a girl who doesn’t want you. There’s a world of opportunity and thousands of girls just waiting to date you if you open your eyes to it.” Sirius’ tone was barely lighter than Peter’s. 

“Well I don’t want thousands of girls, Padfoot. I want Abagail. Not everyone can hit it on their first try.” 

“Hit it on their first try?” Y/N was now wide awake. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“I mean,” Peter sat up, looking Y/N straight in the eyes. “You fucked Sirius on the first date.” 

“Woah, woah, woah, alright that’s enough. Wormy, Pads, Y/N, let’s all just take a deep breath and calm down for a moment.” James was quick on his feet to defuse the potentially harmful situation. He knew how Peter could get, and he didn’t want to see it escalate to that point. 

“Did you just slut shame me for having sex with my own boyfriend? Do you even have the authority to do that, Mr. Unused-Condom?” Y/N was now standing with James, starting to walk towards Peter. Peter stumbled to his feet and stared into Y/N’s eyes. 

“He wasn’t your boyfriend then, Miss Drop-My-Panties-for-a-Knut.” 

Sirius was quick to act, anger boiling inside of him. His knuckles balled into a fist and he threw a nasty punch square into Peter’s jaw. “No one insults my girl, Peter. I thought you knew better than that.” Sirius’ voice was like nothing Y/N had ever heard; it was cold and icy, yet fiery hot and full of hell-bending anger. 

Peter looked up and slugged Sirius right in the nose, making it gush blood. Remus grabs Sirius’ arms and binds them behind his back, trusting James to do the same to Peter. 

Y/N shrieked, having never seen Sirius or Peter get physical with anyone, let alone each other. Marlene grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the boys. 

“What have we talked about, you two?” James demanded, the vein on his neck bulging. 

“I’m not going to sit around and let him harass my girlfriend, JP! He’s a fucking asshole and he knows it!” Sirius struggled against his binds, but Remus was much stronger than him. 

“I’m not the one dating a slut!” 

“Get the fuck out of my flat!” Sirius screams making the room shake. Peter wiggles from James’ grip and grabs his wand before disapperating out of the room. 

Remus releases Sirius and he stomps out of the flat and down the stairs, most likely to go smoke a cigarette. James quickly follows after a glance towards Lily. 

“What did James mean when he said ‘what have we talked about,’ Remus?” Y/N asks, her soft voice a stark contrast from Sirius’ shouting. Remus runs a big hand down his face and plops onto the couch. 

“I wasn’t supposed to let you girls know,” He scoffs, shaking his head. “Sirius and Peter have been at each other’s throats for the past few years. Recently, it started getting physical. James always tries to defuse the situation, but it doesn’t work a ton.” Remus meets Y/N’s gaze and smiles sadly. “That boy would do absolutely anything for you, I hope you know that.” 

~

Sirius laid in bed with his arms wound tightly around Y/N’s waist. It was near 5 am and the light was just barely peeking through the window of their bedroom. The morning bread must have just been put in the oven, as the smell of fresh bread was slowly starting to overtake the flat. A long sliver of silver light slashed against the wall before fading delicately into the white paint. Sirius sighed contently and looked down at his girl. 

Her eyes were closed and her mouth was slightly agape; Sirius observed how Y/N’s eyes moved under her eyelids while wondering what she was dreaming about. He hoped she dreamt of him, as his dreams were constantly riddled with her. Every aspect of her danced around his dreams: her lovely smile, her laugh, her scent, her gait, and everything that made Y/N Y/N. Sirius’ own lips parted a miniscule amount as he brought the back of his fingers to brush her cheek. He couldn’t help but notice how soft her skin was under his touch. She was so peaceful in this moment, and if she was to be disturbed, the world would crack. 

But all good things come to an end, and Y/N opened her eyes. Her features were riddled with the grogginess of sleep as she batted her eyes to focus her vision. 

“Darling? Is everything alright?” Her voice was honey in his ears. 

“Perfect, my love. Go back to sleep.” 

“What time is it?” Y/N began to wiggle from his strong grip, but Sirius tightened his hold on her waist. 

The man shot a spare glance at the old coo-coo clock that hung in the corner. “Quarter to five” 

“Then may I ask why you’re awake?” 

Sirius sighed, pressing an opened mouth kiss on her forehead. “Couldn’t sleep, the nightmares are still awry.” 

“What was it this time? Your mom?” Y/N was now wide awake and propped up onto her elbow. 

“No, the last Order mission, actually,” Sirius gently brushed a clump of hair out of her eyes. “But it’s okay, I’m alright. I have you here with me.” 

Y/N’s eyebrows scrunched and her mouth pierced. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No, my darling. I just want to lay here with my beautiful girl in my arms.” 

~ 

“I’ve never been to this bar before,” Y/N giggles as Sirius opens the door to the small building. The outside’s appearance was rather unappealing; cracked, exposed brick that has moss growing out of it, a leaky gutter system, a splintering wooden door and a faded open sign. Y/N looked up towards the LED sign that spelled out the bar’s name. Silver Sickle Bar and Eatery illuminated in the wet pavement, but multiple letters were unlit, making it read Silver Ickle and Eat. 

“Me either, one of my clients works here and said she’d give me free drinks.” Sirius winked before following Y/N inside. 

The place was small and drafty, but oddly cozy. It had the same exposed brick as the outside, but this time, they were bright red and covered in picture frames.  A few wooden tables were scattered across the floor opposite the bar, and various older men sat with beers in their hands. 

“Oh, Sirius! My love, you came!” A very angelic girl from behind bar squeals, quickly exciting the bar and throwing her arms around Sirius. Her hurried speed made Y/N step away from the pair to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Sirius chuckles heartily, wrapping his arms around her small frame, seeming to forget Y/N was there. 

“Vanessa! Nice to see you again,” He exhaled. A sinking feeling settled in the bottom of Y/N’s stomach. “How is your tattoo healing?” 

Vanessa pulls her shirt down to show Sirius the skin in between her breasts. On her skin sat a magical tattoo of a Hongorian Horntail dragon, which looked towards Sirius and blew a big breath of fire his way. The art was gorgeous, very obviously Sirius’ work, which only made Y/N’s stomach sink further into her feet. The red, lacy, v neck bra Vanessa was wearing brought out the ink in the tattoo perfectly, and the shape of the cut displayed not only her breasts, but the dragon beautifully. 

Y/N knew that many of Sirius’ clients were girls; she wasn’t stupid. He was a newly licensed tattoo artist at the biggest magical tattoo parlor in all of London. Not to mention, Sirius was an incredibly talented artist, which meant his appointment list was extremely difficult to get on. The charming attitude and good looks only added to the appeal of his artistry. 

“Who’s this?” Vanessa turned her gaze from Sirius’ to look directly at Y/N. Her long, black hair fell over her shoulder like a waterfall and her porcelain skin glowed under the dim lighting. 

“Oh! Right,” Sirius stuttered, shooting a grin in Y/N’s direction. “This is my gorgeous girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N this is Vanessa, I did her dragon tattoo last week.” 

Y/N forced herself to send a polite smile towards the girl who was just all over her boyfriend. Vanessa sent an equally fake smile and began to walk back to the bar. 

“And what can I get started for you, handsome?” She giggled, standing in front of the large wall of liquor. Y/N felt as if she was back at Hogwarts with all the girls throwing themselves at Sirius. 

“Old fashioned,” Sirius responded, taking place on one of the wooden stools. “And for the lady, tequila on the rocks with lime.” 

Vanessa sends Y/N an icy look before giggling sweetly. “Coming right up.” 

Y/N sends a worried glance towards Sirius, but he just responds by squeezing her thigh and kissing her temple. 

“So, do you have any tattoos? Since you’re so good at your job, I would assume you do, yes?” Vanessa asks, pouring Sirius’s drink and sliding it towards him. 

“Quite a few,” He catches the glass before it flies off the bar. “Most of them are covered by my shirt though.” 

It was true, Sirius’ torso and shoulders were littered with tattoos: A large lion across his right shoulder onto his bicep, stag antlers across his shoulder blades, a moon on the lower left side of his stomach, rat paw marks under the moon, and constellations riddling his collarbones. 

The bartender tilts her head to the side cheekily. “Can I see them?” 

Sirius chuckles in a very happy, flattered way. “I don’t think that’s quite necessary here,” 

“But I can already see this one…” Vanessa reached her arm across the bar and traced the bottom of the lion’s mane with her long, slender fingers. The tattoo seemed to move with her movements. “Can’t I see the rest?” 

Y/N coughs, slapping her hand against the bar. The vibration of Y/N’s sudden movement caused Sirius’ drink to wobble inside the glass. “I think I ordered a tequila not a random chick flirting with my boyfriend.” 

“Of course, how foolish of me.” Vanessa sent a scowl Y/N’s way and turned her back to fetch the bottle of alcohol. Sirius matched Vanessa’s expression. 

Once the flirt finished making Y/N’s drink, she slid it over to her. Y/N took a sip, only to find it was awfully made and very watered down. 

“Sirius, babe, I have a headache, can we go home?” 

“You didn’t have a headache a minute ago?” Sirius raises an eyebrow. 

“I know, I just feel a migraine coming on. I really need to take my migraine potion before it gets bad. Please?” 

Sirius sighs and nods, throwing an arm around her shoulders and kissing her temple. “Of course, babygirl.” 

The pair stand from their stools but Vanessa stops them. “That’ll be 2 galleons for the tequila.”

“You said you’d give me free drinks?” Sirius placed a comforting hand on Y/N’s lower back, rubbing small circles over her shirt. 

“Yeah, for you. The tequila wasn’t for you.” 

“Yeah, fine, whatever.” Sirius reached into his pocket and pulled out two galleons, slamming them onto the bar. 

“Can I bet on seeing you again?” A loud giggle comes from her mouth as the couple exited the building. “Maybe you can show me your tattoos.” 

~

“I don’t know, Lily! She was all over him and he didn’t stop it.” Y/N bit into an apple and traced the Potters’ tablecloth. It was a month after Sirius and Y/N had visited The Silver Sickle, and Y/N couldn’t keep her anxieties to herself. 

“Have you tried talking to him about it?” Lily responded, kneading a big glob of pie crust at the counter. Potter Cottage was much larger than Sirius and Y/N’s flat above Dream Puffs. Earlier that month, Lily had announced she was pregnant, so James decided it was time to upgrade from their small flat to a house fit to raise a family. 

“Yes, but each time I try to bring her up he gets defensive and assures me that it was nothing, that he was trying to get free drinks.” 

Lily stared down at her dough intensely before grabbing her rolling pin. “Well, I wouldn’t let him get away with it. Maybe try to ask him again tonight? Just sit down and have a real, hearts on the table conversation about your feelings and whatnot. It’s important to do that.” 

“Yeah, that’s the thing. He’s been staying at work late this entire week. Apparently, one of his clients is getting a full back tattoo and it’s taking multiple sessions to finish. This is his biggest job to date, I don’t want to ruin it for him.” 

“How late is late?” The mom-to-be laid the pie crust into her pan and began to trim the excess off of the edges. 

“Nine, sometimes ten. He comes home exhausted.” 

“Hm, okay. I’d still try to speak with him if you can. How’s your work going? St. Mungos treating you well?” 

“Oh, yeah, definitely. My supervisor said that I’m one of the best beginning level healers he’s seen since Pomfrey worked in my ward,” Y/N took another bite of her apple. “I might get transferred to the branch in France for a week coming up, though. There was a big gas explosion and they have over 200 burn victims. My supervisor said it would be a good experience for me.” 

“Oh, I read about that in The Prophet! Those poor people,” Lily filled the crust with apple pie filling. “I’m sure they need all the help they can get.” 

“Oh, I know. I haven’t learned much about burn solvents yet, so it’ll be interesting to learn on the job.” 

“Are you going this week? What a shame, it’s your birthday on Saturday.” 

“Oh, no, the earliest I would be leaving is a fortnight from now. I’m kind of a last resort since I don’t have much experience or training yet.” Y/N stood and threw her apple core into the bin. “How’s JP doing at the Academy? He’s in his second year by now, right?” 

“Oh, he’s doing lovely. The Order is grateful for his efforts and have been sending him on more missions than before.” Lily sighs. “It’s rather nerve wracking, isn't it? You’re lucky Sirius doesn’t get called on many.” 

Y/N laughed a bit uncomfortably. “Yeah, I suppose they prefer actual Aurors to go on the calls. But when he does go, those are the worst nights. I can’t imagine having to go through that on a daily basis.” 

“It’s really hard,” Lily’s voice cracks and she begins to cry. “I’m sorry, it’s the hormones.” 

“Don’t apologize, Lils. I know how scary it can be. At least he's with Wormtail most of the time, yeah? They’re at the academy together and all.” 

Lily takes a deep breath to control her crying. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Thank god for Wormy.” 

~

“Hello there, pretty lady. I heard there’s a 21st birthday party to be thrown?” James said happily as Y/N opened the door of the flat. Lily and Remus tailed him ever so slightly, all three wearing large grins and holding brightly wrapped packages. 

“Birthday party? You guys don’t-” 

James waved his hand dismissively. “We’re already here, so you’re kind of stuck with us. Peter should be here eventually.” The three push their way into the living room. 

“The nice elderly woman downstairs asked me to bring you this,” Remus held out a cupcake with bright red frosting. Y/N took it happily and walked to the kitchen to set it on the counter. 

“Thank you, Moony. But, really, you guys didn’t have to. Sirius isn’t even here.” Y/N felt self conscious around her friends. She was wearing an old tee shirt from her early teens, a beloved Scooby-Doo tee with a rip in the left armpit, and black yoga pants. It was safe to say Y/N was more than ready to spend her birthday alone. 

“What do you mean, not here?” Remus was standing in the corner of the living room, flipping through Sirius and Y/N’s record collection. They had so many at this point that the couple was unsure which record belonged to who. 

“I don’t know, he left early this morning saying he got called into work. Something about an angry customer.” Y/N felt small under the group’s gaze. “I wasn’t really paying attention, I was half asleep.” 

Y/N watched as Lily and James shared a look. “I didn’t think the shop was open on Saturdays, but I guess they are.” Y/N’s shoulders lowered visibly, making Lily backtrack. “It’s the pregnancy brain, Y/N. I’ve been mixing things up for the past week and a half.” 

“Right, right. Of course. Um, how’s that going, by the way?” She crossed her arms across her stomach uncomfortably. 

“Oh, it’s going wonderful! We actually have something to give you, if that’s okay.” 

“Wait!” James cut in. “We should wait for Wormy to get here!” 

Lily hit his chest with the back of her hand. “Oh, come off it. You know how late he is to everything! Let’s do it now.” The couple led Y/N to the couch and sat on either side of her, both wearing matching shit-eating grins. Remus remained leaning against the wall, ready to flip the record when the time came. James placed a medium-sized purple box on her lap. 

Y/N carefully undid the wrapping paper, prompting James to let out a loud groan. 

“Any day now, woman!” 

Y/N giggled. “Hey! It’s my birthday! Be nice to me!” 

“I am being nice to you, Y/N! I gave you a present, didn’t I?” 

Y/N bumped her shoulder with his and reached into the box. Her fingertips met with the soft fabric of a tee shirt. Upon pulling the garment out completely, she observed that the words World’s Best Godmother was printed across the front. Immediately, Y/N dropped the shirt and covered her mouth with her hand. 

“Is that a yes?” Lily asked, her eyes tearing again. 

“Yes! Oh my god!” Y/N’s own tears trailed down her cheeks as she hugged both tightly. “Me? Godmother?” 

“I can’t think of anyone more worthy,” Remus remarked as he watched the heartwarming scene unfold in front of him. Y/N was so overwhelmed with joy that she had almost forgotten that Sirius was absent. Almost. 

The party went along swimmingly from there on out; Peter had arrived shortly after Y/N unboxed Remus’ gift, a new cauldron and potion ingredients, and another gift from the Potters, a pair of gorgeous black combat boots. The mousey-boy shuffled over to Y/N and handed her a small gift bag. 

“Oh? Thanks, Pete.” Y/N awkwardly pulled out the contents of the bag. “Oh, good, a gift card to Silver Sickle Bar and Eatery.” She tried to sound thankful towards the man in front of her, but the disdain was still evident in her voice. 

“Sirius said it was his favorite bar, so I thought you’d like it. Maybe we can grab some lunch there, obviously my treat,” He lazily gestures to the card in her hand. “We haven’t really hung out for a while. I figured it would be nice. If you don’t like it I can get you something diff-” 

Y/N cut him off with a hug, “Thank you, Peter, this was really thoughtful. Would next week work?” 

“Wednesday?” He wraps his arms around Y/N’s frame for a moment before letting go. 

“Wednesday works perfectly.” 

The four continued to hang out well into the night; laughing, chatting, drinking, listening to music, and playing board games. As the party dragged on, Y/N couldn’t help but grow worried about Sirius’ whereabouts. Her worries were harshly pushed aside, though, when Lily suggested they play poker. 

“Ugh, I fold.” Peter slams his cards down onto the coffee table and laid back onto the carpet in defeat. Y/N smirked at Remus, her only opponent, and gestured for him to show her his cards. 

“Straight, beat that,” Remus says confidently. James and Peter “oooh” childishly and looked towards Y/N. It was very apparent that all of them, besides Lily, were very buzzed. 

Y/N smirked and shook her head, “You play a hard bargain, Lupin. So good that I applaud you. But,” Y/N laid her hand on the table: four of a kind. “You’re just not good enough.” 

The room laughs as Y/N pulls the large pile of galleons, sickles, knuts and Lily’s wedding ring towards her. Y/N slips it onto her own ring finger and holds her hand as if to admire it. 

“Oh, Lily, dear, don’t you just adore my new ring? Look at how it glistens in the light!” 

The redhead rolls her eyes and snatches it off of Y/N’s finger. “I’ll just be taking that,” She puts it back on. 

“It will forever be known to be my legal property, Evans. Don’t forget it!” 

“Does that mean I’m married to both of you now?” James smiles a dopey grin and looks back and forth between the two women. Y/N pretends to gag. 

“On second thought, I surrender my rights to your ring.” 

The group continued their laughter until the front door of the flat swung open. A very drunk Sirius Black stumbled in the door, dumbfounded as to why all of his friends were in his house. 

“Why are you guys here?” Sirius slurred, pulling up the shoulder of his leather jacket. He bumped the record player in the process, making Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac skip. 

“It’s Y/N’s birthday, Sirius,” Remus responded, his soft voice contrasting to his previously upbeat tone. Sirius slouched against the wall and slid down it until he hit the floor. 

“Y/N’s birthday...Y/N’s birthday...Oh! Y/N’s birthday! Was that today?” 

James was quick to jump into action. Propelling himself off of the couch, he took Sirius into his arms and brought him to a standing position. Sirius, of course, whined the entire way up, claiming that the floor wanted him to sit there. James responded with a small hum before peeling Sirius’ jacket off of his body and throwing it onto the kitchen counter. As Y/N watched, she couldn’t help but notice a bright pink smear on Sirius’ neck. 

“Yes, it’s today, you big goof. Where have you been?” 

Sirius went into a big flurry of words as James brought him towards the bedroom. Y/N thought she heard ‘And you should have seen her!’ amidst all the jumbled words, but she pied that off as her anxious imagination running awry. Lily’s hand found her back and she rubbed soothing circles on Y/N’s shoulder blades. 

“He forgot,” Y/N said to no one in particular. “I can’t believe he actually forgot.” 

“I’m sure he didn’t forget,” Lily soothed Y/N, rubbing circles into her shoulder blades. “He probably got carried away at happy hour, you know how he gets.” 

“Happy hour on Y/N’s birthday though?” Peter shook his head. Something about his tone didn’t sit well with Y/N. Lily shot a glare his way. 

The party did not last much longer; Remus said he had an interview with Dumbledore about a TA position at Hogwarts, Lily was tired, and Peter said that he was going on a mission tomorrow and needed rest. Y/N bid her friends farewell with large hugs and thank you’s. 

It’s safe to say that Y/N slept on the couch that night. 

~

Y/N awoke to sunlight in her eyes and a crick in her neck. The living room window wasn’t guarded with curtains, so even at the early hour of 4:30 AM, the room was illuminated with soft oranges, reds, and pinks. Y/N sat up and reached her hands above her head to stretch her back. She looks towards the bedroom door, listening for the soft snores of her boyfriend. Her neck screamed in agony, but she still stood and padded over to open the door. 

Y/N twisted the doorknob with care, trying to be as silent as humanly possible. She needed to see Sirius, not have a conversation with him. Alas, in all his glory, Sirius lied on his stomach with his mouth hung open and drool oozing onto the pillow. The girl admired how he looked as he slept; the sharp jaw, the perfect skin, the messy hair, the peaceful look gracing his features. He still wore his skinny jeans from the day previous, but at some point during the night, he discarded his white dress shirt. Y/N’s gaze darted around the floor until it landed on the crumpled fabric. 

Y/N glanced back at Sirius, admiring the artwork that filled his back. She remembered the day he got it; James cried when he first saw the gorgeous antlers. The low light highlighted the dark brown ink and seemed to make his skin appear airbrushed. Y/N smiled in spite of herself. 

Closing the door softly, Y/N walks into their small kitchen to prepare some tea in order to calm her nerves. The apartment was rather messy from the ‘party’ and Y/N had to dig through endless dirty dishes to find a mug clean enough to use. Y/N finally found one, a lavender mug that Marlene had given her for her 17th birthday, and set it on the counter while she filled the kettle. 

The kitchen wasn’t as dirty as Y/N previously thought. Sure, the sink was overflowing with dishes, but the kitchen itself was rather clean. And besides Sirius’ leather jacket, the counter was clear. The floor, though, was slightly sticky. Y/N sighs and flicks her wand; almost silently, the dishes start cleaning themselves. 

Y/N reaches for Sirius’ jacket, only to have a squishy substance fall onto her feet. She jumps back in surprise and disgust of the weird texture. But, the real panic sets in when she notices a big red spot on not only the floor but the leather jacket. Upon further investigation, Y/N realizes it’s the frosting from the cupcake Remus had given her. Sirius was very protective of this jacket and if he saw this, Y/N would be a dead man. So, she did the only reasonable thing she could think of: scrub the material with a wet paper towel. 

Thankfully, the frosting came off easily and didn’t stain the material. The only real obstacle was the sweet scent of the frosting lingering on the garment. Sirius had an insane sense of smell, so if he picked up even the slightest trail of sugar, Y/N would be busted. She delicately lifted the material to her nose. 

The musky scent of Sirius filled her nose as normal; leather, smoke, cologne, and spearmint. Y/N grinned at the familiar scent until she noticed a strong rose perfume almost ingrained into the leather. Y/N’s perfume smelled of vanilla. 

~

Y/N held her breath as she opened the door of the Silver Sickle, she was in no mood to see Vanessa again. All the same, Y/N put effort into her appearance just in case. She let out her breath when she noticed an old man behind the bar and Peter sitting in the corner. 

“Hey,” Y/N said breathlessly as she pulled out one of the wooden chairs and sat down. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel a little nervous meeting Peter alone; the two seemed to rekindle their friendship after he and Sirius fought. He promised that he was just drunk and not thinking, and Y/N not wanting to cause childish conflict within their friend group, had accepted his apology. 

“Hey!” He squeaked. “I didn’t know if you wanted to day drink or not, so I just ordered you a water to start off with.” 

Y/N laughed awkwardly. “Thanks, Wormy.” She took a long sip from her straw, trying to slow her nervous heart. “So, uh, how’s the academy? James said you are taking more and more missions with the order.” 

Peter nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, it’s great! Being an Auror is really fun, you really get to show people who’s boss, ya know?” 

“Um, I guess?” 

“I think they’re gonna kick me out, though. I haven’t done the best job at catching who I’m pursuing.” Peter raises his eyebrows and cocks his head to the side. 

“Oh? Why not?” Y/N glanced over the menu, only half listening to what her companion was saying. 

“I just like to play with them a ‘lil, like a cat and mouse. Except this time, I’m not the mouse.” 

Y/N looks at a delicious looking chicken sandwich on the menu and hums in response. 

“So, how are you and Sirius doing? It seemed pretty rough last week.” Peter takes a chunk of ice from his drink and starts chewing it. “If you want to talk about it, I guess.” 

This brings Y/N out of her sandwich-filled thoughts. “I don’t know, to be quite honest. We haven’t spoken much and I barely see him. He leaves early in the morning...comes home late at night…” Peter nods as if he was a therapist listening to a client. “I don’t want to assume the worst but he’s making it rather difficult.” 

“I wasn’t going to tell you this, because it isn’t really my business, but…” He comps down on the ice cube. “I was coming home from a mission a few nights ago and I saw him with a girl. I’m not quite sure what they were doing but it sure as hell didn’t look platonic.” 

Y/N felt her entire world shatter into her lap. “What?” 

“Yeah, I don’t know. She was really short with long black hair and a skimpy cocktail dress. They were walking into that club off of Coventry Street. I almost beat the fuck out of him right then and there, but there were bouncers.” 

Y/N bit her trembling lip and folded her hands in her lap. Rifling through her purse, she slammed the gift card down and stood. 

“Thanks for the lunch date, Peter, but I don’t feel well. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?” 

“Was it something I said?!” Peter yelled at Y/N’s retreating back as she left the bar. 

~

“Are you going somewhere?” Sirius asked, gesturing to Y/N’s packed suitcases by the door. 

“Yup, I’m going to France for a week to aid burn victims,” Y/N finished brushing her teeth before packing her toothbrush. “Didn’t think you’d care.” 

“Well, I do. You could have told me.” He leaned up against the wall and crossed his arms. 

“I would have if I actually saw you.” Y/N wasn’t in the mood to argue; she had about an hour before she had to leave, and she planned on using that time to relax with a cup of herbal tea. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? You see me plenty.” 

“Yeah, when you’re sleeping or showering. There’s not exactly time to chat when you leave early in the morning and come home well past midnight.” Y/N walked into the kitchen and cut a slice of bread. “Oh, by the way, Caspar brought up some sourdough, if you actually want any.” 

“Don’t change the subject like you always do, Y/N. I work hard to support us, you know that.” 

“I work hard too. And I get home before 11 every night. I’m not exactly sure how being a healer gets you home earlier than a tattoo artist, but whatever.” Y/N buttered her now toasted sourdough. 

“Sometimes a piece takes a long time, that’s not my fault! I’ve been getting big jobs recently! You should be happy for me!” 

Y/N let out a harsh laugh as she poured water into the kettle. “Do you really think I’m that fucking stupid, Sirius? Really?” 

“What do you mean? I think you’re rather smart.” Sirius followed Y/N into the kitchen and was leaning against the counter. 

“Yeah? Then why have you been lying to me for the past, I don’t know, two months?” 

“You can’t keep accusing me of things, Y/N. It’s not fucking fair!” Sirius stared holes into Y/N’s back. “For fucks sake! Look at me when I talk to you!” 

Y/N whipped around, her hair fanning around her face as she spun. “You know what’s not fucking fair? Letting a girl feel you upright in front of me. Lying about going into work. Forgetting my birthday and coming home from who knows where drunk as fuck with lipstick smeared all over your neck. Coming home drenched in another girl’s perfume. Taking your fucking side chick to a strip bar while I’m sat at home wondering if you’re fucking dead because we’re in the middle of a fucking war! You don’t know the first thing about fucking unfair!” 

“You’re not going to France, Y/N.” His jaw was clenched and his eyes held nothing but fire. The tone of his voice was like nothing she had ever heard before, at least not directed at her. He usually reserved it for people who yelled nasty things at her from the street, or when someone bad mouthed James. It felt foreign to hear him use it with her. Maybe she didn’t know him as well as she thought she did. “You’re not fucking going, and that’s final.” 

“What are you? My fucking mother? I’m going because I’m actually doing something good for the world, unlike your cheating ass.” Y/N pushed her way past her boyfriend and towards her luggage. 

“Don’t walk away from me!” Sirius followed her strides. He stopped and took a deep breath before continuing. “Y/N, darling, we need to talk about this-” His tone was notably softer than before as if he was trying to glue together shards of glass. 

“Talk about what, Sirius?! How you cheated on me and won’t even deny it? How you betrayed me in the worst way fucking possible? I’m not going to let you manipulate me into putting my career on the line to work out some issue you caused.” 

“What, so now I’m not important? You’re a fucking hypocrite!” 

“And how exactly am I a hypocrite, Sirius? You treat me like shit and whine that I’m done putting up with it? Gonna go cry to James about how you are so upset I wouldn’t hear you out after you cheat on me? Well, go the fuck ahead because James actually has a healthy relationship with a baby on the way. He won’t sympathize with you.” Y/N grabbed the handle of her suitcase and lifted her wand. “I’ll be back in a week and once we’ve had some time to cool off, we’ll talk about this like adults. I’ll see you soon.” 

Just as Y/N apperated out of the room, the kettle whistled and Sirius noticed Y/N left her half-eaten toast on the counter. 

~

It was near two in the morning when Y/N returned home from France the following week. The home was cold, dark, and vacant, and the entire appearance of the small flat had changed. In a week, Sirius had managed to completely trash the house. Even the smell of freshly baked goods was replaced with the sour smell of firewhisky and sex. 

Y/N ventured into the kitchen first, where she observed the large stack of dishes in the sink. Everything from to-go packages to their fine china (normal glass plates from the thrift) were stacked as high as the eye can see. Some were starting to mold and produce the most horrid smell. The stove housed the kettle where Y/N had left it, but this time it was cold and empty. Another pot that contained crusty spaghetti sat next to the kettle, and Y/N cringed at the thought of scrapping it out. She moved to the counter where her toast, now stale, sat. Y/N picked it up between two fingers and threw it into the bin. 

She carried on into the living room next. The couch cushions were tossed about the room and the small fur throw was draped across the back of the couch. The record player in the corner still held the Fleetwood Mac record Moony had chosen on her birthday as if it were a time capsule; Y/N couldn't help but reminisce about how happy she was with her friends that evening. Maybe that proved that she could be happy without Sirius in her life, or maybe it served as a constant reminder that he was woven into every aspect of it. 

Again, the room was covered with food wrappers and alcohol bottles. Y/N feared the liquid that remained in the bottles would leak and stain the carpet, so before moving on to the bedroom, she set each one upright. 

The bedroom was what Y/N feared the most; without her presence in the home, Sirius could have been intimate with an infinite amount of girls in her own bed. She shivered at the thought but pushed on and reached towards the icy doorknob. 

The room was the cleanest out of the entire flat, just various clothes scattered around the floor and a messy bed. Y/N wanted nothing more but to curl up under her warm covers and press her face into the chest of the man she loved most, but that was an impossible task. He didn’t love her anymore and that was something she had to deal with, she just wished she had savored the last time he held her. 

As Y/N explored further into the room, her feet found an article of clothing that neither Sirius nor Y/N owned. Bending at the hips to pick it up, Y/N held a red, lacy v neck bra in between her fingertips. Y/N fingered the material with teary eyes. Another step forward and her feet came into contact with the matching bottoms. Y/N laid the set out neatly on the bed and wallowed; it must have looked stunning on her. 

Y/N walked to the desk, where an ink well was left open and a half-written letter laid face up on the surface. She capped the ink with a wet chuckle. 

“You need to cap your ink, Sirius. If you don’t it’ll dry out. I won’t be there forever to do it for you.” Y/N said aloud, wiping her running nose. She picked up the letter against her better judgment and began to read. 

Prongs,

I know you’re mad at me, but please just hear me out. Vanessa is gorgeous, mate. She’s sweet and nice, but at the same time she's so witty and smart-mouthed. She even listens to Queen and the Weird Sisters!

She made me believe in love at first sight, JP. 

I’m going to marry her one day, mark my words!

The ink began to run as Y/N read and cried, making small blotches of black contrast against the stark white paper. Y/N placed it onto the table and gripped the edge to steady herself. Never in her 21 years on earth had she ever felt such pain, such sorrow. Her pains were usually cushioned by Sirius’ arms and sweet slurred language in the middle of the night, or by her friends’ loud cackles. But this time, this time was different; she was alone, completely and utterly alone. 

Y/N looked to the wall in order to ground herself; a small sliver of silver moonlight slashed against the wall, illuminating the otherwise dark room. Y/N traced the line with her eyes until she landed on the wooden coo-coo clock. 

The clock was one of Sirius’ most prized possessions; it was a gift from his Uncle Alphard that he received when he ran away from the Black family.  Alphard was one of the few Sirius still kept in contact with, and he was a big role model to Sirius when he grew up. Debatably, Alphard was the one who taught Sirius how to be a man. 

The present seemed lame on the surface, but that clock was one of Sirius’ favorite things when he was a child. Sirius had told stories of the long afternoons he would spend in front of the clock, waiting for the small, yellow bird to pop out of the top while Walburga and Orion fought in the background. Y/N respected Alphard with all of her being, but she wanted nothing more than to smash that godforsaken clock. She wanted to destroy everything that made Sirius happy, she wanted him to be under the same pain he was putting her through.

Y/N knew what she had to do at that very moment: she had to get out of London and move far, far away. So far away that no one would ever find her. So, she grabbed the extra suitcases in the flat and began to pack her things. 

Starting at the record corner, she picked every single one of her belongings and shoved them into her suitcase. Y/N had to shrink a few of her belongings, such as the couch, in order to fit, but in a little less than an hour, every hint of Y/N was packed away in three large suitcases. 

Y/N gave one last look at the apartment before apparating to Paris, where she knew she could start a better, more meaningful life. Maybe, she could even find a fresh bakery to supply her with warm loaves of sourdough bread. 

When Sirius returned to the flat the following morning, the only remaining aspects of Y/N were a striped scarf and two galleons folded neatly on the bed next to Vanessa’s lingerie. 

[writerwrites]

Yuánfèn | 02

Ch. 2: Retrouvailles: “An overwhelming feeling of happiness caused by seeing someone after a long separation.”

Summary: When you’ve lost everything and try to run away from your problems, you keep finding a way back to the one person who completely understands. Can you make another person happy with a broken heart?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader Chapter Word Count: 3.3k Chapter Warnings: Smut - 18+ Only - Minors DNI, male masturbation, one night stand mentioned but not detailed, slow burn, grief, fluff

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The first week Steve took it slow, only texting you when you texted first or if he hadn’t heard from you at all. He’d taken your advice, balancing his time between preparing the team for another altercation with the Maximoff twins and finding out as much as he could about them. It was a welcome distraction from the lack of news on his hunt for the Winter Soldier. Natasha was the only one that seemed to notice that he would periodically glance at his watch or his phone and go quiet for a moment before getting back to work. When she finally cornered him, he felt like he should have seen it coming. Arms akimbo and eyebrow quirked, she called him out with no hesitation, “You’ve got a secret.” 

“Don’t we all?” Steve could immediately feel the regret in challenging her, busying himself with packing up his bag to head to his room and shower after a long morning of training. Nat didn’t hesitate to follow suit, tagging along with her own bag as she took long strides to keep up with him, even slipping into the elevator before he could. “How’s the search for the Maximoff twins going?”

Nat stood in front of the panel before he could select a floor. “Who have you been texting? Finally ask that SHIELD agent out, Sharon, or is the moping about a certain fossil?” She raised an eyebrow, her fingers tapping her arm impatiently.

Sighing, Steve reached behind her and hit the button. “Neither. I’ve just got a lot on my plate.” Before she could make another snarky comment, he asked. “Clint went home. Did you check in on him?” Though he didn’t use the tone of encouraging her to mind her own business, as he respected the effort she was putting in to build their friendship, he couldn’t help but hope she’d drop the subject.

“Yeah, I’ve checked in. Clint’s good, just like Doc said he’d be. Cho’s kind of a genius and it’s a relief to know that there’s someone that can piece us mere mortals back together when we’re out there saving the world with you.” Steve nodded as he listened, like a captain listening to a report on one of his troops, but his shoulders went ridged with her comment about Dr. Cho. She reminded him too much of Tony and not enough of Dr. Erskine. Luckily, it went unnoticed as she stepped out of the elevator with him and they walked toward their rooms.

There weren’t many memories in Steve’s life, even before the serum, where things simply went black. Taking a beating from his brainwashed best friend was one of them. Steve could picture the metal arm pulling back, the sting of pain as the bones in his face shattered over and over, and could even recall the conversation between swings, but he knew there were moments that were just blank from the concussion- especially after Bucky pulled him from the water. The fading image of him walking away, the ache of being put onto a stretcher, the gentle touch of small hands on his swollen face as the hum of medical machinery tried to pull him back to reality. It didn’t happen for days, but there were moments when he could still hear her talking to him or someone else in the room and always gave his hand three small squeezes before saying her goodbyes.

Steve had been in his head, remembering the music that woke him up and Sam waiting there for him. They’d stopped at Steve’s door, closest to the elevator, and Natasha pretended not to notice how quiet he’d been until she finally added, “Clint’s probably going to take another week before coming back to work, but we’re going out for drinks tonight. Are you thinking about coming with us this time? Might help you clear your head.”

“I’ll think about it.” It was a surprisingly genuine response. He didn’t need to get drunk to have a good time with friends and knew Sam could use the break from hunting a ghost and was itching to see Nat again. There was no doubt in Steve’s mind that if he said yes that Kristen from Statistics would be there and he wasn’t going to open that door, let alone walk through it.

“Aren’t you full of surprises today.” With a slight smirk she kept walking toward her room, calling back, “We’re heading out at eight. Take a nap old guy.”

By the time he was alone in the shower, the idea of going out with the team seemed all the more appealing. Regardless of Natasha still trying to set him up with random colleagues. He was lonely and reaching one of those breaking points of needing to find some comfort to balance out a minute sense of normalcy to his bizarre life, be it good conversation or bad sex. The water cascaded down his toned body and he brushed away the beads of dew and bubbles of soap that trailed down the lines of his muscles before reaching for himself. A part of him that was still very much stuck in the 1940’s hated this need, always feeling some level of shame in finding comfort in the palm of his hand. Typically, these moods resulted in an act of non-sexual frustration, a stress reliever that was easiest to address with his fist and a punching bag.

He told himself that he wasn’t the kind of person to think of someone in particular that way during the solitary act. When he did ‘indulge’, his thoughts had always trailed back to the singular heated kiss with Peggy Carter. But now, with one arm on the tiled wall and the other stroking his length, Steve took an uncommonly slow pace and his mind went to the little things that he’d thought about over and over throughout the week. Small warm hands on his skin, her hand in his. How small would her hands look wrapped around him? How soft would she feel? The smell of her hair and the way she clung to him in a simple hug. Did she know how warm she felt as she held on so tightly to him? Steve gripped himself more tightly, strokes still slow and steady, as he worked out the loneliness with a twist of his wrist. Thoughts passing from little moments and his own stolen glances. The sound of her little hums when she was thinking or satisfied with a solution she’d come up with, how she always bit her lip when she was in a room full of people. Then there was the way she held her breath every time she managed to make eye contact with him as his hands moved over the lace panties she'd passed him to pack. Was she always wearing something like that under her scrubs? Did she do this, think about him getting off to the thought of her in them? The thought of the doctor slipping her hand between her thighs while she wore nothing but lace, scrolling through their messages, and thinking of him finished the soldier off. A long deep groan of her name echoed in the bathroom as he made a mess of the shower wall and floor.

Steve was panting, exhausted but satisfied, as the water washed all evidence down the drain. Slowly, he started to realize what he’d done, but the familiar weight of guilt couldn’t settle in as he realized he wanted something other than a past he couldn’t have. As he dried off, Steve tried to rationalize the thought away, they’d had a nice moment between two colleagues and she was undeniably pretty. It was easy for his mind to drift there, he thought, to think about someone who was naturally beautiful and kind when they were so wholly unaware of it. As he got dressed, Steve put a pin in it, telling himself that even if there was a little spark, she needed a friend. That thought alone seemed to settle the decision to go out or not for him. He chose to drag Sam along for Nat’s sake and make the most of it all.

Sam and Nat were hitting it off well, making Steve wonder what was really going on between her and Clint. The pair of them together had been a force and, despite not feeling ready to date- especially someone as modern as Lilian-with-a-lip-piercing from Accounting, he found himself heading out with her for the night. She was chatty and outgoing, and he found some relief in her questions about his past or job. It stopped him from having to open up on a deeper level when that wasn’t what they were doing. What they were doing was rough and exhausting. She was vocal about what she wanted; hair pulled, ass spanked, fast thrusts, and a firm no kissing rule. He obliged, getting his pleasure from the sounds of her own and his name on her lips, but by the third round she was exhausted and he was left thinking about how he’d never made love to a woman.

Slipping out of Lilian’s place with less awkwardness than he’d expected, Steve checked his phone. He still hadn’t heard from you all day, and it was 2 am in New York, which meant a new morning for you in Spain. He wondered if he should’ve asked Sam for an update on Bucky at the bar, but hesitated to reach out and ask at this hour. Despite socializing and the workout he’d just had, he was too in his head to go to sleep. Spinning his keys around his finger he found himself riding his bike over to the small, quiet apartment with books and a hungry fish.

As if you knew he’d turned up in your space, he heard his text tone just as he was screwing the top back onto the fish food. “I know you said that if I needed anything, to just ask. Probably didn’t expect a text this early and I’m guessing you’re probably asleep… this is so dumb and a big ask, but…” Steve stared at the screen, eyebrows drawn together as he wondered if the smartphone had eaten a text or had some feature that shortened longer messages that he didn’t know how to open. He watched the typing bubbles pop up again and waited, taking a seat at one of the two bar stools at your kitchen counter, the other containing a pile of your neatly stacked mail from the week. “I know I didn’t think I’d get through the goodbyes alone, but I managed. Thanks for the encouragement. It's everything else that I realized I just can’t do alone. The packing… all the pictures. There’s so many memories and I can’t take everything back to my place in New York- my place is just too small.”

Steve clicked the ‘call’ icon and waited for you to pick up on the other end. He thought about his mother’s funeral and how Bucky had been there for him, told him he knew he could manage alone but didn’t have to. His stomach twisted with emotion and then the call went to voicemail.

You didn’t expect him to see your panicked messages until later in the morning. You sat there, runny nose and bleary eyed, staring at the name on your screen. Five minutes, just staring, no text response, no new call- and then he was back, a FaceTime call this time. Pulling your hood over your head so he couldn’t see how disheveled you were, wiping your face on your sleeve, you answered with your face hidden mostly between your knees where you rested your chin and the hood. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” The apology that excluded the ‘I’m sorry’ was still very obviously an apology.

“You didn’t.” You were unconvinced, his hair was a little mussed, clothes wrinkled. He could tell that it seemed like you hadn’t fully thought through what you were going to ask of him, so he offered up a different question.“What do you have left to do in Spain? We’ve managed to stay out of trouble over here, just for you.”

The soldier tried to study your expression, noticing the glimmer in your eyes that wasn’t just from the sunrise. “I have to pack up what I want to take home. I was thinking I could get a scanner and digitize the pictures, but I don’t know how long that will take.” You let out a puffed up sigh, “I don’t think I have the heart to sell the place, but I’m so bad at taking vacations that it seems like a waste to keep it.”

“Don’t sell it. If your gut is telling you to keep it, go with your gut. There are other options, AirBnB or renting it out.” You sniffled, burying your face further in your arms and legs, leaving Steve to stare at the view behind you. “I know I’m getting a sideways view here, but it looks really beautiful.”

That managed to squeeze a small smile out of you as you nodded and turned the phone toward the balcony to give yourself a moment to wipe away the tears and snot once more. “Yeah, under any other circumstances it would be a proverbial paradise. You probably need a vacation more than me.”

“You’re probably right.” Steve laughed softly, trying to coax you out of what looked like the tail end of a lot of crying. “Send me the location, I’m curious what’s around the place.”

With a long hum you sent him your location. “Not going to send Stark tech to stalk me, are you?”

“I’m sure if Tony wanted to keep tabs on you he was already doing it.” Steve clicked on the marker and looked around the place, its stone streets and little shops. “Doesn’t look like there’s any modern shops, as cute as all these little places are. Where are you going to find what you need to scan the pictures?”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Just using my phone’s camera, I guess.” You looked at him as you watched the colors reflect off his face, blues and greens that mirrored the same flecks of color in his eyes. He probably didn’t even realize how beautiful he could look just staring at a phone. You relaxed a little, having someone to talk to for the first time in a week and let out a quiet yawn. “Is 8 am too early for a nap?”

Steve laughed and your face ached as you nearly smiled again. He bit his bottom lip, tempted to tell you that it was nice to see you smiling when he knew your heart was hurting, but he could already hear how cheesy it sounded and instead, chose banter. “Is 2 am too early to still be awake?”

“Go to bed. You know the second that you all even think you know where the twins are you’ll be on a Quinjet to find them. You can’t be pulling all nighters, even if you’re a super soldier. Doctor’s orders.” You added with a small smirk.

“Even if I headed back to the Tower this very minute, I bet I’d still beat Nat back. I think she left the bar with my friend, Sam.”

You knew Sam, just a little from one brief patch up. He had the same charm Steve had, clever and driven. “Nat and Sam? Good for her. He seems like a great guy and he could keep her on her toes.” With his phone so close to his face you couldn’t help but wonder, “Wait, it’s too quiet for you to be at a bar. Steven Grant Rogers, are you FaceTiming me from the bathroom of an O.N.S.?”

A part of you wanted to laugh, the thought of Steve just sleeping with some random person from a bar. Another part of you, the one that had a hint of a crush on the sweet guy who helped you when you were desperately in need of a friend, felt a pang of jealousy. “I’m not sure what an O.N.S. is, but I’m actually at yours feeding your nameless fish and named plants. You really got to figure out a name for him before I do.”

Somehow, a smile found your face, this big hero wanting to name a fish and zipping over to your place to feed him at 2 am. “If you’re too tired to head back to the tower, you can crash at my place. It’s late, you look like you could fall asleep at any moment. The bed’s clean, towels are in the bathroom cabinet, and coffee and it’s fixings are right over the pot. I’m not fancy enough for a Keurig, sorry.”

You watched him stop scrolling, his eyes meeting yours as you rambled. He didn’t look tired, he looked disheveled but perfect, as always, but it was cute to see him try to flatten out his hair nevertheless. “You forgot about the books.”

“I thought that was a given.” You stuck your tongue out before yawning one more time. “I’m serious though, best to stay off the road if you’re tired. Besides, the bills are paid even though no one’s there to use anything. I’ll probably be gone another week.”

Steve sighed, not in some defeatist way of you being right but, to your surprise at the mention of how much longer you would be gone, “One more week…”

“Feels like I’ve been gone for months.” You looked away, eyes stinging as the weight of your reality settled on your shoulders again. There was no one left in this world to actually miss you. The truth was that despite being in this beautiful place, you couldn’t help but feel all the more hollow and alone in it. If it wasn’t for the little check ins you would’ve never managed to drag yourself through the house, to the lawyers, or out to the shops to eat. “I’m not texting you too much am I?”

“Not at all.” He replied quickly, then worried it might have been too fast. He could tell you were off somewhere else, wondering if you heard him or if it even mattered. The way you clung to him just a few feet away from where he currently sat, a tight hug now in the forefront of his mind. Before he knew what he was saying, the thought spilled out. “I wish I could give you another hug. I know it’s not easy to do this alone.”

The confession choked you up, sniffling you nodded, “I wish you were here to give me a hug too. A1 hug game, big guy.” Despite the tacked on joke, tears silently spilled from your cheeks and you were eager to get off the phone so he didn’t have to hear the incoming wave of heavy breathless weeping. “Get some sleep, Steve. I’ll keep texting signs of life.”

He nodded, eyebrows knit together with concern and curiosity, “We’ll catch up soon, darling. Goodnight.”

Steve took you up on the offer, showering and climbing into your bed somewhere around 3 am with one of the other books that had been stacked on your bedside table. He hardly comprehended a single word, replaying the conversation as he drifted into a heavy sleep, overwhelmed by the sense of happiness in just seeing your face through a screen as he was surrounded by the comforting scent of you. For the first time since seeing Bucky, he didn’t dream of his best friend falling off the train or the dance he never had.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I would love feedback from you. Do you think these two miss each other? Are they crushing or just some horny adults? We shall see, we shall see!

Also, if it wasn’t obvious: In this house we stan bisexual Cap and ship Sam x Nat over Bruce x Nat.

As my followers know I have an obscenely demanding job, but I always try my best to keep you posted on if there will be a delay in a chapter posting. This series should be posting every Sunday until it finishes. Also, while I do keep Reader vague, I’m a Latina writer and I write fics I want to read.

Divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics​​

I will be reblogging with tags, send an ask if you’d like to be added either to the series or to my overall tag list.

[what-the--curtains]

In A Week

Part 4/4 - This Feeling

(Frankie Morales x f!reader)

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

Summary: With the wedding day finally here will your true feeling be revealed or will you leave the way you started? As nothing more than strangers.

Authors Notes: THE FINALE (for now??), this story was so nice to write and all y’all r angels for just reading it let alone liking/sharing it (really i could cry💕🌻💕) so thank you🥺🥺

Song used in Story: This feeling - Alabama Shakes (highly rec u listen!!)

Tw: swearing, drinking, allusions to sex and past toxic relationships.

Tagged: @agingerindenial @icanbeyourjedi

Words: 2.0k

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

Day 5

A thunk followed by the unmistakable beeping of the snowplows working hard at clearing away the snow from the roads and parking lots wake you. You let out a disappointed sigh when you notice the distinct lack of Frankie beneath you. Almost as if on cue he walks in with a bottle of champagne, orange juice and two glasses.

“Are you ready to get wasted?” he says, as you shift up in bed.

“On one condition.” you offer smacking your lips mouth tasting like morning.

“Which is?” He asks, tilting his head.

“We get fully dressed up for this wedding. I didn't spend hours contemplating outfits to not put one on.” you barter, prepared to fight with him to get what you wanted.

“Absolutely,” he agrees, much to your surprise “that tux was not cheap, and it was supposed to be back two days ago, so not getting that deposit back. Should we call the brides to be before we start drinking?”

“Probably a good call,” After multiple phone calls and various congratulations you found out they were going to be live streaming the ceremony for all the people stranded by the storm. You and Frankie have a lazy morning before it's finally time to get ready, you stand up swaying slightly from the few drinks you'd already downed. Frankie takes the suit into the bathroom giving you the room to change and to do your hair and makeup. You go to pull out your dress and as you do the lingerie you’d packed falls out onto the floor. Your heart drops for a moment before deciding to put it on, not for Jonathan, or even Frankie, but for yourself. You pull on the light pink velvet mini dress you’d settled on, and sling on the black open toe heels. Walking into the kitchen you pour yourself a glass of wine. You hear him clear his throat and you turn around. You're taken aback by how well Frankie cleaned up, no hat, hair styled and a perfectly fitted suit.

When Frankie enters the room, he stops in his tracks, continuing to stare when you turn to face him. If this had been at the wedding, he’s sure he’d have picked you out of the crowd instantly. He’d probably have spent the whole night hoping you'd talk to him only getting upset when you didn't even give him a second glance.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asks, breaking the silence first, beyond pleased at how he’d managed to impress you.

“Something like that” you offer, handing him a beer

“Well, we’re in luck because I was specifically told to provide drinking games for the reception, so” he says pulling out some red solo cups and ping pong balls from his bag.

“Who's bad with their hands now” he asks as he sinks another cup, winning 4 consecutive games.

“No fair! You’re cheating.” you say with a humph.

“I'm not, your technique’s just sloppy and lacking strategy” He mocks.

“I have a strategy” You state defensively, mouth open in faux anger.

“Flashing yourself in an attempt to distract me, isn't a strategy” he says licking his lips as his smile turns into a full blown smirk

“Excuse me.” you say, crossing your arms over your chest shifting your stance and arching an eyebrow, challenging him.

“Oh I'm sorry, is that not what you're doing?” he chides, smirk still prominent.

“Well it use to work” you mutter, embarrassed at having been called out

“Ya on idiots who can't control themselves come here, I'll show you to sink it everytime,” you walk over and he positions himself behind you, he's close enough that you can feel his chest heaving slowly behind you.

“Relax your arms” he says, shaking them out for you. “Okay this arm, drop it, keep it relaxed, only use it for balance if needed. This arm..” he says grabbing your wrist “ this is where the action is, alright keep your elbow locked, none of that wobbly shit I saw earlier. It's all about the flick and the follow through, keep it strong.” He watches as you repeat the motions without his hand guiding you and it goes in. You turn around and lift your arms up victoriously, they quickly find their way around Frankies neck and he lifts you up off the ground, faces dangerously close when he puts you back down on the ground.

“We should order a pizza, I think some places are open” you say quickly turning to your phone and ordering something from wherever it was open.

After watching the ceremony, you're sitting on the counter laughing as Frankie proves to you he can in fact eat an entire piece of pizza in three bites.

“Told you” he says

“Well consider me out witted” your phone beeps, you turn it over assuming its Stella or Santi or Gen but it's not. It's John the second you see his name pop up on your phone your stomach drops. Frankie sees the change in your demeanour, everything about you suddenly appearing small. Frankie grabs the phone from your hands “I swore an oath to prevent shitty guys from ruining the party tonight”

“How did you…? Whose orders? Did Santi tell you?”

“Maybe. Holy ….” Frankie says eyes wide when he accidentally sees the message that has been sent to you.

“What?” you ask, afraid at what he’d just seen.

“Nothing!” he lies, shaking his head blinking hard to get the image out of his head.

“Now you have to tell me!” you say hopping off from the counter and making your way towards him. Reaching for the phone which he's holding over his head. Your place you hand on his shoulder trying to balance yourself as you make another grab for it, but you're not even close. You plant a kiss on his cheek causing his arm to drop immediately allowing you to grab the phone.

“Ha!” you say, failing to notice the dejected look on Frankie's face.

You’re walking towards the counter to reply when something comes over you, maybe it was the way Frankie had made you feel these last few days, maybe it was finally coming to your senses, but you turn back to face him. You stare up at Frankie whose eyes are on the ceiling.

“Can you delete him, from all my shit, and block the number” you ask, offering him your phone.

“Really?” Frankie says

“Ya I can't do it but I want it done,” you say, pushing the phone towards him, more vigorously this time.

“Well it'd be my pleasure, guy sounds like a dick,” he says, taking the phone from you and scrolling through wiping away any remnants of the dude.

“Thanks” you say as he hands the phone back to you.

“What did you see in him? Well actually based on the photo he sent maybe I understand,” he murmurs.

“Francisco Morales” you say, mouth agape.

“I'm not the one who sent it!” he says lifting his hands up in defense.

“You wanna dance?’ he asks “I got the playlist from Pope, may as well have some fun, really forget about Jackson.”

“Jo.. you know it doesn't matter and you’re right,” the both of you dance like idiots for a while, twirling around the room in an embarrassingly cliche way that would be better suited to a John Hughes movie than a makeshift wedding reception. As the next song begins, the slow pacing shifts the tone.

I just kept hoping, I just kept hoping

The way would become clear

You stop your dancing, as does Frankie and a dread akin to that of being at your first middle school dance wondering if you'll be asked to dance or not comes over you. You both stare at each other for a second before Frankie offers you his hand, if he was waiting for a moment, this was it.

I spent all this time

Tryna play nice and fight my way here

See, I've been having me a real hard time

But it feels so nice to know I'm gonna be alright

He pulls you into him and you sway in time to the music. One hand on your lower back, the other one holding your hand as you rest your head against his shoulder. His thumb gently rubs over yours. The sensation comforts you causing a wave of relief which causes your eyes to water.

So, I just kept dreaming, yeah, I just kept dreamin'

It wasn't very hard

I spent all this time

Tryna figure out why

Nobody on my side

“You okay?” he asks, hearing you sniffle, you nod looking up at him and he briefly untangles his hand from yours to wipe away the tear that had fallen

“I'm sorry, if I...” he starts softly, thumb tracing gently over your cheekbone.

“No, it's not you, well it is, but it's not bad” you offer, satisfied with the response he takes your hand in his again and continues swaying.

See, I've been having me a real good time

And it feels so nice to know I'm gonna be alright

So please, don't take my feelings

I have found at last

So please, don't take my feelings

I have found at last

Yeah, if I wanted to, I'd be alright

“why'd you decide to delete him” Frankie whispers, barely audible

“Moment of clarity I suppose” you say into his shoulder.

“Which was?” he presses, not looking down to you.

“Just realized how I could have been being treated in a relationship.”

“Should have been being treated,” Frankie corrects.

“I can't believe I let him do that to me for so long, im so stupid” you mutter

“Blames not on you, blames on him for not realizing what he had, seriously if I had you id….” he stops himself not wanting to take advantage of a vulnerable situation.

So I just kept going, I just kept going

And hoping I'm growing near

Well this good and fine, I spent all this time

Tryna find my way here

And I've been having me a real fun time

And it feels so nice to know I'm gonna be alright

“You’d what” you ask, having mustered up enough courage to finally find out if what you were feeling was reciprocated.

“Id never let you go, at least i'd do everything in my power to make sure you’d want to stay with me”

Please, don't take this feeling

I have found at last

You reach your hands up to his face and pull it down to meet yours, lips colliding for the first time, but the sensation washing over you felt familiar. It felt like you’d finally come home.

Please, don't take my feeling

I have found at last

He slowly moves the two of you back towards the bed never departing from your lips for more than a moment.

“You uh..you sure you want to do this,” he asks, as you run your hands up and down his back.

“Ya, you?” you question looking up at him through your lashes.

“Yes, absolutely.”

If I wanted to, I'd be alright

Yeah, if I wanted to, I'd be alright

The sun from the blinds that had been accidentally left open seeps into the room. The warmth hitting your naked shoulder. You smile when you look down to see Frankies arm wrapped loosely around your waist.

“Well my long con worked, I finally got the side of the bed I wanted,” you tease.

“Mmm” he says as you shift round to come face to face with him kissing his nose. His eyes flutter awake and he smiles, kissing you on the forehead as you snuggle into his chest for a moment before moving to get ready for the day. His arms tighten around you trapping you against him.

“Frankie, we have to get moving” you giggle.

“Nope, I was serious last night. I'm not planning on letting you go”

“So I’m trapped here forever?” you laugh

“Would that be so bad?” he wonders, and you settle back into him knowing that nothing would be better than spending the rest of your days here with him.

[avengershumanresources]

blood 9 - Strange/Stark!Reader

Relationship: Dr. Strange/Princess!Stark!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Adult Themes, smut, adult language, implied sexual violence, general violence

Synopsis: Reader is the daughter of the legendary King Anthony Stark, Uniter of Lands, The Iron Defender, and leader of the realm. When the king disappears during battle, hope is lost and he is presumed dead.

When the late king’s uncle, Obadiah, takes the throne until your brother Peter is of age, he quickly arranges a marriage for you with a wicked king in a neighboring kingdom.

With the realms politics in question, and rumors of an upcoming siege to overthrow Peter’s rule before it starts, you quickly learn who is loyal to the crown and who is not.

part 8 - part 10

Masterlist

Chapter Playlist

WARNING: Mention of violence/attempted assault from prior chapter

9 - a king’s arrival

Thank the gods Loki crossed Stephen’s path first, because things were happening far more quickly than the sorcerer had anticipated. He had heard a particularly chilling rumor upon his return to the castle from surveying the magical barriers with Amora and was in route to your quarters to check on you. 

Loki intercepted him and caught him up to what had happened.

Loki had told Peter the details of what he’d stumbled upon between you and Brock. Immediately inflamed, Peter started in motion the rebellion he’d been planning with Nat and the guard. With the Asgardian army’s support, Peter could easily usurp the throne from Obadiah by the end of the night. 

Especially now that the alliance between him and Brock was in question with the betrothal in a murky area. 

Less than twelve hours, Stephen calculated while Loki kept pace with him toward your room. That’s all it took for the plans to go into motion and the next steps to proceed.

“He didn’t-,” Stephen asked after they’d arrived, his anger simmering and threatening to boil based off of his companions response. He needed to keep control. He needed to kept his head or risk you falling into harm.

“No,” Loki stated clearly. “It was stopped before he finished his task. Her seidr did well to protect her. You acted in good judgment by not fully sealing it.”

“Amora?” he pressed and Loki smirked back at him. 

“She’s been tending to Brock the last hour, but I’m certain they won’t have time to rally a guard to their cause,” he explained quickly. “My men outnumber theirs two to one, and from what Natalia has told me, the majority of the guard will support Peter.” He paused and glanced around, lowering his voice.

“Besides, even if they mobilize troops, after you finish your part, Brock will have nothing else to gain from an alliance with Obadiah.”

“And the queen and younger princess?” Stephen’s hand rested on the knob of your door. Eyes shut while he listened to Loki’s report.

“James is with them now,” Loki nodded. “They’ll be moved once Peter makes the first move. I’m meeting with Thor before dinner to confirm some of the entry points to the castle in case Obadiah tries to deter us once things get.. chaotic.”

Perfect. Everything was falling into place, and you were none the wiser, which meant neither were your enemies. 

Loki disappeared once Stephen summoned a tray of stew and started through the door, unsure how he’d find you on the other side. 

Personally, Stephen wanted to rip Brock to shreds. He wanted to cut the skin off of him and sprinkle salts and other acids over open wounds and watch him scream. He wanted to gauge his eyes out, fling him from the tallest balcony, and listen to his cries for mercy. 

It wasn’t a pride thing. Stephen wasn’t the least bit upset that you’d been sullied or marked by another man, no, he was upset because he’d hurt you. 

And seeing the aftershocks for himself only further fueled Stephen’s rage. 

You were in a sleeping gown, hair pulled loose, legs curled into yourself, fully submerged in your bedding. When he set the tray of food down on a nearby table and stirred you, his heart broke at your swollen eyelids and red, glossy eyes. 

He should have been there sooner. 

“Stephen?” you asked sleepily. You clearly cried yourself into exhaustion, your cheeks still puffy from the ordeal.

“My love,” he sat on the edge of the bed and fully enveloped you in his arms. You were a bit tense at first, but immediately sank into him when he started rubbing soothing circles into your back. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“It’s not your fault-,” you murmured with a small hiccup and a sigh. Pulling away, you looked up miserably toward him. “He’s a monster... we knew that. I shouldn’t have sent Steve to find you.”

Stephen stopped, taking your hand and pressing his lips to your palm, cradling the shaking digits tenderly. 

“You did nothing wrong,” he stated firmly. “A lady shouldn’t have to fear her company- her betrothed- would... dishonor her in such a horrendous manner. You were brave and defended yourself. I’m proud of you for being so strong.”

Your eyes watered again, your bottom lip trembling. A few tears snuck down your face and before you could wipe at them angrily, Stephen caught them with his thumb, his hands moving to cradle your cheeks. 

“Loki... he said he would fix it... is everything...?” you asked meekly and despite the gnawing feeling that lying to left him, he nodded. 

“All is under control,” he assured you softly. “Why don’t you have some stew and continue resting?”

“Will you stay?” you asked, gripe tightening around his hand. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your forehead and helping you settle into bed, before handing off the tray. 

He sat next to you while you picked at your food, listening while you told him about what had transpired in the garden earlier and how your seidr had reacted when you’d fought Brock off. 

“Loki was right,” he noted, passing you a slice of bread from the tray. “It was lucky Amora was off the grounds when that happened. She would have noticed and retaliated immediately.”

You hummed to yourself, dipping the corner of the bread into the stew and taking a small nibble. 

He could tell you were still out of sorts, the fresh exchange with Brock having come so unexpectedly and traumatically. More than anything, he wished he didn’t have to do what happened next. 

“Here,” he finally relented when you barely touched your meal, pulling the tray aside and out of the way. “You should sleep.” 

“I’ve rested plenty,” you protested, but after a pause, gave in and snuggled deeper into your blankets. 

“I’ve got something that should help,” he pulled out the small glass vial, holding it between his fingers for you to examine. The liquid inside shimmered an almost stunning cobalt blue against the light from your fireplace.

“A sleeping draught?” you guessed, reaching for the vial and examining it for yourself. 

“Not quite a sleeping draught,” he explained, plucking the cork free and letting you give the scentless liquid a sniff. “It’ll relax you enough to let you ease into a full and restful sleep.”

“So, a sleeping draught?” you teased with a small grin, swirling the liquid in the bottle with a tilt of your hand.. 

“Call it what you’d like, but it’ll help. You just drink the whole vial,” he instructed, watching you consider it briefly. 

“Am I going to fall into an eternal enchanted sleep?” you asked, joking, but unaware of how close to the truth you were. “Like the old stories?” 

“It won’t be eternal,” he assured you with a forced chuckle, settling his hands at his side so you wouldn’t see him shaking. This was it. The most crucial part of the plan. “You’ll wake with a full night’s rest. It’ll help you feel a little better.”

“At least that’ll help me face him tomorrow,” you murmured, swallowing the contents of the vial in a single gulp. You let out a yawn. “Don’t leave until... sleep..?” 

Your eyes were already fluttering shut and he plucked the bottle out of your hand before it broke on the ground. 

“Stephen?” you asked again, voice laced with sleepiness. “I love you.”

“And I you, princess,” he choked out, standing and pressing a final kiss to your head. “Please know I do this all out of love.”

You mumbled something incoherent before your body fell unnaturally still, the potions effects quickly taking over. 

He had to work fast. Waving his hands over your body, he changed your night dress to the outfit you’d worn earlier with Brock. 

The image made him sick. Your skirt was covered in blood, the corset nearly ripped off your frame- fortunately, your recent tears had swollen your face and reddened it more.

He positioned you delicately above the blankets, draping your hand over the edge of the bed and wrapping the vial carefully in your slack fingers. 

He dug through your nearby desk for some parchment and enchanted a quill to mimic your handwriting. A final goodbye, as far as anyone was concerned.

After all, the events had been so traumatic to you, you’d raided Stephen’s observatory and crafted a deadly poison to kill yourself. 

And aside from him, Tony, Loki, and Wanda- everyone would think it was effective, in turn, removing you from harms way while the castle was reclaimed.

Not even Peter nor Natalia was privy to what he and his fellow magic users had planned. 

Once the coast was clear and your body was taken to the family tomb, Wanda would bring you back to his ancestral home, now occupied by your father’s rebel army. 

Stephen couldn’t imagine you were going to be pleased with his dishonesty, particularly after drugging you and keeping your father’s survival to himself, but at least you’d be safe. 

And in the end, that’s all that mattered. 

Satisfied with the scene he’d crafted, Stephen removed the dining tray with a wave of his hand and portaled outside of the kitchens where he intercepted your personal maid, Violet. 

“The princess is unwell,” he explained, letting the princess expression of solemn sympathy flash across her features. “Could you bring her a tray for dinner?”

No one would know he’d crossed your path, and Amora would be too focused on healing Brock to notice any non-seidr magical ongoings around the castle. 

Excusing himself to his own quarters, Stephen cleaned himself up for dinner... and a show. 

(—)

“The princess-!” he heard Clint call into the dining room that evening. Pepper had excused herself from the meal to tend to the suddenly ill with pox, Princess Morgan. 

Brock had the audacity to actually join the group, with Amora smiling dutifully at his side while he and Obadiah discussed trade routes. 

Loki and Thor had graciously accepted the kings invitation, and as usual, Stephen was in his place next to Peter. 

“What is it?” Obadiah demanded sharply. 

“She’s-,” he paused looking to Brock with unease. “Your majesty, the princess has killed herself.”

Stephen waited until someone else reacted first, putting on the most confused and dismayed expression he could manage. 

“Take me to her,” he demanded with Peter hot on his footsteps.

Sure enough, you were still laying in bed. Someone (probably Violet) had folded your hands over your chest delicately, and placed the empty vial next to your note. 

Stephen made a show of checking you for signs of life, even offering Amora a chance to give a second opinion. 

Fortunately, he was that good at what he did. 

The potion mimicked the effects of death so well, even the enchantress was shocked by the sudden turn of events. He could tell she was trying to feel out any signs of your seidr, but after a brief pause, turned to confirm the truth to her king. 

Loki hissed a curse under his breath and turned on Brock, knife in hand, pressing the cowering king against the wall, demanding justice for the premature death of his bride. 

Peter, for his part remained composed. He ordered that he be the one to inform the queen, and parted with his fists clenched at his sides and his eyes filled with fire. 

“This is... a tragedy,” Obadiah knelt by your bedside, nudging Stephen aside and taking your hand into his. “So young and just before her wedding. A cruel circumstance of the fates!”

Stephen could have sworn he heard Loki snort at the dramatic scene the king was putting forth. 

Thor had managed to pry the prince and king apart, demanding Amora  “remove the villain from his sight before he changed his mind”, leaving the two Asgardian princes, Stephen, and Obadiah alone in the chamber.

“Is there no saving her?” the king asked quietly, looking up to Stephen with a desperate frown. “I know what she was to you. Tell me, is there truly no hope?”

Stephen cleared his throat, letting a slight break in his voice crackle as he spoke. 

“My grace, I’m familiar with the poison, and Enchantress Amora will confirm my words,” he looked down at you with a heartbroken sigh. “The princess was well aware of the potion she was consuming. There is no return. My most sincere apologies for your loss, your highness.”

Obadiah nodded to himself, standing back up. 

“Then the kingdom goes into mourning,” he stated decidedly. “Alert the priests, and have the maids prepare her for viewing.”

He looked at the Odinson brothers, a small sneer tugging at his expression. 

“Perhaps we can renegotiate our trade deal,” he suggested, earning a snarl of insults from Thor. 

The room now empty and the door closed while maids and servants scurried about with the news outside, the two sorcerers exchanged a look. 

“You did well, the effects are convincing,” Loki lifted your arm and let it drop to the bed. “You’ve accounted for rigor mortis?” 

“Brother?” Thor stepped forward, lips pressed together tightly as he took in the exchange. “Surely this isn’t another of your tricks?”

“Of course not,” Stephen waved a glowing hand over your body, a small spell that would mimic the effects of rigor mortis, and eventually wear off as the natural sensation would in time. “This trick is mine.”

He repositioned your hand delicately over your chest. 

“Is the princess... asleep?” Thor lowered his voice. 

“In a sense,” Loki patted his brothers arm. “Keep it to yourself, brother. We need Peter’s fury if this is to go as planned.”

“But she’ll be moved to the crypt-,” Thor started and paused, a knowing smile on his face. “I see. Let me know if I can be of assistance.”

The door swung open and Pepper swept inside with a quiet, red haired, maid behind her. 

“The loss is truly a tragedy of our time,” Thor continued, putting on a better performance than Loki and Stephen combined. “The beast that pushed this beautiful maid to an early grave must face justice!” 

He slammed a fist against your armoire, meeting Peter’s gaze with a passionate nod when the prince reappeared to comfort his mother. 

“Morgan can’t know until the morning,” Pepper stated, her eyes were wide in horro, her voice wavering. “I want that man out of my home.”

She looked between Thor, Loki, and Peter, the men nodding curtly and excusing themselves from the space. 

“Stephen, dear Stephen,” Pepper took his hand. “I’m sorry.”

It was a genuine reaction that, admittedly, startled the sorcerer. He’d had suspicions that the queen had known about the two of you- and you’d as much confirmed them earlier in the evening- but the way she looked to him with such earnest sympathy made him realize something. 

The queen had stood in his very place not even a few months prior. 

She too, had lost the love of her life to senseless violence at the hands of King Brock Rumlow. 

It was no wonder she wanted the king out of her sight. 

“If it’s comfort to know, it was painless and peaceful,” he mumbled with a nod toward the vial. “She fell asleep and felt nothing.”

“That will bring me some peace,” Pepper murmured, eyes returning to your still form. “Thank you.”

She reached for his hand and gave it a tight squeeze before asking that she be left alone with you for a few moments to mourn. 

“Take the time you need,” he stated softly, managing to blink back tears in his own eyes. 

Leaving the room, the countdown began. 

You’d be awake in four days, and he needed to ensure you were out in the family crypt and removed to safety in that time. 

Loki would prod Peter to remove Brock by force, and depending on how the king responded, would likely expedite any funeral plans for you. 

Who would have time to mourn when the castle descended into chaos? 

The queen and younger princess would be removed for their safety and then the real challenge began. 

Getting Peter onto the throne.

“Did you know she would do this?” Natalia asked, pulling Stephen aside after leaving the queen. She caught tugged on his arm furiously. “Stephen, look at me!”

Natalia would be the most difficult to convince. He knew it from the beginning. She was your oldest friend and most trusted confidant. 

“I... she assured me she was going to be fine,” he kept his eyes low, guilty even, if she looked at him too carefully. “We spoke briefly after Loki had informed me... I shouldn’t have let her out of my sight. She’s said she’d wanted to rest.”

“And then you asked Violet to bring her a meal?” Natalia questioned, eyes narrowing. “It’s not like you to leave the princess behind when she’s distressed.”

“I don’t think she was particularly pleased with my gender at the time,” he shot back. “Please excuse me, I’d like some time alone with my thoughts.”

He parted abruptly, praying to himself that Natalia wouldn’t dig around too deeply and ruin this whole charade. 

(—)

Across the kingdom, just outside of the House Strange keep, Wanda lightly touched Tony’s shoulder, eyes glowing bright crimson. 

“It’s happened,” she informed him. “The dawn truly brings a new day.”

“And a new king,” Tony grunted. “I just hope Peter is ready.”

(--)

10 - a trick

TAG LIST (message to be added!):

@ayamenimthiriel @ladynothing​ @im-a-bi-disaster-help​ @idkwhatthisislol

[peeterparkr]

perfidy;tom holland|18

chapter 18: the script.

enemies to lovers au/enemies with benefits

chapter summary: Valerie, William, Teddy and Robbie.

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: angsty, alcohol mention

word count: 7.6k

playlist(1: with song names)

playlist 2 (Spotify link)

Playlist: perf1Dy (one direction+solo songs)

social media before you read (IMPORTANT FOR THE CHAPTER) :

part one: with New York and coming back.

part two: meeting the parents

previous chapter next chapter series masterlist wanna be tagged?

“When we walk in with the idea of a sworn enemy, it is expected to be deceived. One never walks into a war without expecting a battle, without expecting casualties.”

That’s how a certain script started, a young Valerie narrating the events of how she, stupidly, fell in love with her long time enemy. But how she turned the tables around.

Y/N never really believed in happy endings, there is really no such thing for it, all that crap movies show us. Y/N loved the buildup of a story, in real life, everything that leads to it, the journey of it, you must say,  but she knew that we never really get the happy ending because… well, life is a bitch. But she could write it, and she could pretend this was her own happy ending. Because it really felt like one, maybe it was only a beginning. But it was good.

It was good.

Y/N paced around her kitchen and her living room, a notebook in her hand, as she scribbled down every single correction they were giving her.

“But heartbreaks can be felt,” she explained. “It’s scientifically proven, it’s not only something I made up, the brain registers it so it—I am keeping that, Alessandra,”  she continued as she sat on a stool in her kitchen. Y/N had been on the phone with her for almost 30 minutes now, apparently she would have to pitch the script the very next day. Honestly, she knew Alessandra was a genius but sometimes she was just simply very stupid.

And calling in the middle of the night wasn’t exactly her dream come true. Especially because everything seemed like it was turning out perfectly. Things had cleared up, and that’s all she really wanted. She still had to tell Tom about the script, but maybe she would find a way to tell him the next day. Right now it didn’t matter, they were happy.

“Can they really?” Alessandra questioned.

“Yeah, I’ve felt them, that’s why it’s in the script.”

She saw Tom walk out of her room, she beamed as she saw him. He had his shirt back on. And y/n could only wonder why.

“Hi,” she mouthed at him as she stretched her arm to reach out for him. He didn’t look at her. Tom seemed to be pale.

“How do they feel like?” Alessandra asked.

“Yeah, they can be felt,” she explained. “It feels like… the world stops, and not in a good way. Like… the world stops only so you can feel more pain. Like everything around you is blurry, there’s a pain in your chest, and you can’t… really walk, your stomach feels like it’s sinking down, and the whole world turns around, upside down, you run out of breath, and the light just stings you, every single noise becomes a trigger. It’s like the worst headache you’ll get, and you’ll feel sick.”

And Tom was feeling all of that, the pain on his chest, the blurry image, and that feeling that every single organ in his body had collapsed. He couldn’t breathe, he could talk and his hands were shaking. Y/N hadn’t noticed.

Y/N had been so caught up in her fantasy that she’d forgotten that every single thing could go wrong. She had forgotten about her words, words that were powerful weapons. Weapons that had Tom bleeding now.

“I actually—I was,” she gulped. “No, yes, the heartbreak was diagnosed,” she said. “I, yeah, when she goes to the doctor yes, that was real,” she continued. “I went in with chest pain, thinking it was something—and it wasn’t, just a heartbreak.”

Tom only watched her. He understood. In a way, he understood. Why she wrote a script about the first and last times.

But Tom didn’t really want to address it, not now, he had to process it, he really had to process the bomb that had fallen to him. He first thought it might have been a coincidence, William and Valerie. They could be only a coincidence, a story where the beauty falls in love with the beast, and the beast hurts her and a story where the beauty takes her revenge, and starts a make believe relationship. Only to get back at him. Only to make the beast feel the pain the beauty had felt. The story was set in college, going back and forth, proving to him a lot of things. Proving that it was their story. The perfect perfidy.

A few lines had stuck in his head. But honestly, how could he forget it?

Valerie, the Rebel teenager.  William, the dumb, emotionally unattached dumb idiot. The monster, the beast. The bad guy.

And… Edward, Teddy, the perfect guy.

And Robert, Robbie, William’s… best friend, and Valerie’s too.

The story went back and forth, with lavenders, not yellow flowers, lavenders, and stories from childhood, details changed, made up stories, but with their clear essence. But there was a constant...William and Valerie hating each other. Destroying each other. William deliberately hurting Valerie. And it was there.

Each and every heartbreak. Each and every stupid heartbreak. Every single one of them. Each and every fucking  heartbreak. And maybe there were a lot of things that Tom understood now, why y/n was so careful around him.

He hadn’t read much he couldn’t continue, but there was this other constant. He—William was painted as a monster.

Heartbreaks, just like y/n had said and written, can be felt.

But maybe that wasn’t what had bothered him the most, not the whole script, he hadn’t even read all of it. But the first few pages, where Valerie had made a bet with her friends, where Valerie had said that William would fall in love with her and she’d break his heart. And it wouldn’t have mattered, it really wouldn’t have mattered had she not used her own notes. Had it now used her own notes, her little notes on the sides, with pictures. Everything they’ve lived throughout these two months, the enemies with benefits, the a.m. conversations, every single thing. The real story.

And he understood it then, why she wanted to solve things, why she avoided the drama, why she really didn’t want it to rain in New York. Because it was all fake, because she really needed him to not feel hurt, ….yet. Because, just like she had described it, she was pulling a perfect perfidy. Having Valerie making William believe she was in love with him so she could finally have her way back with the heartbreak. It was all so perfectly crafted.

It only took him a few lines to understand where this was going. Because heartbreaks can be felt. Heartbreaks can fucking make you feel like you’re dying, like there is no light.

And Tom really wasn’t seeing any light.

Tom only stood outside her room, as she was still trying to reach out for him. She jumped out of the stool and made her way over. How could she not notice that he had just been hit by a bloody truck?

She placed the phone in between her ear and shoulder and wrapped her arms around him.

“Sorry,” she covered the mic. “It won’t take me long.”

But Tom didn’t hug her back, she frowned as she let him go, she took his hand and led him to her couch. Tom tried to get off her grip, but she got on her tiptoes and kissed the edge of his lips.

“No, but—“y/n turned to her call. “After all they’ve been through, they can’t have a happy ending—”

Tom felt another stab in his already. Of course they couldn’t.

“But—Teddy and her having a happy ending?” She frowned.

Tom started to sweat cold, he really didn’t want to listen to this. Did she want to end up with Teddy—Tim?

“No—but—It doesn’t work with Teddy, unless yeah—,” she continued to listen, “Right.” Tom sat down, not sure how to react, y/n sat down on his lap. “I—Yeah, no, we still have to go through an ending.”

She covered the mic again, as she tugged on his t-shirt, “I thought this was already off,” she whispered with a faint giggle and then turned back to the call. “What—? Yeah I mean—I thought you had said that scene was—uh, off.”

Tom  really felt like he was about to faint. Y/N looked down at him again.

“Are you alright?” She asked him. “Wait—Alessandra, can I call you back? I’ll take everything you told me into account—yes, I’m just—It’s—An emergency—yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ll be there, early in the morning! See you, thank you.”

She hung up the phone and placed her hands on his cheeks. “Hey are you alright?”

He didn’t want to say anything. How could he hide it? Why did he want to hide it now? He had the right to yell at her, he had the right to make a scene right? But he wasn’t going to give her one. He really didn’t want to give her another scene for the script. And he really didn’t know how to act, he only looked her in the eyes, and he wondered if he’d imagined it. If she really didn’t love him. Because her eyes… said it.

“Tom?” She pushed. “You look sick, are you okay, love?” She asked as she rubbed his cheek.

“I need to leave,” he stated.

“But are you okay?” She pushed, kissing his cheek. “Do you need any water?” She was worried. “I—I’ll bring you some water,” she quickly stood up and ran to the kitchen.

“No, y/n—I’m…I need to go home,” he said.

“What happened? Are you okay?” She had come back with a glass of water as she caressed his cheek. “Baby, what’s the matter?”

He gulped as he stared at her. So clueless.

“I’m going home.”

She bit her lip. “Okay, I’ll—I’ll drive you,” she nodded as she looked up for her keys.

“No, Haz is on his way.”

She paused as she watched him. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer, instead he picked up his jacket and headed to the door.

“Tom?” She followed after him. “But what’s wrong? Can you at least tell me?”

He looked at the elevator, and then at the stairs. He really needed to get out of there, he started going down the stairs. Y/N followed after him.

“Tom,” she stopped him midway. “What’s wrong?”

He really wanted to say it, he really wanted to ask about it. But if she had just talked to her boss about it and was willingly still going to write it. And he heard it, she didn’t think they deserved a happy ending, and she was probably only waiting for her final move. What would she do?

He gulped down every feeling he was about to vomit. If she was going to keep up with the act then maybe he could, just for a few minutes. But he couldn’t. He was hurt.

“I—I just really need to go home.”

She watched him. And maybe a heartbreak could be felt by y/n too. Because she feared it, she feared it would also come. She only nodded.

Tom continued down the stairs and then stopped at the lobby. It was raining, a storm. Thunder clapped, and the lighting was striking.

They stayed quiet, as they waited for Harrison.

Y/N had her own fears. Ones that didn’t involve a script, ones that had been built up for a while.

“You know I love you, right?” Were the only words that could come through her mouth. Words which were barely and roughly translated to: please don’t let this be Rome.

Tom kept looking out, silently, the rain pouring down. He really only wanted to go outside and pity himself in the rain, to lay down and be dramatic.

Tom only put on his jacket and dug his hands in his pockets. He took a deep breath.

She approached him, quietly and carefully, fearing he’d say it now how all of it had been a joke. How all of it was another prank, or whatever he’d come up with tus time. And she felt insecure, very insecure, about her hair, her body, her feelings.

And she only locked her hand with his hand and rested her head on it. He didn’t push her back, but It didn’t feel welcoming.

Eventually a pair of light illuminated the rain and a car was parked in front of it. Tom walked out of the building, with no warning whatsoever, but y/n rushed to stop him.

“Tom?” She called him as she stepped in front of the car. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He pursed his lips. “It’s raining y/n, go inside.”

But neither of them seemed to care the cold rain was outing down on them, she only kissed his cheek, a cold long kiss.

“Please don’t let it be like last time,” she whispered to him, her voice cracking as she pulled away.

He scoffed before walking past her to get into the car. Harrison only gave y/n a long, cold but worrying stare before he drove off.

Y/N watched them as the lights became smaller and faded out, she stayed out in the cold rain for a while, wondering where things had gone wrong. But eventually she walked back in, trying to go through the day again. But this was so typical of Tom, this was it. What she had feared once it had come right after her, but what had gone wrong?

She took a warm shower knowing that she couldn’t afford getting sick at this point, it’d be a different day tomorrow so she had to be presentable.

But she didn’t sleep. She texted him, several times, and several times she didn’t, she only stayed with the half written text before deleting every single letter. She turned in her bed, round and round. She found a t-shirt he’d left from the day before, she put it on and hugged a pillow. It felt weird sleeping alone for the first time in weeks. No one to hold her.

An empty bed feels big, and cold. She placed a pillow behind her but it made no difference, it was cold. And she didn’t even know where they had gone wrong. She opened up the box, the one with his name. She’d had to get a bigger box, of a closet full of him, maybe.

And she really wanted to believe he was tired, maybe he was angry about other things, what had gone wrong?

Had it lead to this?

And she opened her still packed suitcase as she took out her belongings. If this went wrong, if this really went wrong she really had to box up many things. But she boxed in the good ones, the plane ticket from their first date, and a little disposable towel she’d snatched from it. A picture of a peony, which she was really debating which box to put it in, Timmy’s? The Polaroids, from their dates, the city and the elevator, home to many and different kisses. A dirty, ripped and empty sour patch kids bag from that night, and a napkin from that hotdog stand.

The tickets to their date at the baseball game, and the lingerie she was wearing the first time they said “I love you”.

She was drowning in pictures and memories, trying to understand where it had gone wrong. If it had gone wrong. She perused around in her room, to see if anything had gone wrong.

Had it been the Polaroids hanging on her wall? Timmy did have a lot of focus on her room, but—If you looked around, really, Tom was the main character in those Polaroids. But it couldn’t be that, that hadn’t bothered him before.

Except of course, before he didn’t know about the ring, and if you really looked around you could see film canisters turned into nice little lamps. Had that been what bothered him? Maybe. Was it that?

And y/n kept looking around the room, and she saw what Tom probably saw, Timmy was everywhere. And he really was everywhere, but, could she ever get rid of him?

She looked at her closed laptop, and how even after everything, after the story was over, she still wanted to keep writing pages. Everything. Everything. Because—she didn’t even know why.

Had Tom seen that? Maybe he had. And she tried calling him but hung up just as it started to ring. But she loved Tom and that’s the only thing she was sure about. And she didn’t want to lose him.

She looked around her room, pictures of Sam… and Harry. Thousands of pictures of Harry.

Was it that?

He knew that she knew. Of course he didn’t know anything else but—did it hurt him?

Her head roamed with different scenarios to what had bothered Tom. And she feared it would come, and she didn’t want to be one of those nights, where the night didn’t seem to come at all. But it felt like it, a night that was a beginning of her broken heart.

Not far from her, Tom had avoided any conversation he had opened a beer, and then locked himself in his room. And this wasn’t the first time he’d felt like shit, no, but right now it felt way worse. The pain across his chest. A sleepless night, and not for the good reasons. He was running out of breath, and he only heard y/n calling. He didn’t want to talk to her. He really didn’t want to talk to her. He only laid down, feeling sorry for himself, without knowing y/n was just mirroring him.

There they were, both in empty cold beds, crying.

But she had to sleep, eventually. It was a big day, so with sorrow in her heart, she had to sleep, even if it only were for barely two hours. She woke up and she had lost her senses, she wasn’t feeling well. Y/N had woken up earlier, taken a shower and headed first to his place. She needed to solve whatever was on his mind. Whether it was Timmy or Harry.

But what if it had something to do with her? Her clothes? Her hair? She couldn’t stop thinking about it as Haz opened the door.

“Hi, y/n,” he gulped. “Hey—uh, Tom is not—feeling well. He… is not here.”

Y/n watched him, and maybe he had noticed it. In her eyes, they didn’t hide that she’d been crying no matter how much makeup she was wearing.

“That makes two of us,” she admitted. “Harrison—I—“ she took a deep breath. “I don’t know what happened but it was so out of the blue—“

“He—“Haz gulped. “I—he didn’t tell you why he left?”

“No,” she blinked. “Is there a reason?”

Harrison looked away. “No, no—Well, I don’t know,” he lied, watching her. “I—come in.”

She walked in, and turned to him. “I know you know what happened.”

“I don’t.”

“Harrison—it’s—I don’t want to be broken-hearted again,” she admitted, as she kept walking, seeing empty beer bottles. “What happened here?”

“Tom—“he gulped. “Look, y/n, I think you should talk, communicate feelings and—“

She sighed, “I can’t afford another heartbreak by him, and I’m not—At least I’m not going to—I don’t want this to end you know? I love him too much— even if it’s stupid to admit it, I love that big dumbass with my everything.”

Harrison pitied her, but he really couldn’t feel sorry. It was weird. Because he knew the reason why Tom had left but then again, he saw y/n, and he believed in her. She loved him. But then, what was on that script?

“Well, I—you should tell that to him,” Haz said. “I literally am not able to do anything with that information.”

She sighed. “Right, right, but… what happened? Was it because of Timmy? Harry?”

Haz looked away, not wanting to answer that question.

“Because—I well… I will tell Harry today, he’s my best friend I should—I should tell him right?” She said.

“You-you’ll-tell who? What?” Haz widened his eyes.

“I don’t know, he called me—Well technically I called him, I—will go later for lunch withhim, I should tell him right? Oh but what will I tell him? That his brother will most likely break my heart again when—“

Haz bit his lip. “Y/N… I really.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m just—“she sat down. “I’m stressed—And I have to pitch my script today and—I really can’t even think about it.”

Harrison saw a chance for her to either admit her mistake or at least know where this was coming from. Because she was broken, and he could easily see it. And maybe he didn’t blame her, how many times had she not found herself in that predicament, wondering why Tom was doing this. If anything, Harrison knew that Tom was a stupid kid when it came to speaking out his feelings and emotions. The fact that he had never admitted that he loved her was only the necessary proof he needed. Yes, y/n had probably written a script about every time Tom had broken her heart but if she had enough content, that spoke to Harrison. Who really didn’t believe it was a lie or a… perfidy as Tom had said, if it was the girl wouldn’t be standing here on the verge of crying when she probably had more important things to go to. But then again, he hadn’t read the script and Tom had barely given him any updates on their soap opera. He had barely any information.

“The—Screenplay? Oh nice—What’s it about?” He faked ignorance.

Y/N stayed quiet.

Harrison wondered if she had realized it.

“Well?” Haz pushed.

Y/n looked away. “It’s about—“ she took a deep breath. “I don’t even know anymore… it’s a love story.”

Harrison watched her, he felt guilty and he wasn’t sure why.

“No—uh, y/n, you should go—he’s upstairs”

She frowned, “you said—“

“He told me not to tell you if you came here but—“Harrison sighed. “I—I really don’t want to be in the middle of this.”

She took a deep breath. “You know Harrison, I’ve seen this film before, many, many times, and I didn’t like the ending.”

She left the cold room, and then went upstairs and found herself behind a locked door. And she only sighed before knocking on it. He didn’t open it. She knocked again.

“What’s up Harrison?”

She knocked again. And then finally, Tom opened the door. He was not pleased to see her, but he saw her, with her eyes tired from crying, and her voice shaking as she only stared at him, trying to come up with some lame apology to tell him. Tom didn’t know why she looked so broken-hearted if he had done nothing. He’d done nothing this time, it was on her.

“What?” He said.

“What?” She frowned. “I don’t understand anything and I—you just left and you ignored me and I know something is wrong and you can’t tell me what it is?”

He looked away.

“Look—I—Please, let’s talk about it later, okay? Please, I—I have to go, I have to pitch the screenplay and—“

He scoffed. “Of course.”

“Tom, please—And I’m,” she watched him with pain. “I’ll see Harry later, we… You can come and—“

“For what?” Tom snapped, “really, y/n—I just can’t believe you, you keep doing this!”

“Doing what? I don’t get it, Tom.”

He rolled his eyes.

“What was it this time, Tom?” She finally snapped. “What was it? Is it you running away again? Are you trying to hurt me again? What—?”

Tom groaned as he looked away. “That’s all I am, huh?”

“What—?”she stepped into his room, more empty bottles. He hadn’t slept either.

“You’re waiting for it, aren’t you? For me to break your heart—?”

She looked into his eyes, “I don’t understand what went wrong you literally just—left without any explanation! Please let’s solve this, Tommy.”

“No, we—Y/N we can’t solve this.” He watched her. “Because I can break your heart in the blink of an eye,” he said, quoting her words.

She stepped back, out of his room again. “Tom—I really want this to work, please don’t take this away from me—I’m only asking you this for one last time, please, don’t—Don’t take this away from me, come on, we can solve this.”

“Don’t get touchy….When’s your last movement y/n?” He sighed. “Or are you waiting for mine?” He only closed his door.

She kicked it and then left but.. she came back. “Tom I—really, please come to the Harry thing, or I’ll see you later? We could talk—I—Tom, I’m really trying, okay? I’m sorry—I Don't know what upset you but I’m trying, okay? I really want this to work out.”

Leaving with more doubts than from when she had arrived,. She walked past Harrison.

“Your best friend is an idiot and I don’t fucking know what is wrong with him, tell him I’ll wait for him at 5, I’ll be there with Harry at that café we like.”

Harrison hated this. He really hated this. The both idiots were breaking the other and neither knew why, that was the problem with them. That was the biggest and stupidest problem, if only they talked and explained. Although, Harrison didn’t know if they could get out of this one.

Nothing made sense, really, and his best friend had barely told him anything.

He went to knock on his door.

“Y/N—I swear,” he took a deep breath. “I really don’t want to talk to you.”

“You’ll be pleased to know it’s me then,” Haz pushed.

Tom opened the door. “What?”

“Look, I know you’re—I know you’re very mad at her,” Harrison conceded, “but—“

“But?” He frowned. “She literally—“

“Did you finish the script?” Haz asked him.

Tom scoffed. “You’re joking, aren’t you?” He took deep breaths, as he groaned. “I—Harrison, I don’t even—“

“A lot of people base off their art on personal events, it doesn’t have to mean anything,” Harrison pushed. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence?”

Tom watched his friend with pain, as he only kicked the bed. “No, it’s not—a coincidence, it’s—It was there, okay, like she kept some sort of journal—Fuck, it’s not—It’s not a coincidence.”

“I don’t think she’s faking it,” Harrison pointed out. “I—she probably just based it on it.”

Tom looked away. “No.”

“She deserves an explanation.”

Y/N didn’t call him. And she didn’t call anyone. They didn’t like the script, or not—entirely. They said it felt unfinished, that the ending didn’t make any sense. It didn’t go well. Her dreams had… shattered, yes.

But of course they wouldn’t like the ending, they are rooting for someone the whole time and she ends up not choosing him. Problem was that they didn’t understand that she didn’t understand it.

What she understood was that she had looked for him, she had tried to find pieces of him in every person, but no one was him. And people didn’t understand it.

That it was him, 2 am or 6 pm. No matter where you went, Rome or New York, Paris or London. It was him.

And though the answer was clear, because his name tasted so good everytime she called him, and him calling her name sounded like a sweet symphony. It… didn’t make sense. Because you kept the whole story rooting for someone.

Nobody gets happy endings. Except of course, for Harry and Emma.

Y/N had cleaned the remaining tears and applied a little more makeup just to make sure they didn’t know. But Harry would. He knew her. Completely.

She stared at her phone, expecting a text, a call, anything. For the first time she feared he’d never text back again. And she didn’t even know why. And it felt like it, it felt like last time and she really didn’t like last time.

She took a deep breath, gulping down a sob before she faked a smile.

And there was Harry with his bright smile, those worn overalls she’d told him to buy and a pair of sneakers. Y/N’s fake smile turned into a real one as she ran to his open arms. Maybe everything was okay now.

“I missed you so much,” he said, as he kept hugging her.

“I missed you more!”

Two months without him, and she had just realized it. How stupid she had been on ignoring him because she was giving in to something that was—so momentary. Something that probably was already ending.

But not with Harry… not yet, though.

“I invited Tom,” she warned him.

“Oh, alright—“he cleared his throat. “So—Uh, where is he?”

And there was her answer, she knew he wouldn’t come.

“I—well, Dunno, maybe he’ll show up later but, please, we need to talk about everything—Your first movie!”

Harry laughed. “Fine, alright, come on, lets—“

Harry helped her forget why she hadn’t slept the night before, and he made her forget that they’d turned down the script. He made her forget that her whole world was probably tumbling down. With his stories and their jokes, and the way that he brought her a smile. It was great.

And y/n had never said it out loud, but she often thought about it, how she’d fallen in love with the wrong Holland. But of course, she knew that no matter how big her mistake, still her heart chose Tom. No matter how bad the decision was.

“Let’s get to the other important thing,” y/n said. “You’re getting married, oh my god, I just… We didn’t even have the time to talk about it.”

Harry laughed. “I know, it’s been so crazy but…”

“I’m … I can’t even believe it, you know? So, any plans yet?” She pushed.

“I… Well, yeah, many, you’d know more if you hadn’t ignored me for two months,” he pointed out. And there it was, the guilt.

The big guilt she’d felt for not calling him for two months, for hiding so many secrets from him. He didn’t deserve it, but in a way, she knew she was protecting both of them. In her own life, y/n saw it as before Rome, and after Rome, if it didn’t make any sense, at all. And the before Rome included that ‘almost-kiss’ with Harry that had her doubting everything, questioning every single feeling towards him. But she didn’t want to think about it, how quickly her doubts had been erased when Tom had shown up.

“I’m... “ She didn’t even know how to begin the apology. “I’m sorry Harry… I was too busy writing, helping Tom around, he can really be a pain in the ass, you know?”

“And I bet it’s even harder trying to hide your relationship with him, huh? So—let's get to it, what’s up with you and Tom?” Harry finally slipped the question. So abruptly.

“What?” She almost choked on her tea.

Harry smiled, coldly. “Oh come on, the whole showing out his girlfriend, the picture… the tweets, I know it’s you.”

She didn’t want to say it now, what was she supposed to tell him? Ah, yes, we became sort of official and then he stormed out of the blue. Was that what she was supposed to tell him?

She gulped. “Ah well, yeah that’s—that’s me, I guess—“

Harry furrowed his brows. “You guess? You’re in a relationship and you guess?”

“Yeah,” she turned a cough into a chuckle. “Yeah, well—It’s… Yeah.”

Harry gulped, and looked away with a smile. “So how did it happen?”

“Well—it just—“she chuckled. “It’s—Weird, guess we grew closer, and then—I dunno, we started hanging out,” she gulped, that was a way of saying it. “I—I dunno, we just went out on a date in New York and yes—“

Harry laughed. “Yeah I’m not buying that.”

“What?” She frowned. “Why not?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You guys think you’re sneaky but you really aren’t,” he commented. “But since when did it really start?”

She opened her mouth, and then she chuckled, ignoring her best friend’s gaze. “I—uh.”

“Y/N?” He smirked. “Please, you’ve been crushing on him since we were kids, and you’re finally dating him, I want to know.”

“But it’s your stupid brother who we’re talking about,” she said, trying to change the subject.

Harry watched her, carefully. He wasn’t hurt, it wasn’t the first time he’d heard her talk about a boyfriend. Harry had gotten used to it. But it was different, from when he’d listen to her rant about Louis, or Timmy or whoever else. This was different, and probably because she… wasn’t ranting. She wasn’t talking for hours about him, she was changing the subject. Harry  had moved on from his feelings, almost all of them, anyway.

Of course, you can never truly get rid of feelings. Not for the person you’ve loved the most for your whole life, before Emma, that is. But his feelings were probably showing now, but he didn’t know if they were jealousy or actual concern, or other type of feelings. Because he’d noticed y/n had kept more than one secret for a while, he didn’t want to push it but he knew that his own brother had to do with it. She’d been crying, and if she hadn’t said it by now she probably didn’t want it to be addressed.

“How did it really start?” Harry asked.

She coughed. “Uh, well,” she squeezed her eyes shut. “It’s not exactly a fairytale.”

Harry laughed. “You and Tom? Oh who would’ve thought that mortal enemies are not having a fairytale.”

“We slept together.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Yeah, I could… see that.”

“What?”

“You guys really thought we wouldn’t notice?” Harry rolled his eyes. “Look, I only know it was before I announced my engagement, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, so romantic, then, you sleep with each other and then you’re dating,” Harry rolled his eyes. “That’s… Really not what I expected from you.”

She covered her face. “It was…” She closed her eyes. “I really don’t want to talk about me sleeping with your brother, that’s weird.”

“Well,” Harry chuckled. “I just want to know, are you happy?”

She didn’t answer right away, because she could say she was happy right now because she didn’t even know why she told him they were a thing, because from what she could barely gather this morning it would come to an end.

“I—Yes, I’m happy.”

“Then why have you been crying?” He asked, going straight to what he had wanted to ask since he’d seen her run to him. She was not good at hiding it. She looked tired, and her smile just wasn’t there, her laugh seemed turned off. “Did my stupid brother make you cry?”

“I… gave the ring back to Tim,” she said.

Harry paused but listened. “And how do you feel about that?”

“I dunno,” she gulped. “I… I really,” she sighed. She knew Harry was the only person she could really talk about it with. “It’s like I let go a part of me, and I don’t… I don’t mind the ring.”

“No, I know,” Harry nodded. “It’s letting go of Tim.”

“And I’m not sure if I was ready for that, you know?” She confessed. “It’s…” She sighed. “Too complicated.”

Harry only stared at her, waiting for her to elaborate, but she didn’t so he continued to question her. “Do you love him?”

“I do,” she admitted. “But… I,” she gulped looking down at her tea. “I love your brother, too much for my own convenience, even when I know I shouldn’t, and I’d just… It sounds silly but I really would give up everything for your brother.”

Harry pitied her, a little. Because she was in love with someone who was going to hurt her, and y/n knew this.

“But what would I even give up now, huh?” She cackled dryly to herself. “Right? I’m losing everything.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“I—“She took a sip of her drink,deciding whether to tell him or not . “They turned down my script,” she admitted.

Harry only reached for her hand, “oh—I’m sorry.”

“No, well,” she sighed. “It’s—They didn’t turn it down it’s just—Well, they did—Because of the ending, and because this other guy brought a story that he swears it’s the new Stranger Things, which—Is, I mean they asked us for something based on our life and I really doubt he is—Actually dealing with any ghosts but,” she coughed. “But they preferred that over mine so—“

Harry nodded, as he squeezed her hand.

“I mean, I know I could come up with something like that, you know?” She sighed, her voice . “But I had to write a stupid story that was my story and I chose one where I don’t—I don’t even know the ending to, a story that I myself don’t understand.”

“What’s it about?” Harry asked.

“About first and last times,” she explained. “And I guess—I don’t know, it was on me, but—They said they didn’t like the ending, but I don’t want it to end I—“She was building up a sob, and Harry knew that. “I don’t want it to end, and maybe that’s why I wrote that ending because it—It makes no sense. I don’t even know, I don’t like that ending either.”

Harry didn’t understand it, he didn’t know what she was talking about, but he had learned that with y/n there was always the reason behind, the whole not meaning what she says, reading in between the lines.

“It’s cause, it’s a story that we all know, but—Nobody likes the ending, and maybe—I thought that by changing it—I—god, I don’t even know, nothing I write makes sense,” she continued, “I think I want to give up on it—“

“No, y/n, it’s only a script—You’re very talented—“

“But it’s not only a script, Harry, I gave—I gave my whole heart to it, it’s—“She pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s the story, I don’t like the ending either okay? It was—A big piece of my heart, I just didn’t want it to end okay? Not like that.”

“We’re not talking about the screenplay, are we?” Harry sighed.

Y/N ran a hand through her hair. “It’s—Complicated.”

“Why?”

“The screenplay is about Tom.”

Tom, who had almost gone to the cafe, but stayed in, instead. Because y/n had written about him, sure. He didn’t want to see her, anyone else would be flattered but he was depicted as a monster. And that’s the thing that had him thinking, because that’s all y/n saw him as. And how dare she write about their relationship? And when is she going to break his heart? He guessed he could tell her that he’d found it, the script, no need to build up another heartbreak, he was already there.

And he had almost gone with her and Harry, thinking it might be the right thing. Give her the chance to tell him about it.

But she wouldn’t, she probably wouldn’t.

And he stayed quiet for the next couple of days, she’d gone to his place every day, though. And every day he shut her out. He didn’t want to speak to her, he’d avoid her.

“Tom, oh my god, seriously,” Harrison yelled at him once. “I know it’s not my business—“

“You’re right, it’s not,” Tom snapped back.

“But you have to fucking give her an an explanation, and when she shows up tomorrow—Which I know she will, fucking give her one.”

And Tom thought about it, why did he need to give her an explanation? To give her a scene? To give her more to write about? It was stupid even thinking about it. But it—she didn’t feel it. Because: “who could ever love such a monster” were those her words? Or were they worse? Tom didn’t even want to look her in the eye. Because heartbreaks can be felt, and it hadn’t stopped hurting. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t talk, he’d run out of breath. He tried working out but he’d have to stop because his mind would bring her back.

Maybe he did need to give her an explanation, make her give him an explanation.

Except the next day, it wasn’t y/n who showed up. Harry. It was Harry.

“Bloody hell, what happened to you, you look like shit,” Harry said as soon as he had walked into the kitchen. “What the hell is up with you?”

Tom blinked, looking up from the now soggy cereal he’d been eating for the past hour. “I’m—tired.”

Harry opened the fridge and took out something to drink. “Why don’t you call your girlfriend, eh? She might be able to make you smile.”

Tom felt a punch right in his stomach. Did he know? He genuinely had forgotten the whole trouble it would bring if he told him. Did he even have to tell him now?

“I—girlfriend?” Tom asked, before coughing.

Harry crossed his arms. “Oh, so—You’re going to deny it again?”

Tom looked away. “Deny what?”

“That you’re dating y/n,”Harry pointed out.

Tom didn’t answer, he only watched his brother. He knew. Had y/n told him?

“I figured it out—oh, and mum told me, how happy they were when they heard the news, news which you didn’t tell me,” Harry continued.

Tom didn’t want to give in to that conversation. But he had to, now. He had to admit it now, to his brother standing right there.

“So?” Harry pushed sipping from his drink. “How’s it going?”

“I—Harry I'm sorry-“

“Why are you even sorry?” Harry frowned.

Tom let the spoon fall down to his bowl. “I—I… look Harry.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to, Tom,” Harry pushed. “And I swore I wouldn’t get involved. I promised to her I wouldn’t get involved.”

“You loved her,” Tom pointed out.

“I love her,” Harry corrected him. “No past tense, but no, I’m not in love with her. That, that’s it. I’m not in love with her, I am in love, and I love Emma now.”

Tom frowned. “Look, Harry—“

“What I don’t understand, Tom,” Harry continued. “Is why you keep—it makes no sense to me, Tom.”

Tom stood up. “It doesn’t? What doesn’t click you?”

“If you’ve been in love with her your whole life—again, nobody told me, figured it out, it’s easy to know when someone else is in love with the person you love—Why you kept doing that, hurting her.”

“Because you loved her, and because she didn’t choose you,” Tom snapped, “it’s stupid but that’s what it is. I didn’t want you to be hurt—Because I knew you loved her and it made no sense she fucking kept choosing me—“

“I’m not even hurt she didn’t choose me,” Harry scoffed. “You know what? I’m hurt you didn’t tell me,  and that you had to hide this from me because deep down you know you’re not right for her. Because you’ve been an asshole to her.”

There it was, someone else thinking he was an asshole,  a monster, and Tom didn’t even want to deny it. Maybe that was it. He was even angrier at himself for being so stupid. No, but—Then again y/n didn’t love him back. He’d hurt her enough for her to craft up a perfidy, whatever that word even meant by now.

Harry watched the quiet Tom. “And I’m hurt that even after everything even after every time you’ve fucking hurt her,” Harry continued. “I don’t even—Right now, you’re hurting her so fucking much she still chooses you and you manage to fuck it up,”Harry said exalted. “I’m hurt you still don’t realize how much you can hurt her and how much she loves you.”

Tom didn’t believe that statement.

“I was in love with her yes,” Harry sighed, “and did it hurt that she didn’t love me back? Maybe, did it hurt when something almost happened and then she came back parading with you? Fuck, yes, it hurt but—But if you made her happy, I was okay with that, it didn’t matter in the end, because you’re my brother as I wanted you to be happy and I wanted her to be happy,” he gulped. “But—look what I found, the two of you crying, both of you and you’re so pathetic excuse of love,” Harry shook his head, “I don’t even know it, do you even love each other?” He clicked his tongue. “Yes, I was hurt for a while, it hurt like a bitch, and it hurt me that the woman I loved would cry over and over because of your bullshit, and now you’re trying to put the blame on me? You’re saying you were an asshole because I loved her?”

Tom stayed quiet, he really didn’t want to answer that question. Because she’d crossed more lines and because he already knew it, an asshole, a monster, whatever, and there he was, being the bad guy again.

And there was Robert, Robbie—Harry, believing he was the bad guy. And everybody believed it. Because maybe, Tom truly was the bad guy.

“You thought that by hurting her I'd turn out to be triumphant?” Harry asked him, “is that what you really thought?” Harry couldn’t be more calm about this, as if he had rehearsed everything he was telling Tom.

“Do you really love her, Tom? Or is it another whim of yours?” Harry pushed.

But Harry didn’t know about the script. And Harry didn’t know the most important thing. Harry didn’t know that at one point, Valerie had been in love with Robbie.

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[golbrocklovely]

remember me // colby brock

A/N: this is not a request, but this is something i have been thinking about for a long time, probs since i started writing. i only finally wrote this out bc i’ve seen a lot of edit on insta that are like ‘what if your fave didn’t exist?’ and i figured this was sign for me to finally write it. if you guys want me to make a sequel to this, lmk. hope you enjoy.

prompt: everyone has forgotten colby, except her. but why?

trigger warning: angst, kinda sad, ppl forgetting colby

word count: 3567

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

The day started out like any other day for Colby. Nothing felt out of place as he woke up and laid in bed for a couple minutes. He knew today was going to be one of the less crazier days for him and Sam. No meetings of any kind, and no filming either. He had gotten everything done earlier this week and he was excited to have a bit of a day off. The only thing he had planned for today was to go workout with Sam early. He glanced at his phone. 9:34 A.M. Perfect time for him and Sam to go down to the apartment's gym and get some work done.

Colby stretched as he stood up, stumbling over to his closet and changing into what he usually worked out in, a muscle shirt and basketball shorts. He trudged into his bathroom and brushed his teeth quickly, opting to take a shower after he got home from the gym. He slipped his sneakers on as he walked into his kitchen and got a water bottle from his fridge. Taking a big gulp, he grabbed his keys and headed straight down the hallway to Sam's apartment.

He knocked three times, calling out to Sam as he waited for the blonde-haired boy to open the door. Finally, Sam did, rubbing his eyes and staring at Colby confused.

"Hey dude, did you oversleep?" Colby smirked, "That would be a first."

Sam narrowed his eyes at Colby, his voice still tired. "Um, I'm sorry?"

“Don't you remember? We planned to work out this morning. We talked about it last night.” Colby replied, twirling his keys in his fingers.

“What are you talking about?” Sam scrunched up his face.

“Last night after we filmed your video, we said we should go workout this morning…” Colby chuckled lightly, “Are you okay, brother?”

“I'm sorry, but... do you have the wrong apartment?” Sam asked nicely.

Colby exhaled. “What?”

“You must be looking for someone else, dude. I have no idea who you are.” Sam mumbled to himself, “Or how you know my name…”

“Okay, ha-ha. Very funny. Come on, Sam. Let's go.” Colby stated, taking a step back to leave.

Sam insisted, his voice getting louder. “No seriously, I have no idea who you are.”

“Babe, who is that?” A voice called from inside the apartment.

Colby looked over Sam, seeing Kat walk around the corner in her pjs. Colby glanced above Kat and noticed something off but ignored it.

“Hey Kat, did Sam hit his head last night?” Colby joked.

Sam turned to Kat. “Do you know him?”

Kat took a step back, glancing at Colby quickly. “No, I have no idea who he is. Do you?”

“No, I don't.” Sam shook his head.

“What are you guys on about? Of course, you know me.” Colby hissed.

“Seriously, I have no idea who you are or how you know me. But you gotta leave.” Sam ordered.

“What?” Colby raised an eyebrow, his voice softening, “Is this some type of prank?”

“Leave now, or I'm gonna call security on you.” Sam grunted.

Colby started. “Dude what are you talking-”

Sam slammed the door in Colby's face, locking it loudly. Colby scoffed, staring at the door for a second.

If this is a prank, I'm so gonna get him back for this.

Colby rolled his eyes and went down to the gym. He couldn't wrap his head around what just happened. Why was Sam pranking him if they already filmed last night? Was he trying to film for next week now too? Was this for someone else's video?

I mean, this has to be a prank... right?

Colby shook his head, ignoring the strange thought. Of course, this was a prank. It was probably for Jake's video. Maybe even Kat's. Or Kevin's. Someone was doing it to him. He couldn't remember the last time he had pranked somebody. But whoever he did, they were probably trying to get him back now for it. And they were doing a pretty good job.

Colby jumped onto the treadmill, keeping the pace slow at first as he searched through Spotify to find his playlist. Where was his playlist? As cheesy as it was to listen to the playlist he made for fans, it was filled with his favorite songs, so he would actually listen to it a lot. But now... he couldn't find it.

Where the fuck is it?

He searched, even going to his profile, but it wasn't there. Gone, like it never existed.

Maybe Spotify is acting up. Let me just go to Youtube.

Colby clicked on the app, searching up a song he wanted to hear. Then he paused for a moment, deleting the text he had written and typing in 'sam and colby'.

No results found.

“What?” Colby murmured, twisting up his face.

He then typed in 'colby brock'.

No results found.

Colby's heart sped up in his chest, his breathing quickening. Did his channel get deleted? Why were there no results for his channel, or 'Sam and Colby' for that matter? He finally typed in 'sam golbach', and Sam's channel appeared.

Colby clicked on it, glancing around at the different layout. This wasn't the layout Sam had had before. The only time they change it is when they are starting a new chapter, and they always do it together. Maybe he changed it last minute?

He clicked on Sam's videos. Scrolling through the list of them, he noticed something weird.

Sam always included Colby in the thumbnail. But now... he was nowhere. Now someone different was in the thumbnail, like Jake, Kevin, or even Corey. But... Colby was nowhere.

What the fuck was going on?

Colby clicked on a video he knew he was in, 'This Is How He LOST The Game’. He watched through the first ad, waiting impatiently. Finally, when the video loaded, his eyes widened at what he saw.

He wasn't in the video.

Sam had started the video off like normal, showing all the guys sitting on the couch as he explained the name of the game. But Colby, who knew for a fact he was in this video, was no longer there. His spot empty.

It was one thing to pretend not to know him, it was one thing to remove him from the thumbnails. But to remove him from videos all together...

“It's impossible.” He uttered under his breath.

Colby rushed off the treadmill, no longer in the mood to workout. He ran up to his apartment, feeling his heart bang against his ribcage.

Maybe this is all a weird ass dream? Or an extremely elaborate prank?

Colby went into his closet, deciding he wanted to change out of his clothes into something more comfortable. He gazed over at the corner of his closet, where he kept all of his merch, along with the XPLR ones too.

It was empty.

“What the fuck?” Colby grabbed at the empty hangers, spinning around his closet. He threw open drawers to try and find his merch, but he couldn't find it.

Colby swiped open his phone, sliding to his pictures. He knew him and Sam had a recent photoshoot in the new XPLR merch, so as long as those photos were there, he knew everything's okay.

As he opened his photo album, a certain dread trickled through his body.

Colby never deleted anything off his phone. He wanted to keep as many photos as possible. Plus it was always good to have extra photos in case he didn't have anything to post on his Instagram. But now, every photo he had was different than it once was. He had many photos of him and Sam from their years of friendship. But now every photo that had him and Sam in it... was gone. It was no longer Sam and Colby. It was just... Colby.

I'm not doing this right now. This can't be real.

Colby shook his head, his nerves getting the better of him as he laid back down on his bed. He took some deep breaths, trying to relax. This must just be the most realistic dream he's ever had, and he just needs to go back to sleep and wake up to everything normal again.

Normal... Sam's neon sign was gone.

Colby groaned to himself, closing his eyes and getting comfortable in bed. No, this is not the time to think. I just need to sleep.

As Colby felt himself relax into sleep, his dreams that followed were confusing and dark. Nothing made sense, but all he knew was that he was in a panic.

Colby jolted awake suddenly. He could tell by the way the sun was peeking through his windows that it was later. He opened his phone. 1:34 P.M.

He sighed deeply. Colby was used to waking up on his days off this late. Everything already felt better.

Did I dream all of that? Or was that prank real?

As he slid out of bed to the bathroom, he decided to check twitter. If that was all real, maybe Sam had mentioned the prank to the fans.

Colby opened twitter and nothing seemed out of the usual. He looked at Sam's account, and noticed it was not following him anymore.

He's being extremely thorough, isn't he?

As he went to switch over to the Sam and Colby account, he noticed the icon wasn't there. His fingers twitched as he typed 'sam and colby' into the search bar. Everything but that account showed up. 'Sam and Colby' twitter didn't exist.

A nauseous feeling rolled through Colby's body. Colby went to his profile, looking through the people he followed, not even noticing the significant lack of followers he had. He knew he followed a couple fans, maybe they knew what was up. As he scrolled through, he noticed the usernames were different.

He knew a bunch of fans off-hand. A lot of fan accounts always stuck out to him; and it was easy to remember the username, especially if it was named after him.

But nobody's username was.

He saw a lot of 'Golbach', but no 'Brock' or even 'Golbrock', which he always thought was cute. Not a single username was related to him anymore.

Alright, that's enough.

He angrily clicked on his contacts, needing to call Sam and tell him to call off this prank. It was no longer funny and honestly, he didn't even want to be a part of it anymore. Most pranks he was fine with, but this one was going too far for him.

Colby gasped as he stared at his contacts, dropping his phone like it electrocuted him.

All his friends were missing from his contacts. The only people in his phone were his family, and that was it.

Colby began to hyperventilate, unable to stop the panic that surged through his body. He bore at himself in the mirror, staring at his stress-ridden face. He gripped the counter of his sink, trying to calm himself down.

If he couldn't turn to Sam, who could he turn to?

He picked his phone back up, leaning against his counter as he called his mom. He just needed to know that someone remembered him.

“Hello?” His mother’s voice sang through the phone.

Colby breathed, slightly relaxing against the counter. “Hey Mom, how are you?”

“Hi Cole-baby. I'm doing okay. How are you?” She asked sweetly.

Colby pouted. “Um, I'm feeling a bit... off, to say the least.”

“Oh no, what's wrong?” She responded.

“I know this is gonna sound like a weird question, but do you remember my friend Sam?” Colby questioned, tapping his hand against the counter.

She hummed, guessing. “Sam? Sam... Johnson?”

“What? No. I never knew a Sam Johnson.” Colby rolled his eyes, frustrated, “I mean Sam Golbach. Sam Golbach. Do you remember him?”

“No... should I?” She admitted.

His heart dropped at her words. “Yeah, you should. He's my best friend. We were friends all through high school. We started a literal career together, he's basically your third son at this point.”

“Woah, honey. What are you talking about?” She puzzled.

“You don't remember Sam? He's the whole reason I moved out here, Mom.” He urged, needing his mother to remember.

She paused, then spoke. “Colby, you moved out to LA alone. Last month.”

“What?” He choked.

“You worked all through high school and college and saved up money and just recently moved out there.” She informed.

His eyes widened. “Mom, I've lived in LA for almost five years now.”

Also... college?

“Maybe it feels like five years, but honey, you only moved out a month ago at max.” His mom’s voice softened, lowering slightly. “Are you okay?”

“No momma, apparently not.” He sighed, “Who was I friends with in high school if I wasn’t friends with Sam?”

“Honey, you didn’t have any… or none that you ever brought home.” She mentioned.

Colby queried. “And college?”

“You didn’t really talk about anyone. You were very focused on your schoolwork.” She explained.

That literally doesn’t sound like me at all. I couldn’t even pass math without Sam.

Colby glanced down at his tattoos for a second, pursing his lips. “Another quick question, I was allowed to live in our house with dyed hair, tattoos, and pierced ears?”

She gasped. “Wait what? You got a tattoo?!”

“Mom, I have like five.” Colby deadpanned.

“When did you find the time to get them?!” She hushed, “Cole, you know how I feel about tattoos.”

Colby grew tired. “So, you've never heard of a Sam Golbach before?”

“No, absolutely not. But don't try to change the subject on me, Cole Robert.” She scolded.

He huffed. “I'll talk to you later, momma.”

She sputtered. “What? Don't you-”

Colby clicked ‘End Call’, lowering his head to the counter, taking in a deep breath and holding it.

“What the fuck is happening right now?” He demanded out loud.

Colby jumped up, going to his closet and slipping on some clothes quickly. The only thing he knew for certain is that something wasn't right, and he needed to get out of his apartment and go somewhere else. Anywhere else.

He grabbed his keys and rushed down to the parking lot, getting into his car quickly and driving off.

He drove for a while, finally pulling into another parking lot and turning off his car. He needed to get something to eat, and then maybe he could figure things out. He glanced around and noticed the parking lot he was in was for a diner named Meyer's. He locked his car as he left, swinging the diner's door open hastily. The diner wasn't packed, but it wasn't empty either. A nice lull of conversations droned on as he sat down at the furthest booth, cracking his knuckles nervously.

He picked up the menu that was already at the table, staring at the front of it. He didn't even realize a waitress had walked up next to him.

"...Are you okay?" The soft voice said, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Colby stared up at the waitress, noticing her eyes first. They were captivating and beautiful, much like herself. Her hair shined brightly in the sun that basked through the window. Her smile was wonderful to see after a day of unpleasant looks.

He stuttered. “What? Uh-I. Yeah, no, I'm fine.”

She giggled. “Okay. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Um, a water. No, a soda. Please.” Colby muttered.

“Alright. Coming right up.” She nodded.

Colby stared at the menu again, gazing over the pictures of sandwiches and wraps. He wasn't really hungry, but he felt like he should just eat something, even if it was just to pass the time.

The waitress came back over with his soda, placing it lightly down in front of him. “Are you ready to order?”

“No, not yet.” Colby answered, not looking up from the menu.

“Okay, I'll be right back.” She started to walk away, then stopped and turned back. “Are you okay? I know I already asked you that but... you look really upset.”

Colby’s shoulders slumped as he gazed up at her. “I-I... don't even know how to explain it.”

“Why? Is it complicated?” She guessed.

“You could say that,” Colby glared down at the menu. “It just doesn't make any sense. It sounds fake, to be honest.”

“Well, you can tell me. I won't judge.” She smiled.

I might as well tell somebody...

“Everyone's... forgotten about me?” Even Colby was confused at his words.

“What do you mean? Like they're ignoring you?” She questioned, her hand resting on her hip.

“No. Like they literally forgot I exist. Or, I somehow don't exist in their lives anymore, when yesterday I did.” He confessed.

She shrugged. “Well, maybe they're trying to ignore you instead of talking things out.”

“No, I don't think you understand. I don't exist to them. They don't know me. Like, at all,” Colby corrected. “My best friend, my brother, the fucking dude I got arrested with, doesn't know who I am.”

“Wait, you've been arrested?” She raised an eyebrow.

“It was just breaking and entering. And having fake IDs,” He commented. “But that's not the point, the point is no one remembers me, but I remember them.”

The waitress stood there silently, awkwardly.

“I don't know what to say.” She whispered.

He gulped. “I don't know either. But if you have a solution, I'd gladly hear it.”

“Maybe it's a prank?” She speculated.

“I thought about that too. But if it is, this is extremely elaborate. And borderline impossible.” Colby disclosed.

She argued nonchalantly. “People do crazy things for social media.”

“Yeah, but even my friends wouldn't take it this far for just a dumb video.” He complained.

“Are your friends famous?” She inquired.

“I wouldn't say that. My best friend is Sam Golbach.” Colby revealed.

“Sam Golbach? Why have I heard that name before?” She asked quietly.

“He's got a lot of followers. He’s a Youtuber.” He pointed out.

“Wait, you're Sam's best friend?” Her eyes widened.

“Yeah?” He cocked his head to the side.

She gasped. “Oh! You're Colby Brock!”

“I'm what?” He stammered.

“You're Colby, right?” She doubted for a second, “Or did I get that wrong?”

Colby jumped up out of his seat. “Oh my God, you know who I am! Wait, how do you know?”

“My one friend is a huge fan of you and Sam. She showed me you guys like a month ago.” She paused for a second, smirking. “She's actually really into you... Maybe I should call her.”

“Please do. I need to know if she knows who I am.” Colby pleaded, sitting back down.

The waitress followed him, sitting across from Colby. “Of course she does, she literally has you set as her wallpaper.”

She pulled out her phone, glancing around to make sure no one was watching her. She clicked on a contact, putting the phone on the table and clicking ‘Speaker’.

“Hello?” A voice broke in through the phone.

She grinned, staring up at Colby. “Hey Sara, you need to come down to the diner real quick.”

“What why?” Sara questioned.

“Colby Brock is here.” She announced.

Sara remarked. “...Who?”

“Colby Brock, the guy you're in love with.” She repeated.

“I have no idea who you're talking about. I've never heard that name before.” Sara denied.

“He's Sam Golbach's friend.” The waitress described.

Sara exclaimed. “Oh my God, is Sam there?! Because I’ll-”

She interjected. “No, he’s not.”

“Oh... then I don't want to come.” Sara recalled, “I've never heard Sam talk about a guy named Colby before.”

Colby swallowed the lump in his throat, his eyes falling off of the waitress’.

She fretted. “Okay then. I'll talk to you later.”

“Alright, bye.” Sara ended, hanging up the phone.

After a moment of silence, the waitress stated, “I'm sorry about that.”

“What's there to be sorry about?” Colby quavered.

The waitress scoffed suddenly. “Is this some kinda joke?”

“What?” He queried.

“Are you pulling a prank on me? Was Sara in on it? Because I’ll kill her if she met you and didn’t tell me.” She jeered jokingly.

Colby shook his head, deadpanning. “I haven’t met Sara, and I’m not pranking you.”

“How can I know if you’re lying or not?” She questioned, squinting her eyes.

“Google my name. Search me on any social media,” Colby suggested. “I don’t exist.”

“Okay…” She agreed.

The waitress quickly typed in his name into Google, coming up with no images that looked like him. None of his social media links came up either.

She gazed up at him slowly. “This is really weird.”

“You’re telling me.” Colby uttered, “No one remembers me.”

She blurted. “But I do.”

“Yeah… why is that?” He inquired.

“I-I don’t know.” She sputtered, confused. Then she jolted up from her seat instantly. “I-um, gotta go help out my other tables. Do you need me to give you some time to look over the menu?”

“Yes…” He continued, “But one other thing.”

“Sure.” She leaned in, her hands resting on the tabletop.

“Can you help me? Please?” Colby begged, lightly grabbing her hand.

She silently gasped, whispering, “How?”

“I don’t know. But I think you’re the only one that can.” Colby divulged.

The waitress stuttered, but no words fell from her lips.

He exhaled, staring into her eyes. “So, will you?”

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