#She says she's leaving in a couple months anyway and accuses the others of being lazy

[0last-ditch-effort0]

😬 Think I'm about to come into conflict with new flatmate about cleaning

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

It’s A Love Story…

Colt Seavers (The Fall Guy 2024) x Reader

-Part 2 to Coffees, Plural-

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters in this story except for Sheila and the reader insert!

Author’s Notes: Background is summarized on part one! I tried to get Colt as in character as possible, but it’s hard to perfectly capture him 🙃 also, this is not edited!! idk if it’s cringe or cute, but if you enjoy the story, please leave a comment! I’d love to see what you think! Icons by @gosling-girlx !! She’s the best!

Content/Content Warning: nothing serious! Just some suggestive themes and some smooching at the end :)

Part three is out!

Reader’s POV

Looking back on it, I think my crush on Colt Seavers really did develop on day one. But little did I know, it’d only get stronger.

Dramatic, right? It’s not wrong, though…

After bonding over his affinity for coffees,- yes, plural- that first day, I knew I was down bad. At first I thought it was just stupid butterflies- I was prone to falling fast- but as I got to know him I realized it was far more than just stupid butterflies.

There was just something about him- a lot of somethings, actually. It was- it is- his puppy eyes. His coffee addiction- affinity, sorry. His sense of humor, the way he comes preloaded with sarcasm at any given time. The way his legs bounces when he’s nervous, bored, excited, or all three. His perfect smile. The way he pays attention, the way he cares…

I could go on. And on. And on. And on. But you get the idea.

And oh, that voice… that’s enough to-

Sorry. Anyways.

Over the past nine-ish months we’ve gotten pretty close. I’ll meet him for lunch on set, we’ll meet at each other’s trailers just to hang out, sometimes we’ll find ourselves down by the beach… it’s just nice.

Also, over the past year, I’ve rekindled my friendship with Jody Moreno. We hit it off immediately after I arrived, as if no time had passed at all since the last time I saw her. We’re close again, just like we were back in college, which is also really nice.

She knows full well about my little (big) crush on Colt. I didn’t even have to tell her, she just burst into my trailer one day a couple months ago, accusing me by exclaiming “You like Colt!”

She’s lucky I love her so much, because otherwise her incessant teasing and blatant attempts at setting us up would be just a little annoying.

Today I was on set, watching Colt get thrown around while being on fire. I couldn’t help the way my heart tossed and turned with worry while watching him do his stunts- yes, he’s a professional but that doesn’t mean these crazy stunts scare me any less. He teases me about my worrying, but I can see the way that sometimes the thumbs up he’ll send the director’s way isn’t genuine.

By the fifth take on this stunt I could tell he was beginning to grow weary. Thankfully the stunt coordinator takes mercy on him and tells him to take five after the crew extinguishes him.

He gets up and looks around before setting his eyes on me. My face grows warm as I watched his face light up when he recognized me.

“Heya stud,” I say by way of greeting when he approached me. “How you feeling?”

“Never better,” he responds with a trademark thumbs up.

“You know that that’s still cheesy, right?” I ask. He gives me the thumbs up pretty much anytime I ask him how he’s feeling, and I tease him about it every time.

“Yeah, but you love it,” he shrugs playfully. I swear, he purposely lowers his voice sometimes. Not that I’m complaining, it’s definitely not unattractive…

“Maybe a little,” I concede with a small smile. “Anyway, I brought you some brownies for lunch,” I said, taking a brown paper bag out of my satchel. “They’re from that bakery we tried a couple weeks ago.”

“Aww, [nickname], you shouldn’t have!”

“Oh don’t you worry about me, I ate like three for breakfast,” I say sheepishly. They really are that good, the baker must be putting crack in them with how addictive they are.

“So you’re telling me I can’t offer to split one with you on the beach?” he asks, bringing out the puppy eyes- at least, more so than usual given that he always has puppy eyes.

“Now how can I say no to that offer?”

“You can’t,” he says with a cheeky smile as he starts walking back to set, noticing the stunt coordinator waving him over.

I wave goodbye to him, and then sneak over to the directors chair to say hi to Jody.

“Aw, look at this blush!” she greets when I meet her, pinching my cheeks. “A certain stuntman got your panties in a twist?”

“Why do I subject myself to you?” I groan.

“Because you love me.” She’s not wrong.

“How’s the scene coming along?”

“Perfectly, I’m just torturing your boyfriend until he agrees to go to karaoke with the rest of us tonight. I think he’s still embarrassed from last time,” she laughs.

Last time he drunkenly sang that Love Story song by Taylor swift and was straight up bawling midway. Everyone laughed and has a recording of it, and holds it over his head.

“You’re pure evil, Jody Moreno, and I very much aspire to be you,” I say, watching Colt get flung into the rock again.

“It’s an art, what can I say,” she shrugs, before grabbing her megaphone.

“Oi, stuntman!” Colt sends over a thumbs up before she can continue her sentence. “I feel like we can salvage that last take…” she smirks.

He groans, out loud. And even from like 25 feet away, I can hear it. And I don’t like how hot I find it.

“All I need is a double thumbs up,” she chides. The rest of the crew is also turned his way, with a lot of snickering coming from our little peanut gallery.

He meets my gaze and I mouth “please” with as much puppy eyes as I can, hoping that he can read my face from where he’s at. He scowls in a comical way, closes his eyes, face dramatically tilted toward the sky before finally looking back at us- at me- with two thumbs up.

“Perfect, that’s a wrap!” Jody exclaims, cackling maniacally after she’s turned off the megaphone. “See you at nine, Seavers!”

He gives a little sarcastic wave, but a smile takes over his face as he meets my gaze again, and I can’t help the way my heart skips a beat when I send a coy wave his way.

***

Colt’s POV

You know that feeling, when your heart starts pumping and you start smiling all stupid, when you’re telling yourself that you’re a dipshit but it’s because she’s just too perfect?

Yeah. That’s y/n to me. Anytime I’m near her I have to remind myself to breathe. It’s like the movies, like some sort of rom com that she loves so much, except better. So much better, if you ask me.

Honestly, I’ve had a crush on her since the beginning. Man, I just used the word crush. For some reason I can hear that dipshit Tom Ryder’s asshole voice in my head, calling me a “pussy bitch”- a personal favorite “original” term of his- for using the word. But I don’t care, because how else do you describe… butterflies.

You know what it is? It feels like a Taylor Swift song. Like a Love Story, if you will. And baby, I just want her to say yes.

I think I need help.

I still remember how flustered she got when I accidentally scared her when I met her that first day.

We had both been running late, me more so than her due to coffee(s- yes, plural) related reasons- it’s an affinity, not an addiction.

I had went to say hi while she was in the middle of doing her own makeup, I think she got bored waiting for me, and she jumped like six inches, and accidentally dragged her makeup brush down the side of her face.

I felt so bad, the look was gorgeous, very northern lights- esque with greens and blues and purples- but at the same time, I was too stunned to speak. Y/n is gorgeous, as it turns out, with or without makeup, and even with a steak of yellow going down her face that would make anyone else look like they had a jaundiced scar.

Thankfully, I still don’t think she noticed my dumbfounded disposition as she ran to the sink.

But the thing is, she’s not just drop dead gorgeous. She’s also the sweetest, cutest woman in the entire world. Her sense of humor- the self deprecations, the sarcasm which perfectly matches mine… how flustered she gets when I’m driving her around, the way she gets cold and smuggles into my side when we sit in the trunk after a night swim, shivering but still trying to talk with her teeth chattering. The way her hand’s so small compared to mine… you get it.

Also, the fact that she doesn’t make fun of me for being a Swiftie.

At least not as much as the others do.

Which frankly, isn’t saying much, now that I think about it.

Anyhow, even after being thrown against a rock four times I’m still not ready to wave the white flag at Jody. I told myself I would never step foot in the karaoke bar again, not after last time…

Sorry, I just got war flashbacks.

<Author’s Note: these war flashbacks sound a lot like Love Story by Taylor Swift>

But then of course, she just had to be on set. She’s got me wrapped around her little fingers, bringing me brownies and calling me a stud. The last straw was the puppy dog eyes from across the set- I have no idea how she hasn’t figured out the effect she has on me. Or maybe she has, and is just an evil genius. I don’t really know.

Not that I need to know, because if the words “Swan dive off of a bridge” fell from her perfect lips I’d probably do it.

Looks like I’m going back to karaoke…

***

Reader’s POV

“Come on, y/n! We’re gonna be late!” Jody yells as she raps her knuckles on the door of my trailer.

“I’m not coming out! I look ridiculous!” I yell back. I had let her pick out my outfit, and she picked out a short black romper with a tight bodice and flowers printed on it. I don’t think it suits me very well, and I’m seconds away from wearing a t-shirt and jeans. I don’t feel like doing my makeup, so that’s one less thing to worry about, at least.

Wait, why is it so quiet now? Where did she go?

“Y/n, this is your last chance,” she warns, apparently having took a quick break from peer pressuring me into coming outside.

“I’m. Not. Coming. Out.”

“Fine,” and for some reason, I can hear the smile in her voice. That’s never good.

“Y/n?” a new, softer, lower, more gravelly voice comes from outside my cabin. For fuck’s sake.

“Colt?” I ask, rubbing my temple.

“Yeah. Can you please let me in?” he asks so sweetly, it would be impossible to say no.

I mentally punch myself before unlocking the door to my trailer, and of course, to no one’s surprise, he looks perfect. Jody must’ve scampered off, because now it’s just me and him. He’s wearing a white tank top underneath a completely unbuttoned black short sleeved button down, black slacks and white shoes. His usual necklace, the gold chain with the small medallion, accompanies the look. His hair is tousled, and I don’t even think I have to mention how pretty his face is- that part’s a given.

“I, um, you-,” he stutters, and then stops to compose himself. “You look beautiful.”

My breath hitches in my throat. The thing about Colt is that if his words aren’t sarcastic- and you can tell when they are- they’re so, so genuine. And he just called me beautiful.

“I- thanks- so do you-“

Did I really just say so do you? By the smile creeping on his face I think I did.

“I’m sorry, I’m being awkward,” I say with an awkward laugh, proving my point. “But you look really handsome.”

“Aw shucks,” he says, his words slightly sarcastic but the blush on his face very real. “Now cmon, we don’t want to be late?”

“But this romper looks so stupid,” I say, drawing out the last word. And you look so stupidly attractive, I think. What if I just kiss him? What’s stopping me from telling him how I feel about him?

“Permission to touch you?” he asks, ignoring my comment.

To… touch me? Fuck, I’ve read far too many romance books. His stupid voice can turn anything into a double entendre, I swear it.

He raises a brow when I don’t answer.

“Uh, sure?” I don’t really know what he’s up to.

“Great,” he smirks, and before I can realize what he’s done he has me slung over his shoulder, like I weigh nothing more than a sack of potatoes. He shuts my trailer behind him as I hit his back, telling me to let me down, but the bastard just starts humming “Livin’ On A Prayer,” by Bon Jovi.

“Asshole! Put me down!” I yelp, but he just holds me steady by my legs as I flail behind him. Curse his actually useful muscles.

Finally, he sets me down in front of his truck, reaching out to steady me. My hands fall on his chest. His very well defined chest. Which perfectly matched his very well defined back.

Colt’s POV

My hand is on her hip, I tried to steady her. But shit. I wish I could just squeeze it, maybe while I’m…

Puppies dying at the end of a movie, Colt. Dead puppies.

We stay there a moment, in front of my truck. Everything in me wants to just tell her how I feel and press her into that truck with kisses that tell her I’m never letting her go. But now doesn’t feel like the right time. But when is? Why wasn’t it at her trailer?

And I just had her over my shoulder too…

Alright, come on, dipshit. Get it together.

But of course, her small hands are on my chest…

Focus.

“You’ve got two options,” I tell her, removing my hand from her hip and holding up a two to make a point. “We go to karaoke and I drive, or we go to karaoke and you drive.”

I can’t let her not go. She loves karaoke, and she looks beautiful regardless of the lies she tells herself.

“Do we have to go? We could just stay home and watch a movie?” she diverts. A smile is playing at her lips though, so at least I know she’s not uncomfortable.

“Tell you what. You can drive,” I start, which is a great start because she hates when I drive and use my stunt skills. To be fair I just do them to show off and get her to slide into me on the long bench. It’s fun, sue me. “We’ll go, and if you still don’t want to be there after my song, then we’re going to come straight back here, get under some blankets and watch She’s All That.”

She’s All That is her favorite movie, in part due to the main plot but I also think she identifies with Freddy Prince Jr’s sister in the movie. She’s a sarcastic makeup/hair artist in the movie, and who do I know that sounds like that? Yeah, exactly.

“I don’t like how well you know me,” she says, biting into her lip as she pretends to mull over what I suggested.

“You’re right, you love how well I know you.”

“Okay, fine,” she says, fully smiling now. “You were serious about me driving?”

“As a heart attack,” I tell her.

‘YES!’ I’m shouting in my head, because I nailed it! Getting a smile like that out of her is the best prize you could ever get, I swear it.

I think the only thing that could be better is knowing that she’s mine.

But that’ll come, eventually.

***

Reader’s POV

Ten minutes later we’re at karaoke. I truly cannot with Colt Seavers, the only person who could make me feel pretty in this stupid ass romper.

He spent the car ride talking to me about his day, which was adorable, the way his nose scrunches up when he remembers something funny, and intermittently singing along to the song on the radio. I love when he lets me drive his truck, I feel like I can taken care of him for a minute and just listen to him. Oh, and I also don’t feel like I’m seconds away from dying because unlike him I don’t stunt drive. Although, I will say, I don’t mind when he does those stupid circles because it always presses me up against his side, which is never a bad place to be.

Right now Gale, the producer who always seems to be drinking a Diet Coke, is singing Toxic by Britney Spears. She has an incredible voice, and the entire bar is rightfully captivated by her stage presence.

“Hey! You made it!” Jody says, walking over to Colt and I. We’re sitting in a booth, on the same side, both slack jawed watching Gale.

“No thanks to you,” I say with an innocent smile.

“If you say so,” she smirks. “Thanks for getting her out of the trailer,” she tells Colt.

“My pleasure,” he says charmingly, squeezing my arm.

“Alright, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it. Phil Collins is calling!” she dashes off to the stage as Gale is almost done with her song. She must be cued next.

“I see what you did there!” Colt comments after her. Collins and “calling” sound similar with her British accent. I must be blushing-the whole “lovebirds” thing-, because he looks over at me, amused, saying “What? Do I have something on my face?”

I go to answer, but all of a sudden Jody is singing “You’ll Be In My Heart” by Phil Collins, and I immediately pull out my phone to video. Jody has an incredible voice as well, and I love listening to her sing.

Once she’s done, she runs over with Sheila in tow, who must’ve just got here. They lift me up out of the booth- I’m starting to get sick of being man handled- and push me towards the stage against my protests. Colt is laughing- jackass- but all of a sudden “Any Way You Want It” by Journey is playing and I’m singing.

Now, I have a mediocre voice, but the thing about karaoke is that you could sound like a rabid raccoon, but if you have a song that everyone knows, you’re the shit. And also, I don’t really care what anyone thinks of me, so I just went for it.

So naturally, I was the shit. Everyone was singing along, and I couldn’t stop looking back at Colt, who was smiling so big as he sung along. He’s so, so cute. Finally the song was over, and I gave a dramatic bow. Colt met me by the stage, holding a hand for me to grab as I jumped down.

“You were incredible,” he compliments sweetly.

“Thanks,” I say, looking up at him, my hand still in his. His touch is electric, I can feel his heartbeat. His lips are ever so slightly parted, and I’m sure mine are the same… if he would just lean down-

“Is there a Colt “See-aye-vers” in the house?” the emcee asks into the microphone, completely mispronouncing Colt’s last name.

“Fucking Jody,” he mutters. We both turn to see Jody literally cackling by Sheila.

“Your turn!” I say gleefully, pointing at him so the emcee can see him.

“Mean,” he pouts jokingly, before going up on the stage and taking the mic from the emcee as I Was Made For Lovin’ You by Kiss begins to play.

And he’s staring right at me as he sings it.

Well shit.

That’s the thing- apparently all of my coworkers are extremely talented singers. Maybe it was a requirement? Who knows.

Colt is no different.

And the thing is, I’m severely attracted to his voice. The gravelly, yet low and softness of it. I love listening to him talk. Like, he could read the nutrition label of a soup can and I would be completely locked in.

His singing voice? A whole other story. Between the rasp and the range, I could literally lose it right here and now. He sounds incredible.

And he’s looking right at me as sings about being made for lovin’ someone and about that someone being made for lovin’ him.

And I don’t want to assume, but by the way he’s looking at me…

I think that someone is me.

Colt’s POV

Kiss?! Are you shitting me?! That’s the song Jody picks for me?

I should’ve kissed y/n right then and there, I’m thinking as I head up to the stage.

And then there it is. A Kiss song. Not just any kiss song, the Kiss song.

I can work with this.

At this point, I don’t think I can handle her not knowing how I feel anymore. Not knowing if she feels the same way. Fuck “eventually.”

So you know what? I’m going to do my grand romantic act, just like in the movies. And I’m going to sing this damn song, to her.

And if she still doesn’t notice, I’m going to go down there and kiss her until we can’t think straight. Asking permission to before, of course. I’m not a jackass like Ryder.

So I sing the damn song, and my eyes are on only one, singular person. My one, singular person.

And she’s mouthing the words right back to me, her gaze never leaving mine.

I don’t even hear the applause as I jump down the stage, Tom Cruise style, landing right in front of her. “Hey,” I say, trying to sound cool.

Naturally, my voice comes out as a squeak instead.

She doesn’t say anything, just takes a step closer.

“I, um…”

Of course now is the time I decide to choke on my words. Not when I’m singing in front of thirty people, literally never before. But now. Damn it, Seavers. See-aye-vers. Fucking adhd. Shit. Wait.

“Colt?” she says, her voice only loud enough for me to hear. I’m all too aware of the beginning of “Can You Feel the Love Tonight?” behind me.

“Yeah?” I whisper. Looking down at her.

“Kiss me?” she asks, and it’s the last straw. My lips crash against hers before I even realize what I’m doing, and it feels like fireworks. Like the whole world could end but it would be fine because her lips are against mine.

***

Reader’s POV

This isn’t happening. There’s no way this happening.

Those are the only thoughts running through my head as I look at him. That song… it was electric. Coming from his voice, as he stared into my soul? I can barely think.

I don’t notice anything, nor anyone. Nothing at all, except for him.

So when he jumps down from the stage in stuntman fashion, looking me in the eyes up close… I can’t help it. I can’t wait any longer.

And now his lips are on mine, as Jody sings more Phil Collins, but I don’t even hear it.

I’m sure we’re going to get teased for it, but I can’t help it.

Not when the only thing I can sense is his soft lips on mine.

So when we finally release, there’s no question about what’s going to happen next.

“Colt..?” I breathe.

“Yeah?” he asks, parted lips already puffy and pink from our kiss. Gorgeous.

“Can we go outside?”

He doesn’t even answer, just grabs my hand and starts walking to the door. Thankfully we didn’t buy any drinks, and have no tabs to settle, because quite honestly I don’t think we’d have cared.

Finally, we stop in front of his truck. I’m smiling like an idiot, and he’s smiling right back.

“Colt, I really, really like you,” I tell him.

“Y/n, I really, really like you too,” he says.

And that’s all that needs to be said as he crowds me against the truck before pressing a kiss to my lips that leaves me giggling.

“What’s so funny?” he teases.

“Everything,” I tell him, before threading my fingers through his hair. He shakes his head bemusedly before kissing me again.

I couldn’t ask for anything more, anything more at all. Because in the words of his favorite song, this is a Love Story and baby, I will always say yes.

[bjornswoman]

Destruction XII

Author's note: Hello, happy New Year to you all! Sorry for being too late to post the last part of these series. However, here it is I hope you will enjoy it!

Pairing: Modern!Ivar x Reader.

Genre: Modern!au, series, fluff, drama, angst.

Warnings: Strong language, mentions of pregnancy.

Destruction | Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI

A couple of months later.

You had forgotten the sound of your own giggle the past year. However, those two last months were enough to prove you wrong and remind you that you still contained the ability to feel happy and laugh — finally.

“You can’t be serious!” You exclaimed laughing at your friend Torvi. There had been a long time since you last met each other. Actually, the last time you saw her was before your wedding.

A wedding that never really happened because Ivar decided to take you away. He had confessed that he loved you that same day as well. You could recollect the memory as it was yesterday.

Flashback – Two months ago.

“It’s not what you believe, (Y/N). It wasn’t just revenge for me. You mean a lot to me. You know I am just not good at saying those things and you, also, know that I can be dickhead sometimes. Don’t cry for me. I - I care for you.”

Ivar had said and kissed you like his life was depending on this kiss – like both of your life were depending on this kiss.

“Don’t get married, you don’t deserve being treated like that. Dump that asshole.”

You needed to hear these words back then – you needed a motive to stop that madness. After all, you didn’t love Mason, but Ivar.

You didn’t treat Mason right, so leaving him before this mistake would be the only thing you would do to save him from being miserable next to you – because of you.

“I won’t, Ivar.”

“You are mine.”

“I am yours.”

End of flashback.

“Oh, I’m and that’s not even the end of it.” Torvi continued speaking and got you out of your thoughts about that particular day. “Your mother was about to kill Hvitserk when he announced that Ivar had stolen you – those were the exact words he used.” She laughed. "Besides you know the love your mother contains for Hvitserk." You both laughed at her remark.

It was well-known that your mother loathed the sons of Ragnar – especially Hvitserk. She would call him peccant or sinful. Generally, she would criticize his way of living. Not that Ivar was her favourite brother though, but Hvitserk worked as a red flag for her.

You could picture your mother's face after hearing Hvitserk announcing that the wedding was over because you run away with his brother. You were sure long before Torvi told you about the events of that evening that she was furious – that was the main reason you hadn't even tried to contact her since then.

"What about Mason?" You hesitated to say his name after the way you treated him, though he wasn't honest to you either – as he lied to you about the events of the past and blamed Ivar about his doing.

Anyways, you felt guilt of your own lies, because you acted the very same way you accused Ivar of when you walked away on him.

"Oh well, I heard that he is fine though he and the boys are distant after what happened. He blames them for helping Ivar. Anyways, Ubbe told me that Ivar mentioned that he is after Freydis again."

You could understand the way Mason felt, but you couldn't focus on this after some names were mentioned successively.

"Ivar?" You muttered before you could stop yourself.

"Yes, Freydis told him."

You felt jealous once again about the same thing – you were back to the beginning of this messed up story. You felt weird after everything that happened the last two months in contrast with what Torvi just told you. Maybe you were just overreact, but still you couldn't bear lose again.

Maybe your love wasn't the healthiest one , but it was strong enough to swallow you if he hurt you like he did previously.

"Don't tell me you are jealous." Torvi said smiling after receiving no response from you.

"I'm not jealous of her." You fought back and she chuckled. It was too obvious that you were lying.

"You didn't really tell me what happened with Ivar after you left." She mentioned and you smiled at the memory.

Flashback – Two months ago.

Your heart was full after a very long time it felt half without him. You felt happy again being close to the person who you loved the most. Probably this wasn't the best way to come back together – not even close to be honest – but what was worth it for you was the fact that you were sitting on the passenger's seat of his car and he was on the driver's seat taking you away somewhere that only he knew.

Nobody spoke a word though – an awkward silence was surrounding the car. You didn't know what to say – you didn't know whether you had to say something or not. You knew Ivar by heart and yet you couldn't predict what was inside his head. You knew when he was mad, happy or sad, but you couldn't say what was bothering him.

"Ivar." You breathed and turned your eyes at his figure. "Do-do you love me?" Your voice was barely coming out as a whisper. It was a silly question to ask – even after he crashed your wedding and told you that he cared for you – you wanted to hear him saying this particular word. You hadn't heard him saying it – at least not to you.

"What kind of question is that? Didn't I told that I care for you less than an hour ago?" You could say by hearing the tone of his raised voice that he was getting annoyed by your question. You were aware of the fact that he wasn't good with words – especially this kind of words, but you wanted to hear him saying just for once.

"Why is it so difficult for you to say it again? Tell me, do you love me, Ivar?" You raised your voice out of frustration. You couldn't understand the reason why it had to be that hard for him to tell you about his feelings.

The possibility that he didn't feel that way came in your mind. Maybe he was just possessive when it came to you or it could be obsession the feeling he contained for you. Those could be the actual reasons why he couldn't express his love fore and that would be because it was non-existent.

"Yes!" Ivar yelled with obvious anger at you and hit his hands on the wheel.

"Yes, what?" You pressured him more as you were angry and disappointed at the time because of his inability to express himself to you – the person he was supposed to love.

Ivar hit the brake pedal so forcefully that if you weren't wearing the seatbelt you would be out of the car when it stopped. You turned your face at him and he had already focused his furious blue eyes on you.

"No, Ivar, you don't." With those last words you stormed out of his car and started walking at the opposite way from the one he was driving on. Though, you didn't get to make it far away because his hand grabbed yours tightly and forced you to turn back and face his wrath.

"What do you think you are doing? And what the Hel are you saying?" He growled on your face as you were trying to break-free from his grip to no avail.

You breathed heavily and looked his angry face.

"All you feel about me is some kind of authority and possessiveness as I'm one of your belongings." You spoke and motioned on your hand he was holding firmly. "The worst part of it is that it isn't even new to me to get this treatment from you. You don't love me, because you don't know how to and that's due to the fact that you feel that you don't deserve the love the others are trying to give you. The only thing you know how to do is hurting these people with your childish behaviour." You continued telling him with tears falling from your eyes – tears that you wiped away with your free hand.

Ivar was looking you without speaking, he was just looking at you quite shocked. Behind his anger you could spot guilt and redeem. He knew himself that you were right and that was the most painful part for both of you.

"The next one who will come in your life and try to give you the love you deserve let her." After these words, more tears threatened to fall from your eyes. You grabbed your gown on the palms of both of your hands and took a couple of tiny steps believing that Ivar would let you walk away from him – from his life.

However, such a thing didn't happen because he used the hand of yours he was gripping and pulled back – this time he held you closer to him your bodies were touching. You tried to fight back again, but he was too strong for you in such way that when he pulled you the lacework of your dress was ripped.

This time he even stopped holding your hand and he went for your throat. His grip was as tight or strong as it was on your hand, but it was firm enough to pull your face closer to his.

"Too late for that." Ivar said in raspy voice. "There is someone who has already made my heart beat for her – who have made me feel all of the things you've said before. I didn't know how it felt to be truly loved by somebody because of the problem I faced. I thought everyone pitied me – the poor cripple – until you came. You saw me what love really means – what it is – and I sent you away. When our paths crossed again, I thought that all I felt for you was just lust or possessiveness for a woman who used to be my partner. However, I got hold of my feelings – of my true feelings – after our first kiss in the bowling alley, when I called you to come to that bar to tell you about my conflict with Mason and after we got drunk and went to my house and slept together, remember? In fact, all this was just an excuse because I wanted to see you."

When he finished, Ivar let go off you throat and one of his hands touched your arm as the other when on one of his pockets. His touch was really genuine on your hand.

"I remember." You mumbled and smiled as you remembered that particular night you spent together.

"You want me to tell you that I love you, but you know that I'm difficult with words. Though, for you, I'll say it, but before I have to do something else." Ivar stopped and afterwards his hand got out of his pocket holding a red-whine velvet box.

You looked first at the box shocked and then at Ivar.

"Ivar, you don't have to do that just to prove your words to me." You tried to say, but he stopped you by taking your hand in his, after he opened the small box. As you expected, it contained a ring, but it was not just a random ring he picked. It was the ring you had told him years ago that you wanted to be the one you would be proposed with. It was a unique design which you couldn't find easily, but he did for you.

"I love you." Ivar finally confessed and you could even spot a tear on his cheek. His forehead touched your own as he eyes found yours. "Will you marry me, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?" He asked and you smiled widely.

At the sound of his words, you felt your heart hitting your chest with just force that it was going to rip out of your body.

"Yes! Yes, I will marry you, Ivar Lothbrok!" You exclaimed and kissed him passionately. This kiss wasn't like anything you had experienced. It was different from any other you had shared. One that both of you were expressing within it your deepest feelings about the other person.

When you stopped, Ivar pulled you closer to him again and placed the ring on your finger.

End of flashback.

After that moment that you would never forget about, you spent two months away from everyone you knew. It was just the two of you in the middle of nowhere. However, you had to return back in Kattegat to face the real life and what came after the decisions you made.

Ivar's family welcomed you back and they were glad to hear about your engagement – though they could see it coming. They knew better that you two about the feelings you shared.

So, there you were, talking with Torvi about the days that came after your almost-wedding with Mason.

Torvi looked at you with narrowed eyes and a huge smile on her face.

"And after this you are still jealous? You are crazy girl!" Torvi exclaimed and both of you laughed again. "No, I am being serious now." She said and you both burst into laughter again. "No, seriously now you are getting married with the love of your life!" You smiled and looked back at your feet.

"And that's not even the end of it."

"What do you mean?" Your friend asked confused and your smile became even more wider than it was already. "(Y/N)?" She asked you again anxiously this time.

As an answer, your hand moved on your stomach and you caressed it meaningful. In Torvi's face formed a smile identical to yours.

"Don't tell me that you...." She exclaimed and you tried to prevent her from let everyone know about your little secret.

"Shhhh, I am, but Ivar doesn't know yet. I am going to tell him tonight and then we are sharing it with the others. Keep it for me, okay?" You spoke on a soft tone of voice and Torvi agreed happily before she congratulated you about your pregnancy.

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

Later that night.

The night sky was very beautiful – enchanting you could even say. But that wasn't the best part of the night, that part would be the fact that you were sitting next to your fiancé, trying to find the best way of telling him that you were expecting his child as he was engrossed in with laptop with work matters. You were away for so long and matters had piled up.

"Ivar, when do you think that we should get married?" You asked him out of the blue as you stood up and walked through the balcony. Ivar glanced at you for a quick second and then turned his attention back on his laptop.

"I don't know, but we should not rush. In three to four months, what do you think?" He proposed without looking at you and you smiled, because this conversation was taking the way you wanted.

"That won't be convenient. I think that it should happen in one or two months." You continued.

"Why so?"

"I'll have gained weight. I won't feet in any dress."

Your words caught him off guard. He abandoned the computer on the coffee-table and fixed his eyes on you confused.

"What do you mean?" Ivar asked as the edges of his mouth lifted and left the sofa to come closer to you. He stopped on when his body was behind yours.

"What do you want me to mean?"

"Don't riddle me, (Y/N)." His voice was stern and you couldn't help your little smirk. "Are you pregnant?" He asked as his body collided with yours and his muscular hands hugged your torso and stayed on your stomach. Your back was touching on his chest, so you couldn't see his facial expressions. "Tell me." He demanded impatiently and you smiled.

You knew how much he wanted a child – a daughter or a son. You were also aware of the fact that he was delighted when Freydis had told him that she was pregnant in the past and thought it was his child when it wasn't.

"Yes, Ivar." You whispered and tilted your head at the side to catch a glimpse of his reaction to your news. What you saw was a tear slipping from his eye and you smiled again. "Are you happy?"

"No." Your blood froze in your veins and your smile died on your lips. You turned so you could face him. "No, I am not just happy. I'm thrilled!" He exclaimed and you felt your heart beating normally in your chest again.

His hands closed you inside them and one of them caressed your hair softly.

"I love you, wife."

You giggled when you heard him calling you wife.

"I love you, husband."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog, @anotherfan07, @heavenly1927, @zvacu-te-pile-moje

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for “yes and”ing sexual harassment?

I (19 ?) am very visibly queer. I’ve been perceived as pretty much every gender under the sun, and I like to be as confusing as physically possible. even if I’m dressed down I don’t ever “pass” as anything. I really like this for the most part but it also means I get a lot of weird looks no matter what bathroom I use. usually I just use the women’s because it’s what I’ve used my entire life and also it’s cleaner. no matter which one I’m in people usually only react to me with weird looks. occasionally they’ll go “sorry!” and turn to walk out of the bathroom directly to the other one (this has happened in both the men’s and women’s) and I’ll have to frantically apologize before they can, but that’s the worst it gets normally

anyway, a couple months ago I was in this mostly empty women’s room (me, these two ladies, and the woman who’s about to sexually harass me). I was dressed up for an event so I probably looked pretty strange to most people. this woman (30s?40s? F) approaches me and tells me I’ve got the wrong bathroom. I take it as an honest mistake and say something like “thanks, but it’s ok, I meant to use this one.” I notice this sort of simmering rage on her face after I say this and that’s when it clicks that she: 1. thinks I’m a trans woman (she’s not totally wrong but it’s complicated), and 2. thinks that means I’m posing a Direct Threat To The Sanctity Of The Women’s Restroom. she compels me to leave Again. I give a firmer no, and turn to get in a stall

at this point she goes off the deep end and starts calling me a creep, accusing me of being a man, etc (ftr I’m intersex, was assigned female at birth. but obviously this wouldn’t matter to her and even if it did it wouldn’t excuse the shit she’s saying about trans women). I stay quiet. then she starts loudly speculating about the penis that I apparently have now (keep in mind we are NOT the only two in this restroom either, there’s at least two other women who look very uncomfortable with this whole situation). I kind of snap and say something along the lines of “if you’re really so worried about what parts I have, you can come watch me pee.” she looks totally horrified at this idea and shuts up. I pee alone, thank god

the way I see it, this didn’t cross any line she hadn’t already crossed — she was openly harassing me about my genitals in a public space, I answered in the best way I could think of in the moment that would call her bluff instead of insulting her and making it into a shouting match, which would just be even shitter for everyone involved. “ask stupid questions get stupid answers” and all that (it did occur to me the moment I left that bathroom that she could’ve attacked me. I got really lucky she didn’t call the cops or something)

I still don’t feel bad at all for how I responded, and I wouldn’t even be asking this if we were the only two there, but I’m on AITA because there were two other women in the bathroom I feel like ass for even tangentially involving. they both seemed really uncomfortable with what this lady was saying about trans people, and I know she probably still would’ve harassed me no matter what I did, but I wonder if I could’ve somehow prevented the situation altogether by not responding to her at all or even just straight up leaving the bathroom like she asked. it’s kind of useless to speculate about now, I guess, but since this is apparently a thing that happens to me now I should think about how I might respond better to harassment like that in the future

so. AITA for maliciously complying with a transphobe in a public space

What are these acronyms?

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

can you do yelan for prompt number 1? maybe like the reader is a very well known private detective and Yelan was aware of their skills and cases? ^^

“Why don’t you just quit and work for me instead?”

characters: Yelan x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: I planned on posting this yesterday, but I didn't manage to finish it, so it's a nice coincidence than today is Yelan's birthday.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Yelan

Yanshang Teahouse. If anybody had told your past self how often you found yourself inside of it these past couple of months, you would have called them a liar, but as the people hiring you to investigate for them began paying more and your reputation steadily grew a lot of things changed for you.

And while it started out as a single visit, your curiosity about what made this place so special that people were ready to play a lot of Mora to get a table, eventually gaining the upper hand, only for you to meet a stranger that knew too much and seemed more than happy to provide you with helpful clues from time to time… As long as you payed the entrance fee for the Teahouse, of course.

“No. You’re cheating. These dice are weighted. I can smell it”, you tried your best not to show your despair too much as yet another round was won by your opponent, making your purse a little bit lighter once again. Only for you to be greeted with a smile that both seemed to confirm your suspicion while also making you question whether or not you were talking complete nonsense. The woman on the opposite side of the table not having to worry about anyone else hearing your accusation, seeing as there was no one but the two of you present..

“Are you sure that it’s treachery you’re smelling and not the tea you have been so awfully neglecting all this time?”, came the quip you should have expected from Yelan as she leaned slightly forwards, pointing towards the cup on your left, causing you to let out a long drawn out sigh before taking a sip.

“Anyway, I’ve heard you’re working on one of your little cases again”, she stated, finally revealing why she called you here at this hour of the day, the fact that she knew both slightly unsettling you while not coming as a surprise in the slightest. “And while I can’t tell you anything that would help you, I’ve heard that there’s someone who has quite a bit to say”, she continued.

“...Why are you helping me?”, you asked the question floating inside your mind for as long as the two of you knew each other. For someone simply operating a Teahouse, even if this luxurious, she seemed to know a lot, and while you knew what her answer would be if you asked how she knew all of this, having heard it countless of times before, it still didn’t explain why she’d tell you all of this, her weighted dice not exactly marking her down as someone driven by honesty and justice.

Before getting an answer however, you saw her signal towards the dice, causing the urge to let out yet another sigh to return in full force. “With how much money you leave here each time you visit, I might as well try and make it up to you every once in a while”, Yelan answered, causing this whole thing to feel even more fishy for you. But before you had time to voice any of your thoughts, the sound of a few dice being thrown interrupted you.

Both of you quickly took turns in rolling the dice, only for you to be the winner for once. But while some might have celebrated their rare win by buying something to drink with the money they had just won, you knew better than to siphon the money immediately back to the owner of the Teahouse. That, and you knew better than to believe you had somehow bested Yelan in a game of luck, knowing that there was rarely anything, if at all, that she let luck decide on.

“Hmm, seems like you’ve won.”

“Mhm, how surprising. That being said, you can put the weighted dice back now, no need to keep them in such a tight grasp”, you responded while staring at her other hand that remained conspicuously balled into a fist.

“Anyway”, you quickly changed the subject back to what was on your mind, “how do you really end up with all of this information, Miss ‘I simply like to listen in on customers’?”, you probed her once again, not expecting her answer to differ from the many other times you had asked before but being open to any surprises. 

Instead, you were greeted with silence. The person opposite of you staring you in the eyes as a mysterious smile made its way onto her face. 

“Why don’t you just quit and work for me instead? I’m sure a lot of your questions would get answered”

Yelan had long abandoned the idea of working with others, still not completely over the loss of her previous teammates. And while her skills had certainly improved since those days, her attitude about risking others did not…

But seeing the way you worked did make her curious. The few times she saw you get in trouble with a suspect, you managed to hold your ground remarkably well, while also knowing when to let others do the fighting. You were quick to pick up details, no matter how small they were, certainly making it so that you would be a huge help. Last but not least, you were seemingly starting to suspect something wasn’t like it seemed with her. And while there were certainly other ways she could make sure you kept your mouth shut, she had to admit that she preferred recruiting you in some way to the alternatives.

“I… don’t know. A detective working in a Teahouse? Don’t take me wrong, but I feel like that would be somewhat… unfitting”, you answered uncertain, nervously looking around as to make sure there was no personal that might take offense with what you were saying.

You know what? Maybe it was still some time until you figured out what exactly seemed fishy about her. But once you would, Yelan would know and ask again. If you turned out to be as reliable as she thought.

As the two of you said your goodbyes and you made your way towards the door, you stopped dead in your tracks once Yelan called out for you one last time, causing you to turn back towards her.

What you were greeted with was her presenting you with the fist she hid the dice in, only to open it and reveal it was empty all along, a satisfied smile on her face as she opened her mouth. 

“I never hid my dice. I switched them with yours.”

[b4ts1e]

▀▄▀▄▀▄His Jealous Heart▄▀▄▀▄▀ (𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝙼𝙲)

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝙸𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚍: 𝙲𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝙷𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝙱𝚊𝚡𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚍 (𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍) 𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝙻𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝙽𝚘𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚒 𝙻𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝙴𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚑 𝙻𝚊𝚜𝚝 (𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍) 𝙼𝙲 𝙻𝚊𝚜𝚝 (𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙾𝙻:𝙱&𝙰) 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝:

Sticking with the canon Step 3 ages, so both MC and Cove are 18. Making the MC demiromantic for this one for plot purposes, but please know that this doesn't make her straight or gay.

(𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗)

Sunset Bird was known to have many tourists during the summer due to it's beautiful beaches, scenary and the temporary lavish lifestyles everyone wants to have at least once in there lifes- living in a villa on the coast side is the American dream after all. However for some- that very dream was a reality. This was true for two specific families- the Last family and the Holden family. Sure one was more recent then the other- but that doesn't mean the kids who grew up side by side cared about that symantic.

Everyone knew who MC Last and Cove Holden were- the two love struck kids who have grown up closer than most, the two kids who were now 18 and openly in a relationship with each other. The two were made for each other, people would say- they technically aren't wrong. But every relationship has it's ups and downs, especially at this moment.

This was the third time Cove had gotten upset this summer, the third time he was upset at MC- his girlfriend. He had caught them hanging out with Baxter, alone. He was jealous, of course he was. His girlfriend. Alone. With a flirt. The thought upset him, especially since they were alone on the beach- no sign of anyone else around. Sure it was common for that side of the beach to be relatively empty since it was so close to the residental area, but still- the two should've broughten someone else with them.

"Cove I swear we weren't doing anything! We literally just ran into each other on the beach and chose to hang out, it wasn't planned! I would've invited you to go with me, but you were busy today with your dad's shop!" MC defended herself, but Cove wasn't listening- not properly anyways. "So? You could've brought Lee or any of our friends with you! You have to understand what it looks like to see your girlfriend with another guy, alone!" He replied without thinking, silently accusing her of cheating- his own insecurities blinding him.

"Are you serious right now Cove?" MC started, visibly hurt by the accusation. "I'd never do that in a thousand years, you should know that by now! I'm allowed to have other friends and I don't feel that way towards him! We just met him not even a month ago Cove! You remember how long it took me to fall for you? Years Cove. Years. Not a couple of days. And it hurts that you think I'd let someone I barely know take me away from you." she said, tears in the edges of their eyes. She was on the brink of crying- and that's when he realized just how stupid he was being.

"I-" he started, before being cut off by the girl in front of him. "No. Stop. Just. Leave me alone. I need some space." she said before walking away- going home, leaving the boy standing on his own outside of his doorway. As her front door closed across the street everything just clicked in his head- he had completely let it slip from his thoughts, MC is something called demiromantic. Aka a person who doesn't feel romantic attraction quickly, a person who needs a genuine connection to be able to feel romantic love towards another person. He screwed up, and he knew it.

Dejectedly, he turned to go inside- where he'd reflect on the big mistake he just made, trying to figure out how he could apologize to MC and how to make it up to her.

(𝙼𝙲'𝚜 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎)

I went up to my room, shutting the door quietly- sliding my back down against it until I was sitting on the floor as tears slowly escaped my eyes. I love him, of course I do- but sometimes...sometimes he says the wrong things. Quietly I cried for- I don't know how long, before being interupted by a few sets of gentle knocks. The pattern was Lee's. "Lee? How was the mall with Liz?" I said, getting up slowly- trying to make it less obvious I had just been crying.

"MC...let me in please." she said softly, obviously she knew I was crying- why wouldn't she? We've been best friends since she was born. Shamefully I opened the door, just enough for her to enter the room before closing it behind her. Lee looked at me with sympathy, sitting on my bed before opening her arms and offering me a small smile. Quickly I rushed to hug her tightly, knocking us both over- her back to the bed as she played with my hair carefully.

"What happened? Why are you crying?" she asked, her voice softer then the white poppies outside on the hill. She always knew when I needed her, I don't know how- but she always does. Just like a moment earlier this summer when I found out about my parents- about their accident. "Me and Cove faught. Again. He thought I was cheating on him with Baxter." I explained quietly into her shoulder- tears rolling down my cheeks slowly.

She gasped softly, her hand haulting it's movements through my hair. "Aren't you demiromantic? He knows that right?" she asked before her hand contiued to move through my hair, slowly detangling the hairs. I nodded into her shoulder, hugging her just slightly tighter- not wanting to hurt the shorter girl. "He loves you y'know that right? Cove is- he just gets lost in his emotions sometimes. Like the times he tried running away from home, trying to get back to his mom." she says, making me laugh lightly. Remembering the first time we met, and then that very same summer trying to run away with him- getting caught at the Sunset Bird sign.

"I know, but that doesn't stop the hurt y'know? I love him with my whole heart, hell I've been thinking about proposing to him now that we've graduated- but it's times like this that make it difficult." I explained, slowly moving to let her go- wiping my eyes as we both sat up. "Y'know- maybe you two need something like that. Like a promise ring or something. A cerficiation that the love you share is endless, something physical you both can look at when having doubts or far away from each other." My cousin smartly suggested, my eyes widened and I grinned- the idea becoming something increditably pleasing to me. "Y'know what? Let's go talk to Ma about going back to the mail really quick, she'll most likely want to come with- but that promise ring thing is very tempting."

Lee grinned and stood up, dragging me up as well with an enthusiastic nod. "I'll go ask her, you clean yourself up!" she said before rushing out of the room- excited to be going back to the mall. I smile softly before going to my mirror to make myself look I hadn't just been crying- so I don't raise any concern from Ma or Liz.

Once I was ready I went down stairs, seeing Lee and Ma sitting at the bar counter chatting- waiting for me. "Alright let's go."

(𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚙)

I stood at the poppy hill, looking down at my phone- I had just sent a text to Cove to meet me here. My leg was shaking due to nerves, which only elevated when I heard his heavy, rushed footsteps approaching the tree I stood behind. I put away my phone before revealing myself- I was more dressed up than before- this moment was important. But I froze when I saw Cove standing there wearing a dress shirt- holding a bouquet of my favorite flowers. He blushed brightly, seeing we both had dressed up for this.

"MC. Before you say anything I just want to say I am so sorry for accussing you of something so stupid earlier. I know you love me, and I love you just as much- but what I said was super uncalled for. I hope you can take these flowers and forgive me." He said, holding the flowers out to me- to which I took delicately, a blush blooming across my cheeks. "Cove- my sweet boy. I'm not mad at you, I know you can get lost in your emotions- just as I can. We're all human, we make mistakes. I forgive you, but please- hold onto these for a second alright?" I said, handing him back the flowers- pulling out an easily hidden box from my pocket.

"I spoke with Lee earlier, she gave me a really good idea." I started, him looking at me confusedly- tilting his head to the side a bit. I put the box in his line of sight, holding up- between the two of us, making him gasp. "This isn't a proposal, but a promise. A promise to love you to the ends of the Earth. A promise to never let something pull me from you. A promise between us that we will communicate better with each other. And a promise that I will someday marry you." I say slowly, tears bulbing in the corners of his eyes as he brought a hand to his mouth- covering his grin.

"Will you make this promise with me?" I finish, opening the box to reveal two necklaces. One had a white poppy charm and the other had my favorite flower charm- it was expensive, but worth it. He stood there shocked, but I waited patiently for him- like I always have. "Yes." he said quietly, nodding slowly- tears slipping from his eyes. In the distance I hear several people whoop and cheer, looking towards my house I see both mine and Cove's families there- watching us like a telenovela.

Cove put down the flowers and grabbed my hands shakily- closing the box for the mean time. He grinned shakily, it was obvious what he wanted at this moment, and I happily gave it to him. I pulled him closer and kissed him softly, pulling apart slowly and putting our noses together. "I love you MC. So much." he muttered. "I love you too Cove. Forever and always." I say quietly, not parting from the current closeness between us- enjoying the gentle and love filled embrace.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1,706

[deviantartdramahub]

I got in a bit of drama over the past couple of years because of a few toxic members mainly The-Himbo-Fetish-Guy, Ex Bestie, and Fat-Fetishist Who Should Not Be Named. Basically it started in 2020 after the second member had left deviantart, basically she asked me on to a mature RP server even though she did not tell me it was a mature one and I quit because I was uncomfortable with people asking my age, so months after Fatso McJerkass blocks me because apparently he found out about me supposedly being creepy with Ex-Bestie even though I was just roleplaying (I was NOT grooming or controlling her no matter what she says) and I respected her decision to leave me and yeah I did take her leaving me not well at all. I very much vilified her character in a series of pictures but I took them down.

The fact is when this person left me as a friend she said so in a way that sounded like half 'i'm sorry for you' and half 'the other guy was right' and she called me out for supposedly fetishizing covid19 when it was the first member very much bullied me with that stupid 'kim, people are dying meme' over a fucking story no-less. Oh and he took me mocking his Deviantart tagline a bit too personality, I didn't say that he was a necrophiliac, I just said I thought his tagline read that he would bang a corpse when it was 'i'd fuck a zombie', so this guy despite claiming to say he doesn't want to hear from me, dedicates post after post about me, like dude if you want me to leave you alone, DON'T make a post about me saying I should contact you in a note to personally berate you. And it gets worse, Fatso  very much did this too. He dedicated more than a few posts to me for the past couple of years, oh yeah sure dude...i'm the obsessed one, says the person who is still mad about something that didn't even concern him until he got involved himself. Like seriously everything in the document that was made about me prior to 2020 had nothing to do with those people yet they had to mention it anyway and even mention a friend of me who I had little to no problems with.

I do an incomplete rant about anime character transformations and the writers using different pronouns and all of a sudden I get labelled transphobic? Nobody was supposed to see that rant because it wasn't completed, I never meant any ill will on the LGBT community at all. But Anonymousdevi just had to accuse me of being transphobic and apparently she/they thought my song parodies were terrible and had no rhyme or rhytmn.

[girlstressed]

the thing I had in place of a homoerotic teenage friendship was a weirdly homoerotic codependent friendship since my months were in the single digits to around the age of 11. And I know it’s a little weird maybe to call a friendship when we were kids homoerotic but….trust me. I don’t think the l relationship was romantic but like. It was gay, yk? I have this one homophobic relative who occasionally accused us of making out (didn’t happen) (she started doing this when we were 5 lmao). Or like. One time I hadn’t seen my friend in a month or so (a LOT for us) (she was at my house having a sleepover with me like every other weekend) and we were watching tv on the couch and I had my arm around her and my neck started to hurt kinda so I stretched my neck vaguely in my friend’s direction — not getting that close to her (even if I did it would have been fine w us) and my relative accused me of trying to kiss her. I don’t tell anyone this, but a small part of me liked that? When we got accused of that? I mean I didn’t like it bc that relative is homophobic and I’m getting accused of kissing my friend when our relationship wasn’t like that and that could have affected our friendship (it didn’t) and also she really thinks I’m dumb enough to kiss my female friend in front of my homophobic relative? But a small part of me did like being perceived that way. It was wrong in the actual accusation, but. Idk. She was like “my girl” to me. So seeing us as dating wasn’t accurate but it felt good. When we were younger I remember her saying she wanted to get married but didn’t wanna marry a murderer, and I told her “you could always marry me.” I don’t think I wanted to marry her, persay, but. I was willing?

anyway I regard this as worse because it began before I could walk or talk and ended abruptly. When I was a little younger than 11. Up until it ended, I had never remembered life without her or our relationship that had seeped into my identity. And we don’t really talk anymore. She moved, and wants to leave the past behind. And I am very much apart of the past. I don’t think she even remembers most of this.

oh, I should add, we are both some type of queer now. (I believe she is bi and I’m a lesbian probably maybe idk still kinda in denial. She doesn’t know I’m not straight)

TO BE CLEAR anon did give me permission to post this but oh my gosh . i always say that there’s no such thing as a unique experience but every one of these homoerotic codependent friendship stories like knocks me out (figuratively) because GOD DAMN . were we all going through it as children or what

its crazy to me that someone can have such a big impact on your formative years and then just not be part of your life anymore -> i was talking about my version of the homoerotic friendship/relationship and how there is a part of my life where i cant recall a single day i didnt spend with the girl and now we have each other blocked everywhere and obviously don't talk

im really sorry that the whole experience ended up souring for her (and you) :( im a big believer that people that are meant to be in your life will come and find you and i honestly doubt she doesn't remember any of it (since it seems like it was a very, like, impactful couple of years?) i hope that you can find closure about all of this

the fact that you realised you were sort of queer at such a young age boggles my mind but at the same time i guess we all have different ages of like realization -> not really surprised ur both queer especially considering *gestures vaguely* all that

re: lesbianism still kind of in denial why are you in denial out of curiosity?

[hyoisms]

super excited to meet you all! i'm luna, and this is jung hyojung! she's angelic's lead vocalist turned actress. beneath the cut, i'll have (hopefully) a brief intro. if you'd like to plot, please do like this post, and i'll come hopping into your ims! i am also available on d*scord. ask and you shall receive! all right, let's hop into this intro!

BACKGROUND.

born into a really normal family. dad’s a govt civil worker, mom’s a high school history teacher and her older brother just exists. loving family, they loved having a daughter after a son. her mom’s a history nerd so she names hyojung after a princess and all that jazz. i think that paints her fam pretty well. also, her name is the same backwards as well, and that’s probably how she introduced herself when she first debuted

tw terminal illness mother unfortunately dies from breast cancer around the time hyojung’s six. it’s devastating for the whole family, but hyojung’s dad manages to pull his weight and raise his two kids well as a single father! end of tw

her love for music comes quite early. her dad was always a musician yknow strumming his guitar at home, and her older brother took after him in that sense. hyojung wasn’t as talented in instruments (other than the bass guitar which her brother started and then quit in which she took over) and she mostly took after her mom in having a lovely voice. family music sessions soon became a regular thing, and it all led to her asking to be enrolled at a vocal academy as a hobby

becoming an idol, on the other hand, sort of comes out of the blue for her. gold star media ended up holding in-house auditions at her vocal academy, she tries out and then gets accepted! it doesn't take her very long before her debut with angelic either

CAREER.

she's still rather young when she first debuts, and her short trainee period doesn't exactly prepare her for what's to come with this industry. that's why toward the beginning of her career, she's pretty energetic and the vitamin of the group

however, as she grows up she just naturally mellows out as she matures. while there are people who realize that people grow up, there are also a loud bunch that claim that she's changed and caught the actress disease because it's around her first drama role when this change occurs

on top of that, it coincides with ax leaving the group, which only makes the accusations become worse. thankfully, hyojung's pretty sturdy and she doesn't let things sway her, and so she goes on and lives her actress life

frankly, she began acting because it was offered to her first, but she grows to love the idea of being able to play all these different characters. although fans don't want to admit it, it's become pretty clear that hyojung does prefer being an actress over an idol, but she still assures fans that she'll always be angelic's hyojung

truthfully, she's just over all the additional baggage and drama that comes along with her idol side. hyojung's thankful for the loyal fans and supporters, and while angelic has had a great career so far, there's no denying that it came with many stress factors as well. does she love singing? absolutely. but does she sometimes doubt whether it's completely worth it? also a yes

she's really solidified her spot in the industry as an actress, but she does get typecasted quite a bit. all her roles so far have been lovely, super romantic. some people point fingers and say that she needs to branch out, but hyojung's pretty content with where she is not as she knows that these sort of roles can't always be played. they sort of naturally slow down as an actress gets older anyway so why say no to something that she can only do now, right?

anyway, she's in a pretty comfortable spot in her career now. angelic hasn't made a comeback in a while, but she did have her solo debut a couple of months back. it was mostly a gift for fans who missed her voice and assurance that she hasn't completely abandoned her career as a singer!

PERSONALITY.

overall, hyojung's a very mellow person. she's gentle, soft-spoken and prefers to stay in the background of things. will walk away in the middle of an argument if it becomes too exhausting because it's never worth winning an argument in her opinion

the type of person who can comfortably sit in silence even with others around her. she doesn’t find that awkward, but she won’t… flat out ignore anybody around her either. she does polite talk and small talk pretty well, but that’s mostly because of her developed social skills as an idol. if she could, she’d sit in complete silence and just embrace it

definitely someone who gets comfortable with others with more time? she comes off a little awkward at first and despite angelic being a more senior idol group canon-wise, hyojung probably doesn't know how to react if someone were to express that they were a fan. like she genuinely does not know what to say other than thank you

she's like that quiet, introvert friend who always seems to know what's going on despite not being that interested in other people because she fades into the background and people talk without realizing that she's in the room, if that even makes sense!

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

<< Beginning < Prev || AO3 || My Website

Chapter 66: October 2002

Gerard follows the woman in the sensible shoes down the corridor, silently willing her to hurry up already. Logically he knows any danger—any immediate danger, anyway—is past, but he needs to see for himself before he can be sure.

The woman’s talking. He’s only partly listening. She probably doesn’t actually know the full truth anyway. Nobody’s giving him details about anything, not really. The woman’s saying a lot about care and caution and something vague about a regular therapist, and he wants to laugh at her because the last thing that would help in any plausible scenario is a therapist. Someone who doesn’t know the situation isn’t going to be able to help them recover from it.

And it’s not like telling someone would make things better.

They round a corner and he spots a familiar figure standing outside a door, arms crossed and jittering with suppressed emotion. Gerard rushes past the nurse and walks over as fast as he can without outright running. “Melanie. How is he?”

It’s a mark of how worried he is that he says her full first name. Melanie’s face is pinched with anger and worry and a bit of accusation. “I don’t know. They won’t let me in without a guardian.”

“It’s all right, she’s our sister,” Gerard tells the nurse with the disapproving frown. “I’m here to take both of them home…is he ready to go?”

Just like that, the frown vanishes, and the nurse nods and holds up a finger before disappearing into the room behind him.

Swiftly, in a low voice, Gerard asks, “What happened?”

“Not here.” Melanie’s expression, in contrast to the nurse’s, does not relax. “When did you get back?”

“Like two hours ago.” Gerard and his mum have been on one of their continental jaunts, so he really has no idea what’s happened.

Before either of them can elaborate, the door opens, disgorging Martin. It’s obvious he’s just gone on a growth spurt in the last couple of months—his trousers clear his ankles by a good inch and his jawline’s gone square as at least some of the puppy fat burns off—but he’s huddling in on himself. He looks…humiliated is the best way Gerard can put it. A combination of guilt and embarrassment and general upset.

And Gerard’s stomach lurches.

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft so that it doesn’t shake or crack. “Ready to go?”

“Hi, Gerry,” Martin mumbles. His eyes flick up briefly to Gerard’s face, then drop to the floor again, and his hands tuck a little tighter under his arms.

“Remember,” the nurse says, coming out from behind Martin and wagging her finger at him sternly. “Keep those covered until they heal. Dr. Browning will want to see you next week to have those out, or you can go to your regular doctor.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Martin’s voice is no more than a thread, and Gerard’s worry ratchets up another few notches.

Concealing it as best he can, he places a hand on the center of Martin’s back—they’re the same height now, Martin’s going to be tall when all’s said and done—and wraps the other around Melanie’s shoulders. “Come on, then. How about an ice cream?”

They aren’t children anymore, not really—Martin turned fourteen just before Gerard left town, Melanie will be fourteen in a week—but ice cream is as good a peace offering as any. Martin shakes his head wordlessly, though, leaving Gerard casting about for something else to do. Taking him home, he instinctively feels, is right out.

Most places in London are too crowded, too historically or paranormally significant, or too full of books for them to go right now. Martin feels fragile, in a way Gerard isn’t accustomed to, and they’ll have to take care with him. In the end, they wind up in one of the few spots they can count on being unobserved and uninterrupted, a small, secluded public garden in the ruins of an ancient church. What Melanie sometimes refers to, rather dramatically, as “the Green” has reclaimed enough of it that any blood or ghosts soaked into the church’s stones are well-hidden, and it’s almost never visited, at least not during the week in the autumn. They should be able to talk.

Martin still won’t look anyone in the eye as they settle on a wide stone ledge. Melanie crosses her legs underneath herself and leans on them, trying to stare up at Martin’s face, while Gerard settles on Martin’s other side. For a long moment, there is silence, save the faint rustling of leaves in the wind.

Finally, Martin speaks in a small, miserable voice. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Melanie says, with an emphatic immediacy that feels like she’s been waiting for him to apologize so she can impress this fact on him—and, knowing both of them, she has been.

“Martin, what happened?” Gerard asks, as gently as he can. “All Aunt Lily said was that you’d gone to the A&E.” Actually, she said a lot of rather dismissive things, and that Martin would just have to wait until his stepfather gets home from work if he can’t be bothered to check himself out, but he isn’t going to say that. From the brief look Melanie gives him, he doesn’t have to.

Martin hunches his shoulders forward like he’s trying to make himself as small as possible. “It’s…I found a book. It’s one Leitner never had—it didn’t have his label on it or anything—and I probably wouldn’t have even picked it up normally because it’s one of the ones we read in English earlier this term and it seemed innocent enough when we did. I wasn’t even really searching for them then. But it, it felt powerful, so I-I Looked at it, and it was so bright, I’d never seen anything that bright. The man at the shop told me I could just…have it when I asked him how much.”

“Which should’ve been our first clue,” Melanie interjects. “Nobody just gives these away.”

It doesn’t matter—or maybe it does—but Gerard asks anyway. “Which one was it?”

“The Spiral. It…I brought it home to give it to Mum so she could give it to Aunt Mary, but it wasn’t in my pocket when I got there. She went on at me for being careless and told me to go find where I’d dropped it.” Martin swallows. “It was dark by the time I got home and—it was in the bottom of my bag all along, I thought. I found it and put it on my nightstand to give it to Mum in the morning, but…”

“It wasn’t there,” Gerard guesses. “And of course you thought it was your fault.”

“I—you know I forget things all the time—”

“Which just made you easy prey for it. It’s not your fault, Martin.” Gerard touches Martin’s chin lightly. “But if you just kept losing it, how did you get hurt?”

Tears spring to Martin’s eyes, and he looks away again. “I kept…it got to where the only way I could find it was to Look, because I’d see it glowing and I’d find it. A-and then, after a couple of days, it…a man turned up. He kept insisting it was his book, that I’d stolen it—and of course I didn’t have a receipt from the shop because the man gave it to me, so I couldn’t prove I hadn’t, or that I hadn’t done it on purpose, but every time I tried to bring it to Mum for Aunt Mary it wasn’t where I’d left it and I’d start—panicking that maybe the man had taken it. Except nobody else ever saw him, so—”

“So Aunt Lily said you were making him up.” Gerard’s stomach flips. “Whether she believed it or not.”

“Yeah,” Martin says softly. “It just—I-I knew, I knew it was the Spiral and that I, I couldn’t trust my senses, but it still was just—it got too much, a-and…finally I read some of the book.”

“Martin!”

“I know! I know, I just—I thought if I gave into it, maybe a little, that it would, I don’t know, bind it to me and I’d stop losing it. And anyway I was kind of curious as to how it was different from the one we read in school. But it just made the man angry when he turned up, he, he said it wasn’t for me, that it wasn’t meant to be Seen, and what would my mother say if she knew? But it, it had sort of stuck, so I brought it to Mum, and she went on at me about how I should have brought it to her days ago and what use was I…” Martin presses his lips together hard for a moment. “That was last night. Then this morning, I went out to bring in the bins and the man was there and…he was just looking at me with so much pity. Said I was stupid to have handed the book off to another unfortunate soul, that I should’ve destroyed it before anyone else could have read it, and that it was just going to draw the Twisting Deceit’s attention, that I was leading it right to Melanie and Mum and you and oh, Martin, what have you done?”

“He knew your name?” Gerard was horrified. These things never knew names, not unless…

“And yours, and Neenie’s, and everyone else’s. It—he said it was my fault, that I’d made myself so bright anyone could see and…that whatever happened would be because of me. I had Mum calling me useless on one side and the man calling me dangerous and stupid on the other and…i-it just got to be too much.” Martin raises his head and manages to look Gerard in the eye, although he’s still on the verge of falling apart. “The Spiral didn’t do this, Gerry. I did.”

Numbness spreads throughout Gerard’s body. “Let me see.”

Slowly, Martin uncurls his arms and stretches them out in front of himself. Like his trouser legs, the sleeves of the grey hooded sweatshirt ride up on his arms, exposing the edges of stark white bandages. Gerard takes Martin’s hands as gently as he can—they’re trembling faintly—and pushes back the sleeves further, one at a time. Fully exposed, it’s easy to see the white gauze wrapped around both forearms…and it’s not hard to guess what happened.

“Oh, Martin,” he says softly, tears welling up in his own eyes. He lets go of his brother’s hands and hugs him tightly. Martin hugs him back, almost hesitantly, and now it’s easy to tell he’s shaking all over. “Martin, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, it never—this wouldn’t have happened if I’d been here, I—”

“You’re not listening, Gerry. I did this to myself.”

“Because it got in your head! That’s what it does, Martin, and you know that. It—it lies to you. It makes you think you can’t trust what you see, what you know. It made you think you were worthless, that you—”

“That I was bringing attention to you and Melanie,” Martin interrupts, shoving back from Gerard, and he’s still crying but he’s obviously angry, too. “That the Spiral wasn’t the only one that could see me. That every time I Look hard enough to See the evidence of one of the Fears on an object, o-or a person, I burn brighter. That I’m a beacon, a big, juicy, flashing target, and if someone wants what I have, or wants to stop me from doing what I’m doing, they’ll go after someone I love just to get at me. Was that a lie?”

Gerard inhales sharply. Melanie and Martin are both looking at him for the answer to that question. The difference is that—for once—Melanie’s eyes are the ones pleading, while Martin’s, behind the tears, are like chips of ice. Melanie wants him to reassure her. Martin’s realized the truth.

“No,” he admits, his voice low. “It wasn’t.”

“What?” Melanie practically shouts, jerking upright. “You—wait, you knew?”

“I knew it was risky, I just didn’t think it would happen this…fast.” Gerard wants to bury his face in his hands, to beg for his brother’s forgiveness, but he forces himself not to. That’s manipulative, and it isn’t fair. “All right, it’s probably not…that bad. Yet. You’d be fighting them off all the time if it was. He—the man, whoever he was—he was probably exaggerating. You know it does that, too, it takes tiny bits of the truth and twists and exaggerates them so it can pretend it didn’t lie. But…yeah. This…this thing you can do, the Seeing thing, that’s, it’s from the Ceaseless Watcher. The more you do it, the deeper you’re going to fall into it. And the more in servitude to one power or another you get, the more attention you’re going to draw from the others. I mean, you’re no Archivist, thank goodness, but—things are going to be drawn to you. And you know the Fears don’t have the best interests of humanity at heart.”

Martin’s shoulders slump. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. That’s why I…” He tugs his shirtsleeves down again. “Don’t worry. I’m not stupid enough to try that again.”

That is, in fact, the worry on the tip of Gerard’s tongue. “I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“But you did think I was going to keep trying.” It’s not a question and Gerard doesn’t deny it. “It was…it was a stupid thing to do. It was an impulse and I just…I got scared. I thought if I was dead, it would keep you two safe.” Martin raises his head and looks from Gerard to Melanie and back. “It won’t, though. In the first place, I don’t know if…I-I mean, I’m not important enough not to die or anything, but it wouldn’t be easy if I tried, I guess. More important, though…it’s not like you two would stop if I wasn’t here.”

Melanie shakes her head emphatically. “If you die, I am dedicating my entire life to taking those things out of the world.”

“Yeah, same,” Gerard says. “And same if anything happens to you, Neens. And…” He swallows hard. “For what it’s worth, which is probably nothing, I am sorry, Martin. I should’ve told you as soon as I realized what you could do and what it meant, I just…I dunno. I guess I realized you wouldn’t stop even if you knew it was dangerous—to you, anyway—and I thought it would be kinder on you if you…didn’t know what was happening.” He pauses. “And now that I’ve said it out loud, that sounds really stupid.”

Martin laughs, a little unwillingly. “Maybe a little.”

“Never again,” Gerard promises. “I swear. Anything else you two get involved in, you’re going to know exactly what that entails. And…maybe we’ll look into setting wards or something. Some kind of protective ritual. There’s got to be something helpful in those books of Mum’s. Anything I can do to protect you two.” He reaches out to hug them both, a little tentatively, but thank whatever gods are listening they both reach back.

“Promise you’ll protect yourself too,” Martin mumbles.

“I promise,” Gerard says. His mind flashes back to the book he picked up in that backstreet market in Lisbon, the one his mother dismissed as nothing. “I think I might have an idea.”

[o5-10]

The first thing to understand about my marriage to Nina Newport is that, given the circumstances, I would have married almost any willing party with whom I had decent enough rapport. Newport was selected due to the nature of our specific relationship, but had she declined my ask, someone else would have been selected.

This, of course, leads into the reasons a marriage was requires in the first place.

Initially, you will have to forgive my cagey wording so I may dodge the autoredactor, there had been an alarming number of implications by various parties regarding the idea of in-laws as it may apply to me. At the time that these interrogations and accusations began, I had never been married and had absolutely no intentions of changing that any time in the foreseeable future. As they continued, I began to feel I would like to cut said discussions off at the head, and the simplest way to do so that I could come up with was to marry someone who was unrelated to the relevant family, as that would mean that I would have in-laws I could point to that were not that family.

We got engaged on 19 February, 2019. Initially, the wedding was going to take place around a month and a half after this engagement, however, we had to fast track it, on account of something I have to be even more careful with explaining. Those who were present know the details, but I am not at liberty to elaborate beyond what I will say in the following paragraphs.

On 2 February, 2019, I was contacted by an iteration of the head of the relevant family from an unknown reality. The first message was poorly received, but most other communications from this entity were tolerable enough, largely consisting of what are colloquially known as "dad jokes", though circumstances made these interactions quite tense and awkward by default.

On 18 February, 2019, a second iteration of this individual contacted me. This message contained an apology for the former iteration's behavior, some attempts at encouragement that fell flat, and an invitation to his annual family barbecue, which I had no interest in attending, and lacked the ability to attend even if I had wanted.

This last one is incredibly hard to type about, but I will do my best. On 19 February, 2019, my inbox was turned into a nuclear fallout zone by a third iteration of this individual. This message was the kind of message that not a single soul should ever have the displeasure of receiving. I responded with the appropriate disgust, of course. The problem is that this individual did not leave it at the toxic sludge of a message. He proceeded to *follow me into a multiversal server I moderate* where he talked down to my colleagues, as well as others in there.

Anyway, this prompted Newport and I to fast track the wedding, in the hopes that various versions of this individual would leave me alone, and, more specifically, to dissuade the iteration that was stalking me. This resulted in the wedding being held 26 February, 2019, with an awkward guest list.

Anyway, to assuage any fears, the stalker iteration attempted to crash the wedding, somehow pocket dialed *my reality's* UIU, who showed up and agreed he sucked, and then got himself shot for his crimes. The Overseer Council of the reality he crawled out of apologized for his actions and offered compensation to all affected parties.

In summary: I needed to marry someone to dissuade talk of me having hypothetical in-laws, when I did not. Newport was selected due to our rapport. The wedding ended up happening sooner because I was being actively stalked and harassed by an alternate reality construct's iteration of the head of the family that others tried to claim were my in-laws. It was a disaster, but Nina Newport and I were more married than any other married couple.

[misguidedasgardian]

The New Line

IV. Erase it

MASTERLIST

Chapter Summary: You try to navigate having Steve back in your life, or try to kick him out anyways

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x FemaleReader (very ambiguously described) Ft. Steve Rogers

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of abandonment, fluff, angst, heavy talks, a little misogynist Steve, high risk pregnancy, mentions of complications in pregnancy

Bucky being a dream, Steve being the biggest asshole, not dark, but a total dipshit

+18 please.

Word Count: 2.8k (approx)

Notes: Thank for all the comments and follows to this story

You heard him talk, and you totally became numb, if you thought the pain you had felt when he left you was bad, it held nothing on this.

After the shock you had to sit down so now there you were, Steve was sitting there across from you, speaking to you like he didn't left you for another woman, and he came back, talking about how Bruce turn him back like it was his last mission in the jungle with the team

“Anyways... “ he said, “If you had came talk to me that day, you'll would have realise that it was always the plan” that did leaked in, and you sat there not believing his audacity

“What?”

“You just had to wait a couple of months until Bruce can change me back and everything would been like nothing had happened” You heard him talk and talk and you couldn't believe the audacity of this man

“Steve you left me”

“But only for a couple of months!” he said

“Oh so you didn´t live a full life with Peggy Carter?” you asked him, “Because I knew there wasn't any problems with you, so clearly you made a choice, and that choice was to leave me for another woman” he didn't erase that condescending smile, and you wanted to punch him in the face, your mama lion instincts kicking in

“The moment Peggy told me she didn't want have children, and that she wanted to keep working I knew I made a mistake”

“What?” you asked

“And I knew right there, it was you darling, all this time, you are the real deal”

“I have to ask” you said, dead serious, “Are you having senile dementia?” he laughed like you had cracked the joke of the century

“Of course not Honey, I'm here now!” he said, like you were the double face idiot, “And you should be thankful” he said

“Excuse me?”

“I came back for you, and to help you with my baby”

“You didn't come back to me!” you claimed, “you got old and barely survived to see us all back again, and it's NOT your baby!”

“Ah it isn´t?” he asked, he was starting to get mad, “And who's the father if it isn't me?”

“It's Bucky,” you said firmly. He laughed, deadass laughed in your face

“You are about to give birth, 8 months ago we were together, it´s my baby” he said firmly

“You might have help in the making, but you renounced every claim you had on her when you left me! You don't get to say that! you accused, “not after you left me”

“Her? A girl?” he asked, with his tone, you knew perfectly well he was disappointed, and you didn't understand why your chest clenched with sorrow again, why would you feel like that? He was the one that left you and abandoned you, you didn't have to care about his opinion. He was a misogynist, dreaming about having his male heir or whatever

“Yes, it´s a girl” you said firmly, “We are naming her Rebecca”

“We?” he asked

“Bucky and I” he chuckled, mockingly, “He is the real father of our baby”

“Cut the crap, you are telling me that you are together now?”

“Yes we are!” Bucky came into the house, almost in a rage, Sam trailing after him

“Honey, you are willing to kick away the father of your baby, your boyfriend of five years, for him?”

“Without a second thought” you said firmly. Steve got off the couch and into his feet to meet Bucky. Both faced the other, and you feared a physical confrontation

“Bucky you are pathetic” he accused

“I'm the pathetic one?” he asked

“You don't think I didn't see that sad puppy face every time someone celebrated me?, like when we came back to camp after I rescued you? or when Peggy preferred me? instead of you? or when I became the hero?”

“You are delusional” he said, not believing his best friend had become this person in front of him

“So now you plan on replacing me, taking my girl, and my baby” he finished, “Well it's not gonna happen”

“If it is your baby and your girl, I want you to tell me, what week of pregnancy is she in?” he asked, Steve just tried to kill him with his stare, “What foods made her nauseous the first months?” he asked, but there was no answer, “What was she craving?” he attacked again

“You know I have no answer for those things because she...!” he said, raising his voice and pointing directly at you, “Never told me she was pregnant!”

“I was going to tell you that night!” you defended, “I found out the day before, but you never came back!”

“I did came back”

“Or better yet” Bucky continued, “something every parent should know, what foods can she not have? and which ones are recommended in pregnancy? which vitamins?”

“Stop it!” gunted Steve, “Do you think reading some books about pregnancy makes you a father?”

“But being here does!” you said, “Being the first thing I see when I wake in the morning, and the last thing I see at night, cooking for me meals rich in vitamins for the baby, and make sure I take the supplements, and coming with me to all the appointments, consoling me when I feel so bloated and tired I just cry for hours on end because I'm uncomfortable, and cuddle with me despite of my demonic behaviour all day because I can't eat raw things” Now Steve was speechless, but mad, and when he was mad, he had the tendency of…

“I didn't know you were pregnant!” he yelled, “Because you had such a big ego you couldn't even let it slide to tell me!” you wouldn't believe what you were hearing

“What is wrong with you?” asked Bucky

“There is nothing wrong with me, I just came to claim what is mine”

“You are insane” he said, things were getting heated, luckily Sam came into the house

“Ok, I see now that this was an awful idea Steve” he accused, “You said you were going to behave”

“I didn't know she was pregnant” he said back, he said, pointing at your belly in a way you didn't like, “How could you not tell me? you all hid this from me!”

“You had no right to know!” you said, grabbing the reins of the situation again, “You left me for another woman!” You said, “You came back as a 100 year old man! after living a life with fucking Peggy”

“But I came back to you!” He repeated, “It took me all these months because Bruce and Hank Pym took his time rebuilding the portal, that's the only reason why I wasn't with you any sooner, and you refused to talk to me that day!” he was making you feel like you were the one in the wrong, and he was in the right

“Ok that's it!” you yelled, the three men stood very still, impressed. And you felt your blood boil, your mama lion insticts kicking in so fast it made your head spin, “Steve get the fuck out of our home!” you said firmly. Bucky smiling proudly, “She is mine” you continued, cradling your belly “And Bucky ́s''

“I want a paternity test” he demanded

“Get the fuck out!” you demanded, and Sam grabbed him softly by the arm, and took him out of the house.

“This isn't over!” Steve promised, leaving the house, and only when you heard the engine driving away, you drop yourself back to the sofa, feeling suddenly depleted of your energy

“Hey Doll” Bucky was on you in a second, “That's my baby momma, are you ok?” you nodded while you tried to calm your unsteady breathing

“Yes I just, got tired all of a sudden”

“Let me get your vitals” he said, “FRIDAY!” he called, and the AI was in it in a second

“Everything looks good Papa bear” she chanted

“Papa Bear?” you giggled. Bucky smiled at you and give you a little peck in the lips

“That's my code name for pregnancy things” he said

“What´s mine?” you asked, amused

“Momma bear” he responded simply

“I love that” he kissed you again softly. He grabbed you gently, like if you were a princess, and carried you to the bed, he help you get under the covers after he took off your shoes

“Are you ok?” he asked, more serious than before, leaning in to kiss your temple

“I can't believe he is back” you murmured

“Would you ever consider… taking him back?” he asked, seating beside you at the edge of the bed

“What?” you asked, scared, “No!” you grabbed his hands, suddenly terrified, “Never Bucky please…” was he going to leave you?

“Hey, it's ok, I´m here” you were becoming so upset he could sense it, “I'm just wondering”

“No Bucky, please, it's you, only you”

“I'm not going anywhere” he said, “I swear it, I was just scared” you both breathed more relaxed. But the confrontation drained you of all your energy.

“I don't want to take him back, I don't want to see him, I don't want to have him near me” a single tear escaped your eye, “I don't know what I'm going to do”

“I´m here, with you”

“I don't want to share her with him, she is ours” he smiled softly and kissed you

“I´ll talk to him, calmly” you sighed, “You need to take a nap”

“Steve was always like a Dementor” you murmured, “It drains you of your soul and energy”

“A what?” he asked, confused, “is that something the avengers fought?”

“Have you never seen Harry Potter!?” you yelled. Bucky laughed, shaking his head, “No freaking way! we need to see them!”

“Them?” Bucky asked

“There are 8 of them” you giggled

“Oh shit!”

Bucky signed one last time. He had left you with Pepper, as he decided, after that heated argument with Steve, that they needed to relax and try again to come to terms with what had happened, so he asked his old friend to a café

“We need to have a serious and calm conversation about this” he said firmly, as Steve nodded.

“Please, you go first” he said

“When you left that day, you hugged me and asked me to take care of her” he said softly, “You knew already you weren't coming back”

“Yes, I was thinking about it since before I left

“Why didn't you tell her?” he said

“I didn't have the nerve”

“So you surviving until you saw us all again was a coincidence?”

“Yes, I didn't know I would survive it, but when I did I realised I could do it all again”

“But do you think that is fair to her?” asked Bucky, even if it was a couple seconds to us, you did live another life with another woman”

“I realise that, it's been 80 years for me, but I never stopped thinking about her”

“Steve, you have to walk away” he said firmly, and Steve look became angry

“I don't want to” he said

“The best thing you could do is walk away” repeated Bucky

“I won't walk away from my woman, and my baby”

“You already did” he responded, “I'm here now” he said firmly, “And you need to understand that, unlike you, I´m not going anywhere”

“Peggy didn´t gave me any children” he said, like he was a little kid

“That's unfortunate” Bucky said, “but you made your choice, so now you stick with it”

“You think I'll walk away just like that?” he asked, almost mocking him

“I'm asking you to do it, because she doesn't want you there” he said firmly, “She won't take you back, under any circumstances, she will marry me, and the baby will have my name”

“Well, I don´t care, it´s my baby, and if you wanted it so, I want a paternity test now, so I can prove it, and if need be, to call a lawyer” Bucky frowned, desiring he could settle this in an old school way like in a duel or something, but that wasn't going to work out

“She isn't doing a DNA test”

“Is not up to you” dealing with him was like dealing with a toddler

“She can't do it now, you´ll have to wait until she is born”

“Are you suddenly an expert in pregnancy?” he mocked

“Yeah, I became one, for her” he said, “I read a lot of books, and articles” he was frustrated, Bucky could feel it, Steve leaned back into the seat and crossed his arms over his chest

“I want to hear from her that she doesn't want me back”

“She is eight months pregnant and the other day she needed a four hour nap and a trip to the doctor to get over your little visit” he said firmly, “You are not going anywhere near her”

“I want to be part of my baby's life” he said firmly, “I want to be there for the birth”

“You must know, it's a high risk pregnancy” Steve stood very still, “Doctor Cho is scared for her, even if she doesn't want to show it, we don't know how the birth is going to go, due to, the serum in the baby, and she didn't want to have any testing done because it includes a very invasive needle and the risk of miscarriage, and we're too late to do it anyways”

“So she is going in blindly” he spoke like it was a military mission

“Yes, we don't know what to expect” Bucky was terrified, “It's been a good pregnancy, she just needs a lot of more supplements, than a regular baby, it´s like she is a super baby” They both shared a look, “Which is very possibly”

“But doctor Cho, I'm certain that she can do whatever it takes”

“Yes, of course, she is beyond overqualified for this, we are confident that everything is going to be ok”

“It will take me sometime to understand she doesn't want me” he said, “But I do want to see the baby”

“I'll talk to her” said Bucky, “If you concede in letting us do what we want, I'm sure she will let you be a part of her life Steve”

“I'll wait then”

He surrendered, Steve surrendered

“Ok mama bear” Bucky had his sargeant voice on, as he marked a red cross in today´s date in the calendar “It's on, we are in the 38 week mark, everything after this point is fair game”

“Oh” you rubbed your belly, you loved your daughter with all your heart, and soul, and body, but you wanted her out, you were so uncomfortable

“Now momma, what's the plan?” he asked

“As soon as the water breaks, we jump in the car” yu said firmly

“I have it loaded with the hospital bag”

“Yes, and FRIDAY is calling Bruce and Doctor Cho immediately, they promise to be in the compound for the next 3 weeks”

“Good, now Bruce… I know he means well” he started, “I'm just saying, he is a giant! what if he doesn't measure right and crushes our baby?”

“Bruce is not going to crush anyone” you said smiling widely

“I'm not sure I want his big hands in the receiving end” you giggled

“I'm sure it will be fine” you opened your arms to him, which was a clear sign that you wanted to cuddle. And you did, getting comfortable in his arms in the couch

“What if I hurt her?” he asked suddenly, you looked at him, scared

“What do you mean?”

“What if… I hurt her while I held her?” he looked at you with those beautiful eyes so tortured you wanted to kiss him to eternity to prove him wrong

“You won´t”

“What if I pinch her little arms or legs with the gears and grooves of my metal arm?” you touched the arm in question, feeling it so soft and smooth

“The old one had those things, but not this one” you said softly, and you placed your fingers inside his metal elbow, try to pinch me

“I'm going to hurt you”

“You won't” he took his hand to his shoulder, bending his arm as he gently pressed your fingers, and you didn't feel anything, “There are no grooved or gears Mr Barnes, you are safe and qualified to hold your crying daughter to make her burp while her mother is asleep” he smiled as one single tear escaped his eye

“I love you so much”

“I fucked up Sam” Steve wished he could be drunk right now

“Yeah you did” he said, drinking his own beer

“I want them both back”

“She is with Bucky now”

“Yes I know”

“Are you going to accept that?” he said, cautionaly

“Yes, if that's what it takes to be part of my daughter's life”

Taglist! <3

@jessyballet @bbmommy0902 @madaraswittleslut @emberenchanted @charnahsblog @strawb3rrypills @mrsbarnesx @whitewinter-wolf @leyannrae @acciosiriusblack

[iwadori]

Why you and the haikyu boys broke up (Atsumu,Oikawa,Kageyama,Kenma,Akaashi,Sugawara)

Part two: Osamu, Iwaizumi, Daichi, Ushijima

Genre:angst

masterlist

Atsumu: “god yer so clingy and annoying”

You and Atsumu have been dating for years and every year was worse then the last. Atsumu became more distant and standoffish as your relationship progressed.

“‘Tsumu, where were you said that you’d be back by-“

“Gosh Y/N, just leave me alone, I don’t need you doting all over me like your my mum or something” he said harshly making you flinch

“Well I wouldn’t keep acting like your mum if you weren’t being such a child, you dick”

“God Y/N, yer so cling and annoying”

That was the last thing he said to you, well the last thing you heard, since after that you were gone. You definitely didn’t care for Atsumu anymore and you definitely didn’t care about his mutiple messages and calls asking begging you to talk to him.

You were done and you silently asked yourself the question “who’s the clingy and annoying one now ‘tsumu”

Oikawa: “If only you supported me like she did then..”

You and Oikawa, the classic ‘highschool sweethearts,’ with him being the athletic trailblazer with you at his side through it all, always known as “Oikawa’s girlfriend”

Being known as that, at first you didn’t mind, since being attached to the Oikawa name in any aspect was something to brag about (especially when you’re a teenage girl.)

But as you got older you didn’t want to be just somebody’s “girlfriend,” you wanted to be Y/N The doctor or Y/N the lawyer, journalist or whatever.

And Oikawa wasn’t particularly fond of the idea.

As the time went on, with you now studying and preparing for your new found dream job (which you were over the moon about.) Oikawa became unbearable, late nights out, always hiding his phone when you were about, he had this odd scent about him one that was different to usual.

He was cheating on you. You knew it, but since there was no physical proof and because you loved him so much accusing him of such a thing could ruin everything.

You didn’t need too though. Since one night, when Oikawa was supposedly meant to be at an away game. He was away, but in someone else’s pants... in your bedroom.

After being caught he pleaded for you to hear him out and when you wouldn’t he said “if only you supported me like she did then I wouldn’t be cheating on you”

That was definitely the final straw, you became the best doctor that Japan had ever seen, and you didn’t know what happen to Oikawa and that girl.

You may of heard through the grapevine that she definitely cheated on him a month into their relationship, but what do you care anyways.

Kenma: “gosh y/n I’m not your therapist”

Kenma and you were childhood friends before you started dating. You were two peas in a pods.

You worked perfectly as you being the talkative one always talked and him being quiet just always listened.

That’s how you worked and it was fine, right?

Well of course it wasn’t, well at least till when you were a few years into your relationship it wasn’t. Kenma was obviously a popular gamer and kind of a businessman, he wasn’t as free as he used to be and neither were you and you both knew that.

So when you did have time to hang out you most certainly made the most of it, doing what you normally did: you talk, he ‘listens.’

Even though Kenma wasn’t listening anymore, who knows when he stopped listening but he probably hasn’t heard nor cared for a thing you’ve said since you were 5.

“Gosh Y/N I’m not your therapist” he said after you were telling him about a terrible day you had “ I don’t even know why we’re still together, or together at all... “

“Fine, if that’s how you feel I’m gone”

“Wait Y/N I didn’t mea-“

You slam the door blocking out the rest of speech which you didn’t need to hear since obviously ‘you aren’t his therapist.’

Akaashi: you’re just too much of an idiot too understand.

When you and Akaashi met, it was in one of your classes, and you first noticed him when he was answering in a question in class.

Hot and smart was what you thought when you first laid eyes on him

What you didn’t know by the time you got together was that ‘hot and smart’ translates to the biggest patronising mansplainer ever.

Akaashi has a way of belittling you and dumbing you down, you didn’t know why he was doing it. Heck, you didn’t know he was actually doing it until he actually said “you’re just too much of an idiot to understand.”

The other times it was subtle, but obvious enough to leave you sad and uncomfortable afterwards questioning every aspect of yourself.

One night, you don’t tell him what your doing, you pack up your crap leave the rest of the months rent on the kitchen counter along with a note saying ‘I’m breaking up with you,’

You knew that sooner or later that day you’d get a text from him and you did which read:

Akaashi: what do you mean I’m breaking up with. Why ?

Y/N: oh I guess you’re too much of an idiot to understand.

Kageyama: you don’t work hard enough Y/N

You were dating the best setter in Japan. It always felt surreal when you said that to yourself, or when someone said that to you.

Since ‘how could you’ get ‘someone like that.’

That was the question that many people asked, since of course ‘Tobio Kageyama was only worth the best of the best,’ and to them you most certainly wasn’t that.

You got comments like that all the time online, but you didn’t care but one time you were scrolling through Twitter and so a post about you and the comments were all talking about your body.

This crushed your heart, as the comments they were making were vile so this definitely hit a tough spot.

When Kageyama came home and saw your distressed state he rushed to your side to see if he could help. However once you showed him what you were crying over, his tone of voice changed as he said,

“They aren’t wrong Y/N, ever since we got together you’ve definitely not really been looking after yourself lately”

“What is that supposed to mean” you retort

“ I mean, you don’t work hard Y/N, you don’t work at all... as of lately you’ve just been bitching and complaining and mooching off of my success whilst you let yourself go.”

Ouch.

“If that’s how you see me, then so be it” you say gracefully standing up and exciting the building. You were done with Kageyama and you both knew that, there was no going back after what he said, especially since you could tell he was thinking that for a while now.

Sugawara: your not the girl I fell in love with

Sugawara and you were described as the “perfect couple” by people that didn’t know you. Which you always faked a smile a compliment, knowing certainly well you weren’t.

You’ve loved sugawara ever since you met him in your first year. But you knew, you always knew he didn’t love you back.

Kiyoko Shimuzu, her name was. A pretty name for a pretty girl. All the boys were in love with her (some more vocal about it then others) but sugawara even though he wasn’t shouting his love from the rooftops, you caught the looks of adoration he gave her when she was simply walking by.

You dated him anyways, maybe he could sense your desperation or maybe he needed a distraction. You didn’t know why he decided to ask you out and you didn’t care, he was yours and you finally ‘won.’

Well you were winning up till you got a certain invite in the Mail:

You are invited to the wedding of Tanka Ryunnsoke and Kiyoko Shimuzu.

Even though sugawara looked happy at the idea of his two dearest friends marrying, you could tell he was heartbroken. And he knew that you knew.

That is why, on the day before the wedding as you were packing your bags to go, it turns out he was packing his bags too. But for a completely different reason.

“I’m leaving” was all he said at first heading for the door.

“Where? Why?” You aksed

“You know why Y/N, you’ve always known why And itll do more harm then good if we keep this charade up any longer”

“But I love you” you cried latching on to him

“And I love you, but you were not the girl I fell in love with and I don’t think that love will ever stop”

You knew he was right and you let him go, crying over your one true love.

An: I kinda heavily like this one, (maybe because it’s hard to write on my phone and this style is definitely not what I’m used too so I’m appreciating my efforts.) what do you guys think ??

ALSO MY PHONE WONT LET ME DO READ ORE AND ONCE MY LAPTOP WORKS TOMMOROW I WILL DO IT SO SORRY!!

Taglist[bold can’t be tagged]: @sakuxxi @iimoonii @hamdehlesmis @Shoyosupremacy @meadowsinjapan @iambashfulperson

[clairecrive]

"Bookish talks"- Billy Russo x reader

A/n: again, not requested but the idea popped into my mind after reading @faulty-coding piece. (I think)

Warnings: a bit of angst, misunderstandings but fluffy ending

Word count: 1.5k +

Tagging: @thefictionalgemini , @tarkanelima-blog , @pansysgirlfriend , @acciorudolphx (if you want, you can add yourself to my taglist by filling this form)

My masterlists are here.

"Yeah, she's been going on and on about this book. I've got five more minutes to go."

Well, the things you find out when you turn up where you're not supposed to be.

To be fair, you didn't mean to eavesdrop. When you got out that morning you had forgotten to take your wallet. Here explained why you had returned not even ten minutes from where you first walked out. You didn't even think that Billy would be still at home, so you didn't bother with announcing yourself.

And look what a surprise you were met with.

Taking your wallet, you hurried out of Billy's apartment set on not hearing anymore.

*+* *+* *+*

The day passed as it normally would. You had pushed back Billy's words in your mind because you had work to do. It wouldn't be smart to unpack what it meant so early in the morning when you had so much to do.

You weren't mad per se. You were rather hurt that he had never told you that he didn't enjoy your talks about the latest book you were reading. So yeah, let's add "stupid and guilty" under your current mood. You didn't want to put Billy in a position where he had to bear with something he didn't like. But how were you meant to know if he didn't talk to you?

This is not the moment, you reprimanded yourself with a shake of your head.

Coherent with your routine though, at six, Billy's call came. Of course, he acted normally, nothing had happened for him, after all.

"So, you coming around tonight?"

"Nope, book club meeting tonight."

"Oh, right. Was kinda hoping you'd ditch them."

"They're my outlet for my book nerdiness, Billy. Wouldn't want to annoy anyone with my craze over books."

"Who said you do?"

"You did."

It wasn't your intention to confront him on the matter over the phone. It was an instant reaction.

Billy didn't gasp but the silence you were met with was more than enough to show you that he'd been taken aback.

"Y/n-"

"It's okay, Billy. I don't mind if you don't like listening to me talking about books. I just wish you would have told me. I wouldn't be feeling so stupid and guilty for all the time I've made you waste now if you had."

"You didn't waste my time."

From that moment, things between you had Billy went back to normal. Sort of. He hadn't confronted you on the matter anymore and of course, you wouldn't bring it back up. So you settled in your usual routine, without of course any mention of books.

"Mh," looking at the clock on your desk you noticed that if you only have half an hour to finish your last assignment and before you need to leave, " I've got to go now, Billy. I'll talk to you soon." You ended the call without waiting for a response.

*+* *+* *+*

You were currently on Billy's sofa, leaning on him while you watched a documentary on Ancient Rome. It was interesting and it made you think about a book you had read on the subject a while ago. You opened your mouth to share your thoughts with Billy but a flashback of his words stopped you.

What if he hated it when you did that too?

"You're awfully quiet tonight." His voice startled you from your thoughts.

"A bit tired."

"Haven't got any anecdotes for me tonight?"

"Nope."

Your eyes didn't leave the tv screen. Yes, the documentary was interesting but you also didn't want Billy to know that you were lying. He had the uncanny ability of sensing whenever you weren't being genuine.

Out of the blue, the documentary stopped and the sound of the control hitting the coffee table told you that it was Billy who had paused it.

His hands grabbed your arms and pulled you away from him so that he could look you in the eyes.

"You're holding back."

"You're holding me back." Was your witty yet unnecessary reply. Billy's jaw clenched but the grip on your arms didn't tighten.

"Is this about the book thing?"

"We're watching a documentary, Billy. Why would it be about the book thing?"

"You always have something to say when we watch this stuff. Something you've read somewhere, some time ago." He explained, quoting you.

"I don't want you to feel like you can't tell me stuff," he added more softly when you didn't speak.

"Oh, I know I can. You just bitch about it with your friends whenever I do though."

His eyes squinted lightly, if his hands weren't on you, you probably would have missed how his shoulders tensed too.

"So it is about the book thing," he murmured releasing your arms.

"Well, Billy, you've basically fallen under the category of the white man who complains about how annoying his girlfriend is to his friends."

"I've not said you're annoying."

"You might as well have," you huffed crossing your arms, turning away from him.

"I know I sounded like an asshole but that's not what I meant. I really don't mind when you go off for ten minutes on some book you're reading."

"Spare me the bullshit, Billy. You don't have to lie to not hurt my feelings. It's too late for that anyway."

"I'm not lying." he insisted offended by your accusation but you didn't bother responding to him.

Billy sighed, one of his hands wiped over his face as he, no doubt, was trying to think of how to make this right. But maybe it was your time to speak.

"I realise that me sharing every thought or little thing that happens can be overwhelming." Fiddling with the fingers of your hands, you tried to find the right words.

"When me and Karen chose our university major, I was sure that our friendship was going to end. It happens, you take different paths and suddenly you go from best friends t someone you say hi to whenever you meet them around." You stopped to look at him. Bily's eyes were solely focused on you, so you continued.

"To avoid that, we developed a sort of routine where we would tell each other about our days, what we did, the things that happened, people we had met and stuff like that. We'd usually met once a week if not more often and this way we managed to strengthen our relationship and here we are after ten years, still best friends."

"Even if we went our separate ways, neither of us felt left out or behind from the other's life. I knew her friends even if I hadn't met them and since she told me everything I felt like I was as part of her life as I was when we shared every class together."

"I'm a rather introverted and reserved person, Billy. I'm sure you gathered that by now. I guess sharing this kind of things, books I read, things I do and stuff is my way of making you an active presence in my life. Because I care about you and I wouldn't want you to feel left out. Also because I don't feel the need to filter myself around you." A pause. "Well, did."

During your soliloquy, you didn't meet Billy's eyes. It felt deeply personal to share this with him but you hoped it would help him understand. Not necessarily make him enjoy your bookish talk but to make him at least not think of you as annoying.

Billy didn't speak. He had let you have your moment because it was clear that there were things you had been keeping to yourself. You hadn't been dating for long, only a couple of months, so you were still getting to know each other.

Yes, Billy wasn't exactly a bibliophile but he enjoyed the thought of being someone you trusted so much to the point where you're not afraid of opening up.

He really wanted to kick himself for having ruined that. For making you feel like a burden.

Leaning towards you, he gently turned your face to him.

"What you've heard the other day was me explaining to Frankie what I was doing." His voice was soft as if he was afraid that he'd ruin the intimate atmosphere by speaking louder.

"I was listening to your message about that book and yes, it was seven minutes long and yes, you were going on and on about a character's motives and his psychology but I didn't mean to imply it was annoying." His eyes flickered between yours and he seemed truthful enough but you were still hesitant.

"It's okay if you don't enjoy it, Billy. My father hates whenever I do that but that doesn't mean that he loves me any less." You offered him another way out.

"Well, I guess this is why you told me you're not looking for a man like your father."

"Are we good?" He murmured, eyes flickering between yours. You nodded leaning into his touch.

"Trust me, you're nothing like my father." you chuckled, accepting his words for what you knew knew they implied.

Smiling at you, Billy's hands reaching to cup your cheeks.

"Do you promise to talk to me if there's something wrong?" You asked him, needing the reassurance.

"Don't I always talk your ears off when you leave your stuff hanging around?" True enough but you needed him to say it.

"I promise." He conceded, nose bumping into yours before kissing you softly.

"So, got any fun fact to share?" He asked you again, pointing to the tv with his head.

"I've got a few, yes." You shily smiled at him.

"Hit me." Leaning back on the sofa, he got comfortable as he encouraged you to speak.

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

outsider pov deancas, 2.4k, based after the good finale. for @bloodsigilsandpie <3

"it's happening."

natasha returns to the kitchen, her otherwise suppressed glee betrayed by the glint in her eyes as she declares to the entire room. "they're on a date."

chloe's the first to react, or rather, the spoons in her hand that promptly drop back into the foam are. "no way."

"way." farah rushes close to natasha, gushing. "did they tell you?"

natasha sniffs, depositing the plates in the sink with her back turned to her eager audience.

"do you think they told me?"

she doesn't wait for an answer, turning around and leaning back against the counter.

"of course they didn't tell me. but i," she smirks. "i could tell."

"oh, you could tell." hutch repeats mockingly, and a few others snicker. "nat, we're talking about the trenchcoat dude who never smiles, and big-car-black-coffee-loyal-to-the-pie guy. no one has ever been able to tell anything with those two. and they don't look anything more than unlikely work friends to me either."

"unlikely work friends don't look at each other like that!" farah chastises immediately.

"fine. unlikely work friends with repressed homosexual urges from the 80's."

"hutch, if you're going to insult my date-dar, do it to my face!" natasha scowls, earning herself another eyeroll and a defensive palms-up gesture from the skeptic sous-chef.

"he literally just did." chloe mutters, ever the devil's advocate, before farah interrupts. she'd always been their resident 'trenchcoat dude who never smiles and big-car-black-coffee-loyal-to-the-pie guy' shipper. there tend to be one of those for all such couples the waitstaff discusses on the regular, really.

"so, how can you tell? what's different?"

"well for one," natasha grins. "trenchcoat dude's not wearing his trenchcoat."

a commotion of gasps come up from arguably most stations of the kitchen — even those who weren't a part of the discussion before.

"is it on the back of his chair? did car-guy help him take it off?" farah instantly pipes up, her eyes wide and hopeful. (hutch and her are the newest waiters, natasha remembers with a midge of distaste. sometimes it's too obvious.)

"no. it's nowhere in sight." she admits, eyebrows raised.

"maybe it ripped." that's hutch.

"maybe he finally realized that thing was doing nothing for him." dallas. everybody knows he's got a thing for trench coat dude though, so nobody bats an eye.

"maybe car-guy told him." chloe shrugs.

"hey, maybe somebody else did." hutch again.

"that's not the point." natasha butts in. "car-guy's better dressed too. i don't know much about old people fashion — chloe, if you don't stop looking at me like that — but i think ascots are supposed to be fancy."

"he wore a what —" several voices echo, and just then, freya enters the kitchen, beaming. (second year at the diner, loads of tattoos, and has a lovely girlfriend at the domino's across the street. natasha likes her.)

"you guys'll never guess what happened."

hutch and dallas sigh in unison, and farah giggles a little. "you won't guess what happened here either!"

"me first. trenchcoat dude and car-guy are on a date."

chloe snorts, picking up two prepared plates of food from one of the side chef's stations, and setting off out the door freya just entered from. important to find a job-gossip balance and all that.

natasha turns to the new informant. "what did you see?"

"car-guy asked trenchcoat what he wanted for dessert." freya beams.

"this just in, men can learn manners." hutch inputs before exiting with his own tray.

"car-guy might always order the pie but it looks mutual!" farah points out indignantly but he's gone already.

nevermind, he'll be back in five.

"and what did trenchcoat say?" natasha asks, ignoring the other two.

"milkshake," freya replies, writing it on a post-it as she says it.

"one shake, two straws." farah gasps. "come on, frey. tell me it was one shake, two straws."

"two shakes, two straws." she scribbles away.

"maybe they're gonna share both." farah quickly supplies.

"nobody does that, farah." dallas retorts, and natasha makes a face at him, not willing to kill the former's hopes just yet. farah tends to get this forlorn look on her face when things go wrong — and it always reminds natasha of her dead cousin.

she clears her throat.

"look, it can be a date without the shared milkshake, people." a few thoughtful sounds come up, the gates swing, and chloe walks back in. "plus, we've still got all the staring, the lingering looks over the menu, the soulful eyefu —"

"but that's everyday, nat." freya sighs.

"it's different today —"

"— you know it isn't —"

"— and i can prove it." natasha finishes, earning herself looks of surprise from almost everyone around. she can, though. the diner's got a valentines discount on milkshakes all month, she can approach them about it. trenchcoat and car-guy don't have to know it's not just for couples. and on the (really, really) offchance that they aren't one, natasha could always just minus the discount from the total anyway and no one would be the wiser.

the idea had just come to her but she was fairly sure she could swing it.

farah had already picked up a tray with two soup bowls and a dish of croutons, but she puts it down, and replaces the to-be-forlornness with excitement. "how?"

"i'll," natasha smirks again. "talk to them."

another round of gasps. in this kitchen, the people were nothing if not dramatic.

this time, freya's the one who asks, "how?"

"well, i haven't waitressed for twelve years just to go about rattling off trade secrets, kids." natasha winks, and a few of them make indignant noises because only about one third of the staff was what could broadly be called new. most of them had been there for years, and were practically a part of her family now. but she picks up her own tray smoothly, conveniently having been slid to her counter just then, and sets off — to an audience of hopeful believers (and dallas)'s matching stares.

(natasha isn't exactly free of the flair for drama she'd just accused everyone in this kitchen of.)

once outside, she makes a beeline for the table her tray is actually for, leaves them it, and quickly heads for the infamous trenchcoat and car-guy table.

this is so going to work.

"so then i cut his —" car-guy stops mid-sentence, spotting her. a part of natasha seethes to know what he 'cut off', but being fodder for the kitchenstaff's are-they-dating games didn't take away their rights to privacy, and she respected those. the car-guy smiles shortly at her. "what's the matter," his eyes flick down to her nametag, flick right back. (definitely a good sign; most men linger.) "natasha?"

she puts on her best smile. "it's about the milkshakes."

"is there a problem?" car-guy eases into a wider smile. "do you not have them, not a single one, and do we have to order pie instead?"

car-guy's partner shakes his head exasperatedly. "dean, i hardly think that's what she'd be here about."

"well, a guy's gotta dream." car-guy — dean — instantly says, and goes back to his burger while trenchcoat speaks up instead.

"what's the matter?"

natasha doesn't let her smile budge. it's a hell of a customer service smile, she's been told. "i actually came here to ask if you would like me to add the date dessert discount on the milkshake. it's an all-february thing. not on all items." she clarifies, a reflexive response for why it hasn't come up before.

genius.

dean looks a little cornered — trenchcoat just looks confused.

"i don't understand." he says, after a moment's pause. "the milkshakes cost less just if dean and i are here on a date...?"

"it's not —" she balks a little at his seriousness. "it's actually not that big of a difference."

"that's...alright." trenchcoat tilts his head, and natasha suddenly realizes she's physically fighting the urge to stare. shit, dallas isn't half-wrong. "but why just milkshakes?"

dean lets out an uncomfortable laugh. "capitalism trying to crap all over the free man's heart and the supremacy of pie not enough reason for ya, cas?"

natasha stifles a smile.

that's actually a good line. maybe car-guy deserves more credit than just loyal-to-the-pie.

trenchcoat — okay, cas, at least while she's out here — still looks a little doubtful (and she has no idea why) but he nods at dean, and then looks up at her and nods again. "add the discount."

natasha has to resist the urge to let her jaw drop.

this entire conversation, she'd practically been sure they were heading towards a rejection of the 'date' clause. and her gut told her they weren't lying either.

well, well. always thrilling to be right.

"and thank you for telling us about it." cas continues, and her practised smile returns immediately. probably a little less obligatory.

"of course."

and dean still looks like he'd rather cut more whatever-he-was-talking-about's off rather than be here right now, so natasha goes to leave. but cas stops her right before she's out of reach.

"excuse me." he's the one smiling this time. "if you're not busy right away, could you tell us what other items are eligible for the february date discount?"

dean facepalms. "come on, dude."

cas gives him a look — and natasha was right, of course she was right, that's not a exasperated 'friend' look. "i'd like to know, dean."

to natasha's knowledge, they've never had trouble paying for anything before (hernandez, she thinks one of their surnames is, she's seen it on a card) but she can't object to 'cas' asking, of course. curiosity is also a well-off man's right.

"why?" dean asks vehemently, before she can start to rattle off the list.

"because," cas answers levelly. actually, he kind of sounds like he's using his dad voice. maybe he is a dad. "i think it's strange that we've never gotten the discount before, while we've been eating lunch here almost this entire month."

it's again hard for natasha to not just stare gapmouthed at them.

"those have been dates." she realizes belatedly and out loud, and receives a weird, distasteful look from dean, and an immediate nod from cas that makes her blurt out, "so this isn't your...first date."

they're dating.

oh, farah was going to lose her mind.

"is that a requisite clause?" cas asks politely, while dean just scrubs his face with a hand.

"no." she tells cas truthfully. "i'm sorry, i just assumed it was. your first, i mean."

"lady, we certainly don't look first date aged to me." dean butts in, not hostile, but like it's something that irks him. "and we've been married four years, so one would desperately hope it's not our first date, y'know."

married.

they're friggin' married.

natasha is an idiot, and her date-dar is probably due for an early retirement.

they've been married for four years.

"i'm...very sorry." she apologizes, mortified. "i had no idea. i —"

"it's fine." this time, dean's smiling, and cas's confused frown is back. it's like they take turns. natasha is almost grateful for it, to be fair, because both those smiles directed at her would've been a helluva lot more distracting. "really doesn't matter. and yeah, sure, add the milkshake discount but don't worry about the list of items." he turns to cas. "just have sam look it up for you when we get home. please."

cas seems to be prepared to acquiesce to that but natasha can't help her own curiosity this time. "is that your son?"

and she's halfway to regretting it the moment she registers having said it, even though thankfully neither of them look too offended. in fact, cas is back to smiling.

"he's dean's brother." cas tells her. "he's the one with jack right now." he pauses. "it's easier because he and eileen live with us."

"yeah, an in-house sitter who doesn't even like going out is really a department we won in." dean grins, solely at cas. as if he's momentarily forgotten all about natasha's presence (that had clearly been making him uncomfortable talking in front of, earlier) in just looking at his husband. natasha sends out a quick pre-prayer for farah. "sucks for eileen though."

"eileen is very happy with your brother, dean." cas chastises, his eyes nothing but affectionate even then, and natasha's head reels with how much she has to tell the waitstaff today.

they're going to friggin' adore her.

"so jack is your son," she confirms, less wary of their reaction to her question now that they looked to have settled into their own silent conversation.

"he's our son, yes." cas replies, simply.

"like, you and him." she flashes a smile at dean.

"us and sam." cas corrects, and dean facepalms again. for her part, natasha can do little more than blink.

"but —"

"it's complicated." dean cuts her off suddenly, and she flinches. he didn't even deny it, just...sidestepped it.

"i — i see." natasha clears her throat, still looking at cas in bewilderment.

cas probably doesn't notice because he's talking to dean again. "it's significantly less complicated than claire's parentage, dean. she has over six parental —"

jesus christ.

"aaand that's enough trivia for date night." dean interrupts loudly again, definitely for the best, because natasha was standing there like a thoughtless statue at this point. his raised voice shakes her out of her reverie, and she vaguely calculates the chances of crashing into a table if she tried to walk away right away.

"i'll," she mumbles instead, drawing in a breath forcefully. "i'll be back with your milkshakes."

"thank you!" cas calls after her as she half wobbles on her heels back to the kitchen.

inside, she puts her empty tray on the metal counter and her hands on both sides of it, bowing her head, and almost immediately ending up surrounded by a plethora of people — most of whom, in normal circumstances, would just have been eavesdropping from their respective stations.

farah's the first to ask, followed by hutch.

"so?"

"what did you find out?"

natasha closes her eyes. "they're married."

this time, the commotion is the largest yet. but she isn't done.

"and every single one of their meals here have been dates." freya pumps her fist, chloe squeezes farah's hand, and dallas tsks under his breath. the 'gallery' watchers appear ready to join in the cheering as well today. but the entire kitchen senses she isn't done yet, and waits fidgetingly for the rest of it.

"and," natasha swallows. "they're almost definitely in a cult."

[pingutats]

my dearest darling

in which you and harry spend a sunday morning having coffee & cake, and spontaneously decide to go engagement ring shopping together.

warnings: a little suggestive at the end. mostly just pure fluff!

word count: 3.4k

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

The little alleyway off the main street filled with café tables is a perfect place for you and Harry to sit unseen. In fact, in this little alcove, it’s easy to watch the world pass by the two of you. It’s a nice reprieve from the usual of the world watching Harry. 

He’s wearing sunglasses anyway, just in case—despite the overcast weather. 

You frown at him, resting your elbows on the table and lacing your fingers together to rest your chin on. “I really think that makes you more conspicuous.”

He scrunches up his nose. “Nah. Or at least, if people notice, they’re going to notice an odd bloke in sunnies, not me.”

“They’ll notice it’s you.”

He glances at the busy footpath. “‘S working so far, love.”

A young waitress rounds the corner from the cafe’s front entrance and sets your coffees down on the table. You move your elbows off the table politely to give her space.

“Thanks,” Harry says, reaching for his black coffee. 

You smile at the waitress as you wrap your hands around the latte you ordered, warming up your freezing fingers. You notice the way she hesitates before she leaves, how she looks at Harry like she wants to say something before before quickly spinning on her heels and walking away. When she’s out of earshot, you look at Harry. “She knows.”

He shrugs. “That’s different.”

The waitress reappears a minute later with the little cakes you ordered. This time, she’s braver. “I’m so sorry—are you Harry Styles?” she asks, saying his name in a voice that’s akin to a reverent whisper.

His eyes dart to you for a split second and he raises his eyebrow enough that only you’ll notice, conceding to you, then smiles at her. “Yeah, I am. Sorry, what’s your name?”

You watch him navigate the encounter easily, like you’ve watched so many times. The girl asks for a photo and he politely declines, explaining that he doesn’t want to draw attention, but offers to sign a napkin for her instead. He a short message (nice to meet you, all my love) to her and draws a couple hearts after he signs his name, then passes it to her with a sweetly genuine thanks her for her support. 

“Oh my gosh, no, thank you,” she says earnestly. “It was so, so nice to meet you.” She glances at you, then, and her cheeks go even pinker. “Thanks,” she says again, and then she’s gone.

You let a giggle free at the awkward way his fans treat you, like they don’t know if it’s appropriate to talk to you as well, and how they struggle to find something to say to you anyway. Once it might have bothered you. It’s just amusing to you now. You raise your brows at Harry. “All your love?” you tease, quoting the message he wrote on the napkin. “Where’s my share?”

He pouts from behind his sunglasses. “Don’t be like that.”

You kick his shin gently underneath the table. “I’m kidding around. She was sweet. I like watching you do that, you’re so good at it.”

His foot swings around to trap your ankle between his. “Trying to play footsie at eleven o’clock on a Sunday morning? You little minx.”

You roll your eyes and wrench your foot free, rattling the table as you do so. He laughs—a sharp barking ha! that makes you smile through your embarrassment at causing a small commotion. 

“Who’s conspicuous, sorry?” he asks.

 You shake your head at him and stab your fork into your apple and cinnamon muffin. He keeps giggling as he slides his own plate with the carrot cake to his side of the table and picks up a fork himself.

“Mm, that’s good,” he says after he swallows his first bite. “Better than the one I make.”

“Well, baking isn’t known to be one of your talents.”

He claps a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded.” He leans over the table and skewers a piece of your muffin on his fork, dodging your attempts to swat his hand away with great agility. He pops it in his mouth triumphantly, cocking his head like he’s challenging you. 

In return, you steal a piece of his cake. 

“That was a much larger piece than what I took,” he accuses. 

You shrug.

His phone, face down on the table, dings. He glances up at you. 

“Check it,” you tell him. You know he only has alerts on for his closest friends—otherwise his phone would be ringing all day long. “I don’t mind.”

He bites his lip apologetically and flips the phone over, reading it. “Oh, it’s Tom. Hang on a sec.” He starts typing back.

You crane your neck around to read the message—something about Tom being free at the end of July, and Harry is giving a thumbs-up to that.

“Where are you off to?” you ask. 

“France, maybe,” he replies. You’re aware that discovering this kind of information so suddenly would be jarring for most couples, enough to even incite a fight—but you and Harry aren’t exactly a normal couple, and international trips are just part and parcel of your relationship. Hell, he goes on world tours for months at a time. You’re lucky, you suppose, that you function just as well long-distance as you do when you’re living together. 

“Lads’ trip?”

He sends the message and clicks his phone off, leaning back in his chair. “Nah. Taking you to Paris and getting down on m’knee in front of the Eiffel Tower,” he says, nodding sagely. 

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, Tom’s there to get the photos.” He shovels a forkful of the cake into his mouth and then points his fork in the general direction of a street busker playing a violin across the road. He swallows. “And I’m getting that guy to play a little tune, for the atmosphere,” he adds. 

You raise your brows. “Oh, you’ve got budget for this, then.”

He smiles. “Nothing but the best for my dearest darling.”

You snort.

He carefully cuts a piece of cake with the edge of his fork. “Nah, we’re thinking of doing a trip down to his friend’s studio in—somewhere in France, I can’t remember really. Friends and family welcome too, if you want to come. Apparently it’s a real nice place.” He eats his mouthful and then lifts his sunnies to look at you with clear eyes. “We are getting married, though. I mean that.”

Your cheeks threaten to burst from how badly you want to smile, but you force yourself to assume a serious face, just to humour him. “Of course we are.”

Despite the butterflies it inspires, this conversation isn’t new. You’ve been with Harry a couple of years now and you both know you’re on the same page when it comes to your shared future. There are no hard plans, but the direction is set. You’re getting there someday. 

He puffs his cheeks out. “I feel like you aren’t taking this as seriously as I am.”

You sigh melodramatically. “Well, sweetheart, I haven’t seen a ring yet.”

“A ring? You should have asked,” he drawls, then suddenly sits up straight and points a finger at you. “Don’t take that as a challenge. I want to be the one to ask.”

You shrug. “Can’t make any promises.”

His arm shoots forward to grab at your hand and you almost laugh out loud at the puppy-eyes he’s making at you. “No, please, baby, I swear you can do everything else, but let me do the proposing bit.”

In your heart, you’re happy he’s so insistent, because this is exactly how you want it to be too. In your mind, though, you really enjoy tormenting him. 

“I’ll think about it,” you concede, and he groans.

“I’m buying a ring soon as I can, just to lock it in,” he tells you as he destroys what’s left of his carrot cake.

Once you’ve finished and Harry’s gone up to pay for the coffee and cake (he also took a moment to lean over the counter to snap a group selfie with the waitress who served you earlier and a couple others too) you walk back up the street in the general direction of your car that’s parked a few blocks down. The weather is pleasant today and the sun is even peeking out from behind the clouds now, justifying his sunglasses. 

Your mind starts to drift (his arm wrapped loosely around your waist anchors you to the real world) as you think about how nice it is to be with Harry, how you’ve learned to appreciate each physical moment you have with him because they are so precious. After the tours, the promotional trips, the film sets, and all the little things in between, you understand how to be with Harry. You know not everyone can handle a life like this, and you’re sure that if it wasn’t Harry whose return you awaited, you wouldn’t be able to either. But he always returns. 

Harry comes to a sudden halt in front of a shop window, gazing in. You’re nearly yanked off your feet as you keep trying to walk with your arm around him—he’s so steady that he doesn’t budge. You stand next to him and look into what you realise is a jewellery store. 

“What do you think?” he asks. 

“Huh?”

He looks down, his arm squeezing around your shoulder. “Said I’d get you a ring, didn’t I?”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach. “What, today?”

“‘M not asking. Just preparing.”

You raise your eyebrows up at him. “That is… that is really a technicality.”

“Humour me,” he says. “C’mon.” He shepherds you into the store, steering you by your shoulders. 

It’s small and pretty in here, the air from the fans cool against your sun-warmed skin. There are hardly any other customers at the moment, so you have some kind of valuable privacy. There are a couple of glass counters that run along either side of the store with meticulously placed themed displays inside them. You gravitate immediately to the closest thing, a cluster of rough amethysts hanging from necklaces. 

“Aren’t these so cute?” you comment to Harry.

His arms wrap around you from behind and you reach up to grasp onto his crossed forearms resting against your chest. “Oh, yeah, they are.”

You stay there looking at the necklaces for a little too long—it’s not like you’re really that fascinated by the jewels, but more that you’re just enjoying Harry’s head leaning over your shoulder and his chest pressed to your back as you stand there. When your gaze meanders along the counter and you see something new, though, you shake free of his grip and follow your whims.

This store isn’t labelled out front with a massive brand. You’re pretty sure it’s an independent jeweller, judging by the neat description cards that accompany each small collection, explaining the theme in a lively and personal manner. This is what makes you really fall in love with the place and feel sure that this is where you’ll find the perfect ring. You know Harry could afford any ring from any famous brand, the heaviest jewels imaginable, easily worthy of a feature article in Vogue magazine. He could probably organise to have a diamond dug up fresh specifically to go on your finger. 

It’s the fact that Harry could give you anything in the world that makes you not want it at all. Special, to the two of you, isn’t something that you’ll find in wealth or the crowds that adore him.

It’s found in a day like this.

“Oh, my god, H, look at this one,” you gasp, grabbing his wrist and pulling him over.

He bends over the counter, his gaze following the line of your pointing finger. “Oh, that is pretty,” he says. 

It’s a simple gold band with a small, neatly carved diamond fixed to it. It isn’t flashy at all, which is what drew you to it. You knew he’d like it too. Despite the decadence of his performances, he can be a different man behind closed doors and you love that part of him. The secret part, the one that only you know so well. 

“I’m in love with it,” you tell him.

Harry nods. “Yeah, I think that’s the one.”

You never doubted that he would agree, but his assent sends a bolt of excitement up your spine. It’s all so real, suddenly, and you can’t wait to see him on his knee for you, to see that ring on your finger. You know your ring size off by heart (how could you not, being in a relationship with the jewellery connoisseur that Harry is), so there’ll be no need for you to try it on today. You’re left with only the raw anticipation of the day he’ll slide it onto your finger. 

His hands come down to rest on your hips as you both stare at the ring. You imagine you can hear his heart, knowing that it’ll be beating erratically because his excitement must match yours—you know how he feels about the idea of marriage. 

He spins you around to face him, leaving his hands on your hips. He looks at you very seriously. His sunglasses are resting on top of his head now, pushing back his curls and revealing his green eyes and furrowed brow to you.

“You know, if we’re seen buying an engagement ring…” he begins, trailing off. He shrugs. “Just want to think about that.”

You screw up your nose. “According to some magazines we got married last week, and also six months ago. Just being in here is probably going to spark something.” You glance behind you, as if you’ll see journalists scribbling away on their theories, then flatten your palms against his chest, smoothing out his shirt. “I’m happy to ignore it. I want to just do our thing, H.”

He nods, pursing his lips, and gradually the crease in his forehead disappears. “Okay. Good.” Twin smiles spread over your faces and you have the feeling of being two giddy kids, high-schoolers about to have their first kiss. Something new, unknown, exciting, that the two of you are going into together. His eyes are practically sparkling at you. If this was a cartoon, you think his pupils would be shaped like hearts right now. Something is starting to bud and you can feel it growing up inside you and between you, preparing to bloom. 

“Alright,” you say, breaking the insulating silence to draw you both back to the real world. 

He blinks a couple of times as if he’s just waking up. “Alright,” he echoes. “Let’s get it.”

He waves over a man drifting through the store in a neat suit and points at the ring. “Excuse me, can we please have a look at this one?”

The two of you watch the man unlock the cabinet and slide the plate of rings out, placing it on the counter. He picks up the one Harry pointed out. “It’s a lovely one, sir.”

“It is,” Harry says. His hand finds yours and squeezes your fingers. “What size is it?”

The man checks the price and tells you, and your mouth drops open. Surely there is something supernaturally perfect going on, because it’s exactly your size. You and Harry look at each other incredulously. 

The man seems to notice your unspoken conversation, because he helpfully adds, “We can resize it if you need.”

Harry chuckles. “No, it’s perfect. I think…” he trails off, looking at you. “What do you think?”

You nod at him, grinning. You rub your thumb over the back of his palm as he tells the man, “Thank you. We’d like this one, please.”

You stand slightly behind him as he pays for it, flexing your hands and wringing them in front of you. You know it’s all in your head, but your left ring finger is tingling as if it senses that it’s missing a piece. You really just want to wear the ring at this minute, but when the man selling it to you offers, Harry shakes his head quickly. 

“I’ll hold onto it for now,” he says. He accepts the little box from the man and slips it into his pocket. “Thank you so much.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, sir. Enjoy it, and congratulations to the two of you.”

Harry snakes his arm around your waist as you walk back out to the street. His hips knock against you as he squeezes you into his side, and you can feel the little box in his pocket. You can’t help the grin that takes over your whole face. You worry you look like an idiot, smiling so widely at nothing, but when you glance up at Harry, he looks exactly the same.

Your car is parked down a quieter road and you get to relax a little once you’re away from the crowds of the main shopping strip. You can walk a little more slowly and Harry loosens up a bit. His hyper-vigilance starts to strip away. You can see the tension in his shoulders dissolving and here’s your Harry, emerging from his defensive layers. Most people wouldn’t notice this change, but you do. You feel how he adjusts the grip of his hand on your hip, how he leans into you a little more as you walk. In your closeness, you can smell his cologne and you think of how you watched him spray it on this morning—and how you’re going to be watching him do that for the rest of your lives.

He glances over his shoulder and you copy him. The narrow street behind you is empty, but you don’t get a moment to really register this before you feel his arms tighten around your waist and you’re swept off your feet for a second as he crashes his lips into yours.

You close your eyes, letting the kiss envelop all your senses. The sweetness of the cake’s icing lingering on his lips; his arms locked around your waist, holding you up; the rapid beating of your heart. He pulls away slowly and your eyes flutter open. His face is just inches from yours and he’s looking at you with such intensity you feel naked. Not for the first time, you’re in awe of how impossibly green his eyes are; you could make a palette from every forest in the world, and it wouldn’t hold a candle to what you see in front of you right now.

“Y/N,” he says. He cracks a grin. “I’m so fucking happy.”

Your reply is simply to grab him by the back of his neck and pull him in for another kiss. Your hand tangles in his hair and you feel his tongue running along your bottom lip before he pulls away again quickly.

“Fuck,” he says, sounding lost for breath. “Need to stop before I make a fool of m’self in public.” He even physically takes a step back from you, his eyes comically wide.

You giggle. Your gaze travels down his body and you notice the indent of the box in his pocket. “Is that a ring in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

He shakes his head at you. “You’ve gone all giddy. ‘M getting you home right now and then we’re celebrating properly.” He turns around and starts walking towards the car, his long legs carrying him faster than you can keep up.

Your stomach flutters imagining what his idea of celebrating might be. Suddenly, the only thing on your mind is getting back to your house as soon as humanly possible. You run after Harry, skipping around in front of him and jogging backwards as you waggle your fingers in his face. “So, when are you going to pop the question?” you ask.

“Oh, honey,” he says, patting his pocket with the ring. He grins. “It’s going to be when you least expect it, I’ll promise you that.”

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed—if you did, a reblog or a message is really encouraging and lovely for me to see!! the title is taken from the song by etta james.

this fic is the first part of a series called “here we are in heaven,” and i’m really really excited about it. you can read my earlier fic, at last!, if you want to see where this will end up, but there will be more parts to fill the in-between. plus blurbs and stuff! let’s chat about it! 

my masterlist can be found here. have a beautiful day!