#Truthfully replied: 'being friends with your fiancé

[dhwty-writes]

the mortifying ordeal of being loved by your friends

[strawberry-nugget]

Based on this little post about you and Katsuki accidentally letting it slip out that you're pregnant during the events of chapter 431

The atmosphere in the izakaya is lively, filled with laughter and chatter as everyone gathered to celebrate a rare moment of relaxation and happiness; Shoto has finally reached his place as the 2nd Hero of Japan at the HBJ and that is an excuse that’s good enough to have your former classmates gather all together.

You enter the place— late and out of breath. The paperwork you had to fill out had been too much, so damn much that you had to beg Katsuki not to pick you up from the agency, to which he begrudgingly said yes, opting to actually pick up Izuku instead to at least try and show off his new car.

‘Leave the fucking paperwork to me and come have dinner babe’ he had texted you, but you were stubborn enough as to not burden him with any more paperwork than he already has on his own.

‘Won’t be late’ you had replied and truthfully you hadn’t meant to lie to him.

Yet here you are now, thirty minutes late. 

Your fiancé is eyeing you like a menace. Up and down, from your panting face to your loose sundress and grunts the second you twist the engagement ring on your finger so that the diamond faces your palm. You only manage to shoot him back with an apologetic look before you get swamped by your friends.

Tonight is supposed to be for Todoroki and you curse yourself for not taking off the ring before you left the agency.

“I'm sorry I'm so late you guys!” You announce, hurriedly shoving a gift bag in Todoroki’s hands. “Bakugo and I got this for you Shoto” you say, handing him the gift card you so meticulously crafted the night before.

“Thank you! It means so much” Todoroki comments something that reaches Bakugo’s side, yet, you’re still so out of breath you don’t quite catch it. Especially not with the girls pulling you to them.

“Oh my gooood here she is!” Yaoyorozu exclaims im surprise. “I loooove your dress”

immediately you’re greeted with Izuku sitting next to Bakugo. 

“Wait, why didn’t you greet Bakugo! Are you guys in a fight?”

“Whaaat? No!” You giggle, trying to ruffle your hand through his hair when he growls at you “you guys just swamped me with affection that’s all, i'm a little dizzy from being so hungry!”

You whine, partially from your angry, rumbling belly and the anxiety of trying to cover the bump of your belly. It’s hard to escape the hugs the girls are trying to pull you in.

Katsuki, ever the hero, stands up and pushes everyone away from you, ready to yell at the girls for trying to suffocate you with how tight all of them are trying to hug you.

You sigh in relief as Katsuki clears some space around you, his hand wiggling around your waist before resting firm on the small of your back as he glares at the girls. “Oi, let her breathe, damn it.”

Mina pouts, crossing her arms. “We missed her, okay?”

“You’re crushing her,” Katsuki bites back, and though his tone is sharp, there’s an unmistakable layer of concern underneath.

“We never see her with you taking up all her time!” Jirou remarks and you ease an awkward smile at her.

“That’s still not an excuse to crush her” He scowls, eyes flickering over you, and you know exactly what he’s thinking before he even says it. “You look exhausted. You pushed yourself too hard. Should’ve just let me pick you up.”

“And let you fill out my paperwork? Never.”

The pads of his fingers linger on the side of your swelling stomach, firmly. It’s barely enough for anyone to notice but you know exactly what he means. The two of you share a look that’s too tense; you, because you’re trying to tell him to be discreet, while he is trying to get you to finally let your tired body rest. Anybody that looks at him will just know that it’s only just a look of concern, nothing more.

“Sit down already,” He says, tugging you toward his empty seat, far away from your pouting girl friends, before shooting a sharp glare at Izuku.

“Move it nerd” 

Izuku is shoved to the side, only ever just a little. Katsuki knows you’ll be all over and up his ass at home if he gets too violent out of his frustration. It’s just that he can’t help it but want you sitting right next to him. It’s his fault for not saving that seat for you in the first place anyways.

“Man” Kirishima whines “you’re with her all day, damn, don’t push Midoriya like that”

Bakugo scoffs. “Tch. Like I give a damn. Get your own woman and have her sit away from you then. Let’s see if you like that”

Mina gasps. “Oh my god, whipped behavior.”

“Shut the hell up,” Katsuki mutters, but his hand still lingers on your back, his fingers tracing small, absentminded circles over your dress.

You stick your tongue out at Mina before finally sitting down, feeling Katsuki’s warmth beside you as he pulls you impossibly close. The room is still loud, still buzzing with excitement, but the moment he slides a plate of chicken skewers in front of you—without even asking—you swear the knot of tension in your chest finally loosens.

Pheeewfff! Your tense shoulders can finally, finally rest.

“Eat,” Katsuki mutters, like it’s a demand, but the way he does it—low, just for you to hear—makes your heart swell.  If he wasn’t so embarrassed of pda, you would be shoving your tongue down his throat now. Instead, you let your stomach talk.

“Babe, i want a starter first, what do we have?”

“Oh there’s sashimi!” Shoto remarks, sitting down next to Izuku on the other side of the table. “Want some?”

You light up immediately– its almost cartoony, the way your mouth starts watering at the mention of the dish. Your eyes, heart and stomach flutter at the thought that this is a far better choice than the skewers! “Sashimi?” You yelp, lower lip trembling. “They serve it at this place?”

“Well yeah, and its soooo good” Kaminari remarks from the other side of the room

“Gimme Gimme, im craving it so hard right now”

You throw grabby hands at Shoto, ready to take the serving plate of sashimi in front of you and dive into it. Oh how you’ve longed for this– the simple, delicious taste, paired with some soy sauce, ohhh you can barely keep your drool inside your mouth.

“Like hell you’re having this” Katsuki whisper-yells at you, shooting you a deadly stare while he’s holding his skewer to the side of his mouth, making you pause midair–Todoroki too. “We’ve been over this, no raw fish”

“Shut your pie hole so hard right now Katsuki, just one won’t do me any harm”

“It absolutely can if the fish isn’t well prepared”

“So you didn't have any? You ask, still whispering at him, still keeping Todoroki on the wait. He doesn’t respond, only looks away, too embarrassed to admit that he broke his promise of not eating food you’re not supposed to eat too while you’re pregnant. 

Quirking an eyebrow at Katsuki, you shove your tongue out at him “No answer huh? I knew it… I'm gone for thirty minutes and you eat sashimi behind my back! When you know I'm craving it so hard.”

“Uh guys? Everything alright?” Todoroki asks, brows furrowed in your direction. Both you and Katsuki snap your heads in his direction.

“Yes” You trail off “Katsuki and I are having a disagreement. He says i shouldn’t mix fish with chicken”

“Oh it's fine Kacchan! She’ll be alright, we all had it” Izuku smiles– horrible choice, really, because Katsuki shoots him too with a murderous glare. So much for trying to keep this pregnancy a secret.

“Shut your damn mouth, Deku” Katsuki hisses, shooting him the kind of glare that could actually kill him. Izuku physically recoils, pressing his lips together awkwardly like they might actually betray him again.

In the meanwhile, you take advantage of Katsuki’s distraction. You reach for the sashimi with the speed of someone who has trained for this moment their entire life, you’re faster than Iida himself with your two own chopsticks.

Only for Katsuki to slap your hand away.

You gasp, cradling your wrist like he just committed an unforgivable crime “Katsuki.”

“The hell you tryna pull? I said no.”

“You’re literally the worst person I’ve ever met, let me have my sashimi” you whisper-yell, shaking your hand out dramatically before making another grab for the plate.

He’s faster. He yanks it away from you entirely, holding it just out of reach like you’re some sort of toddler throwing a fit.

“Give me the fish, Katsuki.” you pout, trying to sport your best puppy eyes at him, hoping, praying that this would get him. You need your sushi and you need it now!

“No.”

Of-fucking-course it doesn’t work. 

“Shoto, pass me the soy sauce real quick.”

Todoroki, as puzzled as anyone in the room right now, smiles at you and nods in agreement. He doesn’t realise that Katsuki and you aren't just playfully bickering, and actually reaches for the soy sauce to give it to you.

With quick, slick movements, you manage to grab onto a piece of sashimi before Katsuki growls—an actual animalistic noise that makes everyone pause.

Everyone stops and stares.

Todoroki sighs, retracting his hand. “I’m staying out of this.”

“You better!” Bakugo says, still trying to shove your wiggling hand away from the plate. It’s turned into a full commotion right now, so much that Iida feels the need to step in.

“Ahem! My dear friends, let us not forget that we are here to celebrate Todoroki’s accomplishment, not engage in uncivilized acts. Bakugo stop teasing your girlfriend and give her the—”

“Shut up Four eyes!” Katsuki yells, still locked in trying to soothe the tantrum that you're throwing over a piece of fucking fish right now.

Iida gasps, scandalized, before returning to his seat, as if reasoning with the two of you is impossible. “Such disrespect!”

Truthfully Iida is right. You shouldn’t be acting like this but no one in this room is in a position to understand you. You know you shouldn’t be causing a commotion but… It's all because Katsuki doesn't let you eat your goddamn sushi. Had he allowed you to eat just one bite, you wouldn’t be acting like this.

"Don’t fucking eat sashimi” he yells and pokes the food away from your chopsticks. The piece falls shattered into your plate and for a second, you mourn that loss of a good bite.

Finally, he smiles in victory!

"But I'm craving it!” You’re practically vibrating with desperation now –please someone make this menace of a man that you’re engaged to, pity you and give you the one bite you so desperately want. Even if its ruined.

“I don't care, it's dangerous”

You pout as you look at him, stubbornly trying to pick up the disheveled pierce of sashimi so you could bring it to your lips again

“I said don’t!” He growls and you bring the piece right under your nose.

"At least let me smell it im craving it so hard right now”

“Kacchan” Izuku speaks again, shyly, and mentions your name right after your fiances “you guys stop acting like this! It’s not nice— or polite” 

"Not my fault!” Katsuki says, chest swelling as you lower your shoulders, already defeated in the battle to retake your sushi piece. You begrudgingly reach for a skewer, much to everyone’s pleasure and he looks at you with a million yen smile.

Oh if only you could wipe that smirk from his face right now, you would.

"But it is your fault” you whine barely above a whisper, while only looking at him "you knocked me up remember? Now I have cravings and it's your. Damn. Fault”

Katsuki scowls, jabbing his chopsticks in your direction like they’re a damn weapon. “Oh, so now it’s my fault?” He laughs, careful not to speak too loud.

“Yes, obviously!” You huff, still pouting. “You did this to me, and now I have cravings, and now I need sashimi! Katsuki, baby please! Just one bite!”

“Like hell!” he barks, smacking your chopsticks away again. “I don’t want you risking anything”

“But it’s calling me!” You press a hand to your heart as if you can hear the fish whispering to you.

Kaminari, stuffing his face with grilled meat, watches the two of you with lazy amusement. “Man, this is better than TV.”

“They’re made for each other, I swear” Sero says, shutting his eyes just so he can avoid looking at the ridiculous scene of you and Bakugo having a food war in front of him.

Mina is elbowing Kirishima violently. “You seeing this?! He’s not even letting her smell it! That’s some next-level possessiveness—” Kirishima winces as he rubs his side. “Ow, yeah, yeah, I see it! You don’t have to break my ribs, jeez.”

“Okay but, like—why is he so hellbent on keeping it away from her?” Jirou mutters, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

And then, finally, Izuku, whose brain has been in overdrive for the past three minutes, snaps.

“Wait.” His hands fidget on his drink, his pupils are huge, his expression a mixture of shock and absolute horror. 

“You… you can’t have raw fish…” he whispers.

You blink, momentarily distracted from your food war just to shoot him a casual “Uh. Yeah?” like it's the most natural thing in the world.

“Oi, shut it, nerd—” Katsuki grits his teeth, muscles tense, like he already knows Izuku has figured you out.

Of course he has.

Izuku Midoriya is a smart man.

He’s spent his entire life analyzing quirks, movements, and battle strategies. He can read people like an open book. He notices the smallest changes in behavior, the subtle shifts in tone, the micro-expressions that most wouldn’t even think twice about.

But right now? Right now, as he watches you and Katsuki bicker like absolute lunatics over a single piece of sashimi? His brain is short-circuiting.

Something isn’t adding up.

And the way you were twisting that ring on your left hand so awkwardly when you arrived… The way Katsuki’s fingers lingered on the side of your stomach? Your very out of character- too loose- sundress?

“Don’t fucking eat the sashimi!” Katsuki growls, practically smacking the chopsticks out of your hands.

“But I’m craving it!” you whine, reaching for another piece like some tragic protagonist in a dramatic food war anime.

“I don’t care! It’s dangerous!”

Izuku’s brows furrow. Dangerous?

It’s not like you’ve got some extreme fish allergy. You eat sushi all the time. Izuku has seen you shove an ungodly amount of salmon rolls into your mouth during class reunions. So why would it suddenly be dangerous now?

You huff, glaring at Katsuki as you very stubbornly pick up the poor, disheveled slice of sashimi again. “I said—” you lift it toward your lips, determination burning in your eyes, “—at least let me smell it! I’m craving it so bad right now.”

Katsuki leans in close, his voice a threatening whisper. “Not. My. Fault.”

You gasp, smacking a hand against your chest like he just betrayed you in a courtroom drama. “But it is your fault!” You whine dramatically. “You knocked me up, remember? Now I have cravings and it’s your. Damn. Fault.”

Izuku freezes.

His brain screeches to a violent halt.

Knocked up?

Cravings?

No raw fish?

His mind suddenly goes into overdrive, running a thousand miles per second like he’s just been thrown into a high-stakes investigation. He blinks rapidly, green eyes darting between the two of you.

Wait… wait, wait, wait. No way. There’s no way. Right?

He thinks back. The exhaustion on your face. The way you came in, out of breath. The way Katsuki practically forced you into his seat. The subtle tension in the way he watches you. The way he ripped you away from the girls’ group hug, claiming they’re suffocating you?

Now you’re craving food you literally cannot have? And you’re blaming Kacchan for it?

A bead of sweat forms on Izuku’s forehead.

Oh my god.

He can hear the puzzle pieces clicking together in his brain. The metaphorical red strings connecting at lightning speed. The sheer weight of realization slamming into him like a United States of Smash.

He grips his chopsticks, trembling. He calls out your name like its a cry for help! “Kacchan knocked y-you up? Are you pregnant?”

You freeze.

The chopsticks in your hand hover over the plate of sashimi. Your breath catches in your throat. It’s like someone pressed pause on the entire universe, and all that’s left is the deafening silence of impending doom.

Next to you, Katsuki's whole body tenses like a bomb about to go off. His eye twitches. His fingers twitch. His entire soul twitches.

Fuck– There’s no getting out of this now.

You can feel every single pair of eyes locking onto you.

Your heart pounds. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. You feel like a criminal caught red-handed by the world's greatest detective. Get your only crime has ever been very hot and unprotected sex with Katsuki. And the impending doom of a breeding kink!?

You glance at Katsuki. He looks like he’s trying to telepathically tell you to lie, gaslight, deflect, anything to get Izuku to shut the fuck up. You are not supposed to announce this at someone else’s major milestone celebration.

But how were you supposed to recover from this?! He said it out loud! There was no coming back from this! Even if Katsuki grabs at your waist to urge you to so something.

You try. You really do. You force a casual laugh, waving your chopsticks. “Pffft—what? Nooo, what? Pregnant? Who, me? That’s crazy! I just— I mean, haha, I just—”

You glance at Katsuki again, desperate for some backup, but he looks about five seconds away from flipping the entire table over.

Izuku leans in, eyes practically burning through your soul, his eyebrow raised to practically his hairline. “You just what?”

You panic. Your eyes dart to Todoroki, who is watching the scene unfold with genuine curiosity, as if this is some kind of high-stakes soap opera. Mina’s jaw is already on the floor. Kaminari is shaking in anticipation.

You do the only thing you can think of.

You launch on the sashimi and try to shove it into your mouth. Katsuki’s eyes snap back to you, and he immediately stops your hand by grabbing your wrist.

“NO FUCKING RAW FISH.”

“DAMN IT, KATSUKI!”

The entire room erupts. Everything descends into pure chaos; Mina screeches, Kaminari bursts into laughter, Jirou’s hand flies to her mouth. Amidst it all, Katsuki just slams his forehead against the table, letting out the deepest, most suffering-filled sigh of his life. “Deku, I fucking hate you.”

Todoroki just nods, with a stank face at it “Yes. That confirms it.”

And Izuku… looks like he’s about to pass out.

Kirishima slaps his hands on the table, eyes gleaming with realization. “holy shit dude, you’re having a baby!?!” Mina follows his lead and jumps out of her chair. “Oh myyy goooood, we’re gonna be aunts and uncles!”

You groan in response too, shoving your face into your hands. You’re too embarrassed to say anything. No one was supposed to find out just yet. “Oh my god. We were not supposed to tell you guys yet— I’m so sorry for ruining your big night Shoto!” 

“Oh it’s fine” he says “I think i figured this has been going on for a while!”

“A while?” Ochako yelps from her seat. “How far along are you?”

“Five months” you reply and the girls all swoon at you— all the while Todoroki deadpans his answer while shooting it to your fiance”

“I uhm, saw the ring for starters, and also I noticed the way Bakugo has been acting. It reminded me of my father when—”

“Don’t you dare fucking finish that sentence. Don’t compare me to him. I’m never gonna be that type of father” Katsuki roars, turning murderous eyes on him. Though at this point, all of Katsuki’s threats are falling on deaf ears because everyone is already going absolutely feral.

“So you are really pregnant!” Jirou gasps, pointing an accusing finger at you. “That wasn’t just a joke, was it?!”

“I knew something was off! You haven't complained about your periods for so long!” Mina howls, shaking you by the shoulders like a woman possessed.

Kirishima slams his hands on the table, beaming so wide it’s almost blinding. “Dude! This is huge! You’re gonna be a dad, bro!”

“If you don't shut up right now, Shitty Hair!” Katsuki barks, looking this close to launching him through the ceiling. “We didn’t wanna tell you tonight” he adds, hands finally wrapping around you supportively “Deku had to go and fucking ruin it!” 

Izuku, who still looks like he’s trying to restart his entire operating system, squeaks, “I— I was just— I connected the dots!”

“You didn’t have to connect the dots, you dumbass!” Katsuki explodes, veins practically popping.

“Oh, oh, but it’s okay for you to connect the dots when we were sixteen, huh?” Izuku fires back. “When you figured out my quirk and wouldn’t let me breathe for a whole year?!”

“Oh, don’t even start—”

“Wait, wait, wait—” Kaminari waves his arms, trying to stop the growing chaos. “This is so not the point right now! The point is—” he pauses, grinning, before turning back to you with stars in his eyes. “Holy fucking shit, you and Kacchan of the Bakugos are having a baby.”

Everyone pounces to congratulate you, hug you, swamp you with a thousand questions before returning back to their seats for a toast.

You take a moment to breathe, but the flurry of emotions swirling around you feels overwhelming. Your heart races, and anxiety grips your chest like a vice. It’s one thing to share your pregnancy with Katsuki; it’s another entirely to do it in front of all your friends–on a night where you’re definitely not supposed to–having them buzz with excitement and questions.

Amidst the chaos, you can feel the tightening in your chest growing, and you instinctively lean closer to Katsuki, gripping onto his bicep, seeking his warmth and reassurance. The moment you press against him, his arm wraps around your shoulder, pulling you against him tenderly. It’s as if he’s creating a barrier between you and the whirlwind of noise around you, a protective shield against the intensity of the moment.

“Hey,” he murmurs softly, lowering his voice so only you can hear. “Breathe. You’re okay.”

You look up at him, and his vermillion eyes lock onto yours. His thumb starts to rub soothing circles on your shoulder, grounding you as he leans in just a bit closer. “Forget them for a second. Just focus on me.”

You nod, though your heart is still racing, and you swallow hard, trying to shake off the anxiety that makes you feel so small. The excited chatter from your friends feels distant, muffled, as you concentrate on Katsuki’s presence next to you.

“I can’t believe everyone knows,” you admit, your voice barely a whisper. “I just didn’t want them to find out like this”

“I know baby, i know”

“Kacchan if you need any help you can just ask i’ll be so glad to–”

“Deku, can you shut your damn mouth for two seconds?” Katsuki groans, way too loud for your own sanity and tries to help you get up, just to get some air. You can’t look at him. You can’t look at anyone. You stare down at the table, where your heart sinks lower and lower. You’re embarrassed. You’re overwhelmed. 

And luckily, your man, your hero, pulls you out of the izakaya right on time.

The night air is hot as you and Bakugo slip out the entrance of the pub, the muffled sounds of laughter and clinking glasses fading behind you. The street is quiet, dimly lit by flickering street lamps, and for a moment, you stand there, tucked tightly in his broad chest as he pulls you right into him.

“Finally,” Bakugo mutters, running a hand through his hair, his other hand pulling you closer, as if shielding you from the rest of the world. “I'm so sorry baby, I shouldn’t have pushed too much about the sashimi.”

You let out a small laugh, your heart racing from the excitement and the anxiety of everyone finding out you’re pregnant—even that the two of you are engaged— due to that previous back and forth. “It’s okay, it was fun. I just didn’t expect all this that’s all”

“Well, we did just drop a huge bomb on everyone.”

Silently, you playfully punch his chest “you’re so funny when you make puns like this”

“Look at me baby” He says, fingers gently lifting your chin to make you look up at him. When you do, hesitantly, he smiles at you like a dork “Hey there, you doin’ okay?”

You nod, fingers curling into the fabric of his t-shirt.

Bakugo exhales sharply, his other hand gripping your waist. “You know I love you, right? And I love you pregnant. You look fucking amazing and we shouldn’t hide it.”

“But I kinda liked that it was our secret, it was just for us, just you and me you know”

Katsuki kisses your forehead in response, muttering something about how beautiful you look like this, that he doesn’t care if this isn’t something you could keep to yourselves anymore. “I dint give a fuck, they’d find out eventually. Just want you attached to my hip al the time, fuck you’re so fucking hot.”

The way he gazes at you– eyes filled with admiration and desire, sends a thrill through your body. “Really?” you whisper, feeling your insides melt already.

“Damn right,” he growls, leaning in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re swollen with my baby, and it drives me absolutely insane.”

Heat pools in your belly at his words, and suddenly it’s overwhelming in the best way possible; all the anxiety you’ve previously felt fades away into nothing.

Before you can respond, he crushes his lips against yours in a heated kiss. It’s electric, desperate, as if he’s trying to convey everything he feels in that one moment. You melt against him, your arms wrapping around his neck as he presses you back against the wall, his hands firm on your hips.

“God, you’re driving me fucking crazy,” he mutters against your lips, his voice rough with need. “You know that, right?”

You barely have time to reply before he kisses you again, hunger igniting between you. He pulls you closer, and the kiss deepens, his teeth grazing your lower lip, coaxing a small moan from you. His grip tightens, and you can feel the heat radiating from him, setting your entire body on fire.

Every worry you had dissipates and you lose yourself in him. You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more of him. He slides his hands along your waist, his touch as soft as feather before landing his palms over the curve of your hips.

“Oh my GOD!”

Damn. Fucking hell, you can’t even have a moment to yourselves with those idiots around.

Both of you freeze, hearts racing as you turn to see Mina standing just a few feet away, eyes wide with shock. “You two are so cute! But seriously, why are you making out in an alleyway? This is scandalous! Bakugo do you wanna fall lower into the charts?”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, though a grin threatens to break free. “What the hell?! Get lost Racoon eyes”

“Sorry, sorry! I just wanted to make sure you’re okay!” Mina giggles, her voice too loud in the still night air. “But, I mean, I can’t blame you! Look at you two!”

You bury your face in Bakugo’s shoulder, mortified, while he huffs out a frustrated breath. Bakugo grumbles curses under his breath as Mina hauls you both back toward the izakaya, but before you can step through the door a faint voice, almost hesitant, speaks from nearby.

“…Are they done making out yet?”

Everyone turns in your direction. 

Just how much more embarrassment can you endure tonight?

~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2025. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work.

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[callsign-rockstar]

I do - N. Bradshaw

After a couple years of being engaged, Y/n and Nick Bradshaw were finally getting married. Even though the proposal had taken place years before the wedding, there was one more thing Nick had to say "I do" to on the day-of :)

a/n: sorry again for being so inactive!! this was a request and so is dedicated to @fandomstanner24 who requested it. I really hope y'all enjoy it, (stop reading this a/n if u dont wanna know what the surprise is, keep reading if u do) and if you want to know what y/n asks goose at the end/what the surprise was it's that she's preggers again :,).

•─────────────•°•❀•°•─────────────•

Opening her eyes, Y/n registered that today was different. She wasn’t waking up by her fiancé’s side. She was not, however, alone in her hotel bed. Her best friend, Penny, was waking up next to her, eyes sparkling while she was thinking about the day ahead. She shot up like a spring and shook y/n fully awake.

“Come on, y/n/n, we have to get you ready!”, Penny said.

“We can stay here for like, 5 more minutes, you know? We’re supposed to be up at 7 and its like, 6:30.”, replied y/n.

“Why am I more excited about this wedding than you are? Are you getting cold feet?”, asked Penny with mock concern. She grabbed her best friend and looked her in the eyes.

“If you want to ditch, I can be your getaway driver”, said Penny. And although it was a joke, somewhere in the back of her eyes, y/n knew Penny was more than willing to run away with her.

But y/n didn’t want that. Although she was nervous, she wanted to marry Nick Bradshaw more than anything she had ever wanted in this lifetime. 

“Shut up, Penny! I promise we’ll still be as close as we are now, if that’s what you’re worried about.”, replied y/n smiling and sitting up. 

Penny smiled and gave her best friend a hug, whispering in her ear that she loved her.

Neither of the expected to cry until the wedding itself, but on days like these emotions are running high. So, at 6:35 am, they were crying in each others arms.

They had been through everything together, and Penny could not be happier that her best friend was finally getting married to Goose. She knew they were soulmates, and she wasn’t worried about her friendship with Y/n because they were more than friends, they were sisters and twin flames. And nothing could ever take that away from them.

Both women got up and went downstairs for an early breakfast alone. They knew that this was probably one of the last moments they’d get to be alone together considering the day, so they enjoyed every last bit. The rest of the bridal party was supposed to get up at 7:00 like they had planned but quiet downtime was much appreciated. When they were done, they got to relax for a while up in their room. 

“I’m nervous, Penny. I have to call my parents and ask about Bradley. I miss him a lot and I want to know if he’s ok.”, said y/n, already dialing her parents’ house phone number into the hotel’s.

“Honey, I get it, getting married is big and nerve wracking. But I’m sure Bradley is perfectly fine! In fact, I bet he’s still asleep”, says Penny.

“Hi mom! Sorry for calling so early, I just wanna know how Bradley is.,” said y/n.

“He’s doing great princess. He just woke up, actually, do you wanna say hi?”, said y/n’s mom through the phone.

“Yes!”, exclaimed the bride-to-be.

“Hi mommy!”, said Bradley.

“Hi, honey. Have you had fun with your grandparents?” Asked y/n.

“Yes! We played with my toys and then we…”

Bradley proceeded to tell his mom about the time they’d been apart. Truthfully, he sounded like a big kid, despite only having turned 4 years old. It made y/n tear up a little bit, and it also brought back memories of when he was born. Nick had proposed to her only a couple weeks before they found out she was pregnant, and when they found out they figured they would rather focus all their energy into the baby and making sure y/n had the best pregnancy possible than to split the efforts between that and the wedding. That’s why it had been pretty much 5 years and they hadn’t gotten married yet.

But it was finally the day and they couldn’t be more excited.

Neither of the women knew, but Maverick and Goose were both asleep in their own hotel room, snoring the morning away. Nick woke up before his best friend, appreciating a second alone before Pete woke up. 

He sat with his feet on the floor, breathing in and out slowly and feeling the morning chill in the dark room. He drew the curtains slowly and stood right next to the window, observing the streets below. The sun was shining and the birds were chirping. Everything was still for a fleeting moment, until he felt Maverick’s hand on his back.

“Ready, Goose?”, asked maverick.

“I’ve been ready this whole time,” answered Goose, with a smile on his face.

By 11:00, the bridal party was out of the hotel and at the venue: a beautiful botanical garden with a seaside view. The group consisted of Y/n, Penny who was the maid of honor, 3 other bridesmaids, Y/n’s mother, and the makeup and hair stylists. There was also the photographer who was doing her best to capture every moment that they would want to remember in 10, 20, 30… years time.

Bradley was in neither party, being carried around the venue back and forth between the guys and the women, but he was happy to be the center of attention wherever he went.

The day seemed to be both passing as quickly as water might slip through one’s fingers and as slow as a snail. One might say that 11:00 was early to get to the venue, but with weddings one can never be too early. By 2:00, almost everything was in order, and everyone was having lunch. The wedding planner was running around, trying to get every last detail right. She was making sure not one flower was out of place, that the band were where they had to be, that the sound system was in order and everything in between.

There was one more surprise that y/n and her best friend had to finish working out. One that not even Penny knew until a few hours before they came to the venue, but the reveal would have to wait until after the ceremony itself.

The guests were arriving at 3:00 and everything was exactly on schedule, with the wedding supposed to start at 3:30. Even though Y/n and her fiancé weren’t exactly the most traditional couple, they had been told by his mother to set the ceremony on the half hour mark, because that way their wedding would begin on the upswing as the minute hand on the clock was going up as well.

30 minutes later and everything was right where it needed to be. Y/n was still in the parlor, touching up her lipstick when her dad walked through the door. The room was silent, but there was a lot of love filling in the blanks that the quiet left open.

The man smiled at her daughter who always looked like a princess, but even more so in her gown. She looked like more than a princess, like an angel, he thought. She was perfect and he began to cry even before the ceremony started. Behind him was her mother, who shared her husband’s thoughts. She was getting teary eyed as well and both of them practically ran up to their beautiful daughter and hugged her tight.

Y/n wanted both of her parents to walk her down the aisle, she wanted to feel both of them next to her. The trio cried a little bit, but then y/n opened her trembling lips.

“Ok, we really have to stop crying. I can’t even imagine how bad it’s gonna get during the actual ceremony,” she laughed.

“Oh honey, we love you so much,” said her mother, as both parents kissed their daughter’s cheek.

“We better get going,” said her dad, as he heard the guests quieting down when the piano began.

“I know. But I have one more thing to tell you both…”

The ceremony began with Rooster and Maverick walking down the aisle together, the biggest smiles on both their faces. Then came the bridesmaids and the groomsmen, arms linked. Then came Penny, already tearing up and sniffling her way down. Even so, she had a smile on her face that could light up a room.

Little Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw (because yes, his father and uncle had already come up with a call sign for him) was walking down the aisle right before the flower girl with the rings for his parents. Everyone looked at him with endeared looks on their faces, because no one could resist “aweing” at a child as cute as him. He proudly walked down that aisle, with a smile on his face and his tiny chest puffed out.

It was a mystery to the guests why the bride and her parents already seemed to have cried as they walked down the aisle, and a lot. But, the bride looked beautiful and not one eye was dry.

Though it was supposed to be Mr. and (almost) Mrs. Bradshaw’s day, Bradshaw Jr. stole the show with his complete awe and admiration towards his mother. He stood there with his little jaw hanging wide open, and everyone laughed. But when everyone was looking at him, Nick only had eyes for Y/n. She was sparkling, gleaming, floating down that aisle. She was an angel come down from heaven. She was perfect, even when se cried she was flawless and he couldn’t help but cry as soon as he saw her.

The wedding continued and then the vows came. And finally, the I dos.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may-” and the officiator was cut off, because Nick was already dipping his bride to kiss her.

Everyone cheered and the celebration began. 

One of the reasons they had decided to get married in the afternoon was so they could have the best lighting for pictures: golden hour. The photographer had spent all day trying to find the perfect spot for pictures because the goal was to capture both the plants and the beach in the background. The gardens were full of life, breathing and the plants were letting the sun bathe them in what looked like molten gold. The pictures began with only the couple in the frame, then with their son, and their parents and friends, etc. After about 30 minutes, they had gotten enough pictures to remember the day by, and everyone was going toward the large tent where the dance floor was and their tables, too.

“Alright, one more picture,” said the photographer. This time, it was just the newlyweds in the frame like they started. 

“Ok, I want you to face away from each other and I’ll let you know when you can turn around. That way we can get a picture where everything looks dynamic and lively. These kinds of shots are great to make the pictures look like they’re almost moving,” instructed the photographer, winking at the bride.

Y/n was smiling so wide that it was hard to hide from her husband, but she knew holding back would be worth it for the surprise she’d been planning all day.

Once Nick was facing away from his wife, y/n got down on one knee, carefully arranging her dress so it would get caught beneath her. Penny came running to hand her the supplied necessary for the surprise and then ran away as quickly as she came back.

“You can turn around now,” said the photographer.

Goose looked down in confusion at his wife.

“Didn’t we already do this, love?” he asked.

“Nick Bradshaw, will you honor me by being the most wonderful father in the universe one more time?”, asked y/n, the biggest smile on her face and handing him a positive pregnancy test and a baby onesie.

The photographer was clicking away on the camera and all of their family and friends were already gathering around, cheering.

“Of course I will, I do!”, he exclaimed, picking his wife up and kissing her. His face was filled with pure love and admiration, the feeling of pure excitement filling him as he imagined his growing family. Bradley came up to his parents, having to be explained that he would be a big brother in about 9 months :)

[bexcore]

corsets and courtships [thomas sharpe x reader smut]

summary | inspired by corsets and courtships / your father's business partner comes to your home in hopes of discussing the future, and you both get more than you bargained for. pairing | sir thomas sharpe (crimson peak, 2015) x fem!reader (y/n) word count | 3.1k warnings | SMUT (MDNI), fingering, no stated use of contraception, not a lot here tbh author’s note | yeah so.... this audio has lived in my brain for a WHILE and my recent rewatch of crimson peak only made it.... harder to ignore. thanks to @tomhiddlestonsoundalike for making these (even if he's stopped posting *sob*), and enjoy!

“Oh! Sir Thomas!"

When you answered the door, you hadn’t expected to see the baronet. He stood there in his noble glory, his dark jacket’s shoulders damp, his black curls undone with rainwater. “My lady,” he greeted you in his charming British timbre, his light eyes gazing expectantly past you into the house. “What a lovely sight you are. Is your father home?”

“No,” you replied, tugging your house dress a bit tighter around your body. “He went to dinner a few hours ago. Is the matter urgent? Might I phone him?” You started to step back into the house, but Thomas’s quick exclamation stopped you.

“No, no,” Thomas said quickly. “I actually intended to speak to you privately. May I?” He looked past you into the house, and you suddenly became hyper-aware of the cold rain that the baronet was drenched in.

“Oh, goodness, yes,” you said quickly, stepping aside to let him in from the rain. Lately, London had known nothing but the cold and the rain and, being from America, you weren’t used to it in the slightest. You suspected that Thomas was used to it, but, still, being accustomed to something did not make it any less of a bother. “Sir Thomas, did you walk all the way here?”

“I did,” Thomas replied. You helped him out of the soaked overcoat and hurried to set it in front of the fire, and your hands shook as you did so. Why was Sir Thomas Sharpe darkening your doorstep at this time of day? The sun had already gone down, and you were preparing for bed. Thomas had to know how inappropriate it was. “But no worries. I was perfectly alright.”

“Oh, good,” you said quickly. You knew that your current state, just your chemise and corset and velvet dressing gown, were unsightly for you to be seen in, especially by one of your father’s business associates, and you nervously clasped your hands behind your back; you hoped that Sir Thomas either didn’t notice your current state of undress, or that he didn’t mind.

“To begin, I suppose,” Thomas began, carefully sitting on the settee sofa in front of the fire. He wore a beautiful dark suit underneath his teal overcoat, a perfect compliment to his pitch-colored hair and thin visage. His eyes, though, were the showstoppers-- a lovely and icy blue. Thomas was so wonderful and such a great friend to you, despite only meeting you because of his work with your father, but it wasn’t usual for him to turn up unannounced; only unusual because of this time of day. “I… I must congratulate you on your engagement.”

“Oh, yes,” you laughed softly, but your face burned. “My dear Mr. Burke. Yes, it was only a matter of time, I guess. Especially when it was so urged by Father.”

“May I ask how you met?” Thomas asked curiously. Thomas had always been a curious man, and perhaps it was presently for the worst, but you admired it. Truthfully, a small piece of your heart wishes that you were announcing your engagement to Sir Thomas Sharpe instead, but your heart could heal; it would have to. You had no choice but to accept it, and to mourn what could have been.

You tilted your head as you tried to conjure up the memory of you and your fiancé’s first meeting. “Well, we officially met when I was young,” you started slowly. “I was around ten, perhaps. Burke had just begun to work for Father, and I met him under those pretenses. But it was once I became of age that he began to properly court me, and…” You shrugged and let your hands clap at your thighs, and the sound was dampened by your dressing gown. “Here we are, I suppose.”

“Indeed, here we are,” Thomas sighed. “Are you… Are you happy with him?”

You scoffed at his boldness. “What a question to ask, sir,” you breathed. Anxiety filled you from head to toe, and you began to pace around the parlor. Your father wasn’t due home any for a while, but the consideration that he might return and catch you speaking ill of Mr. Burke churned your stomach. You and Thomas had been close for a long time, though, and you sincerely trusted him with the truth. “But… I don’t know how to feel. I don’t think I truly know Mr. Burke well enough to have a great deal of thoughts about him, let alone know whether or not I’m happy with him.”

The air in the parlor was heavy now, and you picked at your thumbnail, as you often did in uncomfortable situations. “It’s so cold out,” you mumbled, hoping to ease Thomas off of the subject. “Would you like some tea, Thomas?”

Thomas lifted his eyes from the fire. “No,” he said. “Thank you, darling. I fear my stomach does not have the temperament for it at the moment.” After a pregnant pause, Thomas took in a deep breath, and he said, “I lied. I did not come to congratulate you.”

“You didn’t?” You repeated. “Well, then, what did you come for?”

Thomas dropped his eyes from yours, but he took a hesitant step closer. “Madam, I have a confession,” he started. “For some time now, I have admired you, albeit from a distance. When I come to your home in order to discuss business with your father, I always looked forward to when you would deliver us tea. Those small encounters made meetings bearable. I understand that your marriage is set to make your father a wealthy man, and I have little to offer in those terms, but I need to tell you before it's too late.”

“Thomas,” you said quickly, taking a step towards him. “You don’t need to do this. I will be content with Burke—”

“Will you, though?” Thomas pressed, his eyebrows furrowing with doubt. “I can give you things that Burke can’t, things that you so dearly need. Someone as spirited and curious as you surely cannot be forced into a marriage with someone like him! You have so much life, darling! You are so full of passion! It pains me to see you resign yourself to a life with a man like that.”

“Would you rather I defy my father, then?” you asked. “This is past me now, Thomas, I cannot undo this.”

“Do you honestly plan to marry Burke?” Thomas asked. His pale face was now flushed with a tepid anger, his eyes alight in a way that you had never seen before. It was anger, it was passion; it was love. “Do not lie to me, my darling. Do you see yourself loving him, making a home for him, having his children?”

“I do not have a choice, Thomas,” you huffed. “And neither do you. I am promised to Mr. Burke, and I will make good on my promise, as I have been taught to do.”

Thomas sighed and rubbed at his forehead as he squeezed his eyes shut. “I will heed your protests, as you wish,” he mumbled. “But, please, hear my words. I love you. I long for you. I ache for you. I burn for you. I dream of you when I sleep and I think of you when I wake. Even my sister has noticed my devotion, and she is often blind to these things. This has gone beyond a love for your mind and your words. This is a love of the soul; the essence of me is bewitched by you. Please. Tell me you don’t share my affections.”

Your face had grown hot by the time he sighed in conclusion, and you pressed your hand to your chest to try to cover the flush. You were stuck. You had loved Thomas from the moment you met him, but you always knew yourself to be promised to Mr. Burke. You hadn’t let yourself explore the depths of your love for the baronet, but the warmth in your stomach alerted you to exactly what you felt. “Thomas, I…” you started. “I—”

“Your breathing,” Thomas started and he stepped close to you, close enough for you to smell the scent of his skin. His hand, larger than your own and soft to the touch, grasped you by your waist and drew you flush against his body, and his eyes locked on yours. “So rapid, so sharp. What do you wish to tell me?”

“I…” you began. You struggled for the words, but Thomas’s biting of his bottom lip helped you find them. “I feel as if my passions are entwined with yours, sir.”

“As our bodies will soon be, I imagine,” Thomas whispered. “The longer I look at you and have you in my arms… I can scarcely contain my desire. I must have you.”

You had never been held in such a tender embrace. No kiss had ever met your lips, but you found yourself pulling Thomas in by his tie and brushing your lips to his. The heat that blossomed in your chest had made its way to your belly in an unfamiliar striking of what you knew to be desire, and the small growl that left Thomas’s throat told you that he felt the same way.

Quickly, you fell to the settee, and Thomas made quick work of removing your blouse. He kissed your neck, giving you the softest affections that he could, and he gave a soft hum at the sight of your corset. It wasn’t a nice one, a simple white, but Thomas drank in the sight of it all the same. “So exquisite,” he whispered, his fingers trailing up the tough boning to brush against the warm skin of your breasts. “How I long to take my time with it, but we both know that your father could return at any moment.”

“Thomas—“ you began, your voice a whine that was unusual for you, but Thomas quieted you with a kiss.

“Think of the scandal if we’re caught,” he whispered into your mouth, his breath hot on your lips. “Forgive me, my love, but this will have to do.” With deft hands, he tugged your corset downward, exposing your breasts to him and the cold air, and his hand instantly captured one. “What perfection you are, dearest. You deserve to be worshipped like the goddess you are. You don’t think Mr. Burke would treat you in such a way, do you?” He placed a gentle kiss on your collarbone, then began to settle a series of kisses to the valley between your breasts.

“He never has,” you whispered.

Thomas pulled himself out from between your breasts, confusion etching his face. “Have you laid with Mr. Burke?” he asked.

“Not properly,” you explained. “Just… Little things.”

“Like what?” Thomas asked. “Tell me, my love.”

A whole different sort of heat invaded your body now. Instincts told you to cover yourself and to shy away from Thomas, but his warm touch made you seek him out and grasp his strong arms instead. “It has all been for him, you must understand,” you began quickly. “I never gave myself to him, because…”

“Because why?” Thomas asked. “What was the reason?”

You bit your lip hard enough to taste blood. “I always wanted it to be you,” you admitted in a whisper. “I could never let Mr. Burke have my most precious gift.”

Thomas’s features softened, and he let out a heavy breath. “You’re a virgin,” he said; not a question, but a statement. “And you’re willing to let me have the honor?”

“Thomas, please, I want it to be you,” you told him. You pushed your fingers into his hair and pulled him down to kiss you, and your body quivered beneath him when his tongue pushed into your mouth, so passionate and dominating and hungry, but still so loving. His curls brushed your forehead, and your back arched up into his chest, pressing your breasts into him. “Oh, my flower,” Thomas purred. “I will help you blossom.”

His hands left your body, instead going underneath your skirts to take your legs in his grasp. His hands were cold and they sent a shiver down your spine, and he slid them up to your thighs. Goose-skin invaded every inch of you as it was exposed to the air, and, once his hands had met the inner skin of your thighs, he drew them tight around his waist. His mouth went back to your breasts and his lips latched onto your nipple, now hard and raised by arousal, and you bit your cheek to keep in your moan. “Let me hear you, my flower,” Thomas whispered. He rolled his hips into you and, without your skirts in the way, he found himself pressed right against your wet heat. “I have long dreamt of the noises you would make.”

“Thomas,” you whimpered. Your bodies naturally found a rhythm with each other, and you grew to burn for the little huffs he gave into your breasts. He bit at them, leaving small red spots in his wake. You knew that your hair was being matted against the pillow below your head and that explaining it away would take some effort, but the sudden foreign feel of his fingers against your slit made every other thought flee from your head. “Thomas! What—“

Sir Thomas Sharpe shushed you gently. He dragged his long finger down your slit and collected the wetness that dripped out of you, and he whispered, “This is what you’ve been longing for, hasn’t it? Someone to love you, take care of you? My dearest flower, I can do that for you, and more.”

You shivered when he slowly pushed his fingers into you, and you tugged at his hair as a gasp fell from your mouth. You hadn’t ever felt anything as good as that, and you found yourself muttering, “More. Fuck, Thomas.”

“Oh, such naughty words from such a pretty thing,” Tom chuckled. He was pleased with himself, you could tell. He had every right to be, though; the way that he had you completely undone beneath him was admirable. “Trust in me, my sweet girl. I’ll take care of you forever.”

His fingers coaxed you open, and you couldn’t help the way your body reacted to him. You shuddered and trembled under him, and you moaned like you never thought possible. You had never envisioned yourself to be in such a debauched state, but your hands clambering for his belt solidified your decision. “I can’t marry him,” you told him. “N-Not after you, my love.”

Thomas’s cheeks grew pink, and he gave a laughing breath. “I’m relieved to hear that,” he told you. Carefully, so as to not startle you, he pulled his trousers down just enough to extract his cock, red and weeping. He had a length and thickness that made your heartbeat pound in your ears, and Thomas quickly mumbled, “My sweet girl, you’re shaking so. Is something wrong?”

“I just want you,” you cooed. “I want to be yours, Thomas.”

Thomas smiled, and he placed a kiss on your bottom lip. His hand came up to cup your cheek tenderly, and his thumb stroked your cheekbone as he pushed his cock, hard and burning hot, past your folds into you. The feeling was strange and made you lose your breath, but his reassuring grip on your face and thigh helped you adjust to it. “Oh, my girl,” he groaned. His voice was shaking, his warm words growled possessively. You were his, and he was yours. “Oh, my love. You… You feel better than I ever dreamed.”

You whimpered and flexed your hips to have him deeper, and he kissed your shoulders and neck as he started up a gentle pace. The odd feeling, one almost of pain but not quite, quickly dissolved and was replaced with a striking ecstasy, and desire filled every part of you. If you hadn’t meant it before, you certainly did now; you couldn’t marry Mr. Burke, not knowing that Thomas could and was guaranteed to treat you so much better. Lady Sharpe was a title that seemed rather becoming, now that you considered it.

Your bodies moved together knowingly, giving and taking each other like waves upon a shore. With each passing second, a knot was tightened deep in your belly, and you dug your fingers into Thomas’s back, rumpling up his shirt and jacket. “Are you close?” he asked. His voice, raspy with breath, dripped with intoxicating want, and his hands continued to roam your body. He never seemed satisfied with one place, but you felt the same way. Everything wasn’t enough.

“Yes,” you rasped shakily.

“I can feel it,” Thomas muttered. His breath was hot against your ear, and every pant and hissing breath echoed deep inside your head. “Give in with me,” Thomas told you. His lips finally met yours again, and your hands found final purchase in his hair. “Let us come undone together.”

With that, the knot in your belly splintered and came undone all at once, and a cry ripped itself from your mouth. Your body heaved and quivered under Thomas, and he gave a tight groan as he came. His cum coated your wet heat, painting you as his, inside and out, and the small ring on your finger felt as if it were burning you right up. It needed to come off and, as Thomas’s hips slowly ceased, you wriggled the ring off of your finger. “I’m yours, Thomas,” you whispered in a hushed voice, panting still. Your heart beat wildly in your ears, and you felt like you would never truly recover from his embrace. “All yours.”

“When your father returns,” Thomas began. He slowly pulled his cock from you and did up his trousers, and he whispered as he helped you turn decent once more. “I’ll make clear to him that I intend to court you, and that I will not take no for an answer.”

“You’re quite the worthy man,” you told him. You sat up and touched your skin, just a hint tender from his mouth, and your face went red with the implication that, perhaps, Thomas had left a mark on you. “And an honorable one. The only complication would be—”

“Mr. Burke,” Thomas sighed. “Yes, yes…” He watched the fire for a few moments, his mind working wonders behind his light eyes, and his hand carefully touched yours. “I certainly don’t have his fortune, but I can offer you much more. I-I have an aptitude for business, as your father knows—”

“And for other matters,” you added with a smile, and Thomas’s cheeks turned pink.

“Yes, that too,” he said with a laugh. “But perhaps I should exclude that from my proposal to your father.”

[rogersevans]

Quarantine Wedding

Pairings: Chris Evans x Y/n Downey - Chris Evans x Y/n Evans

Warnings: just fluff, wedding (if they make you emotional), implied smut towards the end

Summary: Y/n never planned her dream wedding, but in their back garden, surrounded by their families, during a global pandemic seems pretty perfect to her. apart of the evans’ series.

Sunday mornings were Y/n’s and Chris’s favourite day of the week, the only time they got to stay in bed, tangled in the sheets and each other, going undisturbed from the outside world. Chris currently had Y/n lying between his legs, her back against his bare chest as he rested against the head of the bed.  

Y/n was absentmindedly playing with the engagement ring on her finger, something she had started to do since he put it on, twiddling it with her thumb.

Dodger was at their feet, on his back with his legs spread, snoring away.  

“We should get married.” Y/n mumbled like she was thinking something through in her mind, thumb still playing with the ring.

“We are...” Chris reminded her, placing a small kiss to her temple. “That’s what this is for.” Taking her small hand in his, holding it up to show off the ring as it glistened in the Sunday morning sun.  

“No,” she protested with a giggle, getting up onto her knees and wrapping the sheet around her naked body, turning to face her fiancé. “I mean sooner, like tomorrow.”  

“Tomorrow?”

“Or Thursday if you’re too busy.” Rolling her eyes playfully she scooted closer to him, now in his lap, the sheet now being held up by their bodies, closing the gap. Her hands finding his hair, raking her fingers through it and massaging his scalp. “I want to be Mrs Evans, I want to get married in our back garden, with our families... No one else.” Chris hummed in agreement, letting his hands fall to her hips.  

“You don’t want a big wedding?” Licking his lips, his eyes now open and focused on every detail of her, the small freckle that sat just above the curve of her right breast, the thin chain that sat around her neck with a small diamond C resting in the centre he’d bought her on their second anniversary, the butt dimpled in her chin, something she hated but another thing he adored.  

Truthfully, she didn’t, she never envisioned herself surrounded by 300 people as she said ‘I do’, she just wanted a small, intimate wedding, less than 30 people.  

The pair had been engaged for five months and the pandemic had haltered all of their plans to celebrate, they had various zoom celebrations with their families and friends and when they were allowed to travel back home their hallway was filled with presents and balloons.  

They had managed to keep the news out of the press, wanting to bask in the newness of their engagement privately, it had been blissful but Y/n was becoming impatient.  

Silently shaking her head, she dipped her head her lips just a whisper away from Chris’s, “I just want you, as my husband.” She whispered making Chris’s entire body shiver, and in one swift movement Y/n is on her back with Chris lying on his side next to her, propped up on his elbow and tracing shapes on her are stomach.

She doesn’t stop herself from reaching up and cupping his cheek, booping his nose with her thumb, making them both giggle and then running her fingers over his beard, one her favourite features of her fiancé the way it feels against her skin makes her feel alive.  

“Tomorrow.” Was all he replied with, letting his lips fall down to her nose.  

After another hour of being tangled up in one another, the room filled with her soft moans and Chris made love to her, turned on at the thought of her becoming his wife tomorrow. They started organising everything, never leaving the bed unless it was for Dodger, food or toilet breaks.  

They had delivered the news to their families and the cheers or screams (Carly and Shanna) we’re piercing, even though the speaker of their phones.  

Chris booked flights for his family to be able to attend, they were getting in at around 10pm that night. Y/n demanded that everyone be tested before they stepped foot in their home, so she arranged for someone to come out and test everyone. Y/n’s family were due to arrive tomorrow morning, the nerves bubbled in the pit of her stomach at the thought of her mom and dad being in the same room again, something she hadn’t experienced in years.  

“Baby, it’ll be fine.” Giving a chaste kiss to her knuckles, “we’re getting married tomorrow.” He mumbled against them, his voice raspy and tired after a long day of planning, all doubt or anxiety about her parents leaving her body just from his touch, his words settled her completely.  

“I can’t wait to be your wife.” Standing to her tiptoes she nudged her nose with his, their gaze still looked before her eyes fluttered shut, breathing him in and relishing in the moment before his lips found hers.  

“What are you going to do about a dress?” Scott asked in a hushed tone, not wanting Chris to hear their conversation, closing the door to their bedroom behind him.  

The house was extremely busy downstairs with everyone completing last minute preparations so Scott and Y/n had snuck away for a quiet moment to get ready, knowing Y/n didn’t function when stressed. He could tell she wanted nothing more than to have Chris at her side, one didn’t move without the other.

But Scott demanded, as the self appointed best man/man of honour, that they be apart for the night before and the day of, still up-keeping some form of tradition.

Unknowingly to Scott, Chris had snuck back into their bedroom last night when everyone was asleep, not wanting to be away from one another with the excitement of the next day bubbling. 

Like children on Christmas Eve.  

The busyness of the day had helped keep them both distracted, not giving them much time to sneak off for a moment of privacy. 

“I bought something a few months ago, thinking ahead.” Y/n rummaged through her and Chris’s shared walk-in closet, plucking a black garment bag which was hidden at the very back.  

Unzipping the bag, Y/n revealed the white, embroidered, floor length cami wedding dress. Scott couldn’t contain his gasp as he softly took the dress in his hands, admiring it silently.  

“Where did you find this?” His eyes not leaving the dress, his fingers running over the patterns.

“ASOS,” she started. “I saw it on there and had to have it, I’m going to wear it with these...” Trailing off as she bent down to pick up her pair of all white, high-topped converses, now beaming from ear to ear.

“You’re joking right?”

“Heels aren’t me,” shrugging her shoulders she took the dress from Scott and disappeared into the en-suite to get ready.  

“What about rings?” Scott asked on the other side of the door, he was sitting on the edge of the bed go through the checklist he had created in his mind.

“I think Chris has that sorted.” Was all she replied too focused on not damaging the dress as she slipped it on carefully, not hearing when Scott said something about checking on the decorations and leaving. 

After ten minutes Y/n stepped out of the bathroom to show Scott, her hair now falling freely over her shoulders and the slightest bit of make-up, the dress hugged her figure perfectly as the flowed around her.  

“Wow.” Chris’s voice sounded, making her jump back behind the bathroom door, shutting it, hoping he didn’t see too much. “Baby, what’re you doing?” Walking over to the bathroom door, trying to push it open.

“I thought you were Scott. You’re not supposed to see me!” Y/n cried from behind the door.

“I don’t care, we’re getting married during a pandemic, in our back garden with less than twenty people... So, I think the traditions are out the window.” His hand still on the door knob, letting a breathy chuckle out. “C’mon gorgeous, I wanna see you.” He attempted to persuade her.

Slowly the door started to open to reveal Y/n stood there, holding either side of her dress as she twirled for Chris, giggling as she did.

Well fuck, the sight made Chris’s heart swell, his palms became sweaty as his eyes trailed over her, drinking in her appearance, his smile never leaving his lips.  

Y/n took the opportunity to take in her fiancé's appearance, he was currently in black dress pants, a white shirt tucked into his pants with the top few buttons undone, and a tie hanging around his neck, untied. Her breath hitched in her throat at the sight, butterflies erupting in her stomach.

“Was gonna ask you to do my tie...” He choked out, his eyes now meeting hers.  

Without word she took a step forward and began fastening the last few buttons before making work of his tie, his hands found her hips, rubbing small circles with his thumbs as he watched her intently.  

“You look...” He started, but was cut off by Y/n.

“Handsome, you look insanely handsome. I’m lucky you’re about to become my husband.” Her eyes still fixated on the tie, her tongue dragging across her bottom lip as she concentrated. Once satisfied her fingers smoothed out his collar and tie. “Now go, before Scott sees you in here. Anyone would think he’s the one getting married.” Both chuckling softly.  

With her command Chris didn’t move away, just one step closer to her, closing the gap between them, his hands now cupping her cheeks, both looking into each other's eyes for a few seconds before he dipped his head down to kiss her.  

This kiss wasn’t like all the others he had sneaked in the past twenty four hours, it was different.

Y/n’s mind casting back to the night Chris told her he loved her for the first time, the kiss matching that. It was filled with adoration, passion and love, making her stomach do flips and her heart hammer against her chest.  

“Go,” Y/n mumbled against his lips after a few seconds, pushing his abdomen. “I’ll see you down there handsome.” Giving her one last kiss before walking away, leaving her now by herself as she jumped up and down in their bathroom, the tiniest squeal leaving her lips.  

The next half an hour rushed by so quickly, now the pair were stood at the bottom of their garden in front of their families, their garden littered with fairy lights hung above them, their families stood watching proudly. 

It was simple and perfect, no fuss. 

Scott was ordaining the ceremony something Chris and Y/n weren’t aware he could do until last night. Too scared to know the reason why he decided to become an ordained minister, “you never know when you might need it” was all he said. 

“Y/n,” Chris started, his hands shaking a little. “I can’t imagine my life without you, since you came barging into it 22 years ago. From the very first day of filming back in 2011, I knew you were it for me, even if I didn’t know it.” That caused everyone to laugh, “I love how you’re always there by my side, how you always tie my tie... Even if I know how to do it myself.” Y/n gasped shocked at his admission, laughing along with everyone. “At first it was a tactic to be near you, but the look of concentration you have every time, drives me crazy.” He laughed as she shook her head, beaming from ear to ear. “You make me the happiest man alive every day, even when you’re beating my ass at guitar hero. I love how passionate and impatient you are... Today being an example of that.” Everyone laughed again, he reached for her cheek and wiped the tears away with his thumb. “I can’t believe I get to call you my wife... I love you.”

Y/n was speechless, wiping away the tears that continued to fall, it was like he’d winded her with his words, her body tingled with excitement and love as the feeling of becoming Mrs Evans drew closer.

“Chris,” she started. “You are one of the most amazing, crazy talented, men I’ve ever known, I’m in constant awe of what you’re capable of... Seriously, it's annoying... I will make it my life mission to find something you’re not good at.” Chris’s loud laughter now echoed over your families laughs, his hand falling to his chest. “Your laugh, is my favourite sound of yours and if I could play it on repeat I would, but I’ll just settle for making you laugh with my terribly bad dad jokes-”

“Oh no!” Chris groaned at her statement, making everyone laugh again.

“Our love consumes me, I knew from the moment Lizzie told me you liked me that I had to have you, no matter what. Everyone constantly tells me how intense our love is, but it wasn’t until someone described it perfectly to me that I understood,” Y/n took the opportunity to side eye Scott, recalling the night they had a very drunken conversation about her relationship with Chris, making Scott laugh. “We’re so in sync with one another, you move, I move, we could be in a room filled with people, on opposite ends and we would still find each other without looking. Being with you,” she had to stop to compose herself, not wanting to cry during her vows. “Is like living a dream come true, especially during the simple times, no plans, no noise, just us doing nothing.”

Chris didn’t hide his tears as they freely fell, the sniffles from everyone, including Robert could be heard now.

After a few more words from Scott, once he calmed down, the cheers erupted as their lips connected, their first kiss as husband and wife. Chris pulling her flush against him, deepening the kiss. “I got you, Mrs Evans.” He whispered against her lips, making her giggle.  

The rest of the night was spent with their families, basking in the events of the day as they ended the night with the fire pit lit, gathered around it. Y/n was still in her dress and converse clad feet, her hair now tied up as she sat on the floor in between her husband's legs. 

She was currently admiring her wedding band, it was rose gold, slim and had diamonds wrapped around it, fitting perfectly against her engagement ring. reaching for the hand that rested on her shoulder, now playing with his wedding band, his band was thick, black and had a thin, rose gold strip around the centre. 

Chris had purchased them the day he bought the engagement ring and had hidden them in his sock drawer in his bedside, his hiding spots were getting better. 

“I’m so happy for you guys.” Robert softly whispered, puling his daughter into his arms holding her tightly against his chest. “I can’t believe you’re married!” 

“I know... I have to live with a boy!” She quipped back and Robert’s body started to vibrate with laughter, her cheek resting on his should as they continued to hug, not wanting to let go.

“My baby...” Now cupping her cheeks, giving his daughter one last look of pride before letting go. “You’ve always been my favourite child.” He whispered, Y/n knew he was joking but she laughed in agreement anyway. Out of her other three siblings they both shared a close relationship, Y/n was his saving grace when he was younger, having her at a young age bonded them. 

“Chris, I can’t believe you’re my son now... How weird.” Chris smiles broadly at the term son, instead of son-in-law, he knew Robert classed him as part of the family and not because he had to. "Welcome to the family, legally.. Let’s face it you’ve always been apart of this family.” Sharing a quick embrace before slipping past the newlyweds to speak to Lisa.

“Do you want to dance?” Chris bent down to whisper in his wife's ear, his hands finding her hips and back pressed against his chest, only to have her hum in response. 

Guiding her to an open spot in the garden, taking his hand in hers and spinning her so she was now facing him. His large hands resting on her hips whilst her hands snaked around his waist, the music that played from the speakers in the house guiding them. “You’re my wife,” stating softly, his lips finding her forehead.

“That’s right Evans,” the nickname now sounding futile with both being Evans’. “You’re stuck with me, no getting out this.” Her index finger was pointing between them before wrapping back around his neck. 

“Never.” 

It was nearing 2am when Chris and Y/n climbed the stairs to their bedroom, once the click of their door shutting was heard she reached behind trying to unzip her dress but struggled due to her tired state, contemplating just sleeping her dress.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her husband as he guided the zip down slowly, leaving slow, wet kisses on shoulder, using his callous fingers to brush the straps of her dress off her shoulders, the dress pooling at her feet, leaving her in nothing but her panties.  

“My wife, you’re stunning.” He said lowly, the only light in the room was the light of the moon streaming through the windows. Y/n turned to face him, starting to unbutton his shirt which was now untucked, tie long gone and the top two buttons already undone, his collar bones and tattoos poking out through his shirt.  

Pushing the shirt off of him, she traced his tattoos with her fingers, a hiss of pleasure escaping from his throat, making him tighten the grip on her hips she didn’t know he had.  

The C necklace glistening in the moonlight.

That’s how they stood for a few minutes, their eyes never breaking from one another, her arms wrapped around his neck, his hands on her hips.  

Y/n guided her new husband to their bed, the back of his legs hitting the edge and he sat down closely followed by her straddling him. “Mr Evans,” her voice laced with arousal. “I do believe, you’re wearing one too many items of clothing.” She tsked, her finger trailing down his abdomen, his muscles twitching when she did, effortlessly flicking the button of his pants open.  

“That can be fixed... Mrs Evans.” He purred in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.  

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

too soon to tell, chapter t w o

You dropped your bag in the foyer of Harry’s house after work on a Thursday. It was quiet--he wasn’t home yet and you’d keyed in knowing that you’d have some time to yourself.

You felt a vibrating in your pocket when you shrugged off your coat, your visible reflection told you it was a FaceTime call, Alyssa’s name danced across the screen until you slid your thumb to answer.

“Hello, hello,” you greeted, walking to find a seat on the couch.

“Where are you?” She furrowed her brows as she took in your surroundings.

“At Harry’s--he’s out, though.”

She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “I will never get sick of you lounging in his house when he’s not there.”

You rolled your eyes at your old roommate’s antics--she’d always been the number one supporter of your relationship and when you texted her earlier saying you needed advice, she promised to call on her lunch break.

“I’m not lounging,” you informed with a shake of your head. “I just got out of work, we’re having dinner tonight.”

“Mr. Popstar isn’t too busy?” She teased, aware of the tension both of your schedules had been causing.

“Apparently not.”

She forked a bite of food into her mouth, the sun was shining through the window behind her, the walls of your old apartment were redecorated now with the art of your replacement. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“Sort of,” you leaned back and let out a breath. “I mean, it’s all connected--”

“What is?”

“I’m getting to it,” you made a face at her through the phone. “So--don’t freak out, okay? Cause I don’t even know if anything will come from it and Harry doesn’t know yet.”

She nodded and gestured with her hand for you to get on with it.

Knowing Alyssa, she was already jumping to conclusions in her head. You were pregnant, you were engaged, you quit your job, you had a huge fight with your sister. No, no, no.

“I interviewed for a job in LA...and I haven’t told Harry because all our friends have been so excited about us being in the same spot again but--”

Her eyes went wide at the mention of a US city, she did her best to hold back her smile until it faded when you said: “I don’t know. Something feels off between us.”

“Off between you and Harry? More than just being busy?”

“I’m probably overthinking it but,” you looked around his living room. Pictures of his mum, his sister, his cousins--even his manager--were tucked in frames and placed on shelves. There wasn’t a trace of you in his house except for the toothbrush upstairs and the key on your keyring.

“It feels like we’re not moving forward. And we’ve both been busy, like I’ve told you, but since we don’t live together sometimes we go days without seeing each other and it’s fine, I get that he’s busy, obviously, but--”

“But you want to move in with him.”

“Well, I don’t know--I did, sort of, I think--but then I heard about this job in LA and it sounds amazing but Jessie just moved here and no one will shut up about how great London is.”

Alyssa offered a sympathetic frown and repositioned the bowl in front of her to get another bite. “What’s the job?”

You almost didn’t want to tell her, sure she’d get excited and eager to have you back in the same country. You winced a little, bracing for her reaction. “S’with E! News,” you shrugged. “It’d be on-air.”

“Shut up! Are you serious?!”

“Yes m’serious,” you rolled your eyes. “But I haven’t told any of them because you know how they are.”

She nodded, “Jessie will not want you to take it.”

“God love her, but of course not. And Harry spends time out there, so it might be okay, but it’s not like I could ask him to go with me.”

“Why not? He’s famous, Y/N--he belongs there.”

“It’s too soon,” you whined. “He’s not my fiancé and we don’t live together, so--I don’t want to make it weird.”

“But you love him,” she reasoned.

“Yeah, but s’been weird lately!" You tried to drive home the point. "He’s made no mention of moving in and we’ve been dating for a year and a half, I’ve been in London for over a year now. He’s not even mentioned it, Alyssa, I swear. He’ll say things like ‘one day we can go on vacation,’ and ‘what should we do for Christmas?’ But he’s made no concrete plans to actually have a future with me.”

“Maybe he doesn’t think you’re ready.”

“Maybe he’s not ready,” you volleyed.

“Maybe,” Alyssa shrugged. “But you won’t know if you don’t ask him.”

“But if I ask him and he’s not on the same page I’ll look like an idiot and he’s busy with the album and now I’m thinking about moving to LA and--”

She watched you, waited for you to say more, but you were out of words. You changed gears.

“Maybe we’re just not meant to be long term.”

“Oh come on,” she groaned. “Not this again.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Your whole ‘we should have left it in New York’ shit.”

You lifted your eyebrows to demand further details.

“You were freaked out in the beginning that you’d move back there and it would be weird.”

“And?”

“Was it weird?”

“Not at first, I guess. But I mean, come on---don’t you think we should have taken some kind of step forward by now? Even just mentioning the idea of moving in together?”

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully. “Maybe it’s different with someone like him.”

You rolled your eyes--what if that’s what you were sick of?

People always said that: it’s different because of his job, it’s different because he’s on the road, it’s different because he’s famous.

Of course it was, and that was fine, for a while. But what if Harry’s job always got in the way of feeling normal? What if you couldn’t have a real wedding because of it? What if you could never send your children to summer camp because of it?

Were you willing to sacrifice your own future to live an unconventional life with someone just because you loved him?

“When will you hear back about the job?”

“Dunno--talked to them last week on Monday and they said this week at some point. S'been a while, so hopefully soon.”

You’d been keeping busy, trying to avoid your personal email at all costs and also making sure that Harry had limited visibility of your screen at all times.

“Do you want it?”

You thought on it for a second. Being offered a job at a company like E! would certainly be an ego boost, but the mere thought of having to explain to all of your friends that yes, you’d been back in London for 18 months and now you were packing up and moving even farther away than before wouldn’t be easy. That seemed to be the one certainty in the whole situation: no one would take it well.

“I don’t want to leave everyone here, especially Harry--but I also don’t want to be stupid and think that this relationship is going somewhere if it’s not.”

Alyssa nodded and let out a sigh. “I get that, I mean, of course you have to do what’s best for you. But I’d hate to see you not be with him just because things are hard right now.”

You leaned your head back on the couch and sighed. You didn’t want to break up with Harry. If anything, you wanted to move forward and move in with him and do what you’d always imagined: have a good job, have a few kids, try to be happy.

But what if you’d been naive enough to think you could have all of that with Harry and what if this is how you were finding out that you couldn’t?

Were you still stuck in your teenage fantasy of marrying the boy you'd long been crushing on?

She watched you for a second before she reassured: “you’ll figure it out.”

You smiled, glad you’d called Alyssa if only to have someone talk you off the edge a little bit. You missed waking up one room over and her love for basketball games and New York 99 cent pizza.

“Well it’s not like I have to make a decision right now,” you said. “I haven’t even heard back from them. For all I know they could never reach out again because I bombed my interview.”

She rolled her eyes at your self-deprecation and offered a few final words of encouragement before you hung up and promised to catch up soon.

Ever since you’d left, Alyssa had taken it upon herself to keep you up to date on the ins and outs of New York. New restaurant? She’d send you pictures and a 200 word review. Crazy subway rats making the news again? Articles and video proof would be sent your way in a matter of hours.

She’d gotten a new roommate to fill your bedroom and apparently things weren’t always peachy between them. Peyton was quiet and shy--according to Alyssa. She was up every morning at 6am and in the shower at 6:30. She did yoga in the living room and hated it when Alyssa left empty beer bottles on the coffee table.

Alyssa was starting to lose her shit, swearing up and down that she needed to either pull the trigger and move in with Owen or find a new place altogether. It was my apartment first, she’d say. She should leave, not me.

It had been hard that year to leave the city you’d grown to love but harder to leave Alyssa and Carly and the things that made New York feel like home. It was also, in hindsight, hard to leave the place where you and Harry reconnected and built the foundation of your current relationship.

You heard commotion from the front door only a few minutes later when you rummaged through Harry’s kitchen for a snack.

“Hi,” he called from the other room, a close-lipped smile when you stuck your head around the corner to greet him.

“Hi! How was the photoshoot?”

“Good,” he nodded, watching as you stuck your hand into a box of crackers. “What time are we meeting everyone?”

Right--Thursday also meant dinner somewhere downtown with everyone in tow.

“7pm--but Jessie said we should try to get there early since it’s a new place and no one’s ever been.”

He nodded in acknowledgement of your words but seemed distracted, like his mind was somewhere else and his body was the only thing tying him to the room.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, looking back up at you. “Just a busy day and a busy week.”

You nodded, unsure if he wanted to say more or if you were supposed to have more of a reply than a simple nod of your head.

You’d both been stammering out awkward sentences and trying to dance around the elephant in the room for a few weeks, but now, under his gaze, you felt more uncertain than before.

“Are you okay?” He turned the question around and watched you closely.

“Yeah,” you shrugged, moving to sit on the couch.

“You seem--off.”

You didn’t know what it was. Could he possibly sense the tension in your shoulders as you waited for an email either way? You got the job! We regret to inform you…

Or was he just aware that you felt awkward since it had been almost two weeks since you had any considerable amount of alone time and even longer since you were able to have a date night that wasn’t interrupted by Jeff or Erica or someone who needed something from him.

He took a few steps closer towards you, a look of concern etched on his features. “What’s wrong?”

The words were on the tip of your tongue when he looked at you, eyebrows lifted as he waited for you to spit it out.

“I guess I feel like we’ve been distant.”

He pushed his head forward, almost like he hadn’t expected that to be the issue. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, caught off guard by his pushiness. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought it up.

“You don’t know?” He pressed.

You broke eye contact with him for a minute, wondering why you had to state the obvious. “Well, you’re busy all the time, Harry.”

He let his shoulders rise and fall in defeat, looking around the room in frustration. “I told you that finishing the album would be busy.”

“Yeah, but you forgot to mention that you’d also be busy when the album is done once promo starts and then tour,” your voice was quiet, not so much angry as you were upset.

You were tired. You wanted nothing more than to spend a night on the couch with him and only him, tell him about LA and about the sudden itch you felt to see more of the world than just London.

But with Jake and Adam always around and Bryn and Jessie, too, paired with interruptions from Jeff and Erica--it felt as if there was no hope for a private or honest conversation.

He came to sit closer to you on the couch now, took your hands in his. “I know my job is a lot, okay? I know it’s annoying that I don’t necessarily get weekends off or have a typical schedule, but once the album is out and the promo is done I’ll have a bit of a break before the tour. We can go on vacation somewhere, just us.”

It sounded nice, maybe a tropical island or a cabin in the woods. But before you could nod in agreement the thought of Los Angeles popped into your head.

His album was due out in December, promo from now through the New Year, some time off in February and March for both of your birthdays and then tour. You had no clue where you’d be by then.

Would you be in LA? Would you be in London? Would you be stuck in this same spot on his couch with decision paralysis and a crushing sense of uncertainty about the future?

He knew you were over-thinking and tilted his head. “What?”

You blew out a slow breath of air, twisted a ring on your finger and then looked up at him again.

You didn’t even have a chance to be more honest, a buzz on your phone on the coffee table in front of you both broke the room in half, the name of the woman you’d spoken to was in bold next to your email icon. You reached for it quickly, Harry’s brows furrowed when you pulled it close to your chest so he wouldn’t see.

“What’s that?”

Hi Y/N, thank you so much for your patience over the last few days. We would love to offer you a position with NBC Universal - E! News as an on-air correspondent in our Los Angeles headquarters.

You looked up at him quickly, cheeks red and heart racing.

“What’s happening, are you okay?”

“I got a job offer,” you said quickly, still holding the phone close to you.

“What?” He smiled, “why didn’t you tell me you were looking? I didn’t even know--”

“It’s in Los Angeles.”

His smile faded instantly, he blinked a few times like he must have misheard you. The leather of his couch felt cool beneath your legs, a clock on the wall ticked and for a second, you wondered if he could hear your pulse as loudly as you could.

He pulled his eyes away from you but then quickly scanned over your face. “Are you taking it?”

“I don’t know,” you said honestly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Silence, words filled your brain and crawled up the back of your throat, desperate to be said out loud, in real life, instead of just circling in your head.

Because I don’t know what we’re doing or if we’re moving forward. I don’t know where I want to live. I don’t know if I can stay in London forever. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.

Only the last part made it out between your lips. “I don’t know.”

“Y/N,” he stood up, more angry now as he looked around the room and scratched at the base of his neck. “This kind of feels like a bombshell to drop on someone.”

“I was going to tell you--but we haven’t had a second alone, I just didn’t want to have to tell everyone before I knew what was happening.”

“You didn’t even tell me you interviewed,” he said.

“The last time I saw you alone we got interrupted by Erica three times in one conversation.”

“Probably for a good reason--”

“But you seriously can’t even put your phone down lately when we have dinner, even when everyone else is there!”

“I can’t help it that my work is insanely busy right now!”

“I don’t want to fight with you,” you said this quickly, voice higher than usual and a heat on your skin that he normally didn’t provoke, at least not in a bad way. You stood from the couch and put your hands on your hips. “I don’t know what I’m going to do and I don’t even know if this job is right for me and under no circumstances are you allowed to tell anyone. Especially Jessie.”

He rolled his eyes at that.

“What’s the eye roll for?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Everyone just got back and now you might leave and--”

“I said I don’t know if I’m going to take it.”

He was quiet at that, clucked his tongue in thought but then disappeared upstairs to shower and change.

The car ride over was awkward, he asked how your day had been and you told him you talked to Alyssa, he bristled when you admitted you told her about it.

It wouldn’t be the end of the conversation, you were sure of that. You’d likely end up at his for the night and he’d apologize for being busy, you’d apologize for not telling him and maybe, you hoped, he’d ask you to stay over.

When you greeted Adam with a hug, you ignored Harry’s sour mood and opened the menu in front of you.

“My first dinner as a Londoner,” Jessie smiled, shimming her shoulders in excitement when Bryn looked over the specials across the table from you.

“This is on you, right? New job, new salary?” Jake teased.

“Maybe if I hadn’t just bought a whole new bedroom set,” she rolled her eyes.

“How’s everything with you?” Adam eyed Harry, his question veiled to avoid too many details in public.

Luckily, Harry’s ability to go out in public in London was similar to that in New York. As long as a private room or a table in the back was requested, he could typically get away unscathed if dinner was less than 2 hours and if he had his back to the dining room.

“Fine,” he shrugged, eyes still down at the drink menu.

“Fine?” Jessie leaned forward, her tone insinuating that she didn’t believe him. “You’ve been working really hard all summer and now all you say is ‘fine?’”

He glanced up at her, lips in a forced smile. “S’all good, Jess--just tired.”

Bryn gave you a look, one that asked what stick is up his ass?, before she changed the topic.

“Let’s not tell our server how fit she is tonight, yeah?”

Jake let out a snort of a laugh and sipped at the water that had already been brought to your table. “Alright, you thought the one last week was just as hot as I did.”

“I did,” Bryn agreed seriously, “but I didn’t offer my number unsolicited. How do you know she’s even straight?”

“She’s got a point,” Jessie chimed in. “Remember when you asked that girl to dance in the club when her girlfriend was right there with her arm around her?”

“I thought they were just mates!” Jake defended.

“You also have the worst radar for gay women ever,” Bryn nodded.

“When was this?” Harry asked, the hint of a smile on his face when he watched Jake adjust his napkin on his lap.

The words came out of your mouth without thought. “You weren’t here--you were in LA.”

He met your eyes when you replied, nodded, and then leaned back in his chair, effectively bowing out of the conversation without saying another word.

You weren’t trying to be short with him. You looked over to Jessie, who undoubtedly sensed the tension, and offered a smile. “How’s the flat?”

“Good,” she nodded. “Glad that all my furniture got put together without any scratches,” she reached over and patted Adam on the shoulder.

“We’re not children, Jessie, we can handle some furniture.”

“You broke my dresser when I asked you guys to move it into another room,” Bryn reminded, a look of confusion on her face at Adam’s retort.

“Only because it was already half broken and a piece of shit,” Jake said. “I love you, Brynnie, but that dresser was already knocking on Heaven’s door.”

Harry let out a laugh at that, another memory that he had missed while on a trip to a studio somewhere north of London. He excused himself to the bathroom after you placed your orders, and once he was out of earshot, Jake leaned down and looked at you.

“What’s going on with him?”

You forced a cheesy grin and blinked a few times. “He’s just grumpy.”

“‘Bout what?” Bryn asked.

“Guys,” you leaned back in your chair, hoping you didn’t have to say too much. “I can’t tell you every single thing that happens in our relationship.”

“Well, when it affects us I think we have the right to know,” Jessie shrugged, playing the typical we don’t like when our parents fight card.

“It’s not affecting you,” you shook your head, eyed her seriously over your glass of Pinot Noir.

Adam shrugged, a smirk on his face let you know he was trying to rile you up. “He’s grumpy at dinner and we’re all here and we’re all aware of it. We don’t like tension between you two.”

“Alright, leave the woman alone,” Jake waved them off. “As long as everything’s alright.”

“It’s totally alright,” you nodded, wondering when you’d gotten so comfortable lying to them. “He’s just busy with the next phase of work.”

With Harry’s album yet to be announced, you couldn’t sit around in a London restaurant and divulge details--even if you were all acutely aware of the work he’d put in and the upcoming announcements and events.

Adam let it go. “How’s work for you, Smalls?”

Another shrug of your shoulders, “s’good--I told you all about my November cover story, right?”

“Yeah,” Jessie sipped a glass of Cabernet. “But you said you didn’t know who it was going to be with.”

“Well, s’cause I had to drop the bomb on him first,” you nodded in the direction of the bathroom. “I’ll be sitting down in a few days with Ms. Gigi Hadid,” you lowered your voice and leaned forward to say her name.

Bryn’s eyes went wide, Jake grimaced.

“How’d he take that?” Adam asked.

“He’s not thrilled,” you admitted. “But I’ll talk with his team about what to avoid specifically, I guess. Her team will probably have a list of off-limits items too.”

Bryn let her elbows rest on the white tablecloth. “Yeah, but, you can’t just ignore the fact that she’s dating Zayn.”

“I also can’t just barge in and stir shit up,” you said.

Harry pulled his chair out next to you and sat back down. “Who are you stirring shit up with?”

Everyone chose to be quiet now--Adam looked down at his phone and Jessie reached for her wine again.

“Just telling them about my cover story,” you admitted, watching his face for a reaction.

He nodded, a tiny smirk in your direction. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t stir shit up,” he said, reaching to put a hand on your thigh beneath the table.

Those were the moments that made you feel less panicky--the realization that he was still choosing you and even when the tension was high and the mood was low, he’d reach over and remind you that yes, he cared. Even if he was late to dinner or distracted.

Which is why, when you got back in his car that night and headed for his house, you were surprised when his mood shifted again.

“I’ll just drop you at yours?”

“Oh--yeah, sure.”

“Did you want to come to mine?” He looked over at you like he hadn’t expected any resistance to sleeping separately.

You were quiet for a second--not if he didn’t want you there. “No, it’s fine.”

“I can’t read your mind, Y/N.”

“You don’t have to,” you said quickly, a prickly tone to your words when he made an unreadable face.

He drove in silence for a few minutes, closing in on your neighborhood when the street lamps disappeared for the sake of suburbia.

Eventually he cleared his throat and that sent you over the edge.

“What do you want me to say, Harry? Do you want me to apologize for interviewing for this job?”

“No,” he said simply. “I just don’t know why you thought you didn’t need to tell me about a huge decision like that.”

“It wasn’t a decision until today when they offered it to me.”

“Just seems like something you talk to your boyfriend about.”

You looked over at him in the dark of night, the glow from the dashboard didn’t help you see his features as he turned left onto your street.

“Well, sorry that we didn’t have the opportunity to talk about it between your work schedule and Jessie moving in and group dates--”

He slowed down on your street, put his flashers on when he stopped in front of your building. “I don’t want to keep secrets from each other,” his voice was softer now. “I don’t want to not know what’s going on in your life. I did enough of that for two years when we weren't talking.”

You sighed at this, the sentiment broke whatever anger was lurking inside you and when you looked up to see him, you wondered if you should ask him.

Are we ever going to move in together? Are we ever going to get engaged?

You figured the lead up to his sophomore album wasn’t the best time for that conversation. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and you climbed the stairs to your flat alone.

**

A few days later you sat nervously in a conference room and watched as beads of sweat formed on the water glass in front of you. Tyler had brought you in, offered you a breath mint, and promised you’d be fine. When you asked him if the whole room was hot he said it was just you and your nerves--but the droplets of water that raced towards the wooden conference table begged to differ.

You’d gotten email after email this morning: one from Jeff with the rules he and Harry had come up with and eight from Gigi’s team with requests for snacks, topics to discuss, topics to avoid, lunch request, arrival and departure time, and a few extra regarding booking her photoshoot the next day.

A text lit up your screen when you tried to smooth your your hair in the reflection of your screen.

Jake Newcomb (10:42am): In case you’re wondering what to get me for my birthday, a video of Gigi Hadid saying she loves me would be perfect!

You ignored his text and felt a pang of disappointment in your gut, you thought it would have been Harry with words of encouragement.

He was fine with you doing the interview, he seemed to come around to the idea when he met with Jeff and had a chance to mark some things as off limits.

So far, his list was as follows:

Don’t publish anything too negative about anyone in the band (if she says anything negative about anyone in the band)

Harry and Jeff got to listen to the taped interview

Harry and Jeff got to read the article before you sent it off to your editor and could make suggestions to cut things if they felt it necessary.

It seemed silly, but you’d long been used to the lingo of contracts and riders and ground rules for things like these. You knew both Harry and Jeff trusted you, in fact, Jeff was now choosing to see this as a good opportunity for press before the announcement of Harry’s album.

Your biggest concern, truly, was not looking/sounding/acting like an idiot in a room alone with Gigi Hadid. Your second biggest concern was conducting a unique interview and writing a unique article.

You knew that Naomi and Tyler were nearby for support if needed, Tyler had already walked by the conference room three times to see if your subject had arrived and likely to make sure you hadn’t sweat through your blouse. You thought the commotion in the hallway was him until you saw a group of busy-looking people with cellphones and sunglasses.

“Hi,” you stood from your chair, extended a hand in her direction and offered your best professional smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Gigi, thanks for doing this interview.”

She seemed hesitant at first, smiled a little and shook your hand. “Happy to,” she said. She turned over her shoulder and locked eyes with the woman who seemed to be the most in-charge of the group. “I’m good,” she nodded.

They hustled out quickly, you stood frozen in place and watched as she took off her coat before sitting in the chair you’d pulled out for her. Once the door was shut behind her posse, she let out a sigh that bled into a frustrated laugh.

“I could never do an interview with all of them just loitering around--wouldn’t that be so weird?”

You nodded, mirrored her smile and had to remind your body how to move. Left foot, right, breathe, sit in the chair.

You weren’t really one to get star struck, but then again, you didn’t spend too much time with celebrities that weren’t Harry or his close friends. You certainly never sat down with a model like Gigi to have a conversation that could be as awkward as this one.

She checked her phone quickly but then put it face down on the table. “I am happy to do this, I know it might feel weird for us to be hanging out--but boys are stupid anyway.”

You smiled at this, immediately relaxed when she leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs.

“Did you also get a whole list of things to not talk to me about?”

She stifled a laugh and rolled her eyes. “Zayn can be a man of few words but,” she looked down at your phone on the table. “Off the record--he had quite a bit to say when I told him you were doing the interview.”

“Off the record,” you laughed, “Harry did too. But how is Zayn?”

“He’s good--thinking about getting back in the studio at some point to start working on a new album, he’s been writing a bunch. Harry’s doing the same I assume?”

“Yes, yeah, he’s been really busy.”

“I know things might not have gone great between all of them at the end, but I don’t want this to be awkward for us.”

“Me neither. You can say as much or as little about the band as you’d like.”

She nodded, you figured it was time to give your pre-interview spiel.

“So, I’ll record us in a few seconds, you can obviously say ‘off the record’ if there’s something you don’t want me to include, but I like my interviews to be like conversations, basically. I’ll send someone on your team the recording when we’re done and a typed transcript. You’ll have 48-hours to look over it and revoke any statements that you don’t want me publishing or to clarify anything. After that I’ll write the story, send a final copy to your team before it gets finalized here, again, 48-hours to look it over and request any changes but at that time we don’t have to approve the requests. This is all in a document somewhere that someone probably signed for you--I’m sure your team is used to it, they know what they’re doing.”

You reached forward and pressed a few buttons on your phone, she watched until you looked up and told her: “It’s on now, so we’re recording and today is September 10th, 2019.”

She smiled like you were old friends. “Where do we start?”

“Is there somewhere you want to start?”

She leaned her head to the side. “We can jump right to it--”

“To what?”

“Oh come on,” she laughed. “Us talking about One Direction will make headlines for weeks.”

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “It’s funny that us just sitting down together will be a big deal, right? As if we’ve got nothing better to talk about than them.”

“Sexism at it’s finest,” she admitted.

“Do you find that a lot in your industry?”

She thought on this for a second, looked out the window but nodded. “It’s unavoidable, in a lot of ways. I think there have been a lot of changes over the last few years to at least move us in the right direction, but we’ve got a long way to go.”

“How would you want to see it change for the better?”

“Well, I’d love to have more privacy about my love life, for one,” she caught herself, looked to you quickly as if she felt bad. “Off the record, we can talk about it here, it’s fine. It’s different to talk about it with a woman, number one. And you’re you, you get it.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” you offered.

“No, I don’t mind. Unless you plan on asking me stupid things like how amazing is it to be dating someone as handsome as him or do I find that his job overshadows mine, we’re good. We can be back on the record, too,” she looked down at the numbers on your phone, eyeing the ticking of the recording clock.

“But do you know what I mean? No one asks guys questions like that--or they’re different, at least. People just want to know everything about your relationship when you’re a woman and they view you in the context of who you’re sleeping with.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I get that.”

She smiled, “it’s hard to date someone famous, isn’t it? Lots of rules around it.”

You were surprised by the genuine look in her eyes, despite her own status and contracts and income, she seemed to be acknowledging that the two of you shared a unique experience and were now brought together under strange circumstances.

“It’s definitely hard for me--but, isn’t it easier seeing as you also have an assistant and a manager and people to, I don’t know, facilitate things? Not to invalidate how hard it still is.”

She laughed at that, “Yeah, in some ways, probably. He’s really private though, which is good for us. We focus on ourselves and do our own thing most of the time.”

“Right--you seem pretty private about it for the most part.”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, reflecting on your words for a second. “I think to me it feels weird that my relationship status can make so much news, you know? Modeling is my job and obviously that’s not your typical nine-to-five but--I like to focus on my work and when male journalists are continuously obsessed with my love life, I find that weird. I mean, you get that, right? I’m sure it’s no different with Harry.”

You bit your lip, embarrassed at how she’d managed to turn it around. She was right--you’d been getting more and more annoyed with how much your relationship with Harry was dictating your life--and for some reason, you admitted this to her.

“People are much more interested in me because I’m dating him--but they’d be just as interested in you even if you weren’t.”

“Would they?” She tilted her head to the side, another rise and fall of her shoulders as she looked around the room. “I get what you’re saying, but sometimes it feels like dating him gave my career a huge boost. I don’t know, maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, I totally get it. I feel the same way. I was building my career in New York and it was going well and I was writing fun stuff and making a name for myself and then I started hanging out with him and--”

“Everyone started to care more about you?”

“Exactly.”

You thought about the headlines, the articles, the pictures in tabloids that undoubtedly helped your name spread like wildfire through London and New York. You had to ignore it, most of the time, reassure yourself that you were a good journalist and a good employee and the good things in your career were not just a byproduct of the boy who slept in your bed.

She smiled knowingly, her lips in a thin line when she looked down to the tape recorder, almost like she felt guilty for steering the conversation in a different direction.

“Sorry,” you cleared your throat, sitting up straight. “Back to business.”

The conversation bled into more normal things: the upcoming fall fashion week, how she manages self-care when she’s busy jetting from city to city, and, try as you might, the two of you wound your way back to your commonalities a few times: sexism in your industries, life as young women dating famous men.

You thanked her profusely at the end and promised that Tyler would be in touch to confirm the date and time for her corresponding photoshoot later that week. She draped a Versace leather tote over her shoulder and seemed to float out of the office with a posse of beautiful people behind her.

You stood--still awestruck--in the hallway and watched as the elevator doors slid shut.

“She’s prettier in person,” Tyler said from beside you, a notebook in hand as he stared at the air she’d once occupied. “I didn’t know if that type of thing was possible but she’s definitely one of the prettiest humans I’ve ever seen.”

“She was nice,” you turned around to see Naomi behind him, also eager for more details. You headed back for your office in a trance, they scurried behind you as you thought aloud. “I mean, I didn’t think she’d be rude--but I didn’t know what to expect with the whole band history stuff.”

“Did you talk about that?”

“Less about the band and more about--” you blinked a few times and sat down at your desk, “sexism, what it’s like to be a woman dating a famous man and how that affects your career.”

Both of their eyes went wide, a smile tugged at Naomi’s lips when Tyler put a hand over his heart in shock.

“I’m sorry, so you’re telling me that you just had a heart to heart with Gigi Hadid about sexism and your boyfriends and--”

“I guess so,” you shrugged, just as surprised as they were.

**

You gave Harry fewer details that night over FaceTime as you brushed your teeth. He was somewhere in New York, disappointed that he’d miss Jake’s birthday dinner and celebration, but he promised to make it up to him when he got back.

He lifted a cup of tea to take a sip, light shone through the window behind him on your screen and he scrolled through emails on his laptop.

You spit into the sink, an ocean between you.

“Have you thought at all about the offer? You have to tell them by tomorrow, yeah?”

You nodded, wiped at your mouth with a towel and then crossed your arms. “I can stay, I mean--if you want me to.”

He made a face at that, leaned forward and furrowed his brows together. “Of course I want you to stay, Y/N, but I don’t want to be the reason you pass on something important."

You were quiet for a second, uncapped lotion before spreading some across your forehead.

"I'm sorry I didn't react well when you told me. I'm proud of you and it sounds like a phenomenal opportunity...I don't know, it's just the timing of it--"

You cut him off, “well none of this is ideal timing, Harry.”

“Do you mean with my album?”

“I mean with any of it,” you said truthfully. “The album, the job offer--”

“Well the album existed before the job offer,” he trailed off.

Only a matter of seconds and a handful of words had managed to get you elevated and angry and ready to fight. That was happening more easily, these days.

“So what am I supposed to do? Always come second? Make every decision in my life based off of your career and your music?”

“S’not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that--I dunno--I thought you knew what you were getting into.”

Quiet, your hands gripped the counter in your bathroom. Your bare feet were on the floor and you wondered why you were trying so hard to make everything work if things were only getting harder.

“That came out wrong,” he shook his head, the look on his face let you know he wanted to take it back.

“No, it didn’t." You let out a sharp laugh. "I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Take the job,” he said quickly, like he saw you reaching for the button to end the FaceTime call.

“What?”

“Take it. If it’ll make you happy, take it.”

“And what about us?”

“We figure it out,” he shrugged. “We try.”

You sighed, unsure what to say.

"It's Los Angeles," he said. "Not Antarctica."

You blew air between your lips, looked up at him for a second. The curl of hair that dipped onto his forehead, the way his mouth pulled up in the corner like it always had.

“I love you, Y/N. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

His words didn’t offer any relief and you spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, tossing and turning and wondering how on earth you were supposed to make a decision.

Leaving him in London felt stupid. A few bumps in the road and you were ready to jump ship?

But staying and hoping for a ring or a shared address felt even stupider, somehow. You couldn’t pass up a dream job and hope that things would go well for your career if you weren’t going to work for it.

A few hours of rest came after 3am, your morning coffee was a tad bitter and the clouds in the sky seemed to match your mood. Maybe you should have spent more time thinking it over, talking it out, even calling your mum or Katie for advice.

But you couldn’t have told everyone about the job offer without a certain answer, and unfortunately, the person you wanted to talk to the most didn’t seem like he could be impartial.

You’d been upset, you’d been feeling disconnected from him, but that didn’t erase all of the good times and the happy memories you’d made, right?

Naomi and Tyler locked themselves in your office for lunch on Friday, they promised that they’d never tell your boss and they swore they supported you either way. Tyler used an expo marker to make a pros and cons list of staying in London and Naomi came up with a points system for each bullet on the list.

You stared at it, looked at the names of all of your friends, your family, your favorite cafes and restaurants in London. At the very bottom of what had become a long list of reasons to stay was his name.

And on the other side, Tyler’s poor drawing of an engagement ring sat beside a big question mark.

You didn’t know what the future held for you and Harry, and maybe that was okay. You didn’t know what would happen when you packed your life into a suitcase and moved to New York, but you’d survived to tell the tale.

They were quiet, eyes darting from the board back to you as they waited for you to say something.

You sighed, Tyler shifted on the couch in your office and Naomi smoothed out her blouse.

“I can’t take it,” you said.

Tyler’s eyes went wide, “really? You’re staying?”

“I can’t leave,” you shrugged. “I can’t leave him behind and leave my friends and start all over in a new city right as I’m really finding my groove here again.”

“Okay, I know we said we’d support you either way but I would have been fucking pissed if you went,” Tyler admitted, moving closer to wrap his arms around you.

You laughed, let him squeeze you before Naomi joined in.

“Me too,” she confessed, a smile on her face when she pulled away. “But I would have at least faked happy for you.”

You bit back the doubt and second-guessing, used their excitement to fuel a regretful email.

Thank you so much for the opportunity, but after careful consideration I cannot accept this position due to the geographical location.

Your thumb hovered over the small blue arrow, a wave of panic flooded through you when you hit send, like somehow, something inside of you knew that everything was about to change.

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AN: apologies in advance for the cliffhanger......except I'm not sorry lmao

[kiribaku-queen]

The Blood King and his Queen [4]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Romance, Angst, Drama

Word count: 2.9K

Summary:  From being a mere servant girl to marrying the scariest prince in existence, your world changed right before your eyes. Exchanging places with the princess, you knew, wasn’t going to be easy. But could you have found love on the way? Or was it never meant to be?

A/N: Thank you for all the love you have given to this series so far! As I’ve said before, this is my side blog so I can’t reply directly to your comments. But I love reading them. I love reading your tags when you reblog. It really makes my day. And if I could respond to each and everyone of you, I really would because I just appreciate you so much <3 Just know that I FREAK out everytime i get a sweet comment. Like, I could comment on my main but like... thatd be weird. let me know though if youd like me to do that?

Anyway. lets get to the chapter! Happy reading :)

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After a whole days worth of exploring this new unknown, the sun began to set in the distance and the dark, night sky was quickly approaching. This led Bakugou and his soldiers to set up camp nearby. Not far away from the town you were in was a hill that came with a very beautiful view. It overlooked the entire town and when it becomes fully dark outside, that’s where the magic comes. Lanterns and torches lit up the entire place, creating this orange and red array of beautiful sunset colors.

Bakugou’s soldiers were split into three groups: setting up camp, starting the fireplace, and making food. While everyone was doing their respective tasks, you were sitting under a tree to shade you from the setting sun. Bakugou, on the other hand, wasn’t resting like how a prince normally would. He was helping along side his soldiers; talking, setting up camp, and… laughing. It was the first time you had seen him with a genuine smile on his face.

You tilted your head at the sight. He looked kind. The way he talked to his soldiers, the way he treated them, how he looked like he could be himself… was this the real prince? How could you have made him out to be this horrible person in your mind, only for him to act like a normal person?

As you were deep in thought, Bakugou couldn’t help but take a few glances at you every now and then. You were sitting all alone at the top of that hill and he was here, actively avoiding you. How could he even approach you? Forget that he was practically with you the entire day. He didn’t know how to start a conversation with you. Or with anyone for that matter. He’s not used to having a fiancée that is also a stranger. Being raised sheltered didn’t help him become a people-person. So he opted to helping set up camp. He needs something to keep him distracted from a beauty that keeps looking his way.

“Just go talk to her,” Mina, his female soldier, finally huffed. She was tired of how shy his highness was acting. It was not a sight she usually saw and if she had to take anymore of this fluffy behavior, she was going to pass away.

“I can’t,” Bakugou gave up so easily.

“What do you mean you can’t? Nothing is stopping you from talking to her,” Mina pointed out. But still, Bakugou was reluctant to go.

“What do I even say?” he asked for advice.

“Get to know her! Ask her how her day was. Ask her what her favorite color is. She’s your fiancée, soon-to-be queen. You’re going to have to spend the rest of your life with her. Ya might as well get comfortable with her when you have the chance,” Mina pushed Bakugou slightly towards your direction. Yet, he still wasn’t budging on his own. The female solider groaned and put her hands on her hips.

“I didn’t say you had to fall in love with her. At least try to be friends!” Bakugou’s face became flushed upon hearing the god forsaken L word. He became so flustered that he couldn’t even talk straight.

“W-Who said anything about… l-love,” his voice became quiet at the end.

“Go on, your highness,” she joked, taking the wood from his hands. “Give me this, and go talk to her,” she said one last time and faced away to continue setting up camp. With a deep exhale, Bakugou finally turned to you and walked up the hill.

You saw his highness making his way up the hill to you. Your breath hitched in your throat and you became stiff. By the time Bakugou had taken a seat next to you, you had already straightened your back to create the perfect posture, as a princess should.

There was an awkward silence at first. You and Bakugou just sat in front of that tree while you watched everyone do their job in setting up camp. It took a few moments for Bakugou to clear his throat and finally talk to you.

“How are you enjoying your trip so far?” he asked. That should be a good start, he thought. He glanced at you and got a glimpse at your big, doe-like eyes. You were a bit surprised that he was talking to you in such a civil manner but also made you relax.

“I’m very much enjoying it. It’s the most fun I’ve ever had,” you told him truthfully, childish excitement twinkled in your eyes.

“I’m glad,” Bakugou replied, still flustered at your reaction. He wasn’t expecting such an innocent response from you. You definitely are different from other princesses he’s encountered. But the conversation ends there. Back to silence once again. It was until curiosity got the best of you. You didn’t think about it and went ahead and just said it.

“Your people aren’t scared of you,” you commented. You didn’t realize how insensitive the comment was until it came out of your mouth. You wanted smack yourself in the head but it already came out. You forgot for a moment that you had to pretend to be the princess. And the princess would think before she spoke. But your dumbass thought it was smart to just say whatever came to your head.

“Why, are they supposed to be scared of their prince?” Bakugou asked. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes. What do you even say to that? Do you address the rumors you’ve heard?

“I-um,” you stutter. Stupid, stupid! Why did you even say that? After you thought the prince wasn’t actually all that bad, he was going to hate you now.

“I see the rumors travel far,” he says. He shifts in his seat, allowing himself to lay back on his elbows. “It’s not like my people don’t know about the rumors. Even I know about them. They just don’t know what their prince looks like.” He opens up to you. Unlike his brothers, Bakugou likes to hide his face from his people. And he does it well. He wanted to make sure that his identity was hidden and wasn’t made known to anybody. This was the only way that he was able to leave the palace and roam around freely in his kingdom without fear from his people.

“Why would you hide your identity?” you ask, curiously. You’ve never heard of a prince or princess hiding themselves from their people. It was only natural that they are bathed in glory and loved from the public. To hide your identity, you are stripped away from a certain power that only they could hold.

“Because I wouldn’t be able to do this,” he says, opening his arms up to the world. You looked out and couldn’t understand what he was trying to say. Bakugou saw the confusion in your face and chuckled.

“I wouldn’t be able to enjoy this freedom. This open air. I wouldn’t have been able to see my kingdom for how it really is. I wouldn’t have been able to be here with you.” You finally meet his eye and you guys hold each other’s stare. That’s when you understood. You could see his story through his eyes. Although you couldn’t see all of it, you understood at least a little. You could see the pressures and difficulties of being the prince, the Blood Prince no less.

Bakugou opens his mouth to say something else but quickly shuts it. He decided that it wasn’t the time to tell you just yet. You caught that little act and frowned.

“What is it?” you ask. Bakugou shakes his head and disregards it.

“In due time, princess,” he says. Before you could rebuttal, Kirishima calls you both down from the bottom of the hill.

“Dinner’s ready!” he shouts. Without a moment’s hesitation, Bakugou is already on his feet to head down. You, on the other hand, take a little longer to head down. Thanks to your dress, you had to gather it, careful not to step on it while getting up. A hand appears in front of your face and you looked up to see the owner. The prince had offered his hand to you while looking away shyly.

Little did you know, Bakugou had planned on doing that. He was already heading down to where the hot food was being poured out in bowls. But Mina had turned to him furious and motioned for him to go back. Bakugou couldn’t understand what she was trying to do. So Mina had physically act out him offering his hand to you as a romantic gesture. Clueless Bakugou did just that. And that simple act made your face heat up.

You and Bakugou made it to campfire with your arm around his. His soldiers held back their snickers and smiles and handed you each your dinner. Inside your bowl was a hot serving of porridge with meat and vegetables to fill you up. The smell was immaculate. You couldn’t wait to taste it. One sip of the porridge and your eyes lit up.

“Delicious!” you exclaimed, downing more of the food.

“I’m glad it’s to your liking, princess,” Sero, another one of Bakugou’s soldiers, bowed in respect while addressing you.

“It’s the only thing he’s good at,” Denki, another one of Bakugou’s trusted soldiers, poked fun at him.

“At least I’m good at something. You’re not good at anything!” Sero bit back and a round of laughter filled the air.

“I’m good at a lot of things!” Denki tried to defend himself.

“Yeah? Name 5 things right now!” Mina joined in. There was more laughter around the campfire when Denki paused to think about his answer. Even Bakugou was giving a hearty laugh at his soldiers joking around.

It was interesting. To see Bakugou’s true self come out around his comrades, or more like his closest friends. Who knew that the angry, scary Blood Prince could smile so wide like this? If you told the girls that the oh so famous Blood Prince wasn’t actually the scary killer we all knew, they’d laugh in your face.

Not long after dinner, you found yourself yawning. Nightfall was already upon you. Since you still had a long way to go for your trip, Bakugou advised you to sleep early so you could depart as soon as possible when the sun rose. Fortunately for you, the tent was already set up. You got into the tent and waited patiently for Bakugou.

This made your heart race. This was the first time you guys were sleeping together and you weren’t wedded yet. Was this okay to do? His soldiers were sleeping a bit farther away to give their prince and his fiancée some privacy. It’s not like you two were going to do anything. Just the thought of having him next to you while you slept in this small tent was something you thought you’d never do. But it couldn’t be avoided. You just had to breath and calm down. It won’t be for long anyway.

You continuously away for Bakugou but he never comes. You peek out the tent and he’s laying out on the grass, hands behind his head and eyes already closed.

“Um,” you speak out and Bakugou peeks one eye out. “Are you not coming in?” you ask.

“The tent is for you, princess,” he says nonchalantly and closes his eyes again. You frown at this.

“Do you not have a tent?” you question.

“I’m used to sleeping on the ground. Don’t worry about me, you should get some rest,” he continues to say with eyes closed. That didn’t sit right with you. It gets very chilly at night. Without any coverage, he’s bound to get cold. It wasn’t fair that you very comfy inside this tent while he is outside in the cold. The more you’re around him, the more your image of him changes. Everything he is doing and saying is making you think differently of him.

You gather your blanket and plop right down next to him. Bakugou jumps and sits up when you get situated in your new sleeping spot.

“What?” you ask, looking up at him.

“What are you-” he couldn’t even finish his question because he is so speechless.

“I’m not going to let you sleep out here by yourself. Come,” you pat the grass next to you. “Lay down.”

Still shocked with confusion, he lays down next to you. Now you were shoulder to shoulder. Going through a roller coaster of emotion, Bakugou is now freaking out because you are so close to him. His heart is beating faster and his mind was racing. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep tonight.

You thought sleeping next to him was going to be no problem. You were so tired that you wouldn’t mind sleeping next to your ‘fiancé’ and just knock out. But it seems like any signs of tiredness was thrown out the window because now you were wide awake.

Probably an hour has passed since you laid down next to the prince. Bakugou noticed that you were restless next to him, constantly moving to get comfortable but never enough that you were able to fall asleep. Should he talk to you? What does he say? Should he follow Mina’s advice?

“Are you awake?” Bakugou’s raspy voice shocked you.

“Ah, yes,” you answer, moving to lay on your back.

“What’s your favorite color?” Bakugou took the courage to ask.

“Lilac purple,” you say. “Do you have a favorite color?”

“Red,” he says simply. “Do you have a favorite food?”

“I like simple dishes like what we ate today. Porridge, soups, stews.” Well, that’s actually all you were able to eat as a servant. But he didn’t have to know that. “You?”

“Anything meat. Favorite piece of literature?” he asked. This made you pause. As a servant, you weren’t able to read anything so how could you answer this question. You tried to think back to a time when you saw the princess studying because for the love of you, you couldn’t remember any names of those books.

“Ah, there’s so many. I can’t name one,” you made up on the spot. But Bakugou believed it.

“I guess I could say the same. Hm, how about favorite animal?”

“Let’s say it at the same time,” you suggested. Bakugou smirked.

“Alright. 1,”

“2.”

“3.”

“Dragon!” you both say at the same time. But at the same time, you both rolled to your side to face each other and that led to your faces being extremely close together. You both stared at each other, wide eyed. Though both stunned, you couldn’t look away from each other. Bakugou looks down at your lips but clears his throat and looks away. You do the same and turn away from him. You cover your face in embarrassment because you saw the way he looked at you. What was that!? Bakugou balled his hands into fists and knocked his head. What was he even thinking?

The more you got into your head, the more you started to drift into sleep. Eventually, your eyes shut completely and you fell asleep. Throughout the night, Bakugou couldn’t sleep. His mind kept replaying how close your face was to his. God, he didn’t even know why his eyes steered towards your lips. As if he wasn’t embarrassed enough, he was even more so for acting like that. He peeked at you and saw you shivering from the night breeze. That blanket was so thin, it wasn’t doing anything to help protect you from the wind. So he takes his cape and wraps it around you. When he adjust the cape to cover all of you, you moved so that you were cuddling up right next to him. You were so close that he could feel your breath on him. Bakugou froze. He was afraid that if he moved, you would wake up. As silently and as slowly as he could, he laid back down with you practically on his chest. Huh, you were so warm for someone who was shivering. It was only a minute that you were on him and he felt his eyes getting heavier with every passing second. Eventually, he falls asleep with you resting in his arms.

The next morning, Kirishima and the rest of the crew wake up early to pack and get ready for the rest of the journey. Kirishima brings Denki along to head up the hill where you and Bakugou were still sleeping. As soon as your sleeping bodies came into view, Kirishima stopped dead in his tracks. You were fully resting on top of his chest, your arm wrapped around his upper body. While Bakugou had a hand under you, wrapped around your waist and his chin rested on top of your head. Kirishima’s eyes softened at the sight. But it was all ruined when Denki got too excited and smacked the red head next to him.

“Dude! You see what I’m seeing?!” Denki whisper shouted. Kirishima rolled his eyes, grabbed his shoulders and turned him around.

“You’re gonna wake them up you idiot!” he scolded, and forced back down the hill to give you guys your privacy.

The sun hit your face just perfectly for you to wake up naturally. You stretched your arms and yawned. At the same time, Bakugou was also just getting up. The moment your eyes saw each other and saw how you were positioned, blush immediately appeared around your cheeks and you both separated from each other. Thank god you guys woke up before anyone saw you like that, you thought. But the soldiers had already seen you two together.

A/N: I’d love to hear what you have to say about this chapter! Lots of fluff so far! I literally can’t wait for the drama to begin but we gotta build up to it! Any drama you want to see happen? Let’s spice this baby up!

Also let me know if you want to be tagged for the next chapter! Spoiler: danger next chapter???? Can’t wait to see you next Monday! Thanks for all the love <3 I love you guys so much!

Tagged: @superblyspeedydragon @melasnchz-things @animexholic @bkgwrites @sam-i-am-1025 @apexqueenie @katsukibabe @germfart3 @tspice283 @angie-1306 @bakugous-trauma​ @bakugousmrs​

[taeyohonic]

stolen dances | chap. 8

summary: sometimes supporting the person you love is the hardest challenge you’ll ever face.

pairing: jeon jungkook x fem!reader

rating: m

warning: swearing

additional tags: f2l, ceo!jungkook, bestfriend!jungkook, shrink!yoongi, my best friend’s wedding meets 27 dresses (if the boss/secretary couple had happened), angst-y

words: 2200

links: prev. | next  [masterlist]

note: lower case letters intended

chapter summary: maybe there are too many red flags to ingore.

“what do you mean the menu changed?”, you hiss into the receiver, not caring how your colleague aches an eyebrow at your harsh tone.

“mr. jeon’s assistant called yesterday and demanded the gluten free pasta to be added instead of the duchess potatoes.” your caterer sounds as lost as you feel.

“but… the duchess is gluten free – now there’ll be a double pasta dish for entrée and sides”, you explain to the person who professionally cooks. never would you have imagined you’d be this upset about a vegetable.

“i’m doing what mr. jeon wants, ms. _____. my apologies.” yeah well, jungkook doesn’t know what he wants. his cold shoulder equals an iced crystal – your best friend has been mute even after getting back from his business trip. all the information you need as his unofficial wedding planner are thrown at you from different partners – like the caterer today or the florist last monday.

it’s seems like jungkook really wants to sabotage his own wedding to win this fight between the two of you. until now you’ve let him throw his childish temper tantrum, passively accommodating his changed decisions. but you’re drawing the line at the duchess potato.

“very well”, you say to the caterer. “i know you’re just doing your job – sorry for being rude. i can’t wait to taste… the gluten free pasta.”

the chef on the other end chuckles at your faked enthusiasm and you soon join.

“will you be there for the cocktail testing?”, he asks and you rummage through your desk, finding your planner in milliseconds.

“of course, it’s still on saturday?”, you ask, not trusting jungkook to change dates just to mess with your schedule.

after confirming the date, the two of you hang up and you start to pack up for the day. you’ll do the log entries for your students from home.

“everything okay, ___?”, your coworker jisoo questions, seeing you leave earlier than normal.

“yeah, don’t worry. i just… forgot an appointment. see you tomorrow”, you answer absently taking your prepacked lunch from the community fridge to eat later.

after taking two different trains and one bus, your self-made hummus is looking more like vomit than food as you stand in front of jungkook’s office building. but with your stomach in knots, you lose all appetite.

“miss ______, what a lovely surprise!”, the doorman greets you with an honest smile on his face. normally jungkook would send one of his town cars to collect you for your weekly lunch. to see you getting out of a bus worries the employee.

“how is the family, hanseo?”, you ask and answer his smile with one of your own.

“all well and healthy, miss! mr. jeon just got back from his meeting”, he informs you warmly and you bow in thanks.

with swift steps you move to the elevator, ready to make jungkook listen. arriving at the final floor, you greet his secretary with a short hug, your eyes already set on his closed door.

“may i go in?”, you ask mrs. yang – not really up to date on jungkook’s schedule. her knowing eyes stare right through your question.

“he’s all yours for the next hour; i’ll hold all phone calls.” you nod silently grateful for her discretion.

two loud knocks are the only forewarning jungkook gets before you barge into his office. your best friend sits at his desk, the top buttons of his shirt undone. his neatly styled hair and the reading glasses tell you that the last few hours were full of business decisions and negotiations.

his tired eyes look at you in surprise, before they cloud over with indifference.

“_____”

no ‘hey, how’ve you been the last week?’, no ‘did you manage to grab the credit card i forgot at the restaurant i stormed out of?’, no ‘i’m sorry, i canceled your favorite potato dish’.

“jungkook”, you greet him and hate yourself for how soft your voice sounds. your feet won’t allow you to move further into the room as your body stands still right next to the closing door.

a hefty silence sets around you, while the two of you muster the other. you notice the bags under his eyes – even with the expensive concealer covering the dark rings.

“_____”, your best friend says again, uncomfortable with the tension in his office.

“jungkook”, you answer, mimicking his tactic.

two estranged friends smile timidly at each other, before the CEO gets up from his seat and closes the distance. in front of you, he hesitates for a breath, but then you are in his arms. your winter coat and heavy bag create a barrier which jungkook crushes easily. he presses your body close to his chest, the suit jacket tightening around his shoulder blades.

you embrace him back, just as fiercely, and inhale his musky scent. he smells like love and you feel your eyes water.

“you’re a jerk”, you whisper against his neck, not ready to let go, but willing to work through your anger. the former idol huffs and buries his nose deeper in your hair. you can feel his breathe against your scalp and thank the lord with a silent prayer for taking a shower this morning.

“i know”, jungkook admits as he manages to squeeze you tighter at the same time.

“you’re a child”, you continue while drawing soft patterns across his shoulder blades with your fingertips.

“i know”

another silence follow – but it’s one without anger. it feels like going on vacation. nevertheless, problems need to be face, you’ve learned that from your shrink. so, with a heavy heart, you lose your embrace and try to step away from your best friend. after reluctantly holding on to you, he huffs and lets you go.

“have you eaten?”

“jungkook, we need to talk about this”, you tell him while the both of you sit on the leather couch. you have to suppress the impulse to take off your shoes, an old habit after the long nights spent in his office.

“when did you eat lunch, ____?”, he asks again and loses his suit jacket. the white button up shirt underneath looks a size too small, which troubles your heart greatly. jungkook doesn’t seem to notice, his focus remains on your eating habits.

“jungkook, i’ll eat later, promise”, you deflect and pat your bag with the hummus vegetable stew in it. your best friend doesn’t seem impressed.

“you’re upset because i haven’t told you about a close friend of mine”, you start, only to see him grimace at your wording.

“for five months”, he specifies.

“it never came up in conversation, jungkook. you… you don’t know all details of my life”, you justify yourself while mentally bowing at your backbone.

“yesterday, your mother invited me to their vow renewal, i can open a whole art gallery with your food pictures and i helped you plan a funeral for your living room plant last month”, jungkook replies astonished. “i even held the eulogy.”

yeah, fair, you’ll never forget seokjin’s oscar worthy crying scene in front of the calathea. even jimin was impressed.

“but you can’t introduce me to the guy accompanying you to my wedding?” there is a thick, and reasonable, accusation behind his words. you feel your hands sweat as you look at the tired eyes of your best friend.

“i’m afraid you won’t like him”, you offer. it’s the most logical explanation you could come up with after your phone call with taehyung. when truthfully, you are more afraid of the person yoongi will see in you face-to-face with jungkook.

but your best friend seems to buy your white lie. his face softens as he rests one hand on your knee.

“_____”, jungkook starts, “every friend of yours is a friend of mine.” you snort right into his words, not believing him for a second.

“you put my last boyfriend into jail.” the answering chuckle from him does not sound one bit apologetic.

“he was trash.” you know he’s right, still, his distrust was there before it turned out that your ex-boyfriend committed tax fraud.

“what about jisoo?”, you ask. “you’ve never warmed up to her.”

jungkook looks like he just swallowed something bitter at the name of your coworker.

“she hit on me.” his reveal shocks you.

“but she has a fiancé!”, you exclaim, only to see him roll his eyes.

“she hit on me”, he repeats unforgiving.

just… great.

“yoongi is different”, you say softly, not ready to reflect on jisoo’s audacity. it’s quite common for others to hit on jeon jungkook – he’s famous after all. but your own friend?

“let me be the judge”, jungkook demands equally soft and squeezes your knee.

“i’m not asking for your judgement, kookie”, you huff. you don’t need his approval. and yoongi sure as hell doesn’t want it.

“but”, you start again, “i think it’ll be best if you got to know him before the wedding.” you’ve thought about this a lot. it seems like the best course of action. even if you can’t picture yoongi and jungkook in the same room.

“he isn’t invited to the wedding”, your best friend scowls like a child. now you push his hand from your knee, irritated by his actions.

“he is”, you press, not willing to back down. jungkook’s eyes flash in anger.

“you can go with taehyung. he still has to make amends for fucking the DJs”, the CEO offers businesslike and moves up from the couch, like he just singlehandedly solved the problem.

“i don’t need a pity partner, jeon. i – there is a person who actually wants to go with me to your wedding”, you bite back. sure, you had to beg yoongi, but you won’t disclose that now. you’ve seen his gummy smile last week as he tried on expensive suits. he looked way too happy and handsome.

your best friend pushes some documents around his desk, deep in thoughts.

“as my best man you won’t have much time to be with him during the wedding. he will be alone in the midst of strangers. it’ll make him uncomfortable”, he tries to reason. you can’t help but roll your eyes – yoongi’s whole job description is to talk to strangers and make them feel safe. but wait…

“i’m not your best man, jungkook.” you’ve scheduled the event. seokjin’s best man speech comes right before the main course. you even sent the man some keynotes, with topics not to add to his roast.

“you got upgraded”, jungkook states with a shrug. no, no, no, no, no.

“you’ll have to rearrange the seating chart – the place next to my parents’ is now yours.”

“jungkook”, you breathe, astonished by his thoughts, “i’m not your best man.”

he tenses at your refusal, but won’t admit defeat too soon.

“you’re my best friend, so you should be my best man as well”, he says like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“she was against it at first – some bullshit about gender norms and how the photos will look. but, ____, not talking to you for this long made me realize, that you are way more important than seokjin.”

you can see the red flags wave behind jungkook as you feel your heart quicken at his words.

“jungkook” no longer is your voice angry. the sadness in your tone makes jungkook flinch while looking at you from across the room.

“we’ve both created very – very idolized versions of one another”, you start to explain. “maybe you think of me as important – but jungkook, there is so much we haven’t shared with each other.”

he shakes his head, willing to interrupt, but you hold your hands up in warning.

“jungkook, i lo- i like being with you a lot these last few years. but there are parts of you i’ve never met. i never shared your trainee days with you, the hardship, the success. i was only an unknown fan cheering your band on from afar.”

you take a deep breath. “but even now, you still surprise me with new sides of yourself. leaving me on an island? disinviting my plus one? that’s not the jungkook i know. and that’s sure as hell not someone i want to toast to.”

your best friend looks like you’ve just broken something dear to him and you can feel the defeat in your bones.

“seokjin is your best man, jungkook”, you end and smile at the CEO who won’t look at you anymore. before you can move closer to him, the door opens.

“mr. jeon, your next appointment is waiting.” mrs. yang sounds apologetic and looks uncomfortable between the two of you – so far apart.

jungkook nods at his secretary and she closes the door, leaving you to finish the train wreck of a conversation.

“are we no longer best friends, ____?”, he whispers as he logs into his computer. his posture screams dismissal, but you can see how tensed his shoulders are and how hard is mind is working.

you have to suppress the coo on the tip of your tongue.

“jungkook – you are my best friend. you are a person of the utmost importance to me.”

“you still like me?” i love you, you fool.

“i still like you way too much for my own good.”

he nods silently and you can see the tiniest smile spreading across his lips.

you leave without goodbye, only to feel your phone vibrating in your pocket while the elevator rushes to the lobby.

bring your plus one to this week’s movie night.

before you can send a smiley face in responds, an email form the caterer pops up.

subject: duchess potatoes are back.

_____

happy new year! i hope you all have a healthy and kind 2021! let’s make life better by wearing our masks, helping others in need and supporting those who experienced hardship during this tiering time!

i know i promised yoongi/jungkook cat fight – but the chapter got so ugly that i squeezed in this scene of reader und kookie talking about this mess. so that yoongs won’t bleed during game night.

i’d love to hear from you all, it’s been really silent in my virtual life…

all the best and the warmest of hugs from, dana

taglist: @livewittykid  @thequeen-kat @kagami-s-void @goldenclosethobi @youwannabelostandnotbefound @jinsalpaca @bishuthot @laabellaavitaa21 @baekstans @jalexad​ @kimluvwoo​  @jinsearthh​

[caitdjarin]

happier

Bucky Barnes x Reader

- Part two to ‘traitor’.

Warnings

Angst, Jealousy, Language, Mentions of Sex, Bucky being toxic and possessive, Arguments, Yelling, Australian/English spellings

gif is not mine

Yours and Bucky’s “friendship” literally just consisted of arguments and him apologising. A small list of reasons why he was mad at you and argued with you were

- You created a tinder account, which he had found

- You went out on a date

- You fucked someone

- You fucked someone else

It was mainly him being jealous and it royally pissed you off, you tried to talk to him or get anyone to talk to him about it, but he would not listen. It was like he thought he had some claim on you because you agreed to be civil with him and possibly start a friendship again, like before you were dating.

You had been doing particularly well with Bucky for a while, it was pleasant. Bucky had stopped his bullshit for a couple of months now and you felt like you were on the path to a friendship with him. Without all the arguing. That’s when you decided to sign up to sing at a local bar that you all went to regularly. You felt as if Bucky would be mature enough to listen. As you were about to invite him, he started an argument again, you started to think he was doing it on purpose. When you were together, every argument ended in unbelievable make-up sex. This time, he was mad that he saw someone walking out of your apartment.

“James, stop.” You yelled. “You’re acting like a fucking child. I am single, I am allowed to do whatever the fuck I want, and I will do whatever the fuck I want. You know that we will not be together again, stop causing these arguments trying to make something happen because it will not.”

He, of course, walks off.

You don’t tell Bucky about the bar. He won’t handle it well, but you invite Nat, Wanda, Steve and Vis.

-

Starting the song was probably the hardest part, pouring your feelings into the world and letting your friend know how you actually felt during.

“And do you tell her she's the most beautiful girl you've ever seen? An eternal love bullshit you know you'll never mean Remember when I believed you meant it when you said it first to me? And now I'm pickin' her apart Like cuttin' her down make you miss my wretched heart But she's beautiful, she looks kind, she probably gives you butterflies” Finishing the verse, you look out towards Nat and Wanda, where they’re smiling back at you, giving you the courage to finish.

“I hope you're happy, but not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, I wish you all the best, really Say you love her, baby, just not like you loved me And think of me fondly when your hands are on her I hope you're happy, but don't be happier”

Concluding the song, you look out in the crowd again, this time finding a familiar face, with bright blue eyes. You felt your face drop. Walking off the stage, you find yourself moving towards him.

“Bucky, you’re here”

“Yeah, Steve let it slip that this was happening, wanted to support you.” He replies, walking out of the venue.

You walk back into the venue and find Nat, Wanda, Steve and Vis.

“You did incredible, I am so proud of you for putting yourself out there.” Nat speaks loudly, trying to make sure you hear over the music. Wanda hugs you quickly before telling you she’s proud of you as well. Vis and Steve just smile at you, unsure of how to proceed when they literally just heard a song that was clearly directed at their friend. You all walk out of the venue.

“Why did you tell him, Steve?” You say softly.

“He asked me what I was doing tonight, and when I told him where I was going, he started questioning me a lot, so I just let it slip. I am sorry, I should’ve told him not to come.” He answers truthfully.

“It’s okay, I guess he was going to find out anyway.”

Bucky always thought you had an incredible voice, mainly hearing it while you were cleaning the apartment you once shared. Hearing it again made his heart melt. Until he registered the lyrics. Knowing how you truly felt about the breakup and how he handled things was like a punch to the gut. He was hoping that him causing arguments would bring out the sexual tension and then he’d be able to get you back but as he heard your voice cracking as you sung, he knew that he had lost the one thing in his life that made him the happiest he’s ever been.

Finding out your new co-worker was your ex-fiancé, was very weird. You had just started a new job as a professor at a small university. Rafael was always polite; you were in the same department, so it was a bit difficult to avoid him anyway. One day, you noticed a small band on his ring ringer.

“So you got married?”

“Yeah” he smiled, “Peter and I did over the weekend.”

“I am so happy for you, Raf, I know you wanted this for a long time”

“I am really sorry about how it all happened, I know I treated you badly and I should have- “

“You didn’t have to do anything, Raf, you weren’t ready to come out. It might’ve hurt a little, but you deserve to not hide who you are and be with someone who is the complete opposite of who you are attracted to.” You say, cutting him off.

“How are do you always see the best in people, even when they fuck you over?” He questions.

“Because I’ve seen the good and you can’t be defined by your mistakes. I have to go now though, Congratulations again.” You say, walking out of the shared office.

You had to talk to Bucky, clear the air, make sure everything was okay. First stopping by your apartment to drop off some papers and your laptop.

You found Bucky sitting at the steps, waiting for you, you assume.

“Hey, do you want to come up?” You say as he looks up at you. He follows you up. Opening your door, you lean against it to let him in, he walks in taking in your home for the first time.

“It’s definitely you.” He smiles.

“I spend a lot of time here, have to make it nice and comfortable.”

“I am so proud of you; I hope you know that. Your voice was incredible.”

“Thank you, Bucky, I really appreciate that.”

“Why didn’t you invite me?” He asks, sadly. You sigh.

“I was going to, then you started that stupid argument and it made me feel like I shouldn’t. I am glad that you came anyway.”

“I’m sorry, I guess I just wanted you back and didn’t know how to get that across without arguing.”

“Bucky- “You start. He says your name cutting you off.

“I know now that it will not happen, and I am okay with that, I just want you in my life still.” He states. “You were right in that song by the way. She made me happy temporarily, but nobody will ever make me as happy as I was when I was with you.”

“I will always love you, Buck, I always have, and I think I always will. But us breaking up brought up some real problems in our relationship for me that I think I just overlooked because I was so in love with you.”

“I will always love you too.” You watch as a single tear comes out of his beautiful blue eye. You hug him, wrapping your arms around his waist and laying your head on his chest. He pulls you in closer, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and kissing the top of your head. You stay there for a while, just enjoying each other’s company. Once he leaves, you dig through your wardrobe. You find all your books with your notes in them.

Going through all your papers with your songs on them and all your little thoughts you had written down throughout your breakup and as you were moving on, felt nostalgic. Remembering how you had felt about Bucky, how your emotions were so strong and how you would scrub your skin lighter, fearful that you might speed up the process of your body renewing and creating something that hadn’t been touched by him. You decide to burn them all. You want to remember the good in your relationship moving forward. You would forever love James Buchanan Barnes, but you loved yourself more.

He may not have been my soulmate but he’s the man I am going to tell my children about when they ask what love feels like.

[rowanwhitethornisbae]

Arrest Me

Prompt: “I proposed to you last night and now I'm arresting you.” 

Warnings: Language, mentions of sexual assault. 

Rowan Whitethorn was exhausted. After breaking up a drug deal and arresting several stupid teens for disorderly conduct, all he wanted to do was go home to his beautiful girlfriend. 

Fiancée. He corrected himself with no small amount of happiness. He’d proposed last night actually. Dinner on the roof on their apartment, which he’d decorated with lights hanging off of every surface. Aelin had said yes before he even really managed to ask. He was still smiling to himself as his partner climbed back into the passenger seat. 

“Got you some coffee.” Fenrys said, grinning like always. Normally that constant smile would bug Rowan, but not today. Nothing could dampen his mood. 

“Thanks Fen.” He replied, handing his friend a five dollar bill. 

Just then, a voice chimed through the police radio they had on constantly. “Closest unit please report to a bar fight at Gavriel’s over on twelfth street.”

Rowan and Fenrys both groaned as they realized they were by far the closest to the bar. Putting his coffee in the cup holder, Rowan picked up his mic. “This is unit 78. We’re on our way.” 

Ignoring Fenrys’ muttered complaints, he pressed down on the gas. There were no need for sirens and it took them barely two minutes to pull up in front of the bar. Gavriel’s wasn't exactly unfamiliar to Rowan. With the owner being Aelin’s uncle of sorts, they often frequented it. Truthfully, he wasn't sure there was a single spot in the small bathroom that he hadn't taken Aelin against. He laughed to himself as they burst through the doors and into the bar. 

What he saw almost made his heart stop dead in his chest. A dark haired muscular man was lying unconscious on the floor with two other people standing over him. Across the room from them, a burly bearded man whom Rowan didn't recognize was being restrained by two others. He was screaming at a young woman, who was yelling endless profanities right back at him. 

Aelin Galanthynius. His Fiancée. The love of his fucking life was currently being restrained by her cousin as she thrashed and screamed. There was blood all over her face and he couldn't tell if it was coming from her nose or lip. 

“Holy fuck.” He said loudly and both parties went silent and turned towards him. 

His eyes were only on Aelin though. Her face lit up when she recognized him, and then fell again when she realized the situation. 

“Hi Ro.” She said sheepishly, a quiet smiling tugging on her lips. 

For a brief moment, his resolved faltered. She’d always had that affect on him. Since the second Aelin had ran into Rowan, literally, and spilled her coffee all over him, he’d been entranced. Her cheeks had been rosy from the winter chill and a few snowflakes were perched on her long eyelashes. Her blonde hair was in a loose bun and a few strands escaped from under her red beanie. If love at first sight existed, that had to be it. 

“Hi love.” He said, shooting her a mocking smile. Rowan honestly had no idea how to feel. Currently; worry, anger, and amusement were winning. 

He turned behind him slowly, reluctant to take his eyes off Aelin. “Fen, you call for an ambulance for the unconscious one. Take the rest of these guys in and get their perspective. I need to talk to Aelin.” 

Fenrys, luckily, knew better than to argue against this time. Within seconds he had called for the paramedics and cuffed two of them men who seemed most involved. The others slunk away into the background after making false promises about bailing their friends out. 

Finally, Rowan turned back to his soon to be wife. She was attempting to clean some of the blood off her face and was only succeeding in smearing it everywhere. Shoulder’s slumping, he took her hand and pulled her over to a barstool. He grabbed her hips and lifted her up. She was looking at him oddly in her attempt to read his mood. Rowan’s hands roamed from her hips and stilled on her lower stomach. The tank top she was wearing had ridden up and he tugged it down slightly. She shot him a wicked grin. 

“I’m shocked Rowan. Normally when you pick me up it’s because my clothes are coming off not on.” 

He didn't laugh and her smile quickly disappeared. Stepping away from her, he walked behind the bar and ran a cloth under warm water. 

“What happened Ace?” He asked, back facing her. 

He could almost feel her take a breath in. “Nothing I just got upset.” 

Rowan snorted as he turned back around. He stalked towards her slowly, cloth dripping water onto the wooden floor. 

“I know when you’re lying.” He began dabbing at the blood on her face. “Tell me the truth.” 

She tried to turn her face away from him. Gently, he grabbed her chin and forced her eyes to meet his. 

“He started out just hitting on me. Who can blame him I am really hot.” She laughed weakly and he motioned with his eyes for her to continue. “Then I told him I was engaged but he wouldn't let up. I tried to push him off but he grabbed my...” Aelin gestured at her breasts and Rowan turned livid. He could barely breathe, let alone think. Noting his reaction she placed a soft hand on his shaking wrists. 

“It’s fine Rowan. I kicked him in the balls and punched him out. Unfortunately for me though, his friend got upset and slammed my face into the bar. My nose broke and my lip split. I started screaming at him but before I could actually knock him out stupid Aedion pulled me back.” 

Rowan took a deep breath in, attempting to calm the raging quiet in his head. All he wanted to do was go after those two guys and beat them to a pulp. Instead, he was here, wiping the remaining blood off his fiancée’s beautiful face. 

When he had finished, he kissed her on the cheek, then the corner of her mouth. She grinned against him as he captured her lips with his own. He tugged lightly on her bottom lip with his teeth and she pushed her hips against him. Groaning softly, he pulled away. 

“I need to take you in to the station” He told her. 

Her grin was nothing short of wicked. “Cuff me officer.” She winked at him. 

He spun her around and gently placed the cuffs around her wrist. “I proposed to you last night and now I'm arresting you.” Her shoulders shook with laughter. 

“I keep you on your toes. It’s why you love me.” She turned around to kiss him. 

“One of the many reasons.” He spoke onto her lips. 

As he escorted his fiancée out to his police cruiser, Rowan couldn't help but smile. This fiery woman before him was his future, his entire world. He wondered if he’d ever stop being so damn happy about it. 

[mandoalorian]

Hi 👋 hope your staying safe! Can I request something with Santi, please? Could you write something where Santi and reader used to be friends as kids, Santi having looked out for reader when she was picked on or if she fell over at school, but then after he graduated they lost contact until years later reader reaches out to him randomly and they reunite, maybe fall in love??

Sorry if it's strange, I'm going through something similar but I'm trying to get the guts to reach out to the guy, it's nerve wracking!! 😳😨 Maybe reading something will give me a boost 😂

Tinder [Santiago Garcia x F!Reader]

Word count: 1,700

Rating: 18+ I guess? I don’t know. Nothing explicit, it’s just Tinder is an 18+ app.

Warnings: food mention, tinder mention, allusions to sex

Masterlist

Tinder. It was so tedious. An app that had gained it’s reputation for being nothing more than a “hookup app” or even a “sex app”. It was associated with superficiality and laced with sexual innuendos. It was the app that had been accused of igniting modern day hookup culture. It was the app that Santiago Garcia frequented every damn day. The man even paid a premium! It was a quick and easy way for him to meet girls for drinks and a quick fuck. It’s all a man like Santiago had time for. Falling in love wasn’t an option for him. It was something he’d never considered until Games Night last week. 

Once upon a time, Will’s small living room was just filled with him, Santiago, Frankie, Benny and Tom, but the head count had grown extensively over the past few years. Tom had reconciled with Molly, Yovanna and Benny had something going on, and now even Frankie was engaged to the blonde haired, blue eyed girl who sat quietly in the corner sipping tea and doodling in her sketchbook. 

Santiago didn’t mind the girls. In fact, he actually enjoyed their company, but their presence only had him yearn for something more. He’d never been one to think about settling down or starting a family of his own, but he felt an indirect pressure. Maybe trying out one long term relationship wouldn’t be so bad after all? But he was so used to his flings. How was he ever going to grow out of his commitment issues and find someone he could really connect with.

Truthfully, he’d already found her, about fifteen years ago.

You and Santiago Garcia were the best of friends. You used to do everything together; walking home from school hand in hand, singing and dancing when you thought no one was around, playing LEGO and building up jigsaw’s. He was your soulmate, in every sense of the word. But you can’t stay young forever and eventually Santiago left your small neighbourly town to join the military. And you never saw him again.

Which is why it was a surprise when you, half asleep at 2 am, and drooling on your pillow, lazily swiped right on his profile. You weren’t even paying attention. Just another tanned skin man with dark brown hair and chocolate eyes. It was a haze, and your desperation to move on from your ex boyfriend had you yearning to meet someone new. You groaned tiredly, deciding you were never going to find someone as good as your ex, switched your phone off and shoved it under your pillow before finally getting some sleep.

At around 3 am, Santiago still wasn’t asleep, thanks to his roommate Frankie and his fiancée keeping probably the whole apartment complex awake. He pulled out his phone from his nightstand and checked Tinder. That’s when he saw you. Before even checking your name, he could tell it was you by that familiar sparkle in your eyes, and the way your perfect lips curled into a smile. It might have been fifteen years since he’d last seen you, but just looking at your photo made it feel like yesterday. He couldn’t contain his wide grin as he flicked through your photos. You looked just as beautiful as ever, and Santiago recalled the crush he had on you when you were both kids. He wondered how come you hadn't settled down already. He knew you always dreamed of getting married and having kids, with a big house and a big dog. So why were you on Tinder?

In a simple spur of the moment, Santiago swiped right.

‘It’s a match!’ the words blew up on Santiago’s screen and illuminated the dark bedroom. Streamers and confetti exploded around your photo; the typical thing that always happened when he matched with women on Tinder, only now it actually felt like celebrating. This meant that you must’ve swiped right on him too. 

You spent the morning the same way you always did, laying in bed and checking the notifications on your different social media. Just before you were about to get up, you remembered how you’d impulsively installed Tinder the night before and, on a whim, you opened the app to see if you had matched with anyone.

You scrolled through the eight matches you’d gained through the night, frowning and twisting your face in disgust at some of the profiles. You really hadn’t been paying attention to who you were swiping.

Your eyes went comically wide when you read the name at the end of the list.

‘You have matched with: Santiago Garcia! Say hi!’

It was like time had frozen and you read the words over and over again. Santiago Garcia. Santiago Garcia. Santiago Garcia. You wondered how many Santiago Garcia’s lived in New York City - or more specifically, only three miles away?!

You hammered your thumb into your screen to view his profile and you were blown away as you went through his photos. That was definitely him. That was definitely your childhood best friend. Although his hair was once dark and curly, it was now short and slightly salt and peppered. He had a slight graze of facial hair in all of his photos, and in most of them, he was seen to be hanging out with a bunch of other guys. Wait- was that Francisco Morales too? They were still friends?

You were so nervous to say something. Truthfully, if you had come across his profile at any other moment where you weren’t half asleep, and hopelessly desperate for love, your fear would’ve stopped you from swiping right. You’d been in love with Santiago since pre-school. It had been over a decade but you still thought about him every single day and cherished those long lost moments you spent together. 

But the reality was, that he’d swiped right on you too. He was interested in you as well! Which had to count for something. You took a deep breath and typed out the words “Hello :)” before quickly turning your phone off and throwing it across your bedroom. 

You sat bolt upright in your bed for a few moments, contemplating what you had done. You told yourself it would be okay and asked yourself what was the worst that could happen. You sighed and forced yourself out of bed to get ready for the day ahead.

Turning off your phone was a good idea because you’d actually forgotten about messaging Santiago until about lunch time. You flicked through the television channels, holding a lazily put together sandwich in your free hand, and landed on a dating game show. You considered applying, thinking about how fun it might be, when you remembered you might already have a shot with someone else. Santiago. You dropped your sandwich on the coffee table in a frenzy, ran to your bedroom and turned on your phone. The painful minute it took to completely boot up sent butterflies rampant in the pit of your stomach.

Santiago: Hey! How you doing? I gotta say I was really surprised to see that we matched last night. It’s been a long time!

Oh my god. He’d replied. He’d replied three hours ago and you hadn’t said anything back. Shit. You wondered if you had already blown your chances, but little did you know, Santiago had been holding out for a message from you for a long time.

You: Right...almost fifteen years, I think! I’m okay. How are you?

You pressed send and took a deep breath. It was okay. Just casual small talk. It would be okay. You slid your phone into your pocket and went back to eat your sandwich. No matter how hard you tried to focus on the game show, you just couldn’t stop thinking about Santiago.

“Santi! You got a new message!” Frankie called from the other room, taking a huge, messy bite out of a candy bar and picking up his phone.

“Frankie! I’m literally on the toilet… can it wait?” Santiago cried, face palming and chuckling incredulously. Living with his best friend for five long years meant that Santiago had become accustomed to interactions like this.

“No, I don’t think so,” Frankie mumbled, knotting his eyebrows together as he read the notification that had popped up on the screen. “Hey, are you talking to Y/N L/N from high school?”

“Wh- what?” Santiago asked, feeling his cheeks flush.

“Oh my God you are!” Frankie gasped excitedly, typing in his friend’s passcode for his phone and getting inside. “On Tinder!”

Santiago finished up washing his hands and walked out the bathroom, an unamused scowl drawn upon his lips. Frankie swallowed at his best friend’s expression.

“This has to stop,” Santiago warned, taking his phone from Frankie’s hand. “I love you buddy, I really do. But you’re getting married next Summer. You can’t keep trying to talk to me while I’m on the toilet!” 

Frankie laughed and rolled his eyes before getting back to his video game. 

Santiago was shocked to be reminded that you had remembered exactly how long it had been since you last saw each other. He began to compose his next message. You practically screamed when you felt your phone vibrate at the notification.

Santiago: I’m well, thanks for asking. Would you be interested in meeting up sometime for a few drinks? I’d love to catch up.

Drinks. A catch up. It sounded perfect. You already found your mind racing as you wondered what to wear.

You: That sounds great!

Santiago’s reply came fleetingly.

Santiago: Are you free tonight? X

Tonight was so soon… but you were free, and it felt like you’d been waiting forever to reunite with your childhood crush. And he felt the same way. It was so exciting for both of you.

You: Tonight sounds great. See you then :) x 

You and Santiago spent the rest of the day in anticipation to see one another. You didn’t know then, but the accidental Tinder encounter turned out to be the long lasting and perfect relationship both you and Santiago craved. The soulmates were reunited at last.

Taglists - let me know if you wish to be added!

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat

[justcallmenikki7]

BTS Reaction To: Drunk Mafia BTS

Summary: your mafia boyfriend gets drunk and shows a different side to them.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, crack, alcohol consumption, mean!Namjoon, crying!Jungkook, mentions of sexual undertones, cute but annoying drunk Hoseok, mafia!au (but not really mentioned mafia), emotional Yoongi who needs readers love and reassurance, cute Jimin.

W.C.: 2.4k

Request: hi!! can you do a drunk bts mafia reaction?

Notes: Like I’ve said before, I love Mafia requests.

Jin:

You knew that you should not have left Jin alone with his brothers for thirty minutes.

You knew that leaving his side so you can go and talk to Jisoo about girl stuff, leaving Jin unattended with his brothers, especially the maknae when there is alcohol involved was a no-go. But you did it anyways, so now you are here – dealing with a flirty Jin who has one too many drinks in his system.

“You’re so pretty,” Seokjin cooed, body weight leaning into yours as you walked him to the car. “But!” He announced loudly, shocking you. “I haves a girlfriend, ACTUALLY! A fiancée. So, my compliments need to stop. I-It’s just that you look so much like her, that it is uncanny.” He rambled. “You even have the same, comfy, soft boobs! Are you her doppelganger?” Seokjin asked with a curious voice – a voice that does not suit his mafia boss persona.

Laughing at his question, “No, Jinnie, I’m Y/N. The actual her.” Mouth dropping wide in astonishment, “No way! Baby!” He yelled, flying into you, sending the both of you to the ground. But even in his drunken state, his reflexes still worked, and he turned you guys around to where he took the beating of the ground while you fell onto his chest. “Ooo, I like this position,” he said cheekily, smiling up at you.

“Of course, you do, you drunk.” You chuckled, “Now, get up. We need to get your drunk ass home.”

Yoongi:

The sound of breaking glass was what caught your attention from the book you were reading. Closing the book, you put it aside to see if the sound would repeat again, which it did. The breaking glass was coming from above you, which is where your boyfriend’s office was. Standing up, you quietly, but quickly, made your way up the stairs, slowly hearing the curses and angry words coming from your boyfriends’ mouth. Once you got to the office door, you quietly knocked on the door, silencing all of the commotion on the other side of the door.

The door opened, showing the distressed man in front of you. Trying to hide his tears, he turned around and made his way over to his desk, silently telling you that you can come in.

“Yoongi, what’s wrong?” You asked softly, walking up behind him, putting a few feet between you guys.

“Nothing. Why do you ask?” He replied, being short with you.

Spotting the bottle of whisky on his desk, you connected the dots that he is stressed since whisky is his escape drink.

“Well,” you started off, “There’s broken glass on the floor from you throwing it, whisky on the desk, and you’re obviously crying. So, something is wrong.”

“Wow, why would you ask me since you apparently know what’s going on.” He snapped, turning around to look at you, eyes blank.

Taking a few steps back, you coiled in on yourself by his harshness. Realizing that he wants you to leave him alone, you respected his wishes. “I’ll leave you alone then. I just wanted to check up on you.” You bowed, turning around and leaving.

Before you could walk out the door, you felt a soft grip on your arm, pulling you back.

“Please don’t leave.” Yoongi asked, voice raspy. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Not saying anything, you pulled your boyfriend into a hug. Your actions caused your boyfriend to breakdown, shocking you at the sight. The most dangerous man in the underworld, the one who scares the law itself, was falling apart in your arms for a reason you do not know.

Hoseok:

“And a BOOP!”

Trying to stay calm, you watched the finger – for the twentieth time – come in contact with your nose. Your eyebrow twitched from irritation. Surprisingly you were keeping your composure really well. You were not blowing up on your boyfriend yet.

But the thing that you do not get is how the man who can kill a person with a smile on his face, not even flinching, can act so childish and love messing with your nose whenever he is drunk.

It is like trying to figure out how many licks it takes to get to the tootsie roll.

“Your nose is so cute!” Hoseok squealed, face moving close to you, breaking your personal bubble boundary, “It has a little arch to it!” He added, a squeal evident in his tone.

That was a new one, you concluded.

“Can I run my finger over your nose?” He asked, voice innocent.

Releasing a sigh, a sigh that seemed to be very offensive that Hoseok took to heart. “Are you mad at me?” He sniffled, looking away to hide his face.

“No, Hobi.” You reassured softly, “I’m just getting a little irritated, but I am not mad at you, I promise.”

Sniffles growing louder, you realized that you messed up.

“I’M ANNOYING YOU?!”

Fuck.

Before you could say anything else, your body was met with the couch while your boyfriends body was thrown on top of yours. ‘I’m sorries’ were spewing out of his mouth rapidly, body shaking from the sobs racking over his body.

“Yes! You can run your finger over my nose.” You said, hoping it will calm him down.

As if a light switch was turned off, your boyfriend immediately stopped crying, a huge smile gracing his face. “Yay! Thank you!” His finger running over your nose, face morphed into a concentrated look.

Namjoon:

When you walked into your home, your sense of smell was met with alcohol – mainly whiskey and cigars.

“Oh no,” you whispered to yourself, preparing yourself for what was possibly going to happen.

Namjoon is drunk by now, and this only happens when he is overly stressed, or in need of an outlet for his anger. So, a drunk Namjoon equals an angry drunk Namjoon. You have only seen this side of him just once, and it was not pretty.

You did not speak to Namjoon for a week because of it.

He promised you he would not seek comfort from alcohol ever again – but he broke his promise.

Walking into the living room, you found your boyfriend sitting in the single sofa chair, the top three buttons of his dress shirt undone, showing the caramel skin of his chest. But his beautiful sight was ruined when you saw the whiskey bottle sitting on the side table with the cigar on the ash tray, and a glass of whiskey in his ring clad hand.

“I am surprised you have not started yelling yet,” Namjoon mocked, interrupting your train of thought. “Last time I drank, you freaked out on me.”

Taken aback by his words, “I didn’t freak out on you? Plus, I am not going to now. I am curious on why you are drinking, whiskey especially.”

“Oh, so am I not allowed to drink certain alcoholic drinks?” He asked, sarcasm and mockery laced in his words. “Wow, you’re more controlling than I thought.”

You could feel your heart break at his words, eyes stinging from the tears that are wanting to spill. “Wow. Um, okay.” You said, not knowing what words to use. You were beating yourself up mentally from how weak you are and your inability to stand up for yourself. So, choosing the cowardly way out, you turned around and made your way to the guess room that was in your house, locking the door and hiding yourself in there.

Jimin:

Sitting at the booth in the bar, you listened to your best friend Yoonji vent about her and Namjoon’s relationship.

Tonight, was club night with the boys.

Having a boyfriend who is a mafia boss that owns his own private club was awesome, especially during parties. Not having to pay and wait in line was awesome, drinks and food was free, and the best of all – sitting in the VIP section away from the drunk people.

“I just wish that he would make more time for me,” Yoonji stressed, eyes tearing up. “I feel so alone sometimes…” She trailed off, taking a gulp from his glass.

A frown was on your face, watching your friend cry was one of the worst things ever. Before you could add your opinion in, you felt a body that was all too familiar fall on top of you. A pair of lips attached theirs to yours, shocking you from the abruptness.

“My Love!” Your boyfriend announced, a drunken grin of his face, cheeks tinted red from the alcohol he has been drinking. “I have missed you so MUCH!” He stated, lips now turned downwards.

“I’ve missed you too, Jiminie.” You replied back, honesty laced in your words. “But, I’m talking with Yoonji here,” you motioned towards your friend, your boyfriends head whipping around quickly to look at her.

“Ooops! I’m sorry Yoonji!” He apologized truthfully, head turning back towards you. “Is it okay if I lay my head on your lap while you talk with Yoonji? My head hurts, and I PROMISE! I won’t speak of anything that you guys say to Namjoon!” He promised, sticking his pinky in the air towards you.

“Wait, what?” Yoonji asked in shock. “How do you know we are talking about Namjoon?”

“Cause silly! You just admitted to it,” Jimin giggled, already making himself comfortable on your lap. “Plus, the both of you came in upset, so it’s kinda obvious that you two are arguing.”

And that was the last thing your boyfriend said before he was lulled into a deep sleep.

Looking up at Yoonji, you gave her an apologetic smile. “Jimin’s extra blunt when he’s drunk?”

Taehyung:

As you conversed with your boyfriend’s gang members girlfriends, you could feel the heavy stare on your back from your boyfriend. You knew that you looked hot – thanks to the constant compliments and love that your boyfriend gives you everyday has helped with your self love. Wearing a sexy, but appropriate dress to the ball that was thrown by an ally mafia gang was a good idea because it was messing with your boyfriend. You knew the little things that riled up your boyfriend of three years – and this dress was one of them; especially when he had alcohol in his system.

“Um, Y/N?” Madison, Jungkook’s girlfriend of seven months spoke, catching your attention.  

“Hm?”

“Taehyung is I think glaring at you,” She said nervously.

Smiling at her innocence, “Oh, is he?” You asked, turning around to look at your boyfriend who just finished downing his glass of wine. When the two of you made eye contact you gave him a gentle smile and he winked at you. You could see that he has had a lot to drink due to the flush of his cheek and aura that he was giving off.

“He literally has been undressing you with his eyes all night.” Suri commented, bringing a blush to your cheeks from her bluntness.

“And you are right,” Taehyung admitted, surprising you from his sudden appearance. His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest, head ducking down to nuzzle into your neck. His breath smelt like alcohol and cigarettes as he pressed kisses to you neck. “You’ve looked so beautiful all night that I got turned on.”

“You’ve smoked a cigarette?!” You yelled, shocking the girls and Taehyung.

“What? No, baby—”

“Do not ‘baby’ me,” your voice came out deadly. “You told me you quit!” You accused, glaring at your boyfriend who looked scare, something that you will later laugh at since he is the biggest mafia boss in the world.

“I did. I just had two with Jackson and Namjoon!”

Not wanting to make a bigger scene, you walked away with a nervous and apologetic Taehyung.

“He’s totally not getting anything tonight,” Suri chuckled into his cup of wine.

“$20 he is,” Jisoo, Jimin’s friend had bet.

“You’re so on.”

Jungkook:

“Ugh, another fucking voicemail,” Jungkook grumbled drunkenly. “Y/N, this is my hundredth voicemail, when will you answer? Please answer. I’m sorry that I snapped and scared you. I know that I acted out irrationally during the argument. You’re right, I am childish and short tempered, but that doesn’t give me the excuse to say what I said and act how I acted. Wait? Did I say that right? hopefully because I want to make this right with you. I love you, Y/N, and I know that I have a suckish way of showing it, but I do. You’re the light in the darkness that I live in. never would I have thought of meeting you, meeting love in this Mafia world. I just want, need, you back, baby. Please come back to me,” Jungkook stopped, the sobs taking over him. The scary realization of losing you might be coming true. “Please give me one more chance to make this right.”

And with that, he hung up.

On the other side of the city, you listened to the voicemail that Jungkook had sent to you, tears streaming down your face and blurring your vision, your mind already being made up. Putting on a bra and shoes, you grabbed your purse and made your way to Jungkook’s mansion. When you pulled up, you were met with Phil and Leo at the gate. The two guards gave you smile, relief filling their eyes.

Walking into the mansion, you were met with a disastrous living room that had glass and frames on the carpet. A sigh escaped your lips as you realized that you had of fixing up to do.

“I am this drunk that I am imagining you standing right in front of me?” Jungkook asked, scaring your soul out of your body it felt like.

“It’s actually me, Kook.” You giggled, eyes tearing up at the relieved look in Jungkook’s eyes.

One minute his was on the stairs and the next he was squeezing you into his chest.

“You’re back,” he croaked. “Thank God, you’re back to me.”

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé

Chapter 7: Reconnaissance

You stared at him. “You must be freaking kidding me.”

“I’m afraid not,” replied Sejin as he reluctantly sipped his cup of coffee. “I’ll help you in any way I can, but it’s mostly up to you.”

“I… I’m...”

“You’re doubtful?”

“That wouldn’t even begin to describe what I’m feeling,” you admitted and nervously scratched your arm. “I… I’ll try my best, I really will. But...”

You stopped yourself right then and there. You had merely promised Jungkook you would help him through the amnesia. It wasn’t necessary for you to get him back on top of the music industry again. But you knew he had suffered and worked and spent too much of his life to lose it all just because he was stupid and impulsive enough to drunkenly run out on the street at the wrong time. Also, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty. Even though he was - or should you rather say had been - an absolute scumbag, if you would have never made him so upset, he might not be in the devastating situation he was in right now.

And he had changed. You felt it. Somehow, however little. Jeon Jungkook relied on you for the first time in your life.

You had a chance to help him. And although that was good enough morally speaking, what would be the point of all your efforts if he couldn’t perform again? The concert had clearly proven to you that Jungkook belonged up there, on stage, singing and dancing with his hyungs. Having a deadline of slightly more than three months would only mean you and Jungkook would have to work harder.

A lot harder.

“I’ll make it happen,” you said finally. “Jungkook will be able to perform in Japan by the end of May.”

You surprised yourself with how confident you sounded. Perhaps even Sejin, too, for he raised a surprised eyebrow before nodding in approval.

“I believe you can do this,” he told you. “If there’s anything I can do to help, just tell me.”

“Actually,” you began, “I need to get Jungkook some new clothes. Could you give me an address to where he lives and perhaps the numbers of his group members? Yours, too, if you don't mind.”

After exchanging numbers, you realized you could probably make a fortune selling the information to fanatic fans. Though, as Jungkook had stated yesterday, you didn’t really need any more money.

You parted ways with Sejin and found your parents’ private chauffeur, Kwon Jong-Yeol, waiting impatiently outside the entrance door to the hospital. While driving you home, he held a long lecture for you where he talked about the dangers of young women wandering around alone during the night. He didn’t even care about the emergency part, but then again, he had never been particularly fond of Jungkook.

You were done drying your hair after a much-needed shower when you decided to call your parents to tell them about your decision to break the engagement. As you stood in the hallway of your apartment, your heart pounding against your ribcage, you realized very quickly that nobody would reply. You weren’t particularly surprised, knowing your parents' habits of exercising early in the morning before work, and made a mental note to call them later in the day when they were free.

Frankly, you felt a bit relieved. You didn’t know how they would react upon hearing the news - nor did you want to know.

Before you zipped your phone into your jacket pocket, you spotted, to your great horror, that the seven numbers Sejin had given you were names you had never heard before, of course with the singular exception being him.

Jung Hoseok.

Kim Namjoon.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Taehyung.

Min Yoongi.

Park Jimin.

Six names. You guessed Jin, the guy who had blown a kiss at Se-Eun and her friends, was Kim Seokjin, but you hadn’t even the slightest idea regarding the remaining five. You barely remembered what their stage names - since that’s what they must have introduced themselves as at the beginning of the concert - had been.

You didn’t have the chance to stress over it much, since you were getting late to school and you had forgotten to read a chapter for the day’s first presentation. You planned to read during the drive, but you were so tired you fell asleep during the usual, boring road to Korea University Business School. Yes, you were enrolled in one of the prestigious SKY universities. But as the granddaughter of one of the most prominent businessmen in the world and the alleged heiress of his company, this surprised nobody.

It hadn’t really been much of a choice for you, since you had known, ever since you were four years old, that you would one day become the owner and CEO of Phoenix Inc. Even if your parents were to have birthed a hundred children after you, none of them would have become a candidate for the post. Because your grandfather had chosen you in particular, stated your name explicitly in his will, to become his successor as soon as you had finished college. Your dad was merely a placeholder - your placeholder - until that day.

You didn’t know why, though.

Se-Eun was waiting outside the main auditorium together with the other students when she spotted you approaching. She darted toward you, greeted you happily with a hug and took you a bit off to the side, so no one could overhear.

“You have to tell me what happened,” she blurted, her brown eyes glinting with curiosity. “We only have three minutes ‘til class, so you’d best keep it snappy.”

Thinking back on the last twelve hours, it wasn’t difficult for you to deduce that you could say nothing. Not even to your best friend.

“I… I can’t really talk about it,” you said truthfully. “But I promise, it wasn’t anything sensational.”

“I thought you were going to snap someone’s neck when you returned,” she said skeptically. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that upset. Were you embarrassed because they kicked you out? You didn’t have to let us wait for half an hour just to make it seem you had gotten backstage.”

“I was neither upset nor embarrassed,” you protested. “And if I wouldn’t have gotten backstage, I would have been only half as angry as I was yesterday.”

“I knew it!” she exclaimed triumphantly. “You are the quickest, craftiest person I know, (Y/F/N) - now spill the details! What’s there to be so on the down-low for anyways?”

“You know your dialect always spills through when you’re overexcited?” You gave her a teasing smile, pleasantly surprised with her compliment.

“Don’t try to change the subject,” she said stubbornly as she folded her arms across her chest. “Why are you so secretive about it?”

You shook your head. “I really can’t talk about it, I’m sorry.”

Se-Eun sighed, but she gave in. “Well, what did you think about the concert? Wasn’t it-- every one of them amazing? Especially Jungkook?”

When you didn’t immediately give her an annoyed eye roll, sigh or a directly opposed comment as you had the last couple of years whenever she brought up the subject of Jungkook, she whistled in surprise. “You must have really been floored,” she noted.

“Yeah,” you admitted reluctantly. You recalled Jungkook’s presence on stage and almost shivered. His hair, darkened with sweat; his large eyes, filled with an intensity you had never before witnessed; his body language, purposeful and practiced, yet fluid and wild, like liquid mercury; and his voice, soft yet steady, controlled yet gentle.

Beautiful.

But then you remembered his face when he had spotted Kim Sejin. You remembered the creeping anguish in his voice when he had spoken to you and the desperate strength of his grip when he had held your hand. He had been a whole different person. Fearful and brittle. So near his dream yet suspicious, confused and alone.

Now he trusted only you. Of course, you couldn't forget his eyes on Park Yi-Jae, either.

Se-Eun had been discussing which solo performance had been her favorite while you reminisced, when she said something that caught your attention.

“‘Taehyung’?” you repeated. “Who is he?”

“Are you serious?” exclaimed Se-Eun. “I’ve been talking about BTS for years and you only now pay attention?”

“Sorry,” you said unapologetically as you checked the time on your phone. Class would begin anytime now. “You never listen to me when I talk about my interests.”

“Oh, I don’t? I’ll remember this, (Y/N).”

“Come on, I’ll buy you lunch. Now tell me.”

“You would have gotten in so much trouble without your family’s money,” she replied while giggling. “Whenever your tongue and stubbornness get you in trouble, you have an easy way out.”

“Please, Se-Eun,” you said impatiently as you spotted movement over your friend's shoulder. “Professor Kang has already begun letting people inside.”

“Make it free lunch for the whole week.”

You gave her a sharp look but knowing the time-crunch you were in, you also nodded. “Deal.”

Se-Eun began toward the door as she spoke, signaling for you to follow. “Kim Taehyung is V’s real name,” she told you. “Do you want to know the rest of their real names as well?”

You greeted Professor Kang while passing her, then nodded again.

“Rap Monster’s real name is in fact Kim Namjoon,” said Se-Eun as she followed you on your search for two available seats next to one another. She folded a finger for each member - and name in your contact list - as she continued. “Jin’s real name is Kim Seokjin. J-hope’s real name is surprisingly not J-hope but Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin is Jimin and Min Yoongi is Suga. You probably know Jungkook’s real name.”

Suga. Min Yoongi. He was the one who hadn’t spoken even once when you first had stumbled upon the group. With slim dark eyes and a solo performance that had left you feeling physically wounded.

There was something about him.

“Jimin is the shortest one, right? With the light voice?” you asked as you found two seats and sank down into one of them.

“He’s taller than you.”

“In comparison with the whole group,” you said as you rolled your eyes at her instant defense. “And it wasn’t an attack, merely an observation.”

Se-Eun sat down next to you. “I’m just saying. Now, what’s the reason you want to know about their names? Are you becoming a fan?”

“Not really,” you said nonchalantly. “I just thought it would be good to know the names of the seven guys my best friend plans to marry by the end of her twenties.”

“Well, that will be easy. I only intend to marry one of them. Can you guess who?”

You swallowed. Hard.

“I can’t believe you’re still shameless enough to fantasize about things like that,” you said in an attempt to change the subject, immediately regretting the path your joke had taken. “Aren’t you too old to be a fangirl?”

“You’re never too old to be a fangirl,” she said defiantly. “I have a whole scenario in the back of my mind for the time we first meet. Jungkook will have spotted me in the audience and fallen in love with me just like that. I just need to be seen by him, that’s all.”

“You’re absolutely mad,” you told her as you laughed in disbelief. “Love doesn’t work like that. He doesn’t work like that.”

“Right, I forgot you and him are childhood friends and have known each other for centuries.”

You regarded her closely. “You’re actually getting irritated, aren’t you?” you asked.

When she didn’t directly reply, you almost burst out in laughter again. Fortunately, you were mindful of your surroundings: people were quieting as they trickled in slower through the door where Professor Kang still waited, her one hand rubbing the face of her wristwatch.

“I would never let a guy get between our friendship,” she said instead of directly addressing the question.

“Not even Jeon Jungkook?”

She shook her head as Professor Kang shut the door and began toward the lectern. “Not even him,” she whispered.

Se-Eun could never get hold of the knowledge that you and Jungkook had once been engaged, you realized as soon as the professor began her lecture. It would mean the end of your relationship. Even though you were tempted to talk with her about you and Jungkook and the situation overall, you couldn’t.

During the rest of the school day, you surprised yourself by almost constantly thinking about Jungkook. Which ways you could help him, what type of reintroduction would most likely help him and so on and so forth. You looked back at your and Jungkook’s time as younger, when and how he would express himself regarding music. You even listened to Se-Eun’s obsessive rambling over the group, hoping you could snatch any type of idea or information that might be of use - which didn’t prove as fruitless as you initially had predicted. For example, you never knew Rap Monster, or rather, Kim Namjoon, was the reason Jungkook had chosen BigHit when he had numerous other options. By the end of last class, you had actually gotten somewhat of a battle plan against Jungkook’s amnesia. Though you seriously doubted anything less than a miracle would be absolutely crucial for you to succeed by May 30th, you were determined.

You were in good spirits by the time Jong-Yeol dropped you off outside what Kim Sejin had told you was BTS’ apartment. The sun had already sunken beneath the upraised, jagged horizon of other apartment buildings, and your breath was escaping in white wisps. Fortunately, you had had the foresight to dress properly - unlike when you darted out to see Jungkook at the hospital - so you weren’t feeling too uncomfortable. Still, even though most of the snow had melted, Seoul was a chilly city during the winter months.

The apartment Kim Sejin had given you the address to didn’t look any different from a typical, middle-class apartment building. But then, you were used to living very affluently and had no idea if this was considered a good buy or not. Jong-Yeol had been unwilling to let you walk around all on your own, forcing you to remind him you weren’t seven years old any longer. Perhaps he had meant that the neighborhood wasn’t the best.

You were too nervous to call any of the six new contacts in your phone, so you stalled a bit by trying to find out where seven guys could live by checking the mailboxes in the entrance hall. However, none of the names stuck out as particularly “largest K-pop group in Korea”-esque, and you understood to your dismay that you would have to call one of them.

You were just about to dial Kim Seokjin - since he was the only one you had managed to fully identify on your own, he felt the least awkward to talk to - when someone called you.

[seanfalco]

The Swap | Misfits Timeline Anomaly’verse

an oc x oc collaboration between @seanfalco & @super-unpredictable98

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Language, Smut, Switching partners

a/n: Another installment of the adventures of Win and Lydia and their Nathans in time for Thirsty Thursday. 👀

Lydia's mind had been acting up lately and there was this one thought she couldn't seem to shake as she looked down at Win, laying on her lap as they watched tv.

"Hey, Winnie... I've been meaning to ask you something, but I'm a little scared," she finally had the guts to say.

At Lydia’s words, Win turned to look up at her from her spot in her lap. “What’s up?” she asked, wondering what it was that was bothering her girlfriend.

"Have you ever been curious to... um... get with my Nathan?" Lydia asked casually, twisting the ends of her hair, trying to sound relaxed.

Win tensed for a moment, her pulse climbing. She had thought it about it, more than once, if she was being honest, but there was something almost forbidden about it. It was like though he had the same face... the same everything as her Nathan, there were things about him that were completely different. She’d also be lying if she said the idea didn’t turn her on, but she wondered how her Nathan would take that. He could be a little possessive, and while he seemed to have gotten past that with Lydia, she wasn’t sure how he’d feel about the other Nathan.

“I mean, yeah, I’ve... thought about it,” Win answered, keeping her voice carefully nonchalant.

"Cool..." Lydia swallowed nervously. Ever since that kiss, the one on the couch when Lyddie was basically riding Nathan's thigh, though it wasn't her Nathan, the idea had been stuck in her head. "Would you be okay if I... got with your Nathan?" Lydia muttered quietly. "Just hypothetically speaking."

“I-I mean... I’d be alright with it... if you were,” Win answered, clearing her throat lightly. She’d also been thinking about that same night, and Lyddie’s Nathan snogging her rather enthusiastically while she sat in his lap. “I think we should make sure they’re alright with it first though,” she added, catching Lydia’s gaze.

"Yeah, of course... It's just a thought, you know how my brain works, I'm always wondering," Lydia giggled, leaning over to kiss Win's forehead. "But yeah, I'd be alright with it."

"Who's hungry?" Lyddie's Nathan burst through the door with two huge paper bags. "We've got burgers, fries, chicken nuggets..." Win's Nathan followed carrying the drinks, careful not to spill anything.

Win turned to watch them come in, grinning as her Nathan winked at her and she sat up, letting Lyddie up as well. Maybe there’d be time for her to talk to him about it tonight.

“I’m starving, you two are my heroes!” she exclaimed, pulling Lyddie with her to the kitchen.

"Ugh me too..." Lydia groaned. She had no idea how to bring the subject up with the guys, but for the moment being, she tried to forget about all that and focus on the pile of food in front of her.

"Cheese and caramelized onions for the picky eater," Lyddie's Nathan exclaimed, handing her her special order.

"Thank you guys," she said, giving each of the Nathans a tender kiss.

“You okay there, Winnie?” her Nathan teased, purposely using her new pet name to get her attention when she merely stood there for a moment, watching the others. Shaking herself out of her thoughts she flashed him a grin.

“Yeah, I’m peachy,” she replied, grabbing her order and plopping down in his lap. Leaning in toward Lydia, she pitched her voice low so only she could hear it. “Maybe after dinner we could get them alone and ask them?”

"Sounds good!" Lydia nearly choked on her food just thinking about it. The entire time they ate she was dead quiet, merely eating and watching the others eat. She was pretty sure her Nathan would come around, but she didn't want him to think she loved him any less.

After Lydia was done, she escaped to the bedroom, dragging her Nathan along. He grabbed his drink and suggestively waggled his brows at Win as he went.

"You don't gotta say it, I know what y'want..." he exclaimed with a grin.

Once the other couple was gone, Win turned in her Nathan’s lap and kissed him without preamble. “Oh ho, I see how it is,” he smirked, grabbing her ass. “Did you and Lyds orchestrate this so we could have some alone time?” he asked, waggling his brows in the same fashion as his clone and Win huffed a soft laugh, kissing him again.

“Actually, I need to talk to you about something,” she said, almost wishing she hadn’t eaten so much, so her stomach wouldn’t roil so.

“Talk about what?” Nathan prompted, already suspicious.

“About... Lydia,” she answered, not quite meeting his gaze, her fingers toying with the long curls at the nape of his neck.

“What about Lydia?”

“Do you, y’know, fancy her at all?”

“Do I what—?” he exclaimed, his eyes widening with panic. She’d heard him moaning that day when Lyddie’d kissed him.

“It’s okay if you do, because she... well, she fancies you, and...”

“Wait, are y’sayin she wants t’shag me?”

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying,” Win answered with a grimace,” but can y’blame her?” she added quickly when his mouth fell open.

“Wait, does that mean, you wanna shag him too?” he demanded.

“Well, only if he wanted to, and it didn’t bother you,” Win answered truthfully, but Nathan fell silent, chewing his lip. “Hey, talk t’me,” she murmured, her stomach clenching tighter as she lifted her boyfriend’s face. “I’ll understand if you say no. It’s just... curiosity,” she explained, trying to find the right words for it. “He’d never replace you, you know that right? Because what we’ve been through... no one could take that from us. I love you, and this wouldn’t change that.”

Nathan closed his eyes and pressed his face to Win’s chest. “Alright,” he groaned hesitantly.

“You don’t hafta say yes if you don’t want to,” she insisted, but he lifted his face, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

“No, you’re right... I’m curious too. Lyddie is...” he whistled low between his teeth, “and it wouldn’t be fair for me t’be... curious, if you weren’t too,” he rationalized slowly. “But it really won’t change anythin’?” he asked again and Win was quick to press a kiss to his lips.

“I promise. I love you, y’idiot, and I always will.”

“Yeah, alright then. We’ll try it this once and see how it goes.”

——

"Actually, I just wanted to talk... is that okay?" Lydia asked, watching her Nathan’s lips twitch into a confused frown.

"So... you know how you kissed Win that one time at the pub and then again the other night?" Lydia started awkwardly.

"Oh, Lollipop, are you jealous? It's okay, I love you, y'know th..." her Nathan wrapped his arms around his fiancé, kissing her neck.

"No, that's not it. I just wanted to ask if maybe you'd like to... I don't know, have sex with her?"

"Wait, what?" Nathan grimaced. "Y'mean like a threesome?"

"Well, that would be nice, but I've been thinking more along the lines of swinging," Lydia shrugged, trying to make the idea sound as harmless as possible. "If that's something you'd be into."

"So you're sayin' you wanna shag the other one?" Lyddie's Nathan exclaimed, widening his eyes.

"You'd shag Win— I know you fancy her, you told me so," Lydia pointed out, taking his hand and fidgeting with his long fingers.

"Yeah, I do, but thinkin' of the other Nathan shaggin' you..." Nathan clenched his eyes shut and jerked his head.

"I thought you guys were becoming friends, you're always hanging out and all.”

"We are, he's a pretty nice fella, but you're my fiancé."

"I know, and I love you so much, you know that."

"How long have you been wantin' to shag him?" Nathan asked, looking down; not sad, not mad, but slightly insecure.

"About 9 years, ever since we met at the bowing alley, because he's you! You're the same person, there's nothing to be jealous of," Lydia insisted.

"At the end of the day, you're my Nathan," Lydia ran her fingers through Nathan's hair. "I'm engaged to you, it would just be an experience, and who knows? You might like it..."

"Yeah, I s'pose..." Nathan rolled his eyes. "But you swear that nothin' will change?"

"Nothing will change," Lydia pulled his face closer to kiss him softly. "You're my cocky bastard, and I love you."

"I love you too," Nathan sighed. "I guess it wouldn't be cheatin', and it'd be unfair for me t'shag Win if you can't shag him."

Lydia opened the door, and walked slowly to the living room, to make sure she wouldn't interrupt any important conversations. "Dessert, anyone?" she asked, hoping things went well with Win and her Nathan.

The other pair jumped at Lydia’s voice, turning to look at her, Win flashing her a hesitant smile, while Nathan eyed her thoughtfully.

“Desert sounds nice,” Win mused.

“Yeah, what you have in mind?” Nathan asked.

Lydia looked at Win for confirmation that everything went smoothly. She thought about saying 'how about some lollipop?', but decided against it before she was sure everything worked out. "Whatever you want."

Nathan glanced down at Win, biting his lip and she grinned at him meaningfully. Clearing his throat he looked back up at Lyddie. “There is somethin’ that sounds good,” he said, wetting his lips. “Maybe a little... lollipop...?” he suggested, hoping it didn’t sound too cheesy.

"Oh," Lydia smiled widely and looked over at her own Nathan who nodded. "Alright, should we..." trailing off, she offered Win's Nathan her hand, nodding her head towards the room. "Let's go, Nats."

“Wait!” Win’s Nathan exclaimed before following her into the bedroom, leaning in for one more kiss from Win before pointing at the other Nathan. “You better treat her good, y’hear!”

"Alright, you too, man," Lyddie's Nathan huffed a laugh. "Careful, by the way, she scratches..."

"Only if you want me to," Lydia whispered provocatively while unbuttoning her blouse on the way to the room.

Nathan swallowed thickly as he followed Lyddie, letting her shut the door behind them. Left out in the other room, Win cleared her throat awkwardly. She wasn’t used to feeling awkward when it came to sex. She was “the sexy one”, she always had been, no matter who she was with... but this was different. Obviously he wouldn’t be out here if he wasn’t okay with it, but still...

“Uhm, so...” she began, pausing to take a deep breath. “How do you... wanna do this?”

"Well, I think we just... go for it?" Lyddie's Nathan shrugged, before placing his hand on the back of Win's neck, leaning in to kiss her.

“Right,” Win murmured as Nathan’s lips found hers and she kissed him back, closing her eyes, trying not to get caught up in overthinking everything. Opening her mouth she ran her tongue along the seam of his lips, begging entrance as she stepped closer, slipping her hands into his curls.

Nathan parted his lips slightly, deepening the kiss as he moaned softly under Win's touch. That felt... different, but also very good. Without hesitating, he pulled her onto his lap, his hands sliding down to grab her thighs. "Okay, this is happenin'..." he mumbled under his breath.

“Are you nervous?” Win asked breathlessly, pulling back to look at him.

"Me? Nervous?" he scoffed, but noticed how unconvincing his tone was. "A little. I've been doin' it with the same chick for over a year, and now..."

“Yeah,” Win murmured, unconsciously twirling her finger in one of his curls. “I get that. I’ve been with Nathan, er, my Nathan for the same amount of time. But, uhm... I promise I’m not gunna judge you or anything. Wow, I’m usually a lot sexier than this. I’m sorry,” she laughed.

"No, don't apologize. Trust me, you're sexy, like really fuckin' sexy," he assured. "No complaints here..." Nathan exclaimed, getting rid of his shirt as fast as he could before kissing her once again, humming against her lips as his body relaxed.

Win grinned against his lips as he shed his shirt, his apparent eagerness melting the ice a little and she grasped the hem of her shirt as well to lift over her head in one fluid motion, leaving her chest bare, her skin prickling under the cold, reminding herself that he’d already seen her naked a couple times.

Nathan groaned at the sight of Win's bare chest, moving quickly to take her peaked nipple between his lips while his other hand gave her ass a tentative squeeze. "See?" Nathan looked pointedly at his growing bulge. "I told ya, you're sexy."

Huffing a relieved laugh, Win rolled her hips against him, as her fingers danced down his smooth chest moaning with a shudder at the friction of his erection against her clothed pussy.

“Mmm, so are you,” she murmured.

With a pleased smirk, Nathan's hands quickly unzipped his jeans while his mouth was busy exploring Win's neck. He kissed her soft skin, careful not to leave a mark, which he imagined her boyfriend wouldn't appreciate.

"Does it feel good?" he asked, bucking his hips, teasing her.

“Yes!” she gasped, arching into his touch. “Though I bet it’d feel even better in me,” she purred in his ear, grinning at his reaction.

"Jesus..." Nathan's breath hitched and he buried his face in the crook of Win's neck. "That can be arranged. Let's see..." his fingers quickly slipped under the waist of her knickers as he blindly searched for her clit. "Hmmm, so wet for me."

“Ahh!” she moaned as he finally found her sensitive bundle of nerves and she flushed hotly as she realized just how wet she was. “Oh, Nathan,” she sighed as he rubbed at her. “Fuck, I want you to touch me all over.”

"Of course, Winnie," he grinned while one of his fingers slid inside of her, his thumb still circling her clit. "Let's not waste time with this..." with one motion of his other hand, the rest of their clothes were gone. "That's better."

“Much better,” she agreed, reaching between them to caress his cock, rubbing her thumb over the tip. “So hard for me,” she purred, biting her lip.

Nathan gasped as he felt Win's hand, and he helplessly nodded. "You're so hot, holy shit... I want you t'ride me," he admitted, eyeing her hungrily, his mouth trailing kisses all over her chest.

“You read my mind, Natty,” she cooed, pushing him to his back and leaning against his chest to steal a heated kiss as she ground against him, drawing his bottom lip between her teeth to suck on before she pulled back.

Grasping his cock to align at her entrance she held his gaze as she slid onto him, rolling her hips to sheath him completely, letting out a soft cry as he filled her. “God Nathan, please touch me,” she begged, placing his hands atop her pert breasts as she ground against him, her whole body gyrating gracefully as she rode him, lifting her arms above her head as she arched into his touch.

Nathan watched agape as Win rode him, her voice echoing in his head as if that was the only sound left in the world. He kneaded her breasts roughly while she bounced on his cock and he observed the hypnotizing motions of her body.

"Oh, Win, that feels so fuckin' good," he groaned, pulling her closer as their lips crashed together urgently in a sloppy kiss.

All she could do was moan in response as her tongue warred with his, her whole body aflame as each thrust of her hips brought him deeper, hitting her just right and she could feel her climax building like a compressed spring. “Oh Nathan, I’m-I’m gettin’ close, please—“

"Y'gonna come for me? Go ahead, Winnie, I wanna feel it," Nathan hissed, idly rolling her nipple between his fingers as his other hand on her hip guided her movements. He could feel himself getting closer as well; it took all of his willpower not to come before Win, her moans alone being enough to drive him insane.

Biting her lip, Win sped up her movements, instead of her rolling thrusts of before she dissolved to frantic rutting movements as Nathan met her every thrust, chasing her pleasure as it built and built until— “Oh, fuck, Nathan—!” she cried as her orgasm crashed into her and she threw her head back, riding through it, bouncing desperately on his cock, her tits bouncing in time, until a keening whine left her throat.

As Nathan felt Win contracting around him, crying out his name, he wasn't able to hold back any longer, exploding with pleasure inside of her. "Oh God," Nathan panted, holding Win's limp body against his chest, trying to catch his breath. "This was... amazing."

“Yeah,” she panted, finding herself smiling as she lifted her face to look at him. “You were— shit, you felt good. Oh, fuck,” she groaned, reaching up to brush his hair from his forehead.

"You too, you were..." Nathan brushed Win's hair away from her face as well, still in shock from what had just happened. "Incredible."

Yeah, Lyds was right, as she usually is, Nathan thought to himself, all jealousy and insecurity forgotten at this point.

“D’you think you’d wanna ever... do this again?” Win asked, shifting to lay next to him on the couch, between his body and the cushions, his arm around her as she rested her cheek against his shoulder, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Because she definitely wouldn’t mind if there was a repeat of that.

"Definitely! Let's just hope your Nathan can rock Lyddie right, this way it's not awkward or anythin'," Nathan snorted with laughter. "But judgin' by the noise, they're doin' fine..."

Win laughed along with him. “Oh yeah, I think they’re fine in there.”

Meanwhile, Nathan let Lyddie lead him to the bed, already feeling his cock getting hard as he eyed her open blouse hungrily. He’d seen her naked before, but he was dyin’ to get his hands on those lovely tits.

Lydia giggled as she saw Nathan getting hard. Letting the blouse slide off her body, she quickly unzipped her skirt, getting completely naked.

"Like what you see?" she asked, pulling Nathan by the hand onto the bed.

“Oh, you have no idea,” he exclaimed, letting her pull him, too distracted to walk, his gaze going to her pierced nipples. “You’re so gorgeous, Lyddie,” he murmured.

"You don't look half bad yourself... but you'd look much better out of these clothes," she teased as she started to undress him. "Don't be scared to be rough with me, yeah?"

“Oh yeah, I figured, from watchin you and Win,” he exclaimed, hurriedly helping her divest himself of his clothes, nearly tripping before crawling atop her, his mouth finding hers as he snogged her eagerly, his hand roughly kneading her breast.

Thankful that he went straight to the point, Lydia moaned into his kiss, running her hands over his unruly curls. "Hmmm," she murmured against Nathan's lips with a chuckle. "Did you use your power to get your mouth to taste like cherry or is this from the soda?"

“Oh, uhm, I think th’soda,” he admitted, “D’you like it?” he asked, switching breasts, making sure to really tweak her nipple hard, wanting to hear her gasp as he forced her legs apart with his thigh, pressing it between her legs.

"I love it, you taste so good," Lydia pressed her lips to his once again as she squirmed, grinding against him. She immediately remembered riding his thigh on the couch, the sweet relief of friction after all that teasing and all that wait... that’s exactly how she felt again.

“D’you like that? You’re such a dirty girl, so desperate for it, huh?” he asked, kissing down her neck to her chest, bringing her tit to his mouth.

Yes, oh God, yes... I need you so bad," Lyddie cried as she felt his tongue teasing her nipple. "I wanna feel you, Natty."

“Yeah?” he asked, “I wanna hear y’say it. I wanna hear exactly what you want.”

"I want you to shag me senseless," she drawled, getting wetter by the second. "I want you to make me scream."

“You got it, princess,” he exclaimed, giving her nipple one last teasing flick of his tongue before sitting up and lifting her legs to prop on his shoulders before guiding his cock to her entrance, pausing to rub his head along her slick folds with a groan. “Oh, fuck Lyddie, you’re so wet,” he exclaimed as he pressed into her, shuddering at how tight she felt around him.

"Ah, Nathan, please..." Lydia begged, a wave of pleasure washing over her as he filled her up. Her hands grasping at the sheets as she arched her back. "Just like that," she whimpered, enjoying more than anything the way he looked at her, like she was some sort of masterpiece. "Don't stop, Nate, you feel so good!"

“Oh, I don’t think anything could get me t’stop, darlin’,” he groaned, finding a rhythm as he began to move in her, snapping his hips into her with abandon, wanting to hear her scream. “Oh fuck, y’feel so good. You’re so tight Lollipop,” he panted, the loud slap of skin on skin filling the room and for a moment he swore he could hear Win’s cries on the other side of the wall, but the sounds Lydia was making under him stole his attention.

"Fuck!" Lydia gasped, rolling her hips to meet his thrusts, wanting him to go deeper. For the first time she realized her Nathan wasn't really that vocal in bed and damn, did she love hearing his voice as he fucked her, saying the dirtiest things. "I want you to ruin me, Natty," she growled. "I wanna see you break a sweat before you get to come inside of me."

“I’m definitely gettin’ there,” he panted, already feeling perspiration sticking his hair to his forehead.

He loved watching her tits bounce and jiggle with each rough thrust and he grunted as he pushed himself deeper, feeling the whole bed creak and slam against the wall. “Oh fuck, Lyddie, fuck—“ he swore, desperately trying to hold on. His first time with her, he didn’t want to have an early ending.

"Don't worry, I'm getting close," Lydia used a trick that used to work very well with her Nathan when he was having trouble. She ran her nails along his arms so he would have another feeling to focus on for a few seconds. She bit her lip, watching as his slightly wet curls moved swiftly with his vigorous moves and the lean muscles on his arms and shoulders flexing. "Oh, Nathan, I'm getting so close!"

“That’s right,” he groaned, sweat rolling down his temple now as his aching muscles pushed on. “I wanna hear yeh scream for me Lyddie,” he said, pushing his elbow into the mattress to stabilize himself as he continued to ram into her, his thrusts growing jerky and irregular. Reaching between them he fumbled for her clit, rubbing his fingers against it desperately, hoping the added sensation would help tip her over the edge and damn did he feel the difference, her walls clenching tighter around him as soon as he touched her.

"Nathan! Oh, fuck!" she moaned way louder than she intended, letting herself go as she felt her climax take over. Lyddie was a ticking time bomb and Nathan's fingers did the trick to get her ready to blow. Her screams became a soft cry as she relaxed, completely satisfied. "Wow..." she sighed heavily with the biggest grin on her face.

Pumping the last of his seed inside her he nearly collapsed on top of her, his arms ready to give out.

“You can say that again,” he panted, laying down carefully next her and pulling her into his arms. “Lydia, you’re wonderful, he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple

"You were awesome, that was fucking great," Lydia rested her head on Nathan's shoulder, kissing along his jaw. "Yeah, I'm glad I had this idea..."

“Yeah, me too,” he murmured, waggling his eyebrows at her. How d’you think it went out there?” he asked, running his hands up and down her back soothingly.

"I think they had some fun," she laughed "I hope they had enough fun to wanna do it again, because I definitely do..."

“Yeah, that would be nice,” he mused, pressing a kiss to her forehead. As much as he loved Win, Lydia was definitely starting to grow on him, even when he wasn’t shaggin’ her.

[m00nycore]

𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝘼𝙇𝙇 𝙊𝙁 𝙈𝙔 𝙎𝙏𝙐𝙋𝙄𝘿 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙏 ;; 𝙤𝙣𝙚 .

𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 .

𝙎𝙀𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙎 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙤𝙮 𝙭 𝙤𝙘 (𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙪𝙥 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨)

𝙩/𝙬 : 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙩𝙤𝙭𝙞𝙘 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨, 𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙜𝙚, 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚, 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙙𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛. 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣.

𝙏𝘼𝙂𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏 ;; @dreaming-about-fanfictions @aesthetic-el

Her room became a prison.

Persephone tried in vain not to cry herself to sleep the first night she spent trapped in the manor. No, she told herself, you’re too strong for that.

But she wasn’t. She vomited the very minute Draco left her alone in the room. She had to assist in killing Dumbledore. The Dark Mark painted her forearm. It was too much for her.

Her step-mother had arranged for her favorite house elf, Poppy, to bring her belongings to her new, overly spacious room. It had been quite the fight for her to be able to keep Poppy with her- until Narcissa Malfoy agreed, on the condition that Poppy helped to maintain the house while Persephone was absent.

She sat on the edge of the bed, Poppy organizing her things, while her hairless cat, Aegis, laid curled on her lap.

“Poppy,” she murmured, the elf immediately running towards her.

“Yes, Mistress Persephone?” she wondered, her giant eyes full of love and respect.

“Just Persephone,” she gently reminded the elf; she knew it was hard for her to correct that. “You don’t have to put my things away, dear. I can do it myself… would you sit with me?”

Poppy hopped onto the bed, and Persephone leaned on her. In some ways, Poppy was the mother she never had. In other ways, Poppy was like a best friend, or a little sister.

“Poppy,” Persephone whispered, tears collecting in her eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

“What’s the matter, ma’am?” Poppy wondered, alarm written over her features. “Did Poppy do-?”

“Poppy, you’ve never given me a problem for as long as you have lived,” she pulled the elf into a hug, which she returned. “Poppy, do you promise me to keep a secret? Even from the Malfoy’s?”

“Ms. Persephone has my word!” she exclaimed, full of determination.

Persephone sighed, absentmindedly stroking a sleeping Aegis. “Poppy, I’m getting married now,” she showed her the extravagant ring, making her friend’s eyes widen.

“Congratulations, ma’am!” she exclaimed. “To Mister Malfoy?” she inquired, curiosity and innocence laced in her tone.

“Yes…,” Persephone confirmed. “But I don’t love him. I was forced into this. Honestly, I used to hate him in school… we haven’t talked civilly in… I don’t remember when.”

Poppy frowned. “Why is Ms. Persephone being forced to marry? Poppy doesn’t understand.”

“Apparently, our parents agreed… but, Poppy… here’s when it gets to be a bigger secret… Draco has been tasked by the Dark Lord to kill Dumbledore,” Poppy gasped at her statement. “And I… have to help him. They made me a Death Eater,” she showed her forearm, still red hot and painful. “Poppy, I can’t do it. I don’t want to. But if I don’t…”

Tears pooled in Poppy’s eyes. “They may kill Ms. Persephone!” she wailed. “Poppy doesn’t want Ms. Persephone to die! Poppy loves Ms. Persephone!”

Persephone gathered Poppy in her arms again, shushing her. “Poppy, I love you too… I’m more worried about them hurting you to hurt me,” it was true, it had definitely crossed her mind. Her love for her house elf was apparent, and they could very well use that against her. It wasn’t like she cared about any harm coming to others. Persephone cared about Poppy and herself. Self-preservation might be selfish of her, but she simply didn’t care. She wouldn’t have the Dark Lord kill her.

“Ms. Persephone should never worry about Poppy!”

She smiled sadly at her. Poppy was loyal to a fault, but she was the only being alive she considered family. Her father was a monster, as well as her step-mother.

“Ms. Persephone looks ill,” Poppy said. “Does Ms. Persephone need something to eat?”

“No,” she responded. Truthfully, she hadn’t eaten all day. Nor did she yesterday, when she had received her assignment. The Malfoy’s hadn’t seen her since. She imagined Draco was isolating himself, as well. She wouldn’t blame him.

A knock sounded at her door, and Poppy quickly jumped off the bed, running to finish putting clothes away.

“Poppy, stop, I’ll help,” she told her, in a whisper. “Just stay there, please. I need you,” Poppy nodded. “Come in,” she responded, in a voice that betrayed none of her turmoil.

Narcissa Malfoy entered the room, with all the grace and authority she was raised to aspire to. She was absolutely beautiful, and she seemed kinder than the other women she had encountered in the circle, purely because of her obvious love and devotion to her son.

“Hello, Mrs. Malfoy,” she greeted, wondering why she had come to see her.

She nodded, crossing the room and taking a seat on the plush couch.

“You haven’t been eating,” she stated. “You shouldn’t starve yourself.”

Persephone couldn’t muster a reply. Narcissa continued. “You were unaware of your betrothal to my son,” it was a statement rather than a question. She paused. “You two are just children.”

Persephone heard the sorrow in her voice. She was worried for her son more than anything, she knew, but was Narcissa concerned for her?

“I,” she began, locking eyes with Poppy, who looked anxiously at her. “I’m being rude… thank you, Mrs. Malfoy, for allowing me to stay in your home and for me to bring my dearest Poppy along with me.”

Narcissa spared a glance at Poppy, who bowed to her.

“I supposed you needed some sort of comfort,” she told her. “So you genuinely were never told of your betrothal?”

Persephone locked eyes with her. “I wasn’t, ma’am, no.”

Narcissa looked towards the window. “I was always fond of your mother… and I was distraught to hear about her passing,” she said it as delicately and discreetly as possible, considering the circumstances behind her death. “I watched you grow up. I knew you were clever… you never played with Draco or the other children… you observed. You read books.”

Persephone was at a loss for words. She had no clue where her soon-to-be mother-in-law was going with this.

“I love my son,” she stated. “I love him more than anything. You know, you’re like your mother… in more than just looks. I expected you to be a Ravenclaw,” another pause. “My dear,” Narcissa stood, tears in her eyes, and sat next to her. “I care for my son, and I care for you as his fiancée. Persephone, as a mother, I am not only concerned for him, but for you. You don’t have anyone left… but, however you feel, you have Draco now. Persephone, I beg of you… help him. Protect him.”

Persephone stared down at Aegis, regretting that her hands were always so cold on her hairless skin.

“I will,” she whispered.

Narcissa nodded, and walked to the door. “You’re welcome to leave the room, to walk around the manor or the gardens,” without another word, she left.

Her mother had once told her a story when she was little.

“Do you know why you were named Persephone?”

The five-year-old considered. She wasn’t fond of her name. It sounded silly, and once Draco made fun of her so much that she cried. She liked her middle name, Wren, better.

“I don’t know, mommy. I hate my name,” she pouted.

Her mother laughed, gentle, stroking her daughter’s hair and snuggling her closer in the plush bed.

“There’s an old Greek story about Persephone,” her mother began. The child perked up. “You were named after a goddess.”

“A goddess?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “The story isn’t completely happy, but it teaches an important lesson.

Persephone was a beautiful goddess, the goddess of spring. Her mother’s name was Demeter. Demeter and Persephone loved each other and would spend lots of time playing and dancing through the meadows. Demeter loved her daughter almost as much as I love you,” Persephone giggled, snuggling closer to her mother. She continued. “But, one day, Hades, the god of the Underworld, saw Persephone and fell in love with her beauty… so, he had her kidnapped and brought to the Underworld with him.”

The child gasped in horror, eyes widening.

“Demeter grew very sad. Almost as sad as I would be if I lost you. She searched the earth for her daughter, and the plants and crops stopped growing. Demeter was the goddess of agriculture. Humans grew hungry and starved because she wasn’t helping anything grow.

One day, Hermes, messenger of the gods, saw the misery Demeter felt, and he told Zeus, the king of the gods, to bring her back. Zeus demanded Hades return Persephone, who was pale and sick, but something bad had happened. Persephone ate pomegranate seeds in the Underworld, and if you eat there, you must stay there. Zeus decided that for half of the year, Persephone would stay in the Underworld with Hades, and the other half of the year, she would stay with her mother. So, when Persephone was on earth, it was spring and summer. When she wasn’t, it was fall and winter.”

Persephone looked up at her mother, brow creased with concern. “Mommy, that’s too sad. Why did you name me after something sad? I never want to leave you ever, ever, ever!”

She smiled at her child, with all of the love and adoration in the world. “Oh, my sweet baby… you will never leave me, nor will I leave you. I named you Persephone for a few reasons. One, you reminded me of beauty and springtime as soon as you were born. Your hair and eyes are as dark as mine, but you are vibrant and sunny, even in the cold. But the biggest reason, my love, is because nothing and no one will ever compare to the love I have for you. I love you more than anything in the world.”

Persephone jumped onto her mom, hugging her tight. “I love you more, mommy!”

“I love you more!”

“No, I love you more!”

She dissolved into giggles as her mom began tickling her, once again telling her she loved her more.

Persephone was lost in the memory, walking through the gardens. She wasn’t springtime, no, not anymore. She was only Persephone to her mother, and the people she had to act in front of. No, she was Wren now. Wren was pale and wan, battered and self-serving. Wren was a Slytherin, she lost the kindness she had carried before.

She only cared for what she knew was right, what she knew was worth fighting for.

The Malfoy’s gardens were spectacular, plants and statues well cared for, the scent of fruits in the trees and the perfume of flowers thick in the air. She wandered, in the warm night, dressed in her silk pajama shorts and matching top, trying in vain not to think of the hell she was living in.

She stared at the magnificent fountain with the strange urge to drown in it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a new presence.

Draco walked up to her, in a black suit, an impassive expression drawn on his features.

He stood by her, neither looking at each other or saying a word.

“You aren’t wearing the ring,” Draco was the one to break the silence.

“No, I’m not.”

There was silence again.

She took his hand, which he shook away.

“What are you doing?” he nearly spat, disgust on his features.

She exhaled out of her nose. “Practicing. Didn’t you hear him? Hogwarts needs to see the happy couple.”

“I’m surprised that you’re even going to go through with any of this,” he commented.

She considered, finally looking at him. He was pale in the moonlight. He didn’t look well, either. He looked back, eyes falling to her bare arms, the Dark Mark covered with bandages that Poppy helped her with.

“I’m a selfish person, Draco. I don’t fancy dying. Nor do I fancy helping you to spill blood that doesn’t deserve to be spilled.”

Draco scoffed. “You’re just a blood traitor like your mother,” he sneered. “It’s exactly why I didn’t want this betrothal. Not with the likes of you.”

She glared at him, a hard set to her mouth, and began to walk away.

“Where are you going?”

She whirled around, tears threatening to form in her eyes. “If we’re suddenly so fond of speaking ill of one’s dead parent, I’ll make do with calling your father the biggest prat on the planet- he got what he deserved and I have no qualms hoping that you’ll be next, you twat.”

With that, she resumed her walk back to the manor, until Draco called out.

“Bardick,” he only ever addressed her by her surname. He walked up to her. She had stopped walking but still faced away.

She felt something press into her hand. A green apple.

“Eat. If you starve to death, it’ll ruin the mission.”

He walked by her, quickly, making his own way back to the manor.

[jlalafics]

Hey can you do an everlark fake dating please🥺🥺

Anon, I’m sure you were looking for something a little more romantic than what I came up with. There is romance, but there’s some other stuff too.

Thank you for inspiring this four-parter. I hope you enjoy!

_____

Summary: Peeta needed a date for his brother’s wedding. His co-worker Katniss was more than willing to play along. Sometimes, simple favors can turn into so much more. A fake dating story done in four parts. Rated E. Definitely NSFW.

A Simple Favor

The Invite

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Peeta gawked at the frilly invitation in his grasp, then at the attached list of activities.

Three days.

Three fucking days of wedding activities to torture him.

“Can we tone down the cursing?” Katniss, his co-worker, sat down at her desk adjacent to his. “This is a place of business.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you had to go to this.”

Peeta swiveled his chair, tossing the invitation onto Katniss’ desk. It landed smoothly atop her keyboard and she reached to read the perfect calligraphy print announcing the upcoming nuptials of Rye Mellark to Delly Cartwright.

She turned back to Peeta. “Yeah…so?”

“Look who’s the Maid of Honor.”

Katniss looked to the right part of the invitation which listed the wedding party.

Her grey eyes suddenly shot up at him. “Oh, holy fuck! Is that her?”

“Yeah. It’s hard to look at her name and not still see her sucking off my best friend.”

Katniss snorted. “Yeah—that’s not an image even I would likely forget.” She examined the invitation again. “Gawd, even her name is pretty. Madge Undersee.”

“Don’t remind me,” Peeta growled, yanking the invitation from her grasp. “Who plans three days of pre-wedding activities?”

“Your brother and his affianced, apparently.” Katniss gave him a sympathetic smile. “You think she’ll bring him?”

“According to my brother, they’re officially together now.”

Peeta never used to be this bitter.

However, two years ago, that irrevocably changed when he discovered his then-fiancée on her knees and giving his best friend a blowie—on his bed. Madge had wept, of course, telling him that it had just happened.

And Gale…he had begged for Peeta to understand that it wasn’t just sex…that he felt something more for Madge.

How the hell was he supposed to understand that?

Peeta had packed his things and immediately left the apartment that he and his best friend had been living in—let the fucker deal with the astronomical Bay Area rent on his own.

He then accepted a job at Panem Projects, a Brooklyn based start-up created by tech mogul Haymitch Abernathy. The uber-genius had invented an app that allowed you to search for specific non-profits and charities that one may be interested in contributing to.

On Peeta’s first day, he met Katniss Everdeen, who was part of the QA department he was in. She was a supervisor while he was just one of the lowly engineers.

They had been sitting across from one another ever since.

“That sucks.” Katniss sat back, crossing her legs, as she watched him carefully. “Did you want to get wasted after work?”

++++++

It was at their fifth round of shots that the idea came about.

“I can’t go to this.” Peeta held the invitation, now beer-stained and being used as a coaster for their peanut bowl. “It’s basically a three-day Peeta Mellark roast!”

“Yeah, and a wedding,” Katniss replied. She leaned forward, her cheeks warmed from booze. “You know what you need? A date to this God-awful event. Not just any date, a hot date.”

“Here’s the problem, sweetheart,” he replied. “I’m not dating anyone.”

“It doesn’t have to be a real date,” she reasoned. “Find a great-looking chick who’d be willing to spend three days looking like she worships your cock. Isn’t this what those dating apps are for?”

“I don’t want a stranger around my family!” He reached for the beer bottle in front of him—was this even his? “That’s how those Netflix crime specials come about.”

Katniss chuckled. “Okay. Understandable.” She met his glazed stare. “I’ll do it.”

“What?”

“I said I’ll go with you,” Katniss declared. “I’ll be your hot date.”

Peeta took a long swig. “Uh…no offense Katniss…you’re definitely pretty…but hot?”

“I have been known to dress up once in a while.”

He looked at his friend; her dark hair was in its usual braid and she wore a pair of fitted jeans along with a zip-up with the Panem Projects logo on it—some sort of fiery bird. On her feet were a pair of Converses that had seen better days.

“You’re really know how to make a girl feel desired,” Katniss told him. “I can’t think of any possible reason why Madge would dump you.”

“Hey now! That’s hitting below the belt!”

“Well, you don’t think I can be hot!” she retorted. “Give me your phone!”

Peeta, in fear of his life, pulled out his phone from the pocket of his jeans and handed it to the woman.

Katniss picked up the invitation with her free hand and started to type with the other.

“Katniss…Motherfucking…Everdeen…” She handed the phone back to him. “I’ve RSVP’d for you and added myself as your plus one.”

He looked at the browser window and then back at a smirking Katniss.

“You actually wrote ‘Katniss Motherfucking Everdeen’ as my date’s name.” Peeta had to smile. “My mother is going to love that.”

“She’s going to love me,” Katniss assured him. “She and everyone else at this wedding is going to forget who the hell Madge Undersee is after I’m done with them.”

Peeta had to ask. “Why are you doing this?”

“I know how it feels to be taken by surprise.” She was suddenly staring very hard at the dirty bar table they sat at. “Plus, you’re my friend and we take care of each of other.” Her eyes met his, her own looking like she was on the verge of breaking. “Right?”

Peeta reached over and squeezed her hand. “Right.”

++++++

“Okay, so I have prepared a portfolio of myself.” Katniss presented him with a closed folder. “Childhood photos…likes and dislikes…just some general information that a boyfriend should know.”

“34C?” Peeta eyed her doubtfully, briefly flitting to her white button down. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. You bought me a lovely dark green lingerie set for our last anniversary.” Katniss pulled out a piece of paper. “Here is a little questionnaire that I’ve made for you, just for me to know you a little better.”

Peeta skimmed over the questions. Most of them were pretty general; where he was born, his parents’ and his brother’s name as well as their ages, his favorite foods…then—

“Why do you need to know if I’m circumcised?”

“If we have supposedly been together for about six months, shouldn’t we be having sex by now?” she questioned.

“True.” Peeta looked around the room. “Is it okay that we’re using a meeting room for this?”

Katniss shrugged. “The guys in IT use this room to play Pokémon every Friday.”

“Also, when are you going to do something about…” He waved his hand out at today’s outfit: a pair of black slacks, a white button down, and brown loafers. “…that.”

“Don’t you worry your perfect little blond self.” Katniss playfully ruffled his hair. “I didn’t realize that you were so fixated on looks.”

“You were the one who suggested ‘hot’,” he pointed out. “However, my parents, who are generally good people, can sometimes be judgmental. So besides being very smart and extremely accomplished—we’re going to have to show them how great you are on the outside.”

“Peeta, do my looks matter to you?” she suddenly asked. “I mean, do you think that I’m pretty?”

Katniss wasn’t what people would call conventionally beautiful.

Her hair was a single shade of black which could be a bit-frizzy on humid days, and her complexion was sun-kissed with a sprinkle of freckles on her cheeks. However, Peeta saw deep grey eyes that sparkled when she was particularly excited about something (pushing a new feature on their app, for example) and full rose-colored lips that needed no lipstick.

And when she smiled, everything about her just lit up.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he said truthfully. “I do worry that the people at this wedding won’t see you the way I see you.”

“Then that’s their fucking problem, isn’t it?” Katniss smiled gently. “We just have to make this look real. I think we can do this.” She pushed a pen towards him. “Now, fill your questionnaire out, okay?”

“Alright.” He reached for the pen and his eyes went to her. “Katniss?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

++++++

Two Weeks Later…

“Sister—Primrose…24…a nurse in Seattle…Mom…Kate…former teacher…Dad…Marcus…former General in the Army….”

As he waited for Katniss’ Uber to arrive, Peeta went through the flashcards that he and Katniss had created in order to get through the three days leading up to his brother’s wedding.

They had everything from their first date (a Harry Potter trivia night at a bar close to their office) to any distinguishable body marks (him—a scar on his knee from falling off his bike at 12 and her—surprisingly, a scar just above her left butt cheek from a tattoo removal procedure, though she wouldn’t tell him what the tattoo was).

“Peeta?”

He had been so distracted that he didn’t even hear the car pull up.

“Sorry.” He tucked the cards in his back pocket and lifted his eyes to greet her. “Hey…holy shit.”

This was not Katniss Everdeen.

Katniss Everdeen didn’t wear her dark hair down in smooth waves that framed a perfect heart-shaped face. She didn’t wear sleeveless black jumpsuits that revealed rich olive skin and plush breasts (she was definitely a 34C).

“You like?”

She did a little twirl for him, graceful despite the stilettos she wore.

And, Katniss definitely didn’t have an ass that made his mouth water.

The unbidden thought of biting into one of those full globes caused his cock to twitch in his now too tight jeans.

“I like.” Peeta gave her a smile. “Maybe a little too much.”

She looked triumphant. “Give you a boner?”

“Fuck yeah,” he replied, a tad breathless.

“Then I’ve done my job.” Katniss wrapped her arms around his neck. “Hello boyfriend.”

Her mouth covered his own and his arms encircled her waist, pulling her tightly against his body. She teased, nipping at his bottom lip, her tongue skimming his lips before pulling away. Something surged inside him and his tongue invaded her mouth, sweeping in to taste sweetness.

Katniss growled against him, her center pressing into his now definitely hard cock.

Reluctantly—because they had to either breathe or die during the world’s hottest kiss—they pulled apart.

“Why did you do that?” he asked, gasping for breath.

“Because we’re supposed to be in love.” Her chest heaved, her eyes just cooling down from their kiss. “And couples in love kiss like that.”

“I know no couples who kiss like that,” he told her, a smile unexpectedly forming on his lips. “But feel free to kiss me like that whenever you see fit.”

++++++

During their five-hour flight, they went over the wedding itinerary.

“I’ve had a stylist pull looks for us for all the fancier events,” Katniss explained. “Don’t worry, nothing looks like we’re trying too hard. We’ll be more complimentary to one another.”

“What would trying too hard look like?” Peeta asked curiously.

“Well, if your tie matched my dress for example.”

A flight attendant stopped in front of their seats. “What can I get you both?”

Katniss smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “He will have…” Her fingers brushed against his ear lobe and he couldn’t help but shiver in pleasure. “…a cup of chamomile tea. I will have a coffee—”

“With milk and two sugars,” he breathed out, trying to smile up at the attendant.

“Thanks baby,” Katniss cooed at him, her hand brushing through his hair affectionately.

The woman quickly fixed their drinks, handing their cups to them one by one.

“Can I just say that you too are extremely adorable?” the flight attendant remarked.

Katniss put a hand to her chest.

“Thank you!” She looked to Peeta; her expression full of affection. “He’s just so easy to love.”

Peeta smiled tightly. “This is my dream girl…” He patted Katniss’ hand. “…right here.”

The flight attendant practically squealed before going to the next seats.

“You really could be a little bit more convincing,” Katniss remarked. “Maybe act like my touch doesn’t repulse you.”

“You don’t!” He shifted towards her. “In fact, it’s really the opposite.”

Katniss rested back against her seat. “Really?” She crossed her arms. “Convince me.”

Peeta unbuckled his seatbelt. Pressing the release button of the armrest, he pushed it up so there was no divider between them.

Katniss waited, obviously interested in what he was up to. He realized that their tray tables covered anything below the waist and his mouth widened in a grin.

“Tell me.” His hand went to her thigh. “What exactly are you wearing under this?” The fabric beneath his palm was smooth and he could feel a full firm thigh. He continued upwards towards the cleft between her thighs. “Are you even wearing underwear?”

Katniss’ arms fell to her side and she swallowed thickly. “I am.”

“And, if my hand found its way between your thighs—” His hand stopped just about an inch from her center and she let out a labored breath. “—if my fingers brushed against this practically non-existent cloth, would I find you wet?”

“Maybe,” she whispered.

Peeta leaned forward, his mouth going to her ear.

“Would you let me put my fingers to your clit? Let me rub you until you came all over this seat?” His pressed his mouth to the spot behind her ear and she shivered. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d happily fill this cabin with the smell of sex if I fingered you into completion—”

“Stop—” Katniss gasped out, her hand covering the hand on her thigh. “I’m convinced.”

“Good.”

Peeta moved his hand away—but not before quickly brushing the tips of his fingers at her center. The feeling of heat had him hard immediately.

“You’re far from repulsive, Katniss.” He met her heated stare. “I’ve always thought that.”

Katniss snorted. “Yeah, right.”

Peeta took her hand, placing it to where his erection demanded to be freed.

“Believe me,” he demanded, and her fingers moved against the rough fabric of his jeans. “This is because of you. Yeah, it’s extremely hot to see you in this get-up, but what makes me hard is that look in your eyes.”

Katniss licked her lips. “What look?”

“That fire,” he told her, his thumb caressing the top of her hand. “That fire in those grey eyes will always get me, if you’re in this black jumpsuit—” Her fingers enclosed along his cock, gripping him firmly. “—or if you’re wearing that ugly zip-up sweater that HR gave you for your work anniversary.”

“Excuse me?” They both jumped at the voice and looked to see the flight attendant. “We’ve just been notified that we’ll be landing a little sooner than we announced. So, if you could finish your drinks in the next few minutes—”

“Of course,” Katniss said quickly, her free hand reaching for her cup. “We’ll be done soon.”

The woman gave them a smile and moved on to the next row.

Katniss sat back, the hand on him quickly disappearing.

“You’re going to be more problematic than I thought,” she said, her eyes dark.

“Trust me.” Peeta let out a breath. “The feeling is mutual.”

++++++

“I never asked, but you and Rye are pretty close, right?”

Peeta nodded, pushing the cart with their luggage down the corridor as they left baggage claim.

“We’re probably just as close as you and Prim are,” he told her. “And Delly is great. Horrendous taste in friends, but she’s really a sweet person.”

“Do you suspect that Rye will see through all of this?” Katniss questioned.

Peeta shook his head. “We’ve done our research.” He stopped, reaching for her hand. “I also always thought that you and I had great chemistry…in the workplace. I think it transfers easily into whatever we’re trying to pull off.”

Katniss smiled. “I feel the exact same way.”

“Peeta!”

They turned to see a couple, running toward them excitedly.

Rye rushed over, pulling him into a tight hug and practically lifting him off the ground. His brother was a broad fellow; muscular from years of playing football throughout high school and college. However, Rye was as gentle as they came when it came to his younger brother and the lovely woman that he would soon be marrying.

“I’ve missed you, little brother!” Rye said affectionately. “Welcome home!”

They drew apart, just as Delly pulled away from hugging Katniss.

He reached over to quickly kiss Delly on the cheek. “Hello soon-to-be big sister.”

“Hello, my sweet little brother,” Delly greeted in return.

“Rye, Delly—” Katniss beamed at him and his heart leapt at the affectionate gesture. Taking her hand, he presented her proudly to the couple. “—this lovely woman is my girlfriend, Katniss Everdeen.”

Delly grinned at his expression. “I can already tell that she’s going to be a perfect addition to our family.”

Rye took Katniss’ hand, leaning and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“I welcome anyone who makes my baby brother smile this brightly,” he told her. “Welcome to San Francisco. Have you ever been here?”

Katniss shook her head. “This is my first time. Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thanks!” Delly glowed in excitement. “I can’t wait for all the festivities—” She whipped around to her fiancé. “—and for us to be married, of course!” They all chuckled at her exuberance.

Rye led them out into where the town cars were stationed; a man in a black suit immediately took the cart and headed to the trunk of the black Sedan in front of them.

“A driver?” Peeta asked.

“Mom and Dad insisted,” Rye responded with a grimace. “You know them.”

They all slid into the wide back seats, Rye closing the door behind him.

Delly immediately pounced. “So, how did you two meet?”

“We’ve been working together for the last two years at Panem Projects,” Katniss told her easily. “I’ve always liked Peeta and we became friends right away.”

“However, a little over six months ago, I finally got the balls to ask her out on an actual date,” Peeta finished for her. His hand found hers, their fingers entwining easily, and he met Katniss’ eyes. “And, wonderful woman that she was, she accepted. We’ve been together ever since.”

“I love it,” Delly said sincerely. “And you look so beautiful together. The children are going to be gorgeous.”

Rye smiled affectionately at his fiancée. “Don’t scare Katniss off, love.”

“I don’t know,” Katniss said, eyeing Peeta playfully. Her free hand reached to push his hair away from his face. “I’ve always loved blue-eyed children.”

“And, the children would look particularly lovely if they had Katniss’ hair,” he added, his hand reaching to the tuck a tendril of her hair behind her ear.

How did he never notice what was in front of him?

“Oh man,” Rye said, looking between them. He smirked at his brother. “You are so fucked.”

++++++

“It’s so wonderful to have you here, Katniss,” his mother said. “We’ve never had Peeta bring a girl home. You know, except for Mad—" She waved her hand, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, you are most welcome.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Mellark,” Katniss replied graciously.

“Call me Janice, my dear.”

Behind her, Peeta followed along with his father carrying their bags up the stairs.

“She seems like a lovely girl,” his father told him.

“I care for her a great deal,” Peeta said as he watched his mother and Katniss chat easily. “I don’t know how I even got her.”

“Trust me, son.” He gave Peeta an affectionate smile. “I think she feels the same way. I can tell just by the way she keeps looking over for you—like she can’t believe that you’re together.”

They stopped at the door to his childhood room.

“Well, we put some extra towels in your bedroom,” his mother told them. “And, Mags—” Peeta had introduced Katniss to the head of the household when they first entered his childhood home. “—made sure that fresh sheets have been put on the bed and she’s aired out the room as well.”

“Okay, but where will Katniss be staying?” he asked.

“We’re not so old to not know that you aren’t sleeping together,” his mother said. “So, we just set up your room for the both of you.”

“That’s perfect,” Katniss told his parents. She looked to him boldly. “Show me your room. I’m dying to see those little league trophies of yours.”

“We know that you must be exhausted,” his father told them. “So, we’ll just have dinner sent up and we can rendezvous for brunch tomorrow in the main dining room.”

“Thank you, Marshall,” Katniss said as Peeta opened the door for them. “Thank you as well, Janice.”

“Of course, dear.” His mother gave them a jaunty wink. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Entering the room, Peeta placed their bags at the end of his bed.

“What kind of life did you leave when you came to work at Panem Projects?” Katniss stared up at the high ceiling of the room, her eyes traveling to the four-post bed, and then to the floor-to-ceiling windows. She went to one immediately. “Oh my God! You can see everything from up here!”

“A house on Twin Peaks affords that kind of view. However, it’s not so great on foggy days,” he told her, watching as she examined every bit of his room from the bathroom (“A clawfoot tub!”) to the walk-in closet (This is practically the size of my studio!).

Taking off her shoes, Katniss leapt onto his bed. “Holy shit! This is heavenly!”

Peeta went to her, toeing off his own shoes before joining her.

They laid side by side, hands immediately reaching for one another.

He turned to her. “Did I ever say thank you for being here?”

“It’s all worth it to stay in this sweet room,” Katniss replied, her grey eyes dancing.

“So, you’re just here for the room?”

She smirked. “Well, I did also find out that you have a huge cock—so that’s a bonus.”

“Katniss!” Her laughter filled the room and his stomach tumbled in pleasure hearing it. He suddenly flipped, his chest over hers and the giggles fell from her lips. Peeta stared down at her, her grey eyes suddenly darkening as he examined her. “You’re something special.”

“I’m nothing.” Her chest rose and Katniss let out a shaky breath. “I just want to be here for you.”

“I want to kiss you,” he suddenly said, his hand reaching to trace her jawline. “Would you allow it?”

“Are you doing it because you want to thank me?” she asked tightly. “Or because you want to explore what is obviously between us?”

“Both, I think.” Peeta had never felt this exhilarated or this flustered by someone. Just a touch from Katniss and he was in a whirlwind, happy to be caught in it. “I just think you deserve someone less broken than I am.”

“We’re both broken.” Her hand reached for the nape of his neck, drawing him down until their lips were brushing. “I don’t know if we can fix that, but we can help each other mend.” She smiled against him. “Let’s see where this weekend takes us, and we can go from there. For now, I’m allowing you to kiss me. So, make it a good one.”

Peeta dipped his mouth into hers, sampling just a bit, and it was like he could breathe again. Immediately, his lips sought hers, his tongue sweeping into her mouth and swirling against her own. Katniss moaned and his heart rose in triumph as she pressed herself to him eagerly.

His hand reached to cradle her head, his fingers entwining in soft waves and he plunged into her mouth once more, exploring her in their kiss.

Katniss ripped her mouth off his, a string of saliva still connecting them.

“Fuck!” Her eyes were frenzied. “What the hell are you doing to me?”

He grinned. “I’m just exploring.”

Despite his attempt to remain cool, his own heart raced; the feel of her mouth…and her tongue undoing him.

This wasn’t the plan, but it felt right.

“This whole game we’re playing,” she said, her eyes full of hunger. “I’m going to crash and burn, aren’t I?”

“If you burn—” Peeta kissed her tenderly. “—then I burn with you.”

END OF PART ONE