#and yeah the gap year could’ve been a good option

[ivystitches]

you’re telling me that rory gets arrested and lorelai says nothing? what????

[kyleys-empty-mind-shit]

confessions

hol’ up . . . this is our vv first fic together. bye-

inspo: “Isn’t it obvious? I’m in love with you?”

genre(s): angst; fluff

fandom: the hunger games

rating: g・t・r

rated t for swearing

word count: 2.6k

warning(s): two oblivious dumbasses in love; probably unedited 

things to know: y/n (your name) ⟢ e/c (your eye colour) ⟢ y/l/n (your last name)

Peeta Mellark.

He was your constant; your rock. You could rely on him for anything and everything.

He was the steadiest thing you’d had in your life for a long time now, but as he took your wrist and led you upstairs away from the party, you couldn’t help but feel the anger bubble up in your chest.

“Peeta, what—”

“Why?” he nearly shouts. Peeta is mild mannered. He’s many things, actually; polite, charming, and personable, but angry was not one of them. It didn’t scare you like you’d always expected it to, but rather frustrated you.

“Why what, Peeta?” you hiss back.

He looks at you as if you had just grown two heads, his brows knit together in disbelief.

“You’re joking,” he breathes. You shake your head, not understanding what he is trying to get at. You defensively cross your arms, knowing the juvenile element would annoy him, but having nothing to do with your hands increases your already anxious state.

“That guy,”

“That guy?”

“Yes, y/n, yes. That guy that was just a little too friendly with you? So close to you that he was practically crawling under your goddamn skin? What were you thinking?”

You laugh at him, unable to contain it. “I can handle myself perfectly fine. Why are you being such an ass?” you all but shout at him. “It’s none of your business anyway?”

“Hm, let’s see y/n, he could’ve, god, I don’t know, taken advantage of you?”

You scoff, unable to handle his cliché statement.

He brings his hands up and pushes his hair back, looking up at the ceiling as he exhales heavily through his nose. You squint at him, unable to read the emotions on his face.

“What is up with you?” you whisper, not quite sure if he was able to hear. Your eyes narrow, unsure of what his next words might be.

“For someone so smart, you can be so goddamn oblivious sometimes, y/l/s.”

“Oh my god, what is with all the stupid riddles tonight? I can’t read your mind! You can’t expect me to just know things,” you exasperate, throwing your hands out in front of you. “For someone who’s supposed to be good at communication, you’re doing a pretty shitty job of displaying it,” you spit, throwing his words right back at him.

“Fine,” he hisses, starting to move towards you.

You cock your eyebrow at him, your bodies coming closer, nearly closing the gap.

“Fine?” you question.

“Yeah.” he huffs out, repeating the word with an heir of finality, “yeah.” His breath warms your face, the scent of vodka invading your senses.

Your cheeks heat up, suddenly very aware of his proximity. You watch his adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly. He can’t meet your eyes, his heart hammering against his chest so loud that it feels as though you can hear it. His head drops along with his gaze, studying the floor before chancing a glance at you. Peeta lets go of a breathy laugh as words tumble out of his mouth.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he breathes, his words choked, hardly audible, him now looking you right in the eyes. Your stomach does a flip once, unsure of his next words. Blue eyes stare at your e/c ones that are clouded in confusion. You can feel his frustration start to build as he takes a step back from you, his voice rising and hands coming from his sides.

“I’m in love with you,” he bursts out.

Oh my god.

You stare at him in shock, his proclamation stunning you. You blink once, twice, as his words echoing through your head.

His hazel eyes bore into your e/c ones, willing you to say something, anything, to let him know you heard him. But yet you stand there, unable to find the words.

Nothing is coming out.

Say something, you beg yourself, wanting to scream out an answer, yet your mouth continues to remain shut. You swallow hard, your tongue feeling like sandpaper. How could you be so oblivious to his feelings? You and him have known each other since childhood, yet there you are, standing only inches away from him, the truth finally known.

The look in his eyes is absolutely heart-wrenching; if you hadn’t just heard him, you’d have thought he had lost his best friend. In a way, you guess, he had.

Peeta just shakes his head softly, shrugging his shoulders in such a way that makes you want to reach out and take his hand. His dark waves fall over his eyes and he turns around, facing the door.

“I—” you begin, but you know it’s too late.

“Just, um, forget it, y/n,” his voice soft, small, “I’ll see you in environmental studies.”

He opens the door and steps out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. You want to scream, to tell him to come back.  

“Dammit!” you exclaim, throwing your red solo cup as hard as you can at the wall. The contents spill all over, some of the liquid splashing on you but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You reach to pull at your loosely braided hair, a habit of yours that came out whenever you were experiencing an excess of negative emotions, before you realize where you are. You harshly rub your eyes with the heels of your hands as you remind yourself to breathe.

In, out . . . In, out.

“Get it together,” you tell yourself, taking one last deep breath. “Okay.”

You turn to head back downstairs to the party, nothing on your mind except finding Peeta and setting everything straight, hoping at this point that that was even a possibility anymore.

God, you hated this part. You hated having to make up. Saying sorry was never your strong suit, your pride always getting in the way. But this? This was not a matter of pride. This was about finally coming to terms with the truth that you so desperately tried to avoid for years.

You almost trip as you descend the stairs, looking everywhere for Peeta but unable to find him anywhere in the crowd.

Spotting a head of wavy bronze hair by the water cooler, you rush over to your english lit classmate, who is also a friend of Peeta’s; Finnick Odair.

“Hey Finnick,” you say once you reach him, trying to keep your voice even. He greets you with his signature smirk before bringing his cup to his lips and taking a sip.

“Ah, y/n, having a good time I trust?”

“Trying to,” you grumble. Finnick gives you a quizzical look before you proceed; “Have you seen Peeta?” You can’t help but notice the slight crack in your voice when you say his name.

“Yeah,” he confirms, “I saw him leave a few minutes ago. Seemed pretty upset.”

“Yeah, wonder why,” you mutter bitterly, knowing he wouldn’t hear your words above the music.

You bite your lip, weighing the option of asking Finnick to help you find Peeta. Half of you wanted to go and find him yourself, your need to get the weight off your chest as quickly as possible, the other half of you wanting to stall for as long as you could.

“Could you text him? Ask him where he is?”

“Why can’t you?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, your cheeks burning. “Because, I—”

“Wait,” Finnick’s smile widens. “Wait, are you the reason he’s upset?”

Your silence is enough for him. His dopey smile falters for a moment, an emotion that you could only define as realization sweeping over his face. He shakes his head softly, pulling his phone from the pocket of his hoodie and opening his texts. His thumbs glide swiftly across the screen as he compiles a message to send to Peeta.

You can’t have been standing there for more than a minute when his phone dings. Finnick flashes you the screen.

From: Pita Bread

I’m fine... at the pond.

“Thank you, Finnick, really,” you breathe.

He just nods, taking another sip of his drink.

You rush out of the frat house the party was being held in, running across the street to Panem University’s main campus, willing your legs to go faster.

The pond was at the northern end of campus, smack in the middle of Tribute Hall and the Coriolanus Snow Study Center. You see a silhouette sitting on one of the few stone benches surrounding the body of tranquil water, tossing handfuls of what you can only assume is trail mix at the ducks that liked to take up at the pond.

You slow down, bringing your footfalls to a trot, then silently padding your way over the grass towards him. Your chest is heaving from the exertion as you try to make your breaths even.

“Peeta,” You call out, your voice void of any venom as you stalk towards the boy. You’re almost inclined to slap him because of how he acted. No rational person could expect someone to give them an answer to a question as heavily weighed as that right away.

He stands up once you reach him, refusing to look you in the eyes. For a fleeting moment, you catch the grief-stricken look in his usually bright eyes and it’s enough to keep you from raising your hand at him.

“Why did you leave like that?” you breathe out. He shrugs a shoulder with almost casual indifference. “Peeta.” you nearly plead, looking at him as your eyebrows knit together.

“What did you expect me to do?” he says feebly.

You look up at the night sky, inhaling deeply as you hurriedly send off a prayer to whatever higher power that you can say everything you want to say to him, in the way you want to say it.

In a way that says something to him. Means something.

The stars seem to twinkle brighter, almost like they received your message. God, this is so hard.

Peeta is still looking anywhere but at you, his focus now on the ducks idling in the water.

“You could have waited for me,” you say. “I mean, come on! That was… big. A big thing to drop on me,” you add, “so of course I was shocked. But if you had just waited for me . . .”

“What?” he snorts, finally looking you in the eyes. “What would you have said that couldn’t have possibly made me feel like more of a fool than I already was? What—”

“I love you,” you blurt.

Here it goes.

“And not in a ‘you’ve always been there for me, so I’m kind of indebted to you’ kind of way but in a way that’s like, ‘I want to do cheesy stuff with you because I know it will make you smile.’ That’s like, I would do anything, anything to prove to you that I’m worthy of your love. Peeta, you’ve seen everything I was and everything I am, and it just— I just couldn’t believe when you said that . . . But I— I trust you with everything in me and it frightens me, because you know I’ve been hurt before, but I can’t deny that everything feels right when I’m with you. I just. I want another chance. If, if you’ll let me.” You breath the words out, hardly anything but air coming out.  

“Y/n, breathe.”

“Right,” you exhale, your mind swirling around, making vertigo seem like a walk in the park.

“You’re not . . . unworthy of love,” Peeta begins but he stops, trying to figure out his words. “What Cato did to you, it doesn’t mean you’re undeserving of love. He’s.. an asshole, who’s going to get what’s coming to him. I— I’m sorry for dropping it on you like that, but seeing you with that guy, he just reminded me so much of Cato, and it made me so mad because I didn’t want you to go through that again, and I.. couldn’t help but think it was my final chance to tell you how I felt.”

“Final chance?”

“Y/n, I’ve loved you since like year six.”

“Peeta, you absolute dumbass!” you exclaim, quickly going to cover your mouth as your own words shock even yourself. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . wow,” a laugh nearly escapes your lips. “We’re both oblivious fools, huh?”

Peeta’s brows furrow in confusion, as you let out a soft chuckle. His head is tilted slightly to the side, his soft curls falling into his blue eyes. This moment is one you’ll always remember, you think to yourself, already trying to commit it to memory. The way the trees slightly sway from the late summer breeze, the moonlight reflecting off the water; best of all, the glint in Peeta’s eye when your gazes meet. It’s so cheesy, really, but you couldn’t care less. You’ve played it over and over in your head for years, different scenarios always being formulated, but nothing you could have ever dreamt of could compare to this moment.

“I’ve loved you since year seven,” you tell him, every word of it true. “I can’t believe it took us both this long. Could have avoided the whole Cato fiasco of year twelve, I suppose, if we had just . . . had the gall to tell each other back then, I guess,” you say, the last sentence mumbled.

“Yeah.” Peeta laughs, a genuine deep laugh that reaches his eyes. It rouses the butterflies that have been in the pit of your stomach, the fluttering making you nervous as you watch him scratch the base of his neck almost embarrassedly.

“So,” you say, dragging the ‘o’ sound. “Pretty sure this is the part where most people would kiss.”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“No, not you, Peeta. I was talking to the duck behind you,” You frown, unable to contain the scoff that passes your lips. “Yes.. yes, I want to kiss you,” you breathe, your pulse hammering.

You step forward, your hands reaching up, gliding against his cheeks, his hands resting on your waist. In a moment of bravery, you place your lips against his. They’re soft, and he tastes like cedar and bread, and it’s like coming home, being in his arms as his lips move against yours, the breeze chilling your skin but his warming you.

There are no words spoken between the two of you as you both pull away. His eyes are still closed, his long eyelashes resting against the tops of his cheeks; the corners of his mouth are pulled up slightly.

God, he’s beautiful. So beautiful. That word is usually reserved for sceneries, sunsets or pretty dresses, but in this moment, you can’t tear your eyes away from him.

“Finally!” someone shouts, causing the both of you to jump back from each other, acting like two first years getting caught passing notes in class. You look around before your eyes land on Johanna Mason, leaning against the statue of the university founder Alma Coin that’s off to the left of the entrance of the study center. Finnick is with her, his signature smirk gracing his elegant features once more. “We were wondering when you two would have the balls to tell each other how you felt.”

“It seems everyone knew but you two,” Finnick adds with a deep chuckle.

“Alright, Finny, I think we should leave the two lovebirds alone.” Johanna says, turning away. “Be safe, you two!”

“If you need anything,” Finnick winks at Peeta. “You know where to reach me.”  

You laugh softly, leaning your head against Peeta’s chest. His arms wrap around you, encasing you in him. His cheeks rests on the top of your head, his breaths evening out as you listen to his steady heart beat.

This is it. This is home.

[malebodysuittf]

Thankful

I sniffed the air with a drool, smelling that delicious roast turkey that my dad was cooking up. It was a family recipe that we had used every Thanksgiving. Dad had never even tried to deviate from it since my mom passed when I was not even a year old. My dad told me it was hers, and cooking the turkey her way made it feel like she was back home for the Holidays. 

Thanksgiving has been a big family occasion ever since, though the “family” was just the two of us. My dad valued that family time more than anything. After what happened with mom, he was absolutely devastated for the longest time. But he worked hard to make his way up through the ranks, and told me every single day to be grateful for what I had so I could have a good future myself.

“Ritchie! The turkey is ready! Come eat dinner with your old man.”

I opened my drawer and pulled out a jar filled with a translucent, red liquid along with a syringe. “Coming, dad!” I pondered if this was really the right thing to do. With a sigh, I put the serum back. No, he had done a wonderful job of being a role model parent. I had bought this serum from the shady kid at school before we graduated, and he told me it could turn the victim into a suit by emptying them out. A wearable suit. My dad didn’t deserve that. He had worked hard and chose not to abandon me when he could have. 

I ran downstairs and saw the delicious Thanksgiving feast before me. Roast turkey, mashed potatoes with gravy, a homemade pumpkin pie, and a beautiful salad. I immediately sat down and started eating as my dad watched with a grin. ”Oh come on, no thank you?  On Thanksgiving?” He said jokingly. 

“Thanks, dad. And...I want you to know I’m thankful for everything. I know I’m going off to college soon, so...I mean, you’ve worked so hard to....to provide everything for me and get me where I am, I wanna be thankful.” 

Dad smiled, almost looking like he was on the brink of tears. “Let’s just eat, alright?” He started to dig in with me as we had a delicious Thanksgiving feast together.

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

A few hours after dinner, and I rested in my, eyeing the drawer with the bodysuit serum. Perhaps I could use it on someone else, someone who might deserve it. 

Knock knock

Startled by the unusual late night disturbance, I opened the door to see Dad standing there, shirtless. Looked like he was getting ready to go to bed.

“Hey, Ritchie, you mind if I come in?’ He gave me the most wholesome smile, a reminder of the close bond we had. 

“Yeah, sure, what’s up?”

He walked in and plopped himself onto my bed, hunched over with his legs spread out as he rubbed his hands together. 

“Hey buddy, you’re going to college soon, and...I know, I know, maybe it’s not a big deal for you or whatever. I mean, you took this gap year, and you’re probably tired of your old man by now.” His body tensed up as he chuckled before giving a long sigh. ‘I just wanna say I’m really proud of you, and I’m thankful for you. I know sometimes...I know you told me that sometimes you feel guilty, because I had to raise you as a single parent...but I don’t regret it at all.”

 My eyes teared up as I head his words. It was true, it felt awful. He never gave me up for adoption, he was never selfish, he had been the role model parent for me. Accepted me the way I was. Even with my homophobic grandparents, my father had told me he didn’t care, because I was his son. He had supported me every step of the way. He never went out looking for another woman, truly in love with my mother, and wanting to give me 100% of his attention. 

“Dad...I have to be honest. I don’t want to go to college. It just...it doesn’t seem right to me. But-”

“You’re an adult, Ritchie. You get to make your own decisions. If that’s how you feel, go that route. Don’t let your old man try to live your life for you. I worked hard so you could have the life you want, not for you to be unhappy. I’ll support you, no matter what choice you make.”

At a loss for words, I jumped out of bed and hugged Dad and felt his arms wrap around me.

“Dad, I really meant what I said earlier. I couldn’t have asked for a better father.” 

“I love you, son. No matter what, don’t ever forget that.” 

As I hugged him, the option tugged at my conscience. in his compassion and fatherly affection, the guilt ripped me apart. I wanted it more than ever. 

I got up from him and turned to the drawer. As he got up to leave the room, I said, “Wait, uh...I’ve um...got something for you.” 

“Yeah? What is it, champ?”

I opened the drawer and slipped the syringe through the top of the jar, watching the liquid seep into the it. 

“Just...uh...hold on a sec, alright?”

He gave a deep chuckle. “Yep, I’m waitin’.”

“I’m really sorry, Dad.”

I looked behind me and saw his concerned face. He was loving and supporting, and wanted to comfort me. “I already told you Ritchie, I’m proud of you. I don’t want you to feel gui-”

I swiftly turned around and jabbed Dad in the neck with the syringe, injecting him as he was startled. He pulled my hand away and pushed me back.

“Ritchie, w-what the hell was that?” His large, meaty hand patted his neck as he gave me a confused look. 

“A...a bodysuit serum. I’m really sorry, Dad.”

“What the hell is that? What did you do? Is this some kind of prank?”

“N-no...I don’t....I don’t know...” I felt great guilt as Dad suddenly started groan and cup his face in his hands.

“Oh...fuck...i-it burns! WHAT DID YOU DO?” He tried to leave the room, but I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him back in, covering his mouth as he yelped. He was, of course, much stronger and bigger than me, but even in this moment of peril, he wasn’t willing to hurt his son. He pushed me back slightly as he fell back and hit the wall, slumping as his head hung down, struggling to keep it up. 

“Fuck...Ritchie, please, call an ambulance! W-what are you doing?”

“It’s gonna turn you into a suit. I’m gonna wear your skin, Dad.” 

His face was a mixture of confusion and horror. “THIS ISN’T FUNNY, RITCHIE!” 

“I already told you, I’m really sorry Dad...but I’m gonna have your body. I’m gonna wear that skin of yours!” I menacingly approached him, still unsure if this was what I wanted to do. 

“W-What do you mean? Did you...drug me?” The pain appeared to be ramping up as Dad’s face contorted and he wiggled against the wall, yelping every now and then while he clutched his stomach. 

“I told you I didn’t want to go to college. I’m really sorry to say this...but I’m going to go straight to work, Dad. I want to wear your skin. I want to live your life, talk to your friends, do your job...please don’t make this harder than it has to be. It’s just because you’re the man I want to be.”

Dad started to cough as he looked slightly paler than before, wrestling out what words he could. “W-what are you going to do?” He clenched his jaws as he built up the courage the ask. “You’re creeping me out Ritchie! W-what do you mean wear my skin? You’re not a monster!” He stumbled over his words in terror, in denial of his fate.

“Nothing like that! I just know that I can’t wait to slide into you, slipping into your empty, lifeless skin, stretching every wrinkle of yours, and to talk to everyone...and not a single person will know. I really am sorry.”

Looking disturbed by his own son’s words, Dad tried again for the door. This time, I managed to grab him and put him in a chokehold.  I could feel him getting softer as he was turned into a suit, and he was a lot weaker because of it. He started to panic with shallow breaths as I watched his bare feet scrape against my bedroom carpet, desperately trying to get out of my grasp. I could feel him almost ready. 

I stood up with him still in a chokehold and moved to drag him over to the bathroom. I kicked open the door and turned on the light, I threw Dad forward as he hit the bathtub.

“I told you, I’m thankful for you, Dad. You’ve given me so much, and you’re about to give me everything.”

I grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed his head into the tub as the goo started to eject from his mouth. My very unfortunate father flailed and attempted to back up from the tub, gaining momentary freedom. “R-RITCHIE! STO-MMMMPH!!!” 

I quickly slammed his face back towards the tub when I noticed him desperately clenching his mouth to keep the goo inside, trying to retain what little was left of him. I reached my left arm over his face and the right under his chin. I used both of my hands to clip onto his lips; I knew Dad wouldn’t bite me, he was too good of a father. With my left arm and held his upper face steady as I pulled his mouth open with my right hand. He whimpered as he looked at me, as if one final plea to talk. Slowly, but surely, his mouth started to open with a cry as he weakened. Prying his mouth open, Dad shuddered and yelped as the goo plopped out of his mouth. Clearly unable to fight for any longer, I released the pressure and grabbed him by the hair with my left hand. I could feel his head almost...folding in on itself, as it emptied. I tugged his head back into the tub until Dad was mostly deflated and empty. His hands let go of the tub and fell to the ground in a folded pile, while his legs had completely folded at the knees, while his face drooped into the bathtub. I felt a severe guilt. Dad, the man who had given me everything, who had been supportive of me, who had been the best father he possibly could’ve been, was gone. All that was left was this bodysuit of him. 

I grabbed his hand, and noticed there was some goo left in him. I picked the arm of the suit up from the fingers and squeezed out the remaining goo as it fell right out from his mouth, until he was completely empty. Turning on the bathtub, the goo sunk into the drain.

I grabbed the bodysuit by the scalp and held it up, and his shorts and underwear slipped off. I could just barely hold the suit so Dad’s feet wouldn’t touch the ground; he was a man of incredible stature. Every crevice of his folded over itself, while the mouth and eye sockets dragged downwards, creating an O-face with bags. Even though I knew it was me who did it, the macabre visual of my own father’s lifeless skin could only seek to unsettle me. I intended to remedy that. 

Dropping the bodysuit to the floor, it fell as a haphazard pile of skin and hair with a slap. I took off my own clothes and tossed them onto the floor. I hooked my fingers onto Dad’s lips and started to stretch his mouth as wide as I could. I dipped my toes in, forcing one foot through Dad’s body, then the other, until both fit snugly into his feet. I wiggled my new toes, significantly thicker and with little tufts of hair on each one. I tugged harder at his mouth as I slipped Dad’s skin on, feeling his powerful legs overtake my own. I flexed my trunk thighs in awe, enjoying seeing his beautiful daddy legs move to my command. I had to stretch the suit to it’s limit to slip my hard cock into Dad’s fuckstick skin. Christ, the thing was massive. I shimmied into his ass, feeling it perk up. Dad was always such a humble guy, and of course, I hadn’t got to see him naked until now. He truly had an amazing body, it almost made me sad to imagine all that he missed out on in his loyalty to Mom. I gazed at myself in the mirror, satiated by the thought of my supportive and caring father, being turned into a sexual object by his son. The empty arms swung from my hip as I checked myself out, while the skin of his torso and head clumped around my waist. I continued to pull at Dad’s mouth, slipping my arms into each arm of the suit. His hands were strong and his fingers thing, veins running down the arm. A sign of masculinity and impressive musculature. Finally, I grabbed the upper lip from behind my head and, using my newfound strength, pulled the upper lip over my head as Dad’s face stretched to ludicrous proportions while I tried to stuff my own head into his, almost threatening to tear. 

I blinked a few times, and looked in the mirror. I was the spitting image of Dad, quite literally. Humble, supportive, friendly, caring Dad. Perhaps I need to start referring to myself by name. Alan. I was Alan, single father of Ritchie. I could only give myself a devious smirk in the mirror. As I started to jerk off this new fuckstick of mine. It was insanely sensitive, from nearly two decades of loyalty and family dedication. I rubbed it intensely as I recalled the events of the night. I did feel awful about what I had done, but there was such a dark appeal to it. I had decided on not turning  Dad into a skinsuit...but when he came in, and sat there on that bed, the impulse was too much. Recalling the nights events of pulling on Dad’s skin, and getting to see myself in control of his body...I ejaculated onto the mirror with a loud moan, rolling my neck as I felt the wave of pleasure overtake my body momentarily. The seed was thick, and I was able to roll it off the mirror and eat it up. I stretched a bit to fully situate myself in my new skin and picked up the underwear that I had been wearing, ready to slip it on and go to bed. A thought passed my mind as I stared in the mirror, ready to be just as good of a man that Alan had always been. 

Once again, Dad endured so many trials, to give me everything. Quite literally  this time. 

And I was finally, truly, thankful. 

[dontcallmecarrie]

No Hero [And Not Made Of Stone]

...I’ve got nothing. Not even sure where the idea came from, but as per usual, the moment my brain had an idea it immediately took it by both hands and ran with it so here you go. Name for this AU might change, but for now here have another song lyric [from Five Finger Death Punch’s “Wrong Side of Heaven”]

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Warnings: mild profanity, dysfunctional families, a metric buttload of gender and identity issues, because the protagonist is a possibly agender character [their stance on gender can be summed up as “huh, those parts are new. Weird. Moving on”]. Not exactly Tony-friendly at times, but not for the reasons you’d think. 

To sum up: haven’t done a SI-OC fic before, let’s see how it goes. Under the cut, because RIP mobile users otherwise.

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Justin Hammer’s name wasn’t always Justin Hammer.

He doesn’t really remember what it was anymore, but he knows that much.

.

Honestly? This ‘memories of another world’ thing was more a pain in the ass than anything else, at least at first.

It might’ve been cool if they remembered something useful— concrete dates, specific innovations, hell, even any tips of what stocks to invest in— but no, they had to get short end of the stick with weird dreams, identity crises, and a longing for a family they’d never had.

Oh, and another round of puberty, because of why the hell not. Like last time hadn’t been enough of a pain in the ass.

Ugh. They wanted a refund.

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...okay, so it probably could’ve been worse. 

Justin has vague recollections of going to sleep hungry, of huddling with their younger sibling under blankets because their parents couldn’t pay the electrical bill— so really, in the great scheme of things, being born as part of the 1% this round was. Something.

Trippy as hell, is what it was, honestly.

This family was loaded, and under other circumstances, they might’ve even been able to enjoy it— if, y’know, they hadn’t had the incredibly shitty luck of being born two years before Tony Stark.

.

“Look at what he’s doing, that could be you” this, “study hard, he’s going to be your rival” that— geez, if any other kid had been in Justin’s shoes, he would not have envied them. 

If he didn’t already have a firmly established sense of self, it would have been a mindfuck of a childhood because for some reason, his father kept comparing them? And yeah, Justin could kinda see some of the parallels— they were about the same age, both firstborn sons and heirs to their parents’ respective companies— but that’s about where the similarities ended.

Look, Justin wasn’t a genius, okay? He was fairly bright for his age, but...he wasn’t a one-in-a-million prodigy. And, up until he was 6, that had been acceptable.

But then the press went wild because oh, look, Howard’s son built a circuit board at age four, and it all went downhill from there because suddenly, being normal wasn’t good enough. Not for his parents, anyway.

.

Sometimes, he wondered what would’ve happened if it had been another kid in his shoes— how they would’ve handled the small army of private tutors and the extra classes they kept being signed up for in the hopes of finding something they excelled in.

The pressure of constantly being compared to a once-in-a-generation prodigy, and always being found wanting.

Justin wasn’t afraid of hard work— but it was grating, even for him. 

Really, just about the only silver lining to this ‘second life’ thing was his adorable little sister, Stephanie.

She, at least, looked up to him: her gap-toothed smile didn’t hold any expectations for anything other than the piggyback rides he regularly offered, and this time he didn’t even have to worry about medical bills, or—

Anyway.

.

His family and the Starks run in the same social circles, because of course they do. 

Now that he’s getting older, Justin’s being dragged along to all of the fancy shindigs with his parents, and it’s only due to two lifetimes’ worth of self-control that keeps his polite smile from wavering when he’s introduced to the bane of his existence.

“Hi, my name’s Tony Stark.” The little brat said, and Justin bit back a sigh as he shook his hand.

.

...so, the Stark heir his father wanted to be his rival was a kid. Actually a kid, which just made this mess that much more pathetic because part of Justin had almost been starting to want to buy into this rivalry thing, but.

In this life, and the last one, they’d been an older sibling.

This time, despite everything, he could tell he was softer— he had never gone to bed hungry, never had to worry about the roof over his head, or being solely responsible for his younger sibling’s health and safety— but.

Old habits die hard. 

.

Of course Justin’s father hears “the Starks are sending their seven-year-old heir to boarding school” and thinks “good idea, why didn’t I think of that?” 

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Steph had cried when they’d packed their things, and for that alone, Justin would never forgive their parents.

.

The other brats at boarding school are more invested in the Hammer-Stark rivalry than they are.

...this was going to be a long 9 years, wasn’t it.

.

One of the perks to going to one of the most elite boarding schools in the world was the options. Certainly, Justin doubted other places offered skiing and fencing and over eleven languages in their electives. 

Not that he was complaining: it was definitely a way to keep busy, certainly much better than the constant attempts at one-upmanship that came part and parcel with cramming the richest heirs, heiresses, and honest-to-goodness royalty in one place. 

At the end of the day, though, they were all kids. Bratty, entitled little shits who were still at the stage where they constantly went “my father will hear about this!” and Justin had way better things to do with his time than engage in those petty little playground attempts at power plays. 

So he dove into everything the school had to offer, bouncing from elective to elective like a ping pong ball, and trying not to think too hard as to why Spanish had come so easily to him, though he’d never studied it before— or why he’d felt a pang when the instructor had congratulated him on his accent. 

.

Somewhere down the line, Justin...kinda made a name for himself? Apparently?

Ugh, they’d never understand these people. 

.

Okay, so apparently he’d kinda become an older brother figure of sorts to the brats around here? Somehow? Even though he hadn’t exactly been planning on doing anything of the sort when he saw an underclassman struggling during practice, or stopped fights before they could start in the common room because he’d just sat down and didn’t have the patience to move all his stuff somewhere else to study.

Didn’t make sense to him, but apparently it was enough for some of the professors to write ‘good leadership skills’ on his transcripts, so whatever.

As a bonus, it made his old man happy. Not that Justin gave a damn about what he thought about him personally, but the increase in his ‘allowance’ [it was in the triple digits, like hell he was calling it that] was nice.

.

Among the hobbies Justin bounced between, there were a few that raised more eyebrows than others.

Knitting, for instance, was something some of the more annoying brats liked to laugh about. They eased up when they found out he sent the scarves and hats he made to his little sister, but... eh, whatever. 

Sewing, too— apparently it was okay if it was framed as a Boy Scout-esque ‘know the basics so you can always be prepared!’ way, but the moment he did any sort of embroidery there went his respectability. 

Well, at least nobody gave him a hard time about cooking. But then, his chilaquiles had some of these guys’ eyes watering just from the smell of it, so. 

It still didn’t sit well with him sometimes— kinda like how puberty had Not Been Fun on a number on levels, but hey, if all else failed, he could just ignore it harder. 

It hadn’t failed him yet.

.

Stephanie insisted on going to boarding school with him when she got to the age he’d been shipped off at.

It was...nice, having his little sister around again. 

.

It was a good thing Justin had been okay with being designated the heir of Hammer Industries, because Steph was... exactly like he remembered her.

Cheerful, upbeat, startlingly devious and manipulative when she wanted to be, and just a tad bit spoiled.

...okay, so Justin had probably contributed a bit to that last one. In his defense, he’d been doing his best to shield his sister from the staggeringly high expectations he himself had to deal with, but look, he wanted at least one of them to have some semblance of a happy childhood, okay? 

Goodness knew he hadn’t [not this time, nor the last].

.

Stephanie wasn’t interested in the family business, was more interested in pursuing a career in the arts.

Justin, of course, encouraged her wholeheartedly.

Their parents weren’t entirely happy about it, but...wasn’t like they had much to complain about. Not when Justin was always in the top ten of his year, not when the professors practically gushed over his responsibility and work ethic. 

He was no Tony Stark, but he’d made a name for himself nonetheless.

.

“So, we’re supposed to be rivals?” The bane of his existence said once, at yet another gala. “Howard says so, anyway.”

“Seems that way,” Justin shrugged as they pilfered a flute from a nearby table, carefully not commenting on how he’d referred to his father by his first name. Talk about a strained relationship, right there.

“You’re not really acting like one.”

“Well,” Justin sipped at his flute before making a face when he discovered it was champagne and not apple cider like he’d hoped, “it’s nothing personal, just business. Healthy competition, y’know? Someone’s got to.”

Stark eyed him for a moment, before giving him a brilliant smile. “You know, I think I’d like that.” 

.

Justin would never, ever understand these people.

.

In the time Justin Hammer got his degree in business, Tony Stark got several Ph.Ds. 

Not that he envied him: the idea of being shoved into the limelight after losing his entire family? Hard pass.

.

For some reason, Tony Stark seemed to think they were friends.

Why.

Sure, Justin tried to be as cordial with him as he did with anyone else, but... how on Earth did that translate into being friends?

.

“You look at him like he’s a kid,” Steph says once, laughing, “you look at all of us that way, haven’t you noticed?”

“Well, to be fair—”

“You’re only a few years older than us, but you keep acting like you’re dad. More like a dad than our actual dad, sometimes,” her smile dropped for a moment, “don’t think I forgot that time he didn’t even call for your birthday.”

Justin made a face. “But what’s that got to do with anything?”

She sighed, then gave him a smile and a look he couldn’t decipher. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

.

By the time Justin Hammer became the CEO of Hammer Industries, Tony Stark had held the same post in his company for over half a decade. 

Yet...well, something weird was going on.

Maybe it was because Justin’d had more time to prepare for the cutthroat world that was the defense industry, but— 

For some reason, he couldn’t help but think Tony was softer than he’d thought.

No-brainer contracts that would have been a cinch to broker, passed over simply because their distributors didn’t pass their incredibly high standards; buyers who wanted in, but whose past associations— very, very far in the past— meant SI didn’t even consider them. 

Justin couldn’t understand it. 

For someone in the industry, Stark’s morals were...unusual. Respectable, from one perspective, but remarkably naive from any self-respecting businessman who wanted to turn a profit. 

He was fairly certain the only reason Stark Industries was considered number one in the sector was because of the constant influx of new designs; they just were turning down too many contracts for him to consider otherwise. 

Sure, sometimes Hammer weapons found themselves in the wrong hands— much more often than Stark weapons, regrettably— but it was one of the hazards that came with the business. They’d both known it from the get-go; Stark weapons were considered the best for a reason, even though somewhere down the line, his company’d gotten a reputation for no-frills dependability and ruggedness to the point where unscrupulous individuals would do anything to get their hands on either. Wasn’t like there was anything they could do about it, not when money talked in ways laws didn’t.

Why Stark was so hung up over it, he just. Couldn’t wrap his head around.

.

Stark was proclaimed dead, and there was strong evidence to indicate the attackers had been using his guns.

...well, fuck.

.

“This is fine,” Justin muttered as his personal headache proceeded to come back from the dead only to say his company was going to stop doing the thing it was known for and making an ungodly mess in the stock market while at it, “it’s not like it affects me, anyway.”

.

Overnight, Hammer Industries became number one in the defense sector. 

Justin was not a happy camper about the spotlight.

Even more so, when he had to take additional measures so his sister could continue enjoy the privacy she’d had after pursuing her dreams as an artist because the press didn’t want to leave well enough alone.

.

“You know, you could’ve given me a warning.” Justin scowled when he saw Tony at the next gala.

“You handled it well enough, didn’t you?”

Ugh. 

His headache was back, and worst part was, the smile he got more than made up for it.

.

...and then I kinda ran out of steam.

tl;dr: MCU canon had Justin Hammer as a foil to Tony Stark, here their dynamic is more along the lines of Beethoven and Mozart [one really respecting the other’s genius, and working their butt off to get to that level of respectability and general acclaim].

in this AU, Stark Industries is kind of like Apple— very futuristic high-tech stuff, all the bells and whistles going on, etc, whereas Hammer Industries is the Nokia in this analogy: not fancy in the slightest but as close to indestructible as it gets. 

[extremelyblackandwhite]

august

pairing: sheriff lee bodecker x younger! reader

warnings: cheating, age gap

a/n: i wanted to write this chapter to show how y/n’s and lee’s affair began and to show how y/n shaped lee or his point of view. this song is mostly based off august from taylor swift (bc we all know at this point that i’ll just write fanfics based of any folklore/evermore songs) and war of hearts from ruelle. this one is not smut, the next one (illicit affairs) is gonna be.  additionally, i’ve come to the conclusion that knockemstiff y/n dressed like betty draper and after-knockemstiff y/n dresses likes meg draper and that is canon. btw if you’re interested in what she’s wearing in this chapter here [x] p.s.: lee’s not captain yet in this chapter

> ILLICIT AFFAIRS

Salt air and the rust on your door, I never needed anything more. Whispers of are you sure? Never have I ever before. But I can see us lost in the memory, August slipped away into a moment in time ‘cause it was never mine

August was an odd month this year; the godless and sunless town was going through the biggest heatwave anyone could remember. Most habitants were in the parks and outside their homes in plastic chairs enjoying the heat, however, in Y/N’s house, they were baking apple pies with the apples leftover from the little apple tree farm they had a bit south from the town centre. Y/N had suggested they just gave away the apples but her grandmother, ever the traditional woman, believed the best way to show appreciation would be to bake something. “It shows you care, Y/N” as if she cared about anyone in this god forbidden town. She couldn’t wait to pack her bags and go to the big city where she can be something other than a trophy wife. Besides, it wasn’t like there were any available suitable husband options around. 

She wiped the flour out of her forehead as she placed the last pie in the oven. 24 pies, surely that would account for a high electricity bill at the end of the month. Not that it mattered anyway, her grandmother could more than afford it after all she was the woman right now sat at the kitchen table, giving out plates as if they cost nothing. 

     - Y/N, sweetheart, can you go and deliver the pie on the living room. It’s already cold and I don’t want it to go stale.

     - Yeah, sure. 

     - To Captain Bodecker’s house. Promised Jane I’d send her one. 

     - Captain Bodecker’s? But that’s in town. - she scratched her elbows. She’d rather not go to Captain Bodecker’s house yet again he probably wasn’t even around, always busy in the station. - Can I take the car?

     - It’s a 20 minute walk, it’s sunny outside and you’re young. Save on gas.

     - But ...

     - Y/N, you better be outside with that pie in 5 seconds or we’ll have a problem. - she interrupted.

Y/N sighed, unlacing the back of her apron and placing it on the hook. Just great, that’s all she needed today, to walk to the town centre to deliver one of the pies she had just spent the whole morning preparing. She guessed it could’ve been worse, she could’ve had to go deliver it to the police station then Captain Bodecker would’ve definitely been there. It wasn’t that she disliked him, quite the opposite. Back when she volunteered at the precinct he was the only one who was nice to her or at least the only one who wouldn’t try to put his hand under her skirt. He’d even memorised her name which not even the Sheriff who had hired her knew, to this day whenever he saw her he still called her Bella. He was nice to her and she couldn’t say she hadn’t developed a little school girl crush on him, despite the fact he was married. He’d even stood up for her when her manager started screaming at her. Nevertheless, she couldn’t stand being in his presence, feeling like whatever she said would get her in trouble. His wife wasn’t someone she enjoyed either; Jane Bodecker was known for having quite the sharp gossiping tongue. Most of her friends commented their “men friends” would comment how she used to have quite the reputation while at high school and whenever she saw her at the shop, she’d always call her Little Miss Perfect or make some side comment about how she was occupying a job that someone else needed. Still, Y/N could deal with Jane, a little smile, a nod and she was ready to deal with the devil.

The sun scorched her skin as she walked her last minutes til the Bodecker residence. It was a nice home, recently painted with some nice flowers in the front garden yet there were rumours of Captain Bodecker wanting to move to Brewer Heights. Y/N didn’t know how she’d react if during her morning walks she passed by him, so she counted it only as rumours. Standing in front of the red door, she held the pie in one hand and knocked against it with the other one. She stood there waiting for someone to come in until footsteps made her wake up from her dream-like state and prepare to deal with Jane. However, as the door open, a familiar silhouette had her heart racing. 

    - Y/N, what brings you here? - she watched him dressed in casual clothing, something she barely saw if she had ever seen; jeans and a white t-shirt. 

   - Captain Bodecker ... I ... I was looking for your wife. My grandmother sent this. - she held up the pie in front of her.  - She said Mrs. Bodecker wanted one. 

   - Jane’s ... out. Come in. - he opened the door wider for her but she remained in the same place like a statue. - Come on, it’s too hot out. Don’t want no fainting lass complains on my day off. ‘Sides, don’t you want a slice of pie?

   - I really shouldn’t.

   - You can say no if you want to. No need to be afraid of me, Y/N. - he leaned against the doorframe. - Thank you for the pie, though. 

   - I guess I can stay a bit. - she tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. Lee couldn’t help but shamelessly check her out as she walked inside his home. It was no secret she was a beautiful woman, heck, Lee thought her to be the prettiest little thing to ever arrive into town, with her sunny smile and pretty dresses. This one was no different, lavender which complimented her so well with a little white rope tied around her waist into a bow, like a little present. Nevertheless, he kept it under wraps he was a married man besides every man in town shamelessly harassed her, despite the side eye he gave them.

He watched as the fabric of her dress swung with the movement of her hips. Lee surely didn’t expect such a pretty girl to walk into his home, had he known he would’ve made an effort to fix the mess that was his house. Normally Jane tended to keep that sorted as he usually spent the day and night at work, but with her staying with her mother after their last fight. It wasn’t anything new, she always did that whenever they fought and then would return after Lee made a fool of himself by begging her to return and that he was wrong during the fight. Still, she placed the pie on his kitchen table with a gentleness and posture which mirrored her privileged upbringing. He couldn’t lie and say his mind hadn’t wandered around how she would look when she eventually got married, after all that was the future of all Knockemstiff women. He also couldn’t lie and say he hadn’t wondered how she would look as his wife. She was sweet, with a sharp mind which definitely had not been appreciated in the precinct. Despite this, productivity seemed to raise whenever she called out any officers who had their feet on top of their desks instead of doing paperwork. He still remembered having to always keep an eye on her, were any officers to get too rowdy with her. Yet, she didn’t care and she held herself and believed herself to deserve the same respect as every working man in Knockemstiff. Although he imagined how she would be as a wife, he had to admit he couldn’t see her ever being some Knockemstiff’s man’s wife and with the example from her grandmother, she was surely on the path to be a rebellion starter. 

    - Big fan of apple pie, Y/N?

    - My grandmother refuses to sell the apples so instead I woke up at 6AM and have been baking apple pies nonstop. She says it shows I care. 

     - Never thought you to be found of Knockemstiff residents. 

     - And I am not. - she spoke as if the mere thought of it offended her.  - She said she promised Jane one. 

     - Don’t think Jane will be back for a while. - he leaned against the kitchen door, watching her place the pie onto his kitchen table. - You can take half that pie, if you want.

    - Trust me, I have my share of apple pie at home. - she folded her hands on top of her stomach. - Uhm ... Do you want me to cut you a slice of pie? I normally take mine with a bit of vanilla ice cream on top. It’s gorgeous, the warmth of the pie and the cold of the ice cream. You should try it?

    - You’re just full of ideas, aren’t ya? - he sat on the wooden chair as she sliced the pie to the best of her abilities. - Shouldn’t you be at university, or someth’ng? 

    - Well, grandma had the stroke and she’s not as motile as she used to be. I’ve been taking some classes at Ohio University but it’s not the same, it’s ...

    - It’s not the big city, ain’t it? - he added. 

    - It’s not that I dislike Knockemstiff, Captain ...

    - Yeah you do. - he interrupted her. - Just don’t let the Sheriff hear it. He already ain’t too found of ya. 

    - Nobody in that precinct liked me. - she rolled her eyes. - Well, they did but I did not like them in that way. 

    - I liked ya. Whenever you screamed at Leroy it always made my day. 

    - Leroy’s the most incompetent person I know. All he does is pimp girls out as if he discovered prostitution. I feel sorry for the girls. 

    - He does a good service.

    - Of course you’d know. - she pushed her hair away from her shoulders, feeling the sweat roll down her neck. God it was, too hot. Lee furrowed his brown, laying the fork onto the porcelain plate. She caught his look, brow raising over in a playful, smug kind of way, before she laid her hands on the table. - I’ve seen it before. 

     - You’ve seen it before?

     - Don’t worry, I didn’t see IT, but I saw Jenny get in the car with you just after graduation. I know what she does, she would call me all the time whenever Leroy was being an ass. 

     - Oh ...

     - Don’t worry, I’m not gonna say anything. Everyone in this town cheats, mostly because everyone in this town marries someone just because they think that will save them from Hell. No one is saved if they’re born in Knockemstiff, not even me. 

     - You mean to tell me you’ve done bad things, Y/N? ‘Cause I don’t believe it.

     - I’ve never done it but I’ve thought bad things. All the time. - her gaze lowered from his face to his waist before returning back to his eyes. It was a millisecond gaze, something she herself knew but he didn’t notice, no matter how observant he was. There were no perfect men in Knockemstiff, but in Y/N’s mind he was her perfect man. After all, there are no perfect men anywhere, even Saints sin and then die heroically to get into heaven. Y/N would rather sin than die for people who would’ve had her accidentally killed many times if it weren’t for her grandmother’s name and status in town. What’s the fun in being good? Every time she was good she got yelled at, someone put her hand under her skirt or tried to pin her against a wall. She was good, she would just rather sin so people wouldn’t taint her goodness. It’s a question of self preservation, at least that’s what she told herself. 

    - That doesn’t make you bad. If so there wouldn’t be good people.

    - There are no good people. - she added, ever the negative person she was, something she had inherited from her mother and which everyone who knew her could trace back to. - All people are born so they could be buried. Everything you do ... in a 100 years they won’t remember everything and all that be left of you is your burial site. That’s your legacy. 

    - Such negative views for someone who wants out of Knockemstiff. I thought you’d have a better outlook on things.

    - I’m never getting out of here. - she sighed, almost used to the idea that she was going to stay no matter how long she fought it. - I’m gonna die here. 

    - Dying ain’t so bad. - he leaned against his chair. Y/N smiled at him, looking around his home. It was messy yes but it was still a good home yet that wasn’t what she noticed. Looking out the window, she saw a built in pool. She didn’t remember hearing the Captain had a pool. Sure, he had a the better salary compared to everyone else in town except for the Sheriff, Mayor, and her grandmother. Yet she had never heard of him having a pool, not even she had one. 

    - You have a pool? 

    - Yeah, built it back when Sandy used to come over to wind up from the dinner job. She’s married now so I don’t think she wants a pool at her big brother’s home anymore. 

   - I don’t think anyone in town has a pool. - she rose from her chair and walked to the window in a lavender rush. - It’s gorgeous.

   - You can come over whenever you want, Y/N. 

   - Can I go now? - she looked over her shoulder to him. The idea of being able to swim while the boiling august heat continued to shine down onto the hellish town. Somehow it made sense yet it didn’t. Lee cocked his head to the side, wondering if he’d misheard her words or if she was really considering swimming into his pool. Unwanted feeling stirred south of him and he punished himself mentally for imagining the lavender flower girl in such ways.

    - Well, uh ... you don’t have a swimming costume. - he babbled like a confused, stunned child.

    - I can swim on my undergarments. It’s pretty much a lace embroidered swimming costume. - Lee merely nodded, not knowing exactly what to do but knowing he was flirting with sin, looking at an abysses and seeming not to fear that he was going straight into it. 

Y/N walked from the window up to the kitchen door which led over to the garden. The once white door had withered with time, turning slightly yellowish with rust on the borders, the glass of the small see through windows cracked yet remaining its shape. The door seemed to be a small reminder of what was still wrong in the Captain’s life but she chose not to dwell over it, no to think about it. She felt the cobblestones against her feet covered by an old pair of white ballerina slips as her mirrored image became clear in the crystalline pool water. 

Lee on the other hand watched like a hawk, from the rusted door he’d broken so many bottles of liquor against, as her lavender fabric fell to the dirty cobblestones. The contrast of the prim expensive dress against the cobblestones which had aged as badly as he had done was telling. At least it was telling enough for him and he wondered if this was a gift from God or if the devil was toying with him. The devil is in the details, his mother used to say, yet as she emerged from the water, hands pulling down her hair, he was almost entirely sure the devil was the girl in his pool, the same girl who had worn white dresses until her 18th birthday. Yet again, the devil was once an angel and to him, she was closer to becoming a fallen one than continuing to wear shades of white. 

    - You don’t swim, captain? - she asked as she swam to the border of the pool. 

    - I don’t enjoy doing it. - he stayed glued to the door, a good distance from her to ensure he didn’t get tempted. - You gonna just swim around like a mermaid, huh?

    - It’s better in the water than on the cobblestones, I tell ya. - she dipped into the water once again only to return to the surface, water droplets rolling down from her plump skin. - Come on, captain. You’re gonna leave me swimming by my lonesome? During the hottest day in Knockemstiff?

    - You’re a trouble stirrer. 

    - Maybe I’m just bored. - she smiled at him. He knew she wasn’t tempting him, he knew Y/N. She liked to tease around, she enjoyed the freedoms which she imposed onto herself and as such she was much different from the women he knew. Not that he knew any women outside of Knockemstiff. He’d been born and raised here and all the women he saw from out of Knockemstiff were on his television screen. - Come on, Captain. It’s your pool. 

    - I don’t want you to see my belly.

   - I don’t care, besides, if it’s that bad then come into your clothing. - her arms rested upon the pool border, wondering eyes tempting even the saint of all saints. Lee looked at the cold water reflecting the afternoon sunlight beams, trying to avoid the thoughts that crossed his mind before turning around. He let his jean trousers pool to the ground along with his shoes before entering the water using the ladder. He was almost sure he’d make her laugh if he were to jump into the water. 

The water was cold and dripped from his skin in crystal like drops. Y/N offered him a playful smile, swimming close to him with that wide eye child naughty fun look only she managed to still hold intact. She held her hands slightly back before pushing the water towards him. 

    - You tellin’ me you invited me in for a water fight? - he chuckled at her actions. 

    - Afraid I’ll win?

    - Kid, you’re much too tiny to win against me. 

    - Wanna bet? - she threw water again at him, swimming closer and closer to him before anchoring herself against him, hands on his shoulders. - I bet you as many apple pies as you want. 

    - Yeah, I’m trying not to gain any more weight, kid.

    - You have beautiful eyes, I’ve never noticed. - she made eye contact with him, seeing her own reflection in his light blue eyes. Maybe she’d never notice because the uniform was so dark blue his eyes reflected it like mirrors, yet they were light. - They’re gorgeous. 

    - Trying to make me blush, kid? 

    - Just never noticed. 

    - Well huh ... - he could listen to his heart beating and drumming against his chest along with the soft movement of the water. All his eyes could see was her, her hands holding onto his shoulders and her angelic face looking at him. - Thanks, you have nice eyes too.

    - You can’t take a compliment, Captain. - she teased.

    - I don’t think I’m deserving of any, specially coming from you, kid.

    - What is that supposed to mean?

    - You know what the men say in town. They think you’re the prettiest thing in a skirt to ever pace around here. Pretty sure they’ll kill each other trying to get your favour.

    - My favour? Is that what you think I’m good for?

    - No ... I ... That’s not what I meant. - his face creased. - I’m just telling you what I hear. 

    - You seem to know a lot of gossip about me, captain. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’ve been asking around.

    - What if I have? - Lee watched for the first time her mouth shut close. She didn’t know what to say next, eyebrows furrowed together as she inspected his face, slow blinking. Her eyes left his to look at the water back at him. - Just looking out for you ... not a lot of people like you ‘round town. 

He hands gripped his shoulder as she swam closer to him. Her intention was to hug him thank you. Of course she didn’t expect no one to look out for her, she didn’t care about what a bunch of housewives and hopeless alcoholics thought of her. She knew he didn’t inspire adoration in them other. As she got closed to him, he leaned down, capturing her lips into his. Her hands slide from her shoulders to his chest, almost as if she wanted to be the good one and push him away. He was married after all. However, as his lips moved against hers she found herself incapable of pushing him away, hands relaxing just resting against his chest as she found herself acting on her sinful thoughts for the first time. 

So much for summer love, for saying us, ‘cause you weren’t mine to lose.

taglist: @lookiamtrying​

[letsperaltiago]

somewhere only we know

This is my entry for the B99 Summer 2021 Fic Exchange and it's for lovely Johanna aka. @amyscascadingtabs <3 I picked the prompt: "Jake and Amy going on a babymoon and enjoying some time together before everything changes for good."

It's very simple and just pure good, happy parents to be-vibes so yeah :) I initially wanted to add smut but didn't have the time to write it :(( If you feel like it's something you'd like, then feel free to lemme know! I can always add a chapter two heh. Anyways, enjoy!!

Rating: G

Words: 2.7k

Read here or on Ao3

“Jake, this is… amazing.”

This seems to be all Amy can come up with as the hotel room presents itself before her. Better or bigger words seem to be lacking from her otherwise excellent vocabulary but she blames it on the fact that she’s been carrying a tiny human for the past 35 weeks - not that she’s complaining. It’s been hard, both physically and mentally, and there are a few more weeks to go but by the end of it all, she’ll be holding her little baby boy. 

She’s tired and every inch of her body swollen and/or sore, but more importantly she’s eager and excited. Jake is too, if not even more than her, and this has resulted in the current scene: their babymoon. 

“You like it?” 

The way Jake asks her, eyes shining with innocent expectation and voice laced with childish excitement has her imagining just how their little boy will turn out to be. She can’t hold back her smile. This man will walk to the end of the earth to make her happy, essentially already has during this pregnancy, and the babymoon is just as much for him as it is for her. 

She turns on her heels to face him, showing him the bright smile that’s plastered on her makeup-free face which has gained some freckles during her pregnancy. 

“You could’ve planned a trip to a dumpster and I would still love it.”

Hands cupping his scruffy cheeks she pulls him in for a short but tender kiss that even so many years later, after thousands of kisses, has his toes curl in excitement. She truly would’ve stayed anywhere as long as Jake was with her. Although she does appreciate the fact that she’s standing in a beautiful lakeview suite at the LakeHouse Inn. 

“Should we reassess how much we refer to dumpsters and other gross locations when we declare our love for each other?” 

She chuckles at his comment, lips resonating against the corner of his grin. 

“Should we?” She slowly slides her hands to the back of her neck, entangling her fingers to keep her latched onto him even as she pulls away to flash him a pretend contemplative expression.  

Eyebrows cocked in playfulness, they share an indicative look in silence, only for them to break it in unison. “Nahh.”

“Right? It’s what makes us us.” Jake pulls her in by the hips which are carrying their son. 

Everything about Amy reminds him of their little miracle and makes him feel all tingly and excited. One look at her, one touch, and he forgets about the rest of the world and its crappiness. He has Amy and together with the tiny human in her belly, she is his entire universe. 

“Exactly.”

She closes the gap between them (as much as she can with the full-blown balloon shape of her stomach). 

“So,” she mumbles against his lips, “what are your plans for us?” 

Sadly, the 3-hour drive from home didn’t do wonders for her heavily pregnant body and even though she won’t admit it out loud, she hopes her husband’s plans for tonight will demand the bare minimum of her. She feels his lips and body withdraw, prompting her eyes open however the mischievous smile that meets her has a dimmed anxious feeling creeping over her - he does remember she’s 35 weeks pregnant, right? 

“I know that look, Peralta.” Her voice is distrustful, and after 7 years together she should know better than giving in to his teasing, but her suspicious air only fuels his fire and desire to mess with her. 

“In honor of my incredible and always so organized wife, there’s a tightknit schedule waiting for us.”

Tightknit schedule? Amy would usually be beaming at these words but right then and there, swollen legs, hungry and feeling everything but hot and fit after the drive, she aches to fall back onto the bed and sleep for days. It’s huge, king-sized, with crispy white sheets and the fluffy pillows are definitely calling her name. Although, the fact that Jake has everything planned out for their last vacation together, just the two of them, does pull on some heartstrings. He loves her so much and she loves him so much too. So much that she (almost) doesn’t turn a hair when he proudly starts listing their schedule for the evening and following day. 

“So right now it’s 4 PM which means unpacking-time. At 6 we have a dinner reservation at this cute little restaurant in a little town nearby so we’ll need to leave at approximately 5.45. At 8 there’s a showing of Die Hard at the local movie theater, which I thought we could attend?”

Okay, maybe her left eye flinches at this but very discreetly (or so she chooses to believe). 

“Then tomorrow there’s breakfast at 7, which is perfect because we have canoeing on the lake at 8.30...” 

She zones out after this. Hormones, tiredness, the fact that she can’t feel her feet- there are a thousand reasons but Amy can feel the most is tears prickling, threatening to spill. Not because she doesn’t appreciate her husband’s efforts and grand gestures, all for her, but because she can’t stand the thought of doing any of these sweet things he’s planned for them. She can’t cry though. He’s going to think something is actually wrong.

“Babe?”

However far gone she was, the sound of Jake’s voice pulls her back in and there’s a confusing mixture of mischief and pure adoration shining from these famous deep brown eyes. Why is he almost smiling when she’s having a tiny meltdown?

“Are you crying?”

“No?” she scoffs although she’s proven wrong upon touching her cheek where her fingers are met by a thin wet streak. “I’m just,” she clears her throat in hopes of avoiding a strained voice, “so overwhelmed by happiness and everything you’ve planned for us. It all sounds… great.”

Silence dawns upon them as Amy’s fake smile tries to convince him. On his part, Jake is biting his lip in an attempt to hold back a laugh, but his wife’s panicked look and teary eyes have him failing to last and after a couple of seconds he breaks the quietness. 

“Honey, I’m messing with you,” he chuckles and quickly pulls her back in for a tight hug, as tight as the belly allows, pecking the top of her head. “I know you love a good schedule but the only plans I have for us are: staying in bed, ordering room service, and watching tv.”

“Oh, thank God.”

The moan of relief flies out of her before she can even consider how it must sound to Jake, a great deal of embarrassment hitting her upon realization. She just made it sound like she wouldn’t appreciate her husband’s effort to make this weekend of theirs the best. 

“Jake, I’m so sorry! I didn’t-”

She pulls back to look him in the eyes, ready to offer a sincere apology for her blunt exclamation. She never gets to. Instead, she’s met with a huge grin and her husband looking everything but mad or hurt. Almost as if he knew. He knew how she’d react. He wanted her to react.

“You sly sneak! You knew you’d freak me out!” 

Only her husband can trick her like this, and, on one hand, it’s very endearing... Jake Peralta is more than just a good cop; he’s excellent. Brilliant and bold, maybe even too much sometimes, although he usually gets away with it. Usually, she’s always on his heels and she hates to admit it, but her mommy brain and restless hormones are making it much harder, if not impossible, to keep up with his always upbeat pace. 

“Of course I knew, babe.”

No matter how hard she tries, she can’t even find it within herself to be genuinely annoyed with him. He’s pulled her back into his arms and is looking at her with that mischievous smile that can both infuriate and enchant her. Tonight it’s a little bit of both although mostly the latter, she has to admit and the last bit of annoyance melts away the second he leans in, offering her a soft kiss that lets reminds her of the fact that he’s the best thing in the whole damn world. 

“I love you,” she manages to mumble against his lips before he can pull too far back, her swollen fingers cradling his jaw to emphasize her words. It tampers with any kind of reasoning and her ability to remain miffed. 

“I love you too...” her husband mumbles back against her lips. 

Pulling away isn’t an option, he’s too addicted and he enjoys feeling the air coming from her nose when she chuckles. “How much?”

“At the very least enough to not make my heavily pregnant wife canoe around a lake.” 

“Peanut and I appreciate that very much.”

Although after all these months there’s a comfort and familiarity in being able to rub her belly and know her son is in there, safe and sound, knowing he soon enough will be out here in the real world with them has butterflies fluttering in her chest. Jake’s hand joining hers in stroking her belly only causes the number of butterflies to multiply, explode all over again, and her hormones are making her question whether she wants to cry or laugh - or perhaps do both. After such a long wait, from the second they decided to start trying, there’s no blaming her impatience. There’s so much to expect and patience has never been her strongest asset. Only when it comes to Jake and their son. She’s impatient to see, hear and feel it all. The life and adventure she’s created with the man she loves the most seems scarily close yet torturously far away. 

With no reason to leave in sight, Amy finds herself bundled up in a hotel bed sent from heaven, wearing nothing but panties and her favorite nursing bra. Jake is on an errand run to grab her the creme cheese-filled pierogis and Arroz con Leche their son and she are very much craving. Although she does prefer her abuela’s homemade version of the latter, even a pregnant Amy can come to terms with the fact that there are limits to Jake’s super husband-powers. He can and will get her almost anything as long as physically possible - or within a radius of 20 miles which Abuela Dolores at this given time for good reasons isn’t. 

Amy had insisted on the hotel’s room service menu being more than fine, but her husband knows her all too well and could tell she wasn’t content with the ravioli and créme brulée she’d originally settled for. Before she could even begin to protest his offer to run out and get it for her, her husband had pulled on a pair of jogging pants and a hoodie, grabbed his keys, and left her behind with a peck to the top of her head and a promise to be back in not too long. 

In all honesty, the ravioli and creme brulée would’ve been fine, and she would’ve preferred Jake to be here to cuddle her. Nonetheless, there’s no denying how loved and important Jake makes her feel. Especially when he suddenly walks in the door, multiple plastic bags hanging on his arms and car keys dangling from his mouth. The view is hilarious, to say the very least, and she wonders: how did she ever get so very lucky? 

Perhaps she will never know the answer to this. Luckily when you’re cuddled up in a soft hotel bed eating pierogis, fries, grapes, and Arroz con Leche with the love of your life, it doesn’t really matter how you got there. Being too busy talking, eating, and making out, the documentary about the history of paper Amy’s been dying to watch is mostly just background noise. 

“Can you believe we’re having a baby?”

Her husband’s mouth is filled with fries and before she can even think of answering his question, she has to reach over to wipe ketchup from the corner of his mouth. 

“Yes… but also no. In a good way.”

It’s true. She always knew she wanted kids but wanting is one thing; actually outliving it still seems surreal to her, even as she runs her hands around the curve of the skin encapsulating their very own little human being. What makes it so much more surreal is the fact that Jake Peralta is the father. Jake Peralta, the guy who she 6 years ago could only pine for. Now she’s lying in bed with him, watching him smile at her with those soft, brown eyes and warm rosy lips that she not so secretly hopes their son will inherit. He swiftly wipes oil and salt off his fingers before reaching over to place his hands on top of her belly. Placing hers on top of his happens like a newfound reflex of hers. His hand is warm and feels like home.

“This is probably the last getaway we’ll have, yanno, just the two of us.”  

His soft voice has her looking up from their joined hands on her belly to see him looking directly at her with glistening eyes, the blue light from the television casting a blue hue on the side of his head. He looks so handsome, pensive, so perfect and she can’t come to terms with the fact that he’s her’s and she his, and together they’ve created new life.

“Yeah. More likely than not.” 

“How do you feel about that? Are you scared? You know- of giving birth and how life will be after that?”

A few beats of silence go by, only the dull sound of the tv filling the otherwise silent room. His hand never slips out of from beneath hers. Does this question maybe reflect some worries of his? 

“Not scared, per se...”

She quickly makes sure that there’s no food in-between them before scooting in closer to him. Her hand slips off of his only to slide up his arm, all the way up to cup his face. There’s close to no room between them. Her thumb dances across his cheekbone. 

“... Excited, maybe a bit anxious, but I know it’ll be alright and so very worth it in the end. And yeah, our life nd dynamic might have to change a bit but it’ll always be us. But I’m not scared,” This seems to put a damper on his running mind. “And you know why?”

“Hm?”

“Because I have the world’s best baby daddy.”

As hoped a wide smile lights up his face, pure unadulterated joy so obviously present in this little moment of theirs. Worries seem irrelevant and non-existing. 

“Are you worried, babe?” 

She sees his smile fade a bit but not enough to genuinely worry her. Just like everyone, he has his thoughts and worries. With care comes worries. He wants to do his best, she knows. 

“Maybe a bit, you know? Like not genuinely worried like I would’ve been a few years ago, but just… averagely worried.” 

“That’s okay,” she comforts, her thumb still tracing smooth lines on his cheek. “It’s normal. It just means you care and want to do good, which is all I can really ask of you.” 

“I do care. A lot. So so much,” he chuckles shyly. 

“Which is also why you’re going to be fine, I will be fine and everything will be fine.” 

She doesn’t give him the time to agree nor protest but instead leans in to place a long, tender kiss on his lips, inviting him to join in on the moment.  It’s just a simple kiss, soft, like the one they had a Shaw’s after agreeing to stop trying (which eventually lead to more trying, but that’s beside the point). With every breath, they take the kiss grows deeper, longer. It’s as if their bodies are aware of the fact that this will be the last time they get to do this without a child to get home to; without the responsibility of being a parent. All at once, it’s frightening but also, more than anything, exciting. Their lives might be on the verge of changing forever. Although lying there in bed together, feeling the soft touch of their spouse, it feels like they’ve never changed and never will. They’re always going to be Jake and Amy. 

[amourology]

Hey there love

Please don't treat this situation as a little bump or something like that, I mean is your future we're talking about

Sure, it's a given that college is everything but easy, there are sacrifices, obstacles in the way, and the system itself, plus the people that are supposed to guide you are not exactly helpful or fair all the time. It can be a living hell, and it's something we gotta prepare ourselves for when we think about getting a degree

Still, what's more important here, is the part where you feel like it is worthy, even after all that stress and straight up agony you may feel in the way. If you're motivated enough to think "yeah, I guess the outcome is what will actually count in the end for me" then there's a reason to keep pushing

But if that's not the case, and you just keep thinking that there's something wrong with that path, then you're in all the liberty to take a step back and really think about your next move, whether it is to keep going, or prioritize your health and well being in another way.

Please keep in mind that your happiness should always be the number one priority here, and because of that, you don't even have to apologize for being inactive, please take care of yourself first, think about your future, and remember that no matter what you choose to do, we'll be here for you to talk with <3

hi lovely, i cant put into words how much i appreciate this message. i’ve really been struggling with this decision and haven’t really talked about it with anyone except for my mom. my mom didn’t finish her first degree choice either, and our family heavily judged her for it. its part of the reason why im so scared of making the same choice bc i know they’ll be absolute assholes about it :/

but idk i kind of…i dont know if its worth it? i’ve always been interested in the criminal mind and how it works and why they do the things they do and how i could perhaps help them get rid off such things/urges. turns out, that field is forensic psychology instead of criminology. really wished they’d told me that at the info event but hey, i could’ve dug deeper myself too.

so i started looking; are there any masters at my uni in this field? good news is, there is! im, however, not allowed to apply with a criminology bachelor. so i called a bunch of people, asking them if there’s a way i can apply regardless (perhaps even taking a couple of extra classes) but the answer stayed no, i cant apply.

so it kinda feels like the only option for me (if i really want to do what i’ve always set out to do) is dropping out & applying for the bachelor psychology in 2023. the application deadline for this year passed already, unfortunately, which means id have to take a gap year

who knows maybe it’ll help my mental health lmao — but yea idk im just kind of stuck, like deep-down i feel like i know what to do. im just scared to do it bc of my family and bc it’ll feel like i wasted two years of my life on this degree :/

[deaddovecoterie]

confessions

co-written with @whoseblogsthis

Peeta Mellark x Fem!Reader

Prompt: “Isn’t it obvious? I’m in love with you!” 

Fandom: the hunger games

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.6k

Warning(s): swearing, unedited, two oblivious dumbasses in love

Genre(s): angst, fluff

A/N: LMAO HI GUYSSSS. so i had the INSANE privilege of writing with my mutual, friend, and insanely talented writer, @whoseblogsthis, ky. i obviously couldn’t have done this without her and im so so blown away by her and her talents. this is basically our child and baby and so im basically screaming right now cause we just finished this and its 1:01am. ANYWAY i really really hope you guys love this as much as we loved writing it <3 mwuah love you all

main stuff -> y/n (your name)

-> e/c (your eye colour)

-> y/l/n (your last name)

Peeta Mellark. 

He was your constant; your rock. You could rely on him for anything and everything.

He was the steadiest thing you’d had in your life for a long time now, but as he took your wrist and led you upstairs away from the party, you couldn’t help but feel the anger bubble up in your chest. 

“Peeta, what—”

“Why?” he nearly shouts. Peeta is mild mannered. He’s many things, actually; polite, charming, and personable, but angry was not one of them. It didn’t scare you like you’d always expected it to, but rather frustrated you. 

“Why what, Peeta?” you hiss back. 

He looks at you as if you had just grown two heads, his brows knit together in disbelief.

“You’re joking,” he breathes. You shake your head, not understanding what he is trying to get at. You defensively cross your arms, knowing the juvenile element would annoy him, but having nothing to do with your hands increases your already anxious state.

“That guy,”

“That guy?”

“Yes, y/n, yes. That guy that was just a little too friendly with you? So close to you that he was practically crawling under your goddamn skin? What were you thinking?”

You laugh at him, unable to contain it. “I can handle myself perfectly fine. Why are you being such an ass?” you all but shout at him. “It’s none of your business anyway?” 

“Hm, let’s see y/n, he could’ve, god, I don’t know, taken advantage of you?” 

You scoff, unable to handle his cliché statement. 

He brings his hands up and pushes his hair back, looking up at the ceiling as he exhales heavily through his nose. You squint at him, unable to read the emotions on his face. 

“What is up with you?” you whisper, not quite sure if he was able to hear. Your eyes narrow, unsure of what his next words might be. 

“For someone so smart, you can be so goddamn oblivious sometimes, y/l/s.”

“Oh my god, what is with all the stupid riddles tonight? I can’t read your mind! You can’t expect me to just know things,” you exasperate, throwing your hands out in front of you. “For someone who’s supposed to be good at communication, you’re doing a pretty shitty job of displaying it,” you spit, throwing his words right back at him. 

“Fine,” he hisses, starting to move towards you.

You cock your eyebrow at him, your bodies coming closer, nearly closing the gap.

“Fine?” you question.

“Yeah.” he huffs out, repeating the word with an heir of finality, “yeah.” His breath warms your face, the scent of vodka invading your senses.

Your cheeks heat up, suddenly very aware of his proximity. You watch his adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly. He can’t meet your eyes, his heart hammering against his chest so loud that it feels as though you can hear it. His head drops along with his gaze, studying the floor before chancing a glance at you. Peeta lets go of a breathy laugh as words tumble out of his mouth.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he breathes, his words choked, hardly audible, him now looking you right in the eyes. Your stomach does a flip once, unsure of his next words. Blue eyes stare at your e/c ones that are clouded in confusion. You can feel his frustration start to build as he takes a step back from you, his voice rising and hands coming from his sides. 

“I’m in love with you,” he bursts out. 

Oh my god.

You stare at him in shock, his proclamation stunning you. You blink once, twice, as his words echoing through your head.

His hazel eyes bore into your e/c ones, willing you to say something, anything, to let him know you heard him. But yet you stand there, unable to find the words. 

Nothing is coming out.

Say something, you beg yourself, wanting to scream out an answer, yet your mouth continues to remain shut. You swallow hard, your tongue feeling like sandpaper. How could you be so oblivious to his feelings? You and him have known each other since childhood, yet there you are, standing only inches away from him, the truth finally known. It seemed 

The look in his eyes is absolutely heart-wrenching; if you hadn’t just heard him, you’d have thought he had lost his best friend. In a way, you guess, he had. 

Peeta just shakes his head softly, shrugging his shoulders in such a way that makes you want to reach out and take his hand. His dark waves fall over his eyes and he turns around, facing the door.

“I—” you begin, but you know it’s too late. 

“Just, um, forget it, y/n,” his voice soft, small, “I’ll see you in environmental studies.”

He opens the door and steps out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. You want to scream, to tell him to come back.  

“Dammit!” you exclaim, throwing your red solo cup as hard as you can at the wall. The contents spill all over, some of the liquid splashing on you but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

You reach to pull at your loosely braided hair, a habit of yours that came out whenever you were experiencing an excess of negative emotions, before you realize where you are. You harshly rub your eyes with the heels of your hands as you remind yourself to breathe. 

In, out . . . In, out. 

“Get it together,” you tell yourself, taking one last deep breath. “Okay.”

You turn to head back downstairs to the party, nothing on your mind except finding Peeta and setting everything straight, hoping at this point that that was even a possibility anymore. 

God, you hated this part. You hated having to make up. Saying sorry was never your strong suit, your pride always getting in the way. But this? This was not a matter of pride. This was about finally coming to terms with the truth that you so desperately tried to avoid for years. 

You almost trip as you descend the stairs, looking everywhere for Peeta but unable to find him anywhere in the crowd. 

Spotting a head of wavy bronze hair by the water cooler, you rush over to your english lit classmate, who is also a friend of Peeta’s; Finnick Odair. 

“Hey Finnick,” you say once you reach him, trying to keep your voice even. He greets you with his signature smirk before bringing his cup to his lips and taking a sip.

“Ah, y/n, having a good time I trust?”

“Trying to,” you grumble. Finnick gives you a quizzical look before you proceed; “Have you seen Peeta?” You can’t help but notice the slight crack in your voice when you say his name.

“Yeah,” he confirms, “I saw him leave a few minutes ago. Seemed pretty upset.” 

“Yeah, wonder why,” you mutter bitterly, knowing he wouldn’t hear your words above the music. 

You bite your lip, weighing the option of asking Finnick to help you find Peeta. Half of you wanted to go and find him yourself, your need to get the weight off your chest as quickly as possible, the other half of you wanting to stall for as long as you could.

 “Could you text him? Ask him where he is?” 

“Why can’t you?” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, your cheeks burning. “Because, I—” 

“Wait,” Finnick’s smile widens. “Wait, are you the reason he’s upset?” 

Your silence is enough for him. His dopey smile falters for a moment, an emotion that you could only define as realization sweeping over his face. He shakes his head softly, pulling his phone from the pocket of his hoodie and opening his texts. His thumbs glide swiftly across the screen as he compiles a message to send to Peeta. 

You can’t have been standing there for more than a minute when his phone dings. Finnick flashes you the screen. 

From: Pita Bread 

I’m fine... at the pond. 

“Thank you, Finnick, really,” you breathe.

He just nods, taking another sip of his drink. 

You rush out of the frat house the party was being held in, running across the street to Panem University’s main campus, willing your legs to go faster. 

The pond was at the northern end of campus, smack in the middle of Tribute Hall and the Coriolanus Snow Study Center. You see a silhouette sitting on one of the few stone benches surrounding the body of tranquil water, tossing handfuls of what you can only assume is trail mix at the ducks that liked to take up at the pond. 

You slow down, bringing your footfalls to a trot, then silently padding your way over the grass towards him. Your chest is heaving from the exertion as you try to make your breaths even.

“Peeta,” You call out, your voice void of any venom as you stalk towards the boy. You’re almost inclined to slap him because of how he acted. No rational person could expect someone to give them an answer to a question as heavily weighed as that right away. 

He stands up once you reach him, refusing to look you in the eyes. For a fleeting moment, you catch the grief-stricken look in his usually bright eyes and it’s enough to keep you from raising your hand at him. 

“Why did you leave like that?” you breathe out. He shrugs a shoulder with almost casual indifference. “Peeta.” you nearly plead, looking at him as your eyebrows knit together.

“What did you expect me to do?” he says feebly. 

You look up at the night sky, inhaling deeply as you hurriedly send off a prayer to whatever higher power that you can say everything you want to say to him, in the way you want to say it. 

In a way that says something to him. Means something. 

The stars seem to twinkle brighter, almost like they received your message. God, this is so hard.

Peeta is still looking anywhere but at you, his focus now on the ducks idling in the water. 

“You could have waited for me,” you say. “I mean, come on! That was… big. A big thing to drop on me,” you add, “so of course I was shocked. But if you had just waited for me . . .” 

“What?” he snorts, finally looking you in the eyes. “What would you have said that couldn’t have possibly made me feel like more of a fool than I already was? What—” 

“I love you,” you blurt. 

Here it goes.

“And not in a ‘you’ve always been there for me, so I’m kind of indebted to you’ kind of way but in a way that’s like, ‘I want to do cheesy stuff with you because I know it will make you smile.’ That’s like, I would do anything, anything to prove to you that I’m worthy of your love. Peeta, you’ve seen everything I was and everything I am, and it just— I just couldn’t believe when you said that . . . But I— I trust you with everything in me and it frightens me, because you know I’ve been hurt before, but I can’t deny that everything feels right when I’m with you. I just. I want another chance. If, if you’ll let me.” You breath the words out, hardly anything but air coming out.  

“Y/n, breathe.” 

“Right,” you exhale, your mind swirling around, making vertigo seem like a walk in the park. 

“You’re not . . . unworthy of love,” Peeta begins but he stops, trying to figure out his words. “What Cato did to you, it doesn’t mean you’re undeserving of love. He’s.. an asshole, who’s going to get what’s coming to him. I— I’m sorry for dropping it on you like that, but seeing you with that guy, he just reminded me so much of Cato, and it made me so mad because I didn’t want you to go through that again, and I.. couldn’t help but think it was my final chance to tell you how I felt.” 

“Final chance?” 

“Y/n, I’ve loved you since like year six.” 

“Peeta, you absolute dumbass!” you exclaim, quickly going to cover your mouth as your own words shock even yourself. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . wow,” a laugh nearly escapes your lips. “We’re both oblivious fools, huh?” 

Peeta’s brows furrow in confusion, as you let out a soft chuckle. His head is tilted slightly to the side, his soft curls falling into his blue eyes. This moment is one you’ll always remember, you think to yourself, already trying to commit it to memory. The way the trees slightly sway from the late summer breeze, the moonlight reflecting off the water; best of all, the glint in Peeta’s eye when your gazes meet. It’s so cheesy, really, but you couldn’t care less. You’ve played it over and over in your head for years, different scenarios always being formulated, but nothing you could have ever dreamt of could compare to this moment. 

“I’ve loved you since year seven,” you tell him, every word of it true. “I can’t believe it took us both this long. Could have avoided the whole Cato fiasco of year twelve, I suppose, if we had just . . . had the gall to tell each other back then, I guess,” you say, the last sentence mumbled.

“Yeah.” Peeta laughs, a genuine deep laugh that reaches his eyes. It rouses the butterflies that have been in the pit of your stomach, the fluttering making you nervous as you watch him scratch the base of his neck almost embarrassedly. 

“So,” you say, dragging the ‘o’ sound. “Pretty sure this is the part where most people would kiss.” 

“Do you want to kiss me?” 

“No, not you, Peeta. I was talking to the duck behind you,” You frown, unable to contain the scoff that passes your lips. “Yes.. yes, I want to kiss you,” you breathe, your pulse hammering.

You step forward, your hands reaching up, gliding against his cheeks, his hands resting on your waist. In a moment of bravery, you place your lips against his. They’re soft, and he tastes like cedar and bread, and it’s like coming home, being in his arms as his lips move against yours, the breeze chilling your skin but his warming you. 

There are no words spoken between the two of you as you both pull away. His eyes are still closed, his long eyelashes resting against the tops of his cheeks; the corners of his mouth are pulled up slightly. 

God, he’s beautiful. So beautiful. That word is usually reserved for sceneries, sunsets or pretty dresses, but in this moment, you can’t tear your eyes away from him. 

“Finally!” someone shouts, causing the both of you to jump back from each other, acting like two first years getting caught passing notes in class. You look around before your eyes land on Johanna Mason, leaning against the statue of the university founder Alma Coin that’s off to the left of the entrance of the study center. Finnick is with her, his signature smirk gracing his elegant features once more. “We were wondering when you two would have the balls to tell each other how you felt.” 

“It seems everyone knew but you two,” Finnick adds with a deep chuckle. 

“Alright, Finny, I think we should leave the two lovebirds alone.” Johanna says, turning away. “Be safe, you two!” 

“If you need anything,” Finnick winks at Peeta. “You know where to reach me.”  

You laugh softly, leaning your head against Peeta’s chest. His arms wrap around you, encasing you in him. His cheeks rests on the top of your head, his breaths evening out as you listen to his steady heart beat. 

This is it. This is home. 

[prettyboybarzal]

Conversations in the Dark

Pairing: Tyson Jost x OC!female

Summary: Fiona Gatwood and her mother move to Canada after a nasty divorce and end up moving in beside the Jost family. Quiet Fiona takes a liking to the sweet, outgoing boy, Tyson, next door and the rest is history.

Word Count: 8k+

A/N: This is literally just tooth-rotting sweetness of a childhood friends to lovers trope. No warnings except maybe some curses and the mention of a shitty father, though it’s more of a subplot than anything. By the way, this is based off the song Conversations in the Dark by John Legend!!!!! Go listen. It makes my heart melt! (And, as always, let me know what you think! ILY)

Age 10

“Talk, let's have conversations in the dark. World is sleeping, I'm awake with you.”

Fiona Gatwood was whispering. She was whispering and her mother couldn’t believe it.

It had been days since Diana last heard her daughter’s voice, but it was clear as day through the wood door her ear was pressed against. She knew that it was nearly 1 a.m. and the longer she let her stay up, the crankier she’d be in the morning, but she didn’t want to stop her baby from talking.

The past year had been a nightmare for the two. Between an ugly divorce, a custody battle, and a move from the States to Canada, Fiona hardly spoke anymore. Except she did speak to one person consistently, and it was the boy next door. 

When his mother mentioned how talkative the two kids could be, Diana laughed, “Fi? Talkative?” Just behind the front door, Tyson and Fiona sat in front of the television, distracted by Disney Channel.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing, Diana,” Laura spoke through her smile. “The two of them are non-stop.”

But, now, she believed it because she was hearing it first-hand.

“Tyson, go to sleep,” Fiona whispered. “My mom is going to wake us up soon.”

“No, she’s not,” Tyson whispered back. The floorboard squeaked beneath him as he moved to see the alarm clock. “It’s only 12:47 a.m.”

“And we’re leaving at 5:30 a.m. That’s in five hours,” Fiona spoke. Tyson sighed loudly and Diana could hear him lay back down in the sleeping bag on the floor. “You’re not mad at me, right?”

“Of course not,” Tyson spoke. There was a moment of silence that followed, then a loud sigh. “You’re right. We should go to bed. I just like talking to you.”

Diana’s heart clenched in her chest at the sweetness of the exchange, at the way Tyson treated Fiona. He understood her. He saw her quirks and he accepted them without a thought.

“I like talking to you, too.”

“I wish you’d talk more at school.”

“Why?”

“Because more people would be friends with you,” he said softly, like he was scared to tell Fiona the truth.

In return, she released a soft breath and responded, “I know.”

Diana rapped her knuckles against the door and the kids pretended like they were already fast asleep, earning a laugh from her. “I know you two are awake, but it’s time for bed now,” she said. “We’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Gatwood.”

“It’s okay, Tys,” she said. She looked at Fiona before turning out of the room. Her hands were tucked beneath her head as she gazed up at her. Diana willed her to speak before walking out the door, but nothing came and she looked away. “Okay, goodnight, kiddos.”

She stepped out into the hallway and shut the door quietly behind her, holding the knob as she leaned her forehead against it in disappointment. There was a soft thud from inside and the sound of a child’s ‘ow’. And then, “Goodnight, Mom.”

Age 15

“Watch movies that we've both already seen. I ain't even looking at the screen, it's true. I got my eyes on you.”

Fiona was going to her first-ever co-ed birthday party and she couldn’t stop thinking about it ever since rumors about spin the bottle began. She’d never been kissed and, quite frankly, didn’t think it would happen during a game of spin the bottle. Tyson, on the other hand, had been happily egging on the spin the bottle conversation. He was a boy, after all, and he also wasn’t worried about his first kiss because he already got it.

Tyson giggled at the movie they were watching, bringing her attention back to the present. It was the third time they’d watched Ted that week, if their moms knew they’d kill them, but they always kept it quiet. At that point, Tyson could quote it and most other days, she’d be quoting it right along with him, but not that night. She had too much on her mind.

“Tys, what if I’m not a good kisser?”

He almost laughed, but the pure nervousness etched across her features made him stop himself. “I mean,” he trailed off, eyes trailing over her facial features to get a good read on what she was feeling. “You’re probably not going to be bad.”

“What do I do with my hands?”

“Your hands? What do you mean?” he asked. She sighed loudly, reaching out to grab the remote and pause the movie they were watching. “You don’t have to do anything with your hands.”

“They said we might play seven minutes in heaven.”

“No one ever actually does anything during seven minutes in heaven.”

“You don’t know that,” she grunted. “What if one of the guys wants to do something? What if they want to make out? I’ve never even been kissed. I’m going to embarrass myself.”

Tyson usually had solutions to most of Fiona’s problems, or at least he’d have the words to reassure her, but he was at a loss. The first, and only, idea he had was that he could kiss her just to help her get it out of the way, but he stopped himself from offering that option. Fiona, however, noticed the metaphorical lightbulb that went off over his head and began to pry.

“What are you thinking?”

“I could kiss you,” he offered. “Your first kiss shouldn’t be with someone you don’t want it to be with and I know you’re not crazy about all the guys going, so I can help you get it out of the way.”

“You don’t think that’d be weird?” she asked, fingers curling around the blanket that was strewn across their laps.

“I mean, we don’t have crushes on each other or anything,” he murmured. “We’re best friends, nothing more, so it’s whatever. You just can’t overthink it.”

Fiona didn’t answer right away and her hesitation cued Tyson to play the movie once more while she thought it over. Not five minutes later, she paused it again.

“Okay, let’s just get it over with.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely,” she answered. “I trust you.”

Tyson leaned in tentatively, watching her carefully as her eyes fluttered shut and she puckered her lips. He smiled softly to himself before closing his own eyes and closing the gap between them. Their lips barely touched before they were pulling away at the feeling of a quick electric shock against their lips.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, tips of her fingers brushing along the place his lips had just touched. Tyson’s did the same. “You shocked me.”

“You shocked me!”

They giggled together, any awkwardness that could’ve came from that little kiss dissipating before it even came to fruition.

“Do you, uh, want to try again?” he asked. He felt his heart hammering in his chest and did his best to ignore it. This wasn’t his first kiss by any means, but it sort of felt like it was by the way his stomach was turning.

“Um, yeah, sure.”

“Okay,” he whispered. He lifted a hand to her cheek and cupped it as he leaned in. “Don’t shock me.”

“I’ll try not to,” she responded with a giggle. Tyson laughed, a tuft of his chocolate candy-smelling breath fanned across her lips. Her eyes fluttered shut again, but this time Tyson didn’t close his right away. He pressed his lips to hers and then closed his eyes as she shaped her lips to fit his and reached up to place her own hand against his jaw.

The kiss only lasted a moment more. As they pulled away, they met each other’s eyes with a shocked expression.

“We kissed.”

“We did,” Tyson confirmed, nodding his head as his tongue swiped along his bottom lip and tugged it between his teeth. She could’ve sworn his cheeks were a little bit pink and she felt the warmth of his cheek just under her thumb where it rested on his cheek. “Um, and that’s the perfect place for your hand, by the way.”

She nodded obediently before dropping her hand back into her lap. Though they turned back to the television and played the movie, Tyson couldn’t bring himself to quote it any longer, mind too preoccupied on the moment they just shared. Fiona, on the other hand, felt better and she’d begun quoting the lines he failed to speak.

Age 16

“And you say that you're not worth it. You get hung up on your flaws. Well, in my eyes you are perfect as you are. I will never try to change you, change you. I will always want the same you, same you”

Fiona was crushing on Tyson’s teammate hard. He thought it was obvious, what with the way her cheeks flushed the moment he walked into the room, but everyone else was clueless about her little crush.

Though the two of them were closer than they’d ever been before, her crush on Tommy Abbott was a secret she didn’t share with Tyson. She’d never liked any of his teammates before, and she wasn’t planning to start. Tyson would never let her hear the end of it, especially if he found out Abbott was the crush, so she kept her mouth shut.

But Tyson knew her too well and it only took a few weeks for him to catch on.

The two of them were standing at Tyson’s locker after school just before parting ways as he went off to practice and she headed home. A few of his teammates walked by, waving on their way to the locker room as they passed. Tyson watched as Fiona’s cheeks blushed.

He watched your eyes follow Tommy Abbott down the hall and out of sight, jaw dropping in shock at his revelation.

“Fi?” he called. She looked back at him, wide eyed. “Do you have a crush on Thomas Abbott?”

“You can’t tell a soul,” she warned, jabbing a finger into his chest. He was a solid foot taller than her at that point, but he still obeyed her command. “If anyone on your team finds out, I’ll kill you.”

“Fiona,” he sighed, reaching up to pull her finger away from his chest. He dropped it at her side. “I have kept every single secret you’ve ever told me. This one is just joining the others in the vault. I promise.”

Keeping that secret was, naturally, one of the easiest things Tyson ever had to do. But then, Tommy Abbott was sharing the same sentiments.

“Josty, wait up!” he called as he jogged after Tyson in the school hallway. Tys slowed to a stop, welcoming smile on his face.

“What’s up, dude?”

“I was just, uh, wondering,” Tommy began. “About you and Fiona Gatwood.”

Tyson’s eyebrows raised at the statement.

“Fi’s just my best friend. Nothing more. Why?”

“Oh, well, I was thinking about asking her out,” he murmured, kicking his toe into the tiled floor. “She’s in my English class and I just think she’s cute.”

“She is!” Tyson exclaimed, maybe a bit too excitedly. He lowered his voice when he began talking again. “Like, she’s really cute and I’ll bet she thinks your cute, too.”

“Really?”

“For sure,” he said with a nod. “You should ask her out.”

Within days, Tommy Abbott had both asked Fiona out and planned their first date. But Tyson was the one that hung out with her while she got ready. He listened to her chatter on nervously about what her expectations were, and talked her down when she almost decided to cancel. Then, as any fifteen year old date would go, Diana drove Fiona to drop her off at the movies to meet Tommy.

He never showed.

Tyson showed up to practice the next morning with a scowl on his face. He entered the locker room and marched right up to Tommy Abbott, slamming his locker closed as he pulled his hand out with his jersey. Tommy knew what he did wrong, but he didn’t step down or apologize. He stated simply, “Dude, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t do it.”

“So why did you ask her out?”

“It was just a joke,” he said, reopening his locker to cover Tyson’s face. Tyson slammed it shut again. “You should’ve known that, Josty. C’mon, it’s just a bit of fun between teammates.”

“You hurting her really isn’t my idea of fun.”

“She was hurt?” he asked, though he looked unapologetic. “Listen, she’s not the type of girl that guys like me, or you for that matter, date. Don’t act like your surprised.”

Tyson was a little more aggressive than usual that practice, slamming Tommy into the boards every chance he got. He left practice faster than everyone else, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to just get to Fiona and make everything better.

As if she knew he’d be on his way too her, she was sitting on the porch waiting for him.

“Hi.”

“Fi, I need you to know that every single one of those guys are assholes, even the ones who weren’t involved,” he grunted as he hustled up the steps. She giggled softly at his dramatics, knowing that there was a handful of innocent guys on the team. Tyson plopped down beside her on the porch swing. “They all suck. All of them.”

“You don’t have to talk about your teammates like that,” she sighed. “Honestly, I’m nuts for thinking he was even into me in the first place. I’m not the kind of girl guys like him go after.”

Tyson stomach turned. It was almost exactly the same thing Tommy had said earlier and it only mad him angrier hearing it come from her.

“You don’t get it,” he groaned. “You are too good for guys like him.”

“I spend most of my time with my nose in a book, you’re my voice when I don’t want to speak which is a whole lot, and I’m not popular by any means,” she listed off. Tyson listened intently, listened to her spew out insecurities left and right. “I get these nasty pimples on my chin, and I come from a broken home, and I just—I don’t belong to anything.”

“Stop talking,” Tyson snapped. “Do you even hear yourself? How are you not mad at yourself for talking like that?”

Fiona stared at him, mouth open as if waiting for permission to spew out the next insult to herself.

“You are the best person I know. It wouldn’t matter if you were athletic and popular or a troll under a bridge. You have the best,” he paused, pondering his next word, and then said, “You have the best soul. You should never change for anyone because you’re perfect just the way you are. You’re Fiona. You don’t need to be anyone else.”

Fiona’s lips formed a perfect ‘o’ as she found herself at a loss for words once again, but this time it wasn’t her shyness that was the reason. It was the shock at the words tumbling from Tyson’s lips. His cheeks were red and he was still breathing a little heavily because of the flood of compliments, but then he cracked a smile.

“That was profound, Tys,” she said softly, smile coming to her own lips. “Thank you.”

“I mean every bit of it,” he said. His mother called him from his own porch and he leaned in to place a soft kiss against her temple. “I’ll always want the same Fiona. Please don’t change.”

Age 18

“Swear on everything I pray to that I won't break your heart.”

Fiona loved her birthday because her birthday meant Funfetti pancakes in the morning and presents after dinner. But, most of all, Fiona loved her birthday because her father called, no matter how long it’d been since the last time they spoke.

On the day of her eighteenth birthday, Tyson was a few hours away at a tournament. It was the first birthday since they were ten years old that they’d spend away from each other. There was, however, one way he’d make it home and that meant losing a few games for an early exit.

Now, I’m not saying Tyson purposely lost the game, but his mind wasn’t in it. Sure enough, he was bounding up the driveway to Fiona’s front door that night with her birthday gift stuffed in the backpack on his back.

After a somewhat frantic knock, Diana opened the door to the curly-haired boy from next door.

“Oh, Tys,” she sighed. Her voice sounded a little sad and Tyson’s brows knit together in confusion at the lack of pep in her step. “Fi is downstairs.”

The basement was dark. The low hum of acoustic music got louder as he continued down the stairs. He found Fiona with a blanket over her head and wrapped around her shoulders. She managed a smile when he entered, but it didn’t meet her eyes. Tyson approached, grabbing another blanket from the end of the couch and wrapping himself just like her as he sat.

“My dad didn’t call,” she offered, knowing the question that was sitting on his tongue before he even uttered it. Tyson watched her as she stared blankly at the wall across from them. He noticed a streak along her cheek from where a tear had fallen and frowned.

“Well, that doesn’t mean he won’t call tomorrow,” he spoke softly.

She began to cry. Everything she’d been feeling for months came crashing down and she started to sob into the blanket she’d so carefully wrapped around her body. Tyson slid down the couch, arm wrapping around her shoulder to pull her into his side. He said nothing, only listened to the sniffling coming from his best friend until she was ready to speak again.

“I haven’t talked to him in a year.”

“I thought he called last month.”

“I lied,” she sighed, rubbing her teary eyes with the heel of her hand. “I didn’t want to talk about it.”

Tyson’s heart sank as his grip tightened around Fiona’s shoulders.

“You know that I wouldn’t have made you talk about it until you were ready,” he whispered. She looked up at him, eyes still watery, and released a quivering sigh. And then she dropped her forehead against his shoulder.

Fiona was having a hard time saying it out loud honestly. She didn’t want to admit to the Universe that her own father had ghosted her for the second time since her parents’ divorce. The first was immediately after, and he promised it would never happen again. But now, 365 days had gone by without a phone call or a text. He didn’t even bother to send money like he’d grown accustomed to whenever he messed up.

“It feels like it’s for good,” she mumbled. Both of Tyson’s arms wrapped around her then to tug her into his chest as he leaned against the back of the couch. She went with him, collapsing against his chest. He kicked his legs up, and hers went with them. They laid together for a while before Tyson’s thoughts wandered to the gift in his bag.

“I have your gift,” he spoke, lifting his head just a bit to look down at her. She met his eyes with a smile. He motioned for her to sit up and then he stood to grab his bag from where he dropped it at the bottom of the stairs. As he fished it from beneath a sweatshirt, he felt his stomach turn.

This was nothing new, but the gift he bought her this year held weight to it.

With the NHL draft coming up, it was easy to see the end of their days as neighbors. Eight years of friendship, of sleepovers and birthdays and sitting on the front porch waiting for the other to come home was coming to an end. So, Tyson wanted to do something special. He wanted to give her something better than postcards, and souvenirs from different cities he’d been to.

“What is this?” she asked the moment he placed the paper in her hand. It was a rhetorical question. She knew exactly what it was. Her fingers danced along the destination on the ticket as she gazed up at Tyson. He smiled coyly.

“Tickets to Banff,” he said. “I already talked to your mom about it. She said it was cool. My mom and Kacey are coming with us.”

“Tyson, this is insane,” she stated. She shoved the paper back into his hands. “This is too much. I don’t deserve this.”

“It’s not too much,” he said, almost defensively. He grabbed her hand and placed the paper back into her palm. “Stop saying things like that. You deserve this and so much more, okay? I don’t want to hear you say that ever again.”

“Tys—”

“Please, let me do this for you,” he pleaded. Her lip quivered as she gazed back at the paper in her hand. “I just want to make you happy.”

She met his eyes and felt like she was going to melt beneath his gaze.

“You do,” she told him with certainty. He released a sigh of relief, smile coming back to his lips as he sat beside her again. “You might be the only guy, including my father, who hasn’t broken my heart. Good for you.”

“Well, lucky for both of us, I never plan on doing that.”

“I'll be there when you get lonely, lonely. Keep the secrets that you told me, told me. And your love is all you owe me. And I won't break your heart”

A few weeks later, while the two of them laid head-to-toe on a hammock outside their cabin, Tyson spoke, “I wish this never had to end.”

“You don’t mean that,” Fiona said with a giggle, foot nudging Tyson in the ribs. He wrapped his hand around her ankle and tugged playfully. “You’re about to be an NHL star.”

 “Can I tell you a secret?” he asked though he already knew Fiona would say yes. She nodded, naturally. “I don’t know if I’m ready for any of it. I don’t know if I’m ready to play in the NHL.”

Fiona sat up immediately and sputtered, “Tys, are you—are you crazy? This is exactly what you’ve been working towards your entire life. You’re more than ready. You’ve been ready.”

Tyson’s laugh filled the air, light and airy at her pep talk.

“It’s going to be different, though,” he said, fingers picking at the lint on the hammock. “I’m not going to be near you anymore.”

“You could always end up in Edmonton.”

“Imagine,” he said dreamily. She followed his gaze to the stars in the sky. “It’s not going to happen, but it would be pretty cool.”

“It would be,” she said. “But there are other cool places you could end up, and that just means I get more free vacations out of you.”

“You can have all the free vacations you want,” he promised. Her giggle was contagious, filling the yard along with the sounds of crickets and the wind. Tyson smiled at her, soaking up this moment and wishing it could last forever. He sighed heavily. “I don’t know how to function without you, Fi.”

She curled her fingers around his wrist and yanked him to sit up and look at her.

“I’m literally not going anywhere. All you have to do is call me and it’ll feel like we’re still together, okay?”

“It’s going to be different.”

“Sure, it will be,” she said. “But different doesn’t always mean bad.”

“I know,” he murmured. She smiled softly at him, and he returned one to her. Neither could stop gazing at the other, thoughts swirling in their heads faster than they could make sense of them. She felt it then. Fiona felt the first tinge of change between them when his eyes dipped from her eyes to her lips for a moment, but she forced it out of her mind.

“Thank you again,” she spoke. “For the trip.”

“Of course,” he said. He fell back onto the hammock and gazed up at the stars, unaware that Fiona still couldn’t take her eyes off him. She turned and moved so that she could place her head on his chest. Tyson’s hands came up and around her, pulling her into his warm body. He placed a soft kiss against the top of her head and wondered if she could feel his heart beating beneath his chest.

She could.

Age 21

“On Sunday mornings we sleep-in 'til noon. Well, I can sleep forever next to you. And we got places we both gotta be. But there ain't nothing I would rather do then blow off all my plans for you.”

Tyson’s eyes fluttered open to the sight of Fiona’s sleeping face against the pillow beside him. She was snoring softly and the hair that had fallen in her face overnight moved with every breath she released. He reached out and brushed the hair behind her ear softly enough not to disturb her.

When Tyson saw a free weekend on his schedule, he immediately booked a flight to visit Fiona. It was the first trip he was making to her university. After the draft, Tyson felt the pressure to perform well and, in turn, his relationships took a backseat until the off-season. So, the two of them enjoyed their time during the summers until he left for Denver and she left for school. But this year, things were different. He felt more secure in himself and his spot on the team, so he carved out some time to see Fiona.

Things never changed between them. They were still peas in a pod, and they both understood that it was hard to keep in touch with so much going on in their lives. They made time for each other once a week whether it be through Facetime calls before bed, or phone calls as Fiona drove home from work. They were still the same.

But then he visited her and something shifted.

“So, this is the Tyson we hear so much about?”

He must’ve heard statements like that every twenty minutes and, each time, he caught the blush that rose to Fiona’s cheeks before she suppressed it with another swig of her drink. Her friends were whispering amongst themselves, pointedly gazing at him and the curl of Fiona’s fingers around his. He assumed they just didn’t get their friendship, but as the comments kept coming he began to wonder if there was something lying beneath the surface.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” she asked sometime before midnight. That question was one he’d become familiar with, but hearing Fiona ask made him feel things he’d never felt before. Her lips brushed against his ear as she asked and he felt goosebumps along every inch of his body as he nodded in response.

Nothing happened in the Uber, or after they devoured their late night snacks. But, as they got ready to sleep in her twin sized bed, an awkward tension settled between them that had never been there before.

“I’m sorry that it’s so small,” she said after they’d changed and brushed their teeth. “But, you know, college.”

“Do you want me to sleep on the couch?”

“No,” she answered with pink cheeks, again.

When they got into bed, they lay facing each other and spent way too much time shooting the shit before she eventually nodded off. She rolled onto her other side and, as Tyson sat there trying his best not to fall off the other side, she reached over and wrapped his arm around her so that they were spooning.

Throughout the night, they’d moved, but her legs were still intertwined with his beneath the comforter. She finally stirred and, without opening her eyes, she inched towards him to wrap her arms around his waist and lean into his chest.

“Morning.”

“Good morning, Fi.”

He rubbed her back soothingly as she rested against him.

“I don’t really want to get up,” she admitted softly.

He chuckled. “Me neither.”

“Let’s just stay in bed,” she proposed, leaning back to look up at him.

“Don’t we have brunch plans with your friends?” he asked. She groaned, dropping her head back against the pillow in frustration. He leaned up on his elbow and loomed over her with a grin. “You made the plans. We could’ve just laid in bed all day, but you wanted to show me off to your friends.”

Fiona shoved his chest lightly and with a smile, then rolled over to grab her phone from the nightstand. In just a few taps, she was calling one of the girls. The sound of the ringing felt loud in the otherwise quiet apartment and then, finally, her friend’s voice came through.

“Good morning, sleepy head! How was your night with Tyson?” her friend sang.

Fiona sat up abruptly, lowering the volume on the phone as she brushed her off, “It was fine. Hey, we’re going to just make breakfast here, if you don’t mind. I know we were talking about doing brunch.”

“Fiona, are you bailing so you can have sex?”

Tyson couldn’t help but laugh as Fiona sprang out of bed and slipped into the hallway. Once she was out of earshot, she tore into her friend, “It’s not like that.”

“It is so like that, Fiona,” she argued. “He’s smitten with you.”

“He’s just my best friend.”

“He’s something more.”

“Rain check on brunch,” she urged. There was giggling on the other end of the phone, so frustrated, Fiona grunted, “Goodbye.”

“You should kiss h—”

The door swung open before she could open it and Tyson was standing in the doorway with a wicked smile on his lips. He took a step forward and wrapped his arms around her waist to throw her over his shoulder.

“If you wanted to have sex, you could’ve just asked,” he teased. She smacked his back as he carried her down the hall, smiling all the while at his laughter. When he dropped her onto the kitchen floor, he told her to sit and tell him about school while he made breakfast. So, she did. And Tyson listened to every single word that came out of her mouth happily.

“When no one seems to notice and your days, they seem so hard. My darling, you should know this; My love is everywhere you are.”

Tyson left Fiona’s apartment and, every day after, she missed him.

It wasn’t like she didn’t miss him before. It’s just that it was worse than it was before. It was worse now that her friends had met him and he charmed the pants off them. It was worse now that the smell of his cologne lingered on her sheets.

He never used to affect her like this, and honestly, she didn’t want him to affect her like this. There was too much at stake.

Some months passed after his visit and it felt like everything was falling apart. He was busy, busier than ever before, and she was lost. Graduation was approaching and she was not having a successful job search. Not even by a mile. After yet another rejection letter (this time from her dream job), Fiona called the only person she wanted to talk to.

When Tyson answered her phone call, she was sobbing.

“Woah, woah, woah,” he murmured into the speaker as he paused the music that had been playing over the speakers in his room. He sat up attentively, listening to the sniffling on the other end of the phone. “What’s going on, Fi?”

“I feel so alone.”

“Alone?” he repeated, eyebrows knitting together in confusion and fear. He hadn’t heard Fiona sound this sad in forever, and briefly he worried if he just hadn’t been listening. It had been a few months since he visited her at school and the two of them had gotten significantly busier in that time. “Fiona, what do you mean? You’re never alone.”

“I miss you and I miss my mom,” she whined. Her breath came out uneven, quivering as it filled the air. “And I’m so scared of the future.”

“Okay, that’s news to me,” he said, running a hand over his face. This was a problem he couldn’t fix for her. “I thought the place you’d been interning at was going to offer you something after graduation.”

“They just laid off half the department,” she told him. “No way they’re bringing me on.”

“Then, that’s their loss,” he began. “But you shouldn’t even be stressing out about this right now. You have, like, two months before graduation.” She sniffled again, this time a little more calmly than before. “Someone is going to hire you. You just have to keep looking. Besides, you have a kickass resume.”

“I’m surprised you even know what that is,” she teased quietly. He started laughing, grateful that she’d bounced back.

“Feeling good enough to be mean to me, huh?” he asked. “Now, what’s this about you missing me?” She could hear the smile in his voice and felt her cheeks warm. The tension in her shoulders disappeared almost immediately. “Tell me more about how much you miss me.”

“You’re annoying.”

“Apparently not annoying enough to not miss me.”

“I just feel like we’re so far apart,” she admitted. His smile fell. “Things have been different, right? I’m not crazy for thinking that?”

“What do you mean different?”

“You’ve just been so busy, and I feel like we don’t talk unless one of us needs to be talked off a ledge. And I know that we’re still best friends despite the amount of time we go without talking, but I just—I really miss you.”

“I miss you every day,” he said softly. And it wasn’t a lie. He thought about her every day since the last time they saw each other, even when he was kissing other people. “You don’t even know it.”

“I want to cuddle with you right now,” she said. “Just to calm down.”

“I wish I could be there,” he murmured. “But, even if I’m not there physically, I’m always with you. Even when we’re in completely different countries, I’m still your guy.”

“Thanks, Tys.”

He hummed in response, then the call was filled with a comfortable silence. She could hear him breathing on the other end, and he could hear her shuffling beneath the comforter of her bed. He could imagine her curled up with her pillow to her chest and found himself wishing he had a few days to sneak away and hold her.

Finally, after what seemed like eternity just sitting in silence, Tyson spoke, “If you really don’t know what you’re doing for work, you should look at jobs in Denver.”

Her heart was pounding in her chest at the mere mention of them in the same city again and she quickly sputtered out, “You’re crazy.”

“I am not,” he argued. “Think about how much fun it would be to live together. Honestly, you wouldn’t even have to pay rent.”

“I would pay rent,” she argued.

“Yeah, if I let you.”

“I’m not moving to Denver, Tyson,” she stated, matter-of-factly. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Fiona, you could never be a burden.”

Age 22

“I will never try to change you, change you. I will always want the same you, same you. Swear on everything I pray to that I won't break your heart.”

“Is this the last box?” Tyson asked, leaning into Fiona’s trunk to grab a box marked kitchen. She nodded and watched as he lifted it out before shutting the trunk behind him. She followed him into his apartment complex, well, their apartment complex, and breathed a sigh of relief at the move finally being final.

True to what she assumed, she was not offered a full-time job after interning, which meant her entire life was up in the air. Tyson took the opportunity to really convince her to move to Denver.

“What’s the worst that can happen?”

Truth be told, Fiona was nervous about the move. She didn’t know anyone in the city other than Tyson, and now JT Compher. She worried that she wouldn’t fit into his life here knowing that he hung out with Instagram models and professional athletes and other important people that she couldn’t hold a candle to. She felt inadequate, and the feeling that she’d be a burden to Tyson continued to haunt her.

“Your clothes boxes are in the guest room,” JT announced as soon as Fiona reentered the apartment behind Tyson. “And I started putting some of the groceries you brought away.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“No problem,” he said with a smile. “I have to head out, but I’ll see you guys tonight.”

“Tonight?” Fi asked, eyes tracking Tyson’s movement across the living room. His cheeks flushed as he avoided eye contact. JT noticed the exchange and took the chance to say goodbye and slip out to the hallway. “Tyson, what is going on tonight?”

“It’s really not a big deal,” he murmured, finally meeting her eyes. “I just want you to meet a few people.” Her shoulders deflated. “They’re good people, I promise. They’re my friends, and you need friends other than me here.”

Tyson had a point, but it didn’t save her from her anxiety. It only made it worse.

They spent most of the day unpacking boxes and putting together furniture. They danced around the living room in sweats and fuzzy socks and ate the groceries she picked up on the way in, and most of all, they giggled at each other, happy to just be in each other’s presence. And this time, for good.

After dinner, they met some of his teammates and their girlfriends at a local bar. They were so nice that Fiona felt like she was a member of the group right away. Tyson stayed beside her, one hand on her back to keep her grounded in each conversation she joined. He knew that she was most comfortable when he was beside her.

She settled in nicely with Comph’s girlfriend and, while they giggled about stupid JT and Tyson stories, the boys went off to the bar for another round of drinks.

That’s when she showed up.

A group of girls around the same age as Tyson and Fiona showed up like they were on a mission. The moment they entered the bar, they seemed to divide and conquer. One of them, a petite brunette, made a beeline for Tyson.

“Who is that?” Fiona asked curiously.

“Her name’s Faith,” JT’s girlfriend answered. “She’s always around.”

Fiona watched the girl’s fingers trail up Tyson’s bicep, squeezing it just lightly as she leaned in and giggled at a joke of his. Fi felt a little sick looking at it, watching someone else capture Tyson’s attention like that.

“They’ve been hooking up,” she continued. “I don’t think he’s, like, actually into her.”

“It wouldn’t matter if he was,” Fiona said a little too quickly. She refocused her attention on the drink in her hand. The girls around exchanged knowing looks between each other and, though they thought Fiona wouldn’t notice, she did. She slipped out of the booth in pursuit of the bathroom because she was a short of breath and panicking slightly.

She locked herself in one of the stalls and tried to steady her breathing. She paced in the little space between the door and the toilet, trying to talk herself down from what she was feeling. And then Faith entered the bathroom like the whole scene was out of a movie.

“Apparently he’s here with some girl,” her friend was saying as they entered the bathroom. The one slipped into the other stall while the other stood at the sink.

“Oh, yeah,” she scoffed. “He pointed her out to me. Said they were roommates. He would never go for a girl like that. She’s not even close to as pretty as me.”

“You’re horrible,” her friend teased. The toilet flushed and she rejoined Faith at the mirror. “But you’re so right.”

Fiona peeked at them through the gaps in the door and watched as they reapplied their lipstick. These were the girls Tyson spent time with and the realization almost made her sick. Everything that she was worried about was coming to light. She was completely right.

“Time to get my man,” Faith sang. Her friend snickered and the two were off to find Tyson leaving Fiona to exit the bathroom stall and plan her exit strategy. She wanted to leave. She wanted to give Tyson the space to do whatever he wanted with whoever he wanted. But, she had no clue how to get around Denver.

She slipped out of the bathroom stall and weaved through the crowd that had gathered on the dancefloor to find the door. When the night air finally filled her longs, she released a relieved sigh and leaned up against the brick of the building.

It only took Tyson fifteen minutes to come looking for her.

“Why are you out here and not inside with me?”

“I’m just getting some fresh air,” she answered. “Besides, you were talking to that cute brunette girl that likes to touch your biceps.”

It took a moment for Tyson to catch on and then he was wide-eyed and worried. He sputtered, “It’s not like that with her, like at all. I don’t like her like that.”

Something settled in Fiona’s stomach. She felt a little bit sick and still nervous. The words spoken about her in the bathroom echoed in her ears and she couldn’t keep it at bay anymore. She blurted, “Moving here was a mistake.”

Tyson took a step back, looking wounded. He couldn’t believe the words that had come out of her mouth, especially on the first day she was even in Denver.

“You don’t mean that,” he spoke. “You haven’t even been here 24 hours.”

“I just know that I don’t fit into this lifestyle,” she said. “What if living together ruins our friendship? What if we can only handle each other in off-season spurts?”

“Why are you talking like this?” he asked. Tyson knew someone had to have said something because Fiona was happy just thirty minutes before all this. She sighed heavily, shaking her head at him to drop it. “I want you here. How do you not realize that? The months I spend in Denver without you drag because I’m counting down the days until I get to go home and be near you. But, now, I have you all the time. That’s all I want. Can’t you see that?”

Fiona’s face was red, flustered by his certainty and the emotion behind his words.

“You belong here. You belong with me,” he spoke. He reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her into him. Oh, how they both wanted that to be true. “Now, can you please get out of your head and hang out with me?”

Fiona nodded meekly and allowed Tyson to lead her back into the bar. He sat at the bar beside JT, legs hanging from the barstool with his knees apart so Fiona could fit between them. She leaned up against him, eyes flitting briefly to the angry group of girls in the corner. Tyson noticed this and, without a word, wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her closer. He’d deal with Faith later.

“Your love is all you owe me. I won't break your heart.”

Tyson was on a date.

At least, that’s what Fiona thought he was doing.

She came home from work on a Friday night to an empty apartment. Tyson had practice early that morning, but he had the night off and he was planning to live on the couch, except he wasn’t on the couch. His shoes weren’t even beside the door.

So, Fiona texted him and he responded that he was out to dinner with a friend and he’d be home soon. That was at 6:30 p.m. It was now 8:30 p.m.

She wondered if it was with Faith. It was only a week earlier that she first encountered the professional mean girl and she still hadn’t shaken the feeling of worthlessness that came after. Tyson didn’t say anything about her that night. He didn’t explain why she was rubbing his arm at the bar or why she was giving Fiona death glares all night. He simply hoped that Fi wouldn’t catch on and that he wouldn’t get caught in a sticky situation. But, he knew he was already stuck because Fiona was acting weird and Faith was trying to get more attention from him.

He needed to restore balance in his little universe.

So, he texted Faith to grab drinks. He was going to tell her to get lost, that he didn’t have feelings for her.

Fiona didn’t know that. She spent the night sulking on the couch, glass of wine in one hand and a chocolate donut in the other. Love Island UK played on the television, acting as a small distraction from her disaster of a love life. When she finished her glass, she turned the TV off, wrapped herself in the blanket, and headed off to her room.

Tyson, on the other hand, was sprinting up the stairs in their apartment building just to get back to her. The elevator was taking too long and he was scared that if he waited a minute more he might lose his nerve, so he was skipping two steps at a time to get to Fiona.

She didn’t hear the door open, too invested in whatever she was reading on her phone to notice that he entered the apartment. She only realized when he called her name as he kicked his shoes off. He appeared a moment later, winded, at the end of the hallway.

“I love you,” he blurted out. Fiona’s eyes went wide. “Like, I love you as way more than a friend and I can’t keep ignoring how I feel. Tell me you feel it, too.” Her jaw dropped as he continued, “You’re the best person I know, inside and out, and you deserve to be loved every single day. You deserve someone who’ll never let you down, never break your heart. I want to be that guy.”

He was only a few steps away, having moved towards Fiona down the hallway, and his chest was still heaving from his marathon up the stairs. She took a deep breath, butterflies filling her stomach at his words, at the way he was looking at her, at her own feelings.

“I love you, too,” she spoke. “As way more than a friend.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I have for way too long.”

“I bet I have you beat,” he teased. He stepped into her space, one arm wrapping around her waist to tug her against him. She smiled at him, gaze shifting to his lips only for a moment before she met his eyes again. “Fifteen.”

“Huh?”

“When we kissed for the first time, the only time,” he said softly. “I think that’s when I knew deep down that there was nobody else.”

“Oh,” she spoke shyly. “Then, yes, you have me beat.”

“I knew it.”

“It was when you visited my school that I knew.”

“It took you that long?!” he exclaimed, his other arm coming to wrap around her waist with his other. She threw her head back with a laugh, eyes light and happy. “Wow.”

“Oh, don’t wow me,” she muttered. “It took you six years to tell me how you feel.”

“And it was worth it,” he said. She couldn’t stop smiling, neither could he. “Well, it will be.” She gave him a curious look, confused by his words. He laughed softly. “Do you think you’re a better kisser than you were at fifteen?”

“Why don’t you find out?”

Tyson leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. It was shy and chaste at first, only one kiss before they pulled away to soak up what they’d just down. And then he was leaning in again except this time her arms found a place around his neck and he pulled her closer, chest-to-chest. Their lips fit perfectly, melded into one another like this was the way they were meant to be.

The kiss didn’t last long before they were both smiling into it, teeth knocking against each other as they tried to make it last. Giggles erupted as they pulled away, both red in the face and breathing heavily. His fingers curled into her sides, like he couldn’t get enough of her and he couldn’t get close enough.

“I love you,” he spoke against her lips before placing one last peck against them. Fiona’s cheeks hurt from smiling. She pulled away from her to get a good look at the man in front of her. Through everything, Tyson had been at her side and, looking in his eyes, feeling his touch, she knew there would never be a day she wouldn’t feel his love.

“I love you, too. I always will.”

[asian-hero]

52." Accidentally Witnessed kiss" with yaoyorozu...? Sorry i send a lot of ask for her but i like her a lot 😭

A/N: I’m sorry, but are you apologizing for requesting YAOYOROZU MOMO, aka the love of my life? Because if you are, I want you to know that I fucking love ALL the requests I get for her, and I will happily write whatever request you have for her. Please let me write more about my wife

52. “Accidentally Witnessed Kiss” from this kiss prompt list (feel free to send in a number and a character!)

Summary: Your relationship with Momo was a bit of a secret from the rest of your class. It wasn’t that the two of you were trying to hide, but it just never came up, and the two of you never felt that you needed to address it. So, what happens when one of your closest friends happens to walk in on the two of you? Spoiler alert: the rest of the class is told, and chaos ensues 

Words: 1,613

If there was anyone in the world who could make your day turn bright, then it’d be Yaoyorozu Momo. She could somehow make the worst of days into the best of days, and, if you were feeling particularly upset, she could hold enough happiness for the both of you. You knew that you had a crush on her when you first spoke to her, with how warm and comforted she made you feel, and you knew that you loved her when she, with a bright pink blush across her cheeks, accepted your confession, and agreed to go out on a date with you. Loving her was the easiest thing that you could’ve done, and you were grateful that she chose you out of all the options in the world.

The two of you had been going steady for almost a year, and while the two of you continued to grow comfortable in your relationship, with Momo eventually loosening up enough to actively seek your affection in public, it seemed as though your entire class didn’t get the memo, and just thought that the two of you were just very close. Those loving hugs that you’d envelop her in? Oh, you were simply just being an affectionate friend. The cuddling during 1-A movie nights? Well, that wasn’t too out of the norm, seeing as how Ashido and Hagakure also cuddled together. In fact, you were fairly certain that you could drape yourself over your loving girlfriend and tell her you love her in front of all of them, and they’d still assume that the two of you were just best friends.

However, it didn’t really bother either of you, though. Both of you didn’t feel the need to flaunt your relationship, to tell the whole world, in order to “prove” the validity of your relationship. You were perfectly comfortable with just the two of you, and a few less oblivious people, knowing about it. After all, you figured that they’d find out eventually, so there was no rush to tell them.

When they did find out, well, not only were they surprised, but you could also sense that they were offended that you hadn’t told them.

One morning, during one of your free days, you found yourself waking up to the quiet buzzing of your phone. Groaning, you felt around your nightstand, fumbling a few times, before you grabbed the source of the noise, pulling it back to you and pressing “accept call” without even looking at it.

“Hello?” You answered, your voice thick with sleep.

“Oh, did I wake you? I’m so sorry!”

Hearing the flustered voice at the other end of the line, a tired smile came across your face. Sitting up and rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you spoke, “Yeah, but it’s okay. What’s up?”

You could practically hear the embarrassment radiating off of your lovely girlfriend, whom you have told multiple times that she never bothered you, no matter how early or late in the day it may be. After a couple beats of silence, she cleared her throat, having gained some sense of her composure.

“Well,” She started, and you could imagine the cute face she was making, “No one else is up yet, and I’m a little lonely, so would you like to have some tea with me?”

As soon as she said she was lonely, you were already out of your bed, grabbing one of your sweatshirts and heading out the door. “As if you needed to ask,”

Soon after, you hung up, telling her that you’d be down soon. Once you made it down to the kitchen, you noticed that Momo had her back to you, clearly occupied with something else. Sneakily, you walked up to her, only making your presence known when you hugged her waist from behind, pressing your face into her neck to land a soft kiss. You could feel her stiffen up for a moment, before realizing that it was you. With a quiet click of her tongue, she ruffled your hair.

“Good morning, my sneaky girlfriend,”

You smiled, humming softly as you moved to rest your chin on her shoulder, peering over to see what she was doing. Seeing the teapot that was laid out, and the two cups beside it, you took in a deep breath, trying to guess what she made.

“Black tea?”

She nodded her head, moving away from your grip to pour the both of you a cup. Handing you one, she smiled, moving to pinch your cheek. “It’s good for lowering your chance for heart disease, and can help to reduce clogged arteries,”

You bit your tongue to hold in some smart remark, wanting to tease her a bit on her vast knowledge of tea. Instead, you simply raised the cup to your lips, slowly sipping as you let the warmth and smell wake you up.

The two of you stood in silence, merely enjoying each other’s presence as you sipped your drinks. Every few seconds or so you’d look up from your cup to glance at the serene look on Momo’s face. While you wouldn’t admit it out loud, you lived for the little domestic moments like this. It wasn’t everyday that the two you got to hang out for the day, with nothing to do and nobody to save. With both of you studying earnestly in order to become the best heroes you could be, a lot of your time spent together was either in the presence of your classmates in the dorms, or by yourselves, doing homework or training together. It was rare for the both of you to just have time to yourselves, to be able to simply enjoy being next to each other. All of these intrusive thoughts started making your head spin, and you prayed that she couldn’t see just how flustered she was making you by just standing there. Taking another deep sip of your tea, you willed yourself to calm down, otherwise you think you would’ve just exploded right where you stood.

However, you found yourself slowly losing restraint, and the last straw was the loving stare that she gave you when she finally noticed your staring.

Tilting her head, she merely furrowed her brows, a confused smile finding its way to her lips, “Is there something on my face?”

Instead of answering her verbally, like you probably should have, you placed your cup on the counter, moving closer to her. Wrapping your arms around her waist, you pulled her in even closer, closing any gap that was between the two of you. You couldn’t help the giggles that came tumbling out of your lips at her blushing face, her words coming out in cute stutters. 

Deciding to take pity on the poor girl, you leaned in, your noses gently nuzzling against each other, before pressing a kiss to her lips.

Her lips were soft and plush, and you swore that you could taste the slightly bitter flavor from the black tea. In all honesty, the kiss was just meant to be a short little peck, but when you pulled away, you could feel Momo’s hands grip your sweatshirt tighter, as if complaining that you were leaving so soon. So, when you placed your lips back on hers, your gentle morning kiss turning into a gentle morning make out session, you truly were not to blame.

Your kisses were affectionate, yet lazy. Small pecks were being pressed all over her face, and when she began to pout from your lips being everywhere but on hers, you would cave, moving into a more, traditional kiss. Eventually, one of your hands had wandered from her hips to her face, moving to cup her cheek. She seemed quite content with the amount of affection she was receiving, though she still pulled your in closer, as if you were too far away for her liking.

You could honestly just stay in her arms all day, kissing her without a complaint in the world. However, the universe had other plans for the two of you, and that came in the form of an extremely shocked Ashido, who, upon stumbling into the kitchen, started gasping loudly while pointing at the two of you.

Eyes ripping wide open, your head whipped towards the shocked girl, a look of concern growing on your face. “What happened? Are you okay?”

She stared at you for a moment, almost as if you were the dumbest person on the planet. 

“You,” She started, pointing at the two of you, “You were just kissing?”

A look of confusion crossed your face, unsure of what she was getting at. “Yeah? Isn’t that what couples normally do?”

That didn’t seem to defuse the situation. In fact, it seemed to only make it worse, as Ashido gasped even louder before yelling, “You two are dating?”

You could feel Momo’s head rest against your shoulder, a quiet yet embarrassed groan coming from her. Rubbing her back soothingly, you nodded toward the pink haired girl, giving an answer to her question, “We’ve been dating. For almost a year now,”

Before you could even question her antics, she rushed out of the common area, shouting about how happy she was for the two of you, and how the rest of the class was going to be so happy. Looking down at the flustered girl in your arms, you pressed your lips to the crown of her head, a silent apology for what was to come.

Though, if there was one good thing about your classmates finally understanding that the two of you were together, it was that you could kiss her whenever you wanted.

[misterewrites]

Intro to Caitlyn 102 (Mirror’s Edge)

Hey everyone! E here with another chapter. been a busy week so this is a little late but with any luck I'll have the next underground chapter out this week or maybe another chapter for this story. dunno I'm just having fun in general. I hope you are all staying safe, wash your hands, wear your mask, get the vaccine if you can, keep each other safe! Feel free to tell your friends about this, reblog it or leave comments I'd greatly appreciate it. Trying promote myself is weird haha Stay safe and have a great week!

If you’d like an easier place to read the story, feel free to follow the link below

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/76796408

Summary: Caitlyn has her target thanks to one Finnrick Drift and now it's time to break in. After she takes care a few things at home.

-----

Caitlyn sighed as she was unable to keep her eyes off the slivered hue butterfly hair ornament in her palm, the multi-colored glass shards wings stretched wide like it was ready to take flight.

It was beautiful, it was the perfect and it was expensive.

The sliver was real, none of that cheap painted copper or tin or whatever hairclips were normally made of. The different shards of glass had been painstakingly put into place, each fitting together perfectly like a completed puzzle which must’ve taken months to do by hand. And true to his word, she could feel the energy of this item, the magical thrum of its power. It no longer felt cold and distant but warm, light and carried a familiarity with it. It was strange to say but it was almost like the ornament was breathing in time with her. Like it was a part of her.

Of course it was, it’s freaking magic! Frankly magic could do whatever the hell it wanted apparently. The real question was what hidden power laid within.

Somehow in the back of her mind she knew how this thing was supposed to work: it granted her some kind of temporary movement. What that meant she hadn’t the slightest clue. She also knew it would only last an hour and would ‘refresh’ at every dawn. Because that’s a thing. And she knew the spoken word needed to activate it. Which of course meant the word was angel.

Caitlyn frowned, unsure what kind of joke this was. Finnrick had specifically called her angel twice: once when they first met and when asked what exactly the hairclip did. Clearly it was some inside joke he was in on. She just wished she was too.

“Hey Cat, you okay? You keep looking at the wall.”

Caitlyn shook herself out of her stupor and found herself staring at wide brown curious eyes that belonged her baby brother Lou.

Louis or Lou as he preferred to be called, was 7 years old (soon to be 8 next month). He had messy black hair with a cute button nose. He wore clothing typical of a child his age: A red shirt with a hero splashed across its front and baggy shorts. His sneakers were worn and frayed which reminded Caitlyn she really needed to get him a new pair. Between his chubby cheeks and the gap in his smile he was the cutest kid in the world. True he was a bit pudgy due to his lack of height though if he was anything like their father, he would grow to tower over her.

Caitlyn sighed sadly: two years and still no word of her parents. One day they just up and vanished. She used to think they had died through some cruel act of fate or misfortune. In her weaker moments, she briefly wondered if they just left Lou and her behind to start a new life.

But now, with the realization there was a whole magical world on top of her own, she couldn’t fathom what could’ve happened to them. Her thoughts were endlessly filled with possibility and none of them good. None of them made the pain hurt less.

She pinched herself as hard as she could. The sharp pain cut through her wandering mind and focused her back on the task at hand.

“I’m fine” She gave a sly smile “But have you finished your sandwich? A nice man bought it for you and I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Lou bounced up and down excitedly, pudgy hands tucked into a fist “Yes, yes I did! It was yummy!”

“Awesome!”

“Who was the nice man?” Lou asked quizzically, tilting his head to one side.

“Umm….” Caitlyn was torn: One hand she wasn’t quite sure where her and Finnrick landed on the whole trustworthy scale. On the other hand she couldn’t just say a random name. Lou had an uncanny ability to know when she was lying. Bordering on supernatural sometimes.

She glanced carefully towards her baby brother, searching for any sign of magic or mysticism in his chubby cheeks.

He scrunched his eyes wide and inched closer to her. She blinked, stumbling backwards at his sudden movement.

“I win!” He cheered with a bright smile “You blinked first!”

It took a moment for Caitlyn to process what was going on.

She laughed softly “Yeah kiddo. You win.”

“So what’s the nice man’s name? It’s not Jonas, is it? He was a creep.”

“Yeah he was.” Caitlyn awkwardly agreed. Her stomach churned unhappily at the thought of her ex. “No, his name is Finn.”

“Finn” Lou paused thoughtfully, eyes narrowed in concentration “Fiiiiinn. Finn! I like it! Fiiiiiiiinn. Can you thank him for me next time you two go out?”

Caitlyn rose a hand up no protest “Whoa, whoa, whoa slow down kiddo. We’re not dating.”

“But why not? You said he was nice.”

“I…” she glanced about the apartment wearily: Peeling paint, barely held together furniture and rent past due. So much work and effort for this ramshackle home.

“I don’t have time kiddo. I got to keep working if we wanna keep this place.”

Lou frowned, his face confused as if he couldn’t understand the word work “But you’re always working Cat. When are you supposed to have fun?”

Caitlyn ruffled his already messy hair lovingly “I’ll worry about that and you worry about having fun...and keeping up your grades.”

Lou’s ears perked up “What? Sorry, I think I hear Hedge calling me.” and without further warning, he bolted into his room, picking up his beloved turtle plush Hedge and dove under the covers.

Caitlyn couldn’t help but grin at his brother’s antics.

Then reality set in again.

She rather not deal with this newly found, barely understood magical world but regular folks weren’t paying the bills like they used to. Her fence was giving her less and charging more. Some bulltshit about paying off crooked cops or whatever. Sounded like a half ass excuse to her but they both knew she didn’t have much options.

Real gold. Any loose change from magical folks could easily lighten her burden and the promise of more sat in some entitled prick’s safe.

She couldn’t resist even if she had tried and she hadn’t tried to stop herself in years.

-----

Caitlyn waited till midnight to make her move. It was easier to blend in with darker shades and regardless of who she was robbing, she wasn’t in the business to make enemies. Especially enemies with unknown powers.

Lou was tucked into bed, nice and cozy with Hedge locked in his arms. Mrs. Palmer, a kindly older woman next door, agreed to watch him. They shared a silent knowing look with one another.

Her apartment was on the less than well kept side of town and everyone had their hands in some sort of shady business here. They tried their best to keep their noses clean but sometimes there were dips into less savory methods of getting cash.

Caitlyn was prepped for the mission ahead: A black blouse with black leggings. Thick black hiking boots for gripping walls and a leather black jacket to keep the cold and sharp pointy objects away from her skin.

She took a sad glance at the jacket, remembering all the times her father joked about handing it down to her when she beat him at arm wrestling. She could still hear dad’s hearty laughter echoing down the hall.

Caitlyn’s eyes hardened as she forced herself to look away “They left. No point in letting good gear go to waste.”

She took a deep calming breath as she ripped the tape off the butterfly knife she hid underneath her bed. She hated unnecessary violence but sometimes it took more than a good right hook to get someone off your ass. Better to have it and not need it than wind up with a bruise of regret.

She slipped the knife into her jacket pocket, slung her bag over her shoulder, nodded thankfully towards Mrs. Palmer and made her way out the door.

------

Caitlyn decided to take the long way: True it was halfway across town and took an hour of traveling but she always enjoyed the quiet that came with waiting. It calmed her, allowed her time to double and triple check her plans with the added benefit of shaking out any loose thoughts rattling in her head with each bump of the bus.

She stared at the beautiful ornate butterfly clip currently holding her ponytail up in the window. Caitlyn wasn’t sure what exactly Finnrick had given her but she didn’t want to use it at the apartment in case it didn’t do what it was supposed to. After all, suddenly having the knowledge in her head on how to work the hairclip was a bit unsettling. Okay really unsettling. Better to use it far away from Lou in case it exploded or something else nasty.

She got off the bus at last and hurried her way over to Andor’s, careful to cover her face whenever she spotted the odd store or traffic camera. She didn’t know who actually controlled them and she didn’t want to find out the hard way.

Andor’s Antique Shoppe (really cute elf boy) was the tallest building on the street: three floors that towered over the single story shops nearby. The street itself was nearly pitch black with a street lamp on either end of the block being the only source of light. Not a soul in sight.

Now was a good time as any to try out the hairclip. Caitlyn closed her eyes, exhaling slowly as she focused on the magical item. Goosebumps ran down her spine while the quiet, powerful thrum hummed softly in her ears. The word escaped her lips like it was second nature.

“Angel”

She nearly stumbled as a warm sensation filled her entire being. It covered her like a second skin and suddenly she was aware of the hairclip intimately: It’s weight, where it sat upon her head. She could feel the wings of the butterfly unfold, outstretched and ready to take flight. She heard the shimmering of magic forming into existence and she let out a surprised gasp when her feet lifted off the ground.

Caitlyn glanced in the nearby shop window, tears welling in her eyes:Beautiful translucent butterfly wings extended out from behind her. The outline of the wings were a deep rich purple with the multicolored glass stained shards gorgeously laid across its surface, each as elegant and refined as any art piece she’d ever seen. Each flutter and beat held her aloft, defying gravity’s hold on her. In the shadows of the night, the soft glow of the wings made her look like...

“An angel.” she whispered gently “I look like an angel.”

Caitlyn wiped the tears away. Technically she was a butterfly but this wasn’t the time for sentiment. She had a job to do and the longer she floated out here the more likely she’d get caught.

“Up” she murmured and the wings obliged: she rose silently skyward, each beating of the wings taking her higher and higher. The chill of the wind felt nice across her cheeks and she couldn’t help but relax in its presence.

Her original plan was to simply scale the side of the building and pick the window to gain entry but with her new found vertical movement, it was easier to just go up and over. She made sure she ascended from the end of the street and flew over to the third floor.

Caitlyn tilted her head quizzically as she found herself staring at a haphazardly open window.

“It can’t be this simple.” she narrowed her eyes suspiciously “It has to be a trap.”

-----

Caitlyn stood dumbfounded in the unguarded office of Andor.

She looked to her left then to her right, waiting for some sort of ambush to be sprung.

None came.

“Okay it is this simple.” Caitlyn whispered to herself, opting to just take this stroke of good fortune and run with it. She quietly willed the wings away and with a glitter of magic they vanished into thin air.

She crept over to the black safe tucked lazily in the corner, a stack of important looking documents just thrown on top without a care in the world. She quickly pocketed them and turned her attention to the roadblock in her way. True to Finnrick’s information, the safe itself was fairly simple and wouldn’t take much to break into. Either Andor was extremely confident in his security or really didn’t take being a crook seriously.

Not that it mattered to Caitlyn. It wasn’t her fault Andor hadn’t invested in a good safe.

She pressed her ear against the cool surface of the metal, trying to ignore the icy chill on her cheek as she strained to listen for the nearly inaudible click of the tumblers falling into place. It had taken two tries too many but she allowed herself a smug grin as the safe’s door swung open with a creak.

Caitlyn’s eyes narrowed at the sight of a funny symbol painted onto the back of the door. It gleamed with a strange unnatural light before disappearing all together. Before she could began to guess what bad news that meant, the shouts and thundering footsteps echoed from below answered her question.

“Shit.” She whispered as she began frantically grabbing everything she could: Folders, stacks of papers and clanging metal in heavy pouches. It all went into her bag with as much speed as she could muster.

The footsteps grew louder with a frantic pace. They were already on the second floor if she hazard a guess. Caitlyn made for the window and without a second thought, flung herself outside with all her might.

“Angel!” She hurried muttered but the wings were forming too slowly. She already crossed past the next floor down when they barely began to outstretch from her back. Caitlyn was no physics major but even she knew there was no way she’d be able to slow down in time to avoid breaking her neck. She shielded her face with her arms and tried not to flinch as she waited for the pain to set in.

It didn’t come.

Instead she felt herself slow to a stop midair and just stayed here. Caitlyn opened her eyes to find herself bobbing up and down inches away from the pavement. There were a pair of legs as well: Black slacks and well polished loafers with the bottom half of a black tattered trench coat.

“Falling for me angel? I didn’t expect it to be literal.”

She glanced up to found herself staring at the one and only Finnrick Drift before her, a cheeky smile on his lips and his hand held out.

Finnrick waved his fingers over her and she landed onto the sidewalk with a soft thud.

He offered her his hand but she preferred to scamper to her feet in the most ungraceful way possible. Her cheeks burned with a pinkish hue at the sight of the P.I.

“Thanks.” She couldn’t keep the embarrassment out of her voice “I….thanks.”

Finnrick nodded “Anytime.”

“WHY IS THE DOOR LOCKED?!” A voice roared from overhead.

“CUZ IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE YOU IDIOT!”

Realization knocked Caitlyn out of whatever was going on here but as she turned to make a break for it, Finnrick rose his hand to stop her.

She glanced at him, lost and confused.

“The favor. I’m calling it in.”

“What?! Here?! NOW!? You got to be kidding!”

“I kid about a lot of things.” Finnrick admitted “but not this.”

“We’re standing outside the place I just robbed! This isn’t the time!”

“Yes it is.”

Caitlyn took a step back and cast a suspicious look at the private investigator “You were using me, weren’t you? You didn’t want to get your hands dirty so you let me borrow the wings so I can steal the thing for you!”

Finnrick shook his head.

“Don’t turn this around on me!” Caitlyn snarled

Finnrick answered simply “You were clearly better at locks and sneaking around than I am. I was actually having trouble figuring how to pull this off. Every option ended with a fight with Andor. That’s why I’m out here. Why I busted every cameras on the street and managed to keep the window open. To make sure you were okay.”

“Where even were you?!” Caitlyn tried in vain to recall seeing Finnrick on the street “it doesn’t matter! You want me to trust you?! Just like that?”

Finnrick sighed tiredly “Please angel I trust you.”

Caitlyn’s eyes went cold “That is your mistake, not mine.”

Finnrick stared back at her, his dark brown eyes warm and gentle “Trusting you is my choice. Breaking it lays entirely with you.”

Caitlyn felt the rage and distrust drain out of her and replaced with a tense exhaustion.

Angel. He had let her borrow the wings and while there was no way he’d let her keep them he did give it to her for a favor. A simple favor he promised.

She sighed in defeat “What’s the favor?”

“I need a paper from the stack.”

“And if I give it to you, will you let me go?” She asked, hating how weak and vulnerable she sounded.

“No” Finnrick spoke without hesitation.

Caitlyn's shoulders sagged with disappointment.

“I will protect you.”

Caitlyn couldn’t help but stare at Finnrick: His face was scrunched up in a rather cute sense of determination and his body was relaxed. It was clear he was trying to be as nonthreatening as possible and despite her recent outburst, he seemed more concern with her than himself.

When was the last time someone offered to protect her? Granted she didn’t need any but even Caitlyn had to admit it was nice to hear.

They stood there for a moment, the angry shouts and cursing of Andor and his thugs breaking the silence of the night.

“Which paper is it?”

“It’ll be a single sheet with some fancy silvery writing on it.”

It took her no time to find it: It was thicker than all the others, written on some ancient paper that was aged yellow with time but was otherwise intact. The shining silvery writing was indeed fancy but nearly impossible to make out. She could actually feel her eyes water just looking at it and she wasted no time shoving it into Finn’s hand.

“There!” Caitlyn cast a nervous glance towards the third floor window “I kept my end. Now keep yours. Please.”

Finnrick said nothing. He instead tucked the loose paper inside his coat and offered a hand to her.

Confused but running out of options, she gingerly took his hand in hers. She flushed at how warm he was. Caitlyn let out a yelp as Finnrick pulled her in. She tried to keep her cheeks from turning a lovely shade of red when Finnrick held her close.

Finnrick began chanting, his hands drawing unseen symbols in the air. Caitlyn could feel the same warm sensation from earlier wash over her as Finnrick’s spell took effect.

-----

“FIND MY STUFF NOW!” Andor screamed with bloody rage. He was typical of an elf: Impossible well kept blonde hair that flowed to his back, piercing forest green eyes. He was tall and lean with the tackiest suit anyone had seen. Reds and pinks in some sort plaid pattern. He called it looking good. His goons called it a headache. His pointed ears twitch unhappily as he struggled to listen for any sort of sound nearby but found nothing beyond the usual quiet hum of the city.

Andor groaned unhappily as he made his way to the window. His eyes scanned the street with a clarity not even the most technologically advance camera could match. His elf eyes took in every detail through the shadows: every imperfect scratch on the brick buildings, the asphalt embedded with the grooves of tires, cracked sidewalks that spread out like bolts of lightning.

Nothing. Not a single soul was in sight. The silhouetted street was bare and empty.

“FUCK!” Andor screamed into the silence “FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! FIND THEM NOW! CHECK THE FRONT DOOR CAMERA!”

“We can’t boss, it was fried yesterday, remember?”

Andor shut the window with a violent thud.

-----

Caitlyn let out the tense sigh she hadn’t realized she had been holding in.

She instinctively looked towards Finnrick only to find empty air.

“We’ll have to be invisible a little longer. They’ll be searching the shop before they think to start fanning outside. Andor will be making the process longer. Let’s get to the end of the street and I’ll drop it then.”

Caitlyn nodded for a moment before realizing he couldn’t see her

He guided her arm into his and the pair briskly walked down the street. It felt weird to walk invisible, arm in arm, while a childish elf baby raged behind them.

When they reached the end of the street, Finnrick dropped the spell. The two reappeared as quickly as they’d vanished. Caitlyn pulled away from the detective, her body shivering from the sudden lack of warmth.

“Thank you.” Caitlyn murmured softly.

Finnrick tipped his fedora “Any time sweetie.”

“What now?”

Finnrick scratched his chin thoughtfully “It is late and staying here would be a terrible idea. I suspect we both have places to be.”

Finnrick reached into his pocket and held out a piece of paper for Caitlyn to take. She stared at it, unsure what he was offering.

“It’s my fence.” He clarified with a smile “I take it you don’t know a magical one. He’s very trustworthy and he’ll give you a fair price.”

“Thanks” she took the slip of paper “I….thank you.”

“Any time. Good night angel.”

“Wait!” She reached for him but drew back when he turned to face her “Your hairclip? The one you let me borrow?”

Finnrick’s eyes twinkled with amusement “You didn’t hear me, did you? I told you that’s yours.”

Caitlyn could hear her heart thundering in her ears, cheeks ablaze “You sure? It seems like it costed a pretty penny.”

“Pretty amount of gold.” Finnrick corrected with a wink “And I’m pretty sure. I made it for you.”

“Why?” The question slipped out of her mouth “Why me? You barely know me.”

“Not true.” Finnrick nervously bit his lip “You barely know me. I’ve been waiting for you forever now. About five yearsin fact.”

“Me?” Her blush worsened “I don’t understand.”

“You will.”

Finnrick took her hand in his once more and softly kissed it. Caitlyn could feel a flutter of butterflies fill her stomach.

He hesitated to break his hold on her but he did so respectfully. Caitlyn could see his cheeks tinged with a pinkish hue as he began walking away.

Caitlyn stood there and watched the detective vanish into the night.

-----

Okay, so she didn’t just stand there dumbfounded as Finnrick walked away. It was probably a terrible idea and definitely not normal Caitlyn behavior but she followed him.

It wasn’t too hard given her newfound verticality. She just waited a few minutes, noted the direction he was heading and flew over the rooftops. Finnrick didn’t seem to be aware he was being followed. He walked the darken streets of Newton Haven, gesturing to the odd person or mythical being cloak in the darkness. His pace was casual and unsuspecting.

Her concerns about running out of time were unfounded as about 30 minutes later, Finnrick ducked into a fairly decent apartment complex. It was better kept than hers but only by a fraction.

A dark apartment on the third floor was suddenly flooded with light as Finnrick Drift made his way inside. He hung his coat and fedora at a coat rack that stood by the door. The apartment was itself humble: he had a battered desk placed by the window, his tiny kitchen was on one side and the door to his bedroom on the other. There was a large file cabinet next to a battered, ancient fridge. Not the place of a well paid private investigator.

Finnrick sighed tiredly as he rolled up his sleeves. The way his body hunched over with the slow debilitate movements he made, it was obvious he must’ve been exhausted. But whatever he was up to must’ve been important because he began drawing on his lovely wooden floor.

Caitlyn couldn’t really guess what the detective was doing beyond the shape he was making: There was a large outer circle and a much smaller one within. An array of symbols were drawn between the two circles such as stars, a crescent moon, squiggles shaped like trees with a language she didn’t understand.

It didn’t take Finnrick long to finish. He stood at full height, wiping the sweat from his brow as he reached into his pocket and pulled a baggie. Carefully, he opened the bag and pulled out a sliver thread that seemed to shine even at this distance. He placed it within the smaller circle and outstretched a hand like he was grasping at something. His eyes, normally a warm dark brown, glowed with blue arcane power. Magical symbols formed before him and the building groaned and creaked like the mere presence of magic commanded it to speak. He lit a match, his lips moving more and more wildly yet no sound could be heard from within. Finnrick closed his hand into a fist and the symbols sunk into the circle. He flung the match onto the sliver thread and the entire glyph blazed with fire for moment. There was a flash of a brilliant light and the circle had vanished only to be replaced by some strange figure.

She was much taller than Finn, so tall in fact the top of her head nearly scraped the bottom of the next floor up. Her hair was wispy, thin threads of sliver that reached to the bottom of her feet. Her skin was pale like moonlight and two dark sunken pits formed her eyes. Her frame was lanky and unnatural like someone had pulled and stretch her into her current form. Her clothes were torn and ragged.

The figure tiled her head curiously at Finnrick who dug into his pocket and pulled out the yellowed paper Caitlyn had given him. The figure was dumbstruck as Finnrick handed it to her with a warm smile. He offered a match to the creature but she shook her head. She gingerly held the paper in her hand, staring at it like was about to vanish into thin air.

Then she ripped it. She tore at it with a fierce, terrifying frenzy. She ripped and ripped and ripped until impossibly small bits of paper rained across the apartment. Caitlyn leaned closer as previously unseen shackles formed upon the figure’s wrist and cracked wide open. They slipped off and vanished into the air.

The figure let out a manic laugh as she shrunk, her limbs realigning themselves until she looked like a proper human sized person only a head taller than Finnrick. Her thin wispy hair fattened to thick, full braids of metallic silver. Her skin remained pale but her dark sunken eyes turned a coal black, full of life and joy. Even her clothes had transformed into a splendid elegant dress that sparkled like stars.

She cried, clear streams of water running down her face as she held Finnrick’s hands tightly. She wailed and shook, unable to keep her emotions in any longer. Finnrick let her, giving only a satisfied grin in response. She handed him a handful of gold, 3 maybe 4 pieces and began patting her dress as if looking for more. Finnrick stopped her, pocketing the gold and shaking his head no. The creature was not satisfied by this and began to gesture wildly about. Finnrick remained steadfast. He gestured to himself, lips speaking but Caitlyn couldn’t read whathe was mouthing this far away. The figure said nothing as a small child matching her skin tone appeared from out of nowhere. The child gestured to his wrist excitedly though nothing was there. The figure scooped the child in her arm and gently kissed his forehead. She glanced to Finnrick and was gone. A gentle warm breeze sailed past Caitlyn’s hidden spot, dispelling the frigid 2 a.m. air.

Finnrick chuckled to himself and despite on the verge of collapsing, made his way to the kitchen. He remained there for a few minutes and reemerged with a steaming cup of those instant noodles found at the store. He made his way over to the window and lifted it open. He placed the foam cup on the fire escape and hastily wrote a note which he folded carefully next to the food.

And with his job seemingly done, he made turned off the lights with a flourish of his hand and made his way to his bedroom. He closed the door and did not reappear.

Caitlyn flew over with the few minutes she had left in her wings. She picked up the cup of ramen, contently sighing with its warmth. She grabbed the note and read it aloud, curious what Finnrick wrote.

Caitlyn felt a chill of run down her spine as she read “Hey! Noticed you watching me and given you didn’t try to attack me, I assumed you had your reasons. If you’re trying to track me for your boss, here’s your warning! I will destroy everything they hold dear. You possibly included. If you just were a person or fae that was just curious, have a warm meal on me! It’s cold out so bundle up. Have a good one and don’t touch the window. I am a powerful warder.” F- :)

Caitlyn couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across her lips as she saw the cute smiley Finnrick had ended the note with.

She held the cup close as she made her way to street level. Finnrick told her she’d understand in time. She wished she understood now but she shocked to find herself more than willing to find out.

[notnctu]

to jisung, my family friend ♡

To All The J’s I’ve Loved Before Series by notnctu ♡ park jisung x fem!reader  ♡ genre - fluff ♡ wc - 2.2k ♡ warnings - none ♡ synopsis - in which you guide a lost freshman to his lecture ♡ taglist - @colpen ; @cestmoncoeur ; @hyucksberry ; @lexiluness ; @lovelycharm05 ; @dearlyminhyung ; @classic-antifood ; @pikijaemin​ ; @whorefortaeyong​ ; @jaeismytamtation​ ♡ a/n - let us know if you want to be on the taglist for the next ones!

Jisung,

I’m already laughing at myself writing this letter, but it has to be done. You’ve grown up so well, I think it has to be a good four years since I’ve seen you in person. I can’t tell whether or not you're a stranger to me.

Our moms are literal best friends and I think we could’ve formed the same relationship if they didn’t try to force that on us. I’m reminiscing about our many play dates we had together as I write this.

We were such awkward kids, I mean, you still kind of are. Word of advice as your upperclassman, don’t wear your freshman lanyard. It’s too much of a tell that you’re a freshie, not that you don’t already look like one being lost on campus or clumsiness bumping into people on your way to class.

Jisung, I can’t help but look at you differently. When did your shy smile light up the room? You really grew into your features, because I don’t remember you having such a sharp jawline. I questioned my thoughts for you as we laughed together even after all these years. Your personality was still the same, maybe more mature now? Like someone hurt you in the past. Like your eyes grew sadder.

But honestly, you’re the most innocence I’ve experienced being in college. You showed me a type of love that could develop beyond a kiss or devious acts. I thought I’d never come across that again.

It was like an epiphany, like my cheeks felt warm whenever you acknowledged me. Your silliness never sold itself short, I could laugh for hours with you. There were no consequential thoughts between the two of us, like a refreshing love that is so pure and full of warmth from sunshine.

There’s a lot for you to learn and experience. I won’t rob that from you, given that I’ve experienced plenty after all these years. But there is such a compelling feeling within me to shield you from any negativity, to guide you in being the best version of yourself. I want to help you find yourself and maybe, grow with you since we have been absent of that during our teenage years. Maybe this is what should’ve been of our relationship a while ago.

If I had tried to notice you sooner, we could’ve saved each other from all the pain.

-from your mom’s favorite, y/n

“Honey, do you remember Jisung? You two were best friends when you were younger?” The phone call with your mom had droned on for more than you had anticipated. It was one of her I need a favor calls that could not wait until later.

The loud chatter and background music of the store caused your lack of attention to what she had been going on about. “You mean, your best friend’s son who you tried to force me to be best friends with when I was younger? What about him? I haven’t seen him for almost four years now.”

The phone receiver buzzed before she continued hesitantly, “I gave him your number.”

The box of pasta fell from your hands at her sudden statement. The strangers around you watched as your anxious hands recovered it from the ground. “Why?” The annoyance in your cadence was nothing surprising.

“He got accepted to your college, sweetie! Isn’t that great? You can guide him around campus, help him transition to college life. No one is forcing you two to be friends anymore. But it would be an amazing favor for me and your auntie. You know, she has been saying how she wants to pitch in to buy you a new car.” Coercion. Rolling your eyes, you aggressively packed your groceries in your reusable bag.

“How could I ever say no to her when I’m her favorite person?” It was a double edge sword with your mom. She never really gave you many options to work with and expected you to follow through as her very obedient daughter.

“That’s what I like to hear!” After the strenuous call, messages from an unknown number sat patiently in your inbox.

(127)-127-1271: hi (Y/N)!! idk if you remember me, we haven’t talked in awhile but it’s jisung! I’m going to be attending ur school in fall and I was wondering if you can help me with some housing stuff????

you: hey bud, congrats! Yeah, you can ask me anything you need to know, everything is very confusing when you first start out :)

The least you could do was act friendly. Jisung never did anything wrong and if anything, you two were oftentimes in the same awkward boat during your childhoods.

Talking to him again reminded you of all the holiday barbecues spent at his house and running away from the adults to play games with his cousins. The many sleepovers where his mom made him sacrifice his bed for you and he’d end up sleeping on their blow up mattress. Fond memories that were definitely lost in your present. You no longer remember how this boy even looked like.  

Summer slipped from your fingers faster than you could blink. Another school year of newer experiences, yet without the aid of being a lost freshman. Everything fell back into a schedule as classes began. The floods of college students rushing to their next lecture. Students working in study rooms or at the outside commodities. The lost freshmen with their dangling lanyards who walk too slow and bumped into people.

There was one tall, shy boy that caught your eye. He wandered outside the building, checking the lecture hall number and scanning the enormous facility. The sheer panic in his expression when he looked down at his phone in his iron grip.

His features were clearly recognizable, but Jisung had grown incredibly older. His jawline was wider and he had several inches stacked above you. As you approached him, his infamous pout appeared as he rapidly scrolled on his dark screen. His cheeks weren’t entirely slimmed out.

“Jisung?”

Jisung was quick to see who could have possibly known his name at this new institution. He tilted his head when he finally laid his tired eyes on you. He knew there was no way he could have recognized you on his own. Not that you were absolutely different, but the whole aura that surrounded you embodied a college upperclassman. You were no longer the loud, weird middle school girl who wore her hair in wacky ponytails.

“(Y/N)! Wow, it’s been so long. I almost didn’t know who you were.” The deepness of his voice took you aback. His hand retreated to the back of his neck out of shyness. His high cheekbones marveled in the autumn afternoon. The boyish charm was very prominent, but his eyes seemed a bit lifeless, a bit sad. There was no gleam, loss of fairy dust that glimmered.

“I can recognize a lost freshman anywhere. Let me walk you to class.” You offered and his cheeks turned slightly pink from embarrassment.

A small side smile appeared when Jisung handed you his phone to see what building he was struggling to find. “I was trying to not be obvious, but the campus is so big. I really haven’t gotten used to where my classes are.”

A laugh escaped your lips when you gave the boy his phone. His wide eyes grew concerned, afraid you were mocking him. “It’s already the third week and I never noticed you were in my class. Let’s go, I’ll finally have someone to sit with.”

A sense of relief washed over his entire body as he followed your lead. The curious boy remained astonished as you two walked side by side on the large campus. He was barely taking in the massive structures, long roads, and the volume of people. His whole face lit up, with tiny sound effects whenever he was amazed by something.

“How could you ever get used to a place like this? I feel like there is so much to explore.” Jisung tried his best to match your strides to avoid losing you in the stream of hurried students.

“Yeah, it loses its luster after a few months.” Looking up, you noted the drop in his smile. Guilt filled your system at lowering his spirits. “But with the right experiences, you’ll fall in love with it more.”

Just like that, his rectangular smile rested well on his small face. “Thanks for answering all my texts over the summer.” His eyes averted to the ground as he held his backpack straps.

“I’m happy to help. C’mon, Jisung. We go way back, you’ve helped me escape many horrible adult encounters during your mom’s get togethers. The least I could do is return the favor.”

“Oh, we’re bringing up the past? Are you still afraid of the dark?” He raised a snarky eyebrow and you were surprised at the random attack.

You scoffed dramatically, and pretended to seem offended. “Says the one who had the night light in his room growing up.”

His hearty laugh surrounded the air around you two and you giggled lightly at how cutely he reacted. As his melody came to a descend, he analyzed your facial expression before saying, “talking to you is so natural, like we didn’t have a long pause on our barely developing friendship. I’ve been waiting to encounter a conversation like this since I got here.”

A strange, inexplicable feeling burned across your chest. Were those the butterflies that you felt so often around a boy you found the slightest potential? Long stares at Jisung’s profile had you admiring his strikingly handsome features. You shook off the unusual thought, “what about your roommate? You two haven’t hit it off yet?”

Jisung shrugged and looked around as if expecting his roommate to be wandering around him. He relaxed and stood by your side to wait for the lecture doors to open with leaving students. “Not exactly. Chenle’s a bit loud, a little weird too. He sleeps on silk pillows with his initials embroidered on them and has fancy cutlery.”

Laughter and more laughter filled the gaps with Jisung. It was the most refreshing feeling to be around, something you never knew you missed. Everyone was too busy being adults or experiencing wild, mature adventures. There was no room for innocence or child’s play. For a brief moment, you forgot about the stress of your future and wanted to bathe in the smiles that Jisung provided.

After the long boring lecture and a whole hour of Jisung performing pen tricks, he practically begged you to walk him to his next class. Given that your schedule was a bit more free today, with the spin of your heels, you were off giving him random tips about surviving his first year.

“Make sure you avoid walking to class through the center of campus on Wednesdays, unless you want to be harassed by clubs.” You cringed remembering the fateful encounter with your orientation leader from your first year, Jeno, that happened not too long ago. And how he still managed to flyer you after catching up.

Jisung did nothing, but nod aggressively to your advice to mentally note them all. He was overwhelmed, in a good way. However, knowing that he had you by his side, it made him feel all the more better. The realization that you two could actually be friends hit him like bricks. He wanted you to be guiding him, teaching him, bettering him.

“Hey homie!” A familiar, taunting voice called after you. You both perked up and watched as your best friend, Jungwoo, danced his way over to you.

You chuckled at your silly friend, “when did you ever call me homie?”

“When I noticed you standing next to a new friend and I don’t want to be too mean by calling you a loser.” Jungwoo’s happy smile bloomed as he stuck his hand out for Jisung to shake. “I’m Jungwoo, 2nd year Chemical Engineering major.”

Jisung stared at his hand, unsure how to even begin at introducing himself to other people. His only instinct was to throw scissors to Jungwoo’s extended palm, like he was playing a game of rock, paper, scissors. Jungwoo erupted with giggles and jumped at his hand being sandwiched between Jisung’s fingers. You, also, laughed at the awkward boy’s action.

“I like him.” Jungwoo patted Jisung’s stiff shoulder, causing Jisung to smile at his statement. “First year?”

“What gave it away?” You asked, eyeing Jisung with a matter of fact attitude.

“The lanyard dangling from his back pocket.” Jungwoo crossed his arms and joined you at your side. Jisung quickly stuffed the rest of his exposed lanyard into his pocket to refrain from being a first year stereotype.

The lecture doors opened with a bustling blast of people pouring out. You gave Jisung a warm touch on his arm, which he blushed unknowingly at. “Welcome to college, Jisung. We’re hanging out tomorrow because I said so.”

It was almost difficult for Jisung to stop smiling around you. He nodded and waved goodbye to both you and Jungwoo. A small thanks was all you heard before he disappeared inside.

Sighing, you and Jungwoo began heading towards any source of food. “Jisung, first year and undeclared major. He’s a family friend of mine.”

“He’s cute. You two look great together.” He winked. You pushed at Jungwoo’s arm playfully to rid any romantic thoughts. Though, it would be an absolute lie you weren’t already having some of your own. Maybe not entirely romantic, but more in a sense that you endearingly cared for him more than you had anticipated.

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Escape

Summary: The Red Room haunts you, from the moment you stepped foot inside to long after you’ve left. Truth is, you don’t think there is any escaping it.

Warnings: 18+ Violence, Depression, Mentions of Death, Smut

Chapter 12

****** 

A lab. A safehouse. A barn. A warehouse. Hell you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d ended up in a empty field. But a diner? You didn’t expect to be here. 

Scott, Steve, and Natasha seemed more interested in the Doctor. 

You can’t say you’re shocked. After the very obvious complications he was having before, you figured he’d end up fixing it. Seeing the Hulk so, human, was different but not surprising.

“Come on, I feel like I'm the only one eating.” He nudges the plate towards you and Natasha,“ try some of that. Have some eggs.” 

You raise an eyebrow at the people at the table before looking at the plate. With a shrug, you grab a fork and eat some eggs. Finding that they taste pretty good, you eat some more.

Natasha smiles a little at you, shaking her head and then looking at Bruce.

“I’m so confused.” Scott is the first to speak.

Bruce nods,“ these are confusing times.”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean.”

With a sigh, Bruce says,“ no, I get it. I'm kidding! I know. It's crazy. I'm wearing shirts now.”

You can’t help but chuckle at that. Of all the confusing things that’s going on with the man, wearing clothes isn’t that big a deal. 

“Yeah!” Scott exclaims,“ wh- How? Why?” He frowns.

A somber expression takes over Bruce’s face,“ five years ago, we got our asses beaten. Except it was worse for me. Because I lost twice. First, Hulk lost, then Banner lost. Then, we all lost.”

There’s no part of you that could one hundred percent understand what Bruce had felt during all of that. Still, if it hurt you to lose to Thanos, you know it’s so much worse for him.

“No one blamed you, Bruce.” Your wife tries reassuring him.

Still, he shakes his head,“ I did.” He explains his acceptance of the hulk, briefly mentions the process of doing so, and expresses his pride of becoming this better version of himself. 

You have to admit that it is nice to see that he’s doing better. 

Conversation stops at the presence of three little kids. They take a picture with Bruce and then get into a small spat with Scott before leaving. 

Eventually Steve directs the conversation back to the important topic. Only for Bruce to point out that’s a little above his paygrade. 

“You managed to pull this off. I remember a time where this seemed pretty impossible too.” Natasha encourages. 

Bruce’s eyes watch her, trusting the emotion in her eyes. With one look around the table, taking in Scott and Steve’s hopeful expressions, he agrees to come back to the compound to try. 

Still you all don’t leave until Bruce is finished eating. You’d helped put away some of the food, eating some more eggs and a couple sausages but steering clear of the overly large pancakes.

Minutes later you’re all climbing into the Quinjet. Natasha and Steve both head to the pilots seats leaving you, Bruce, and Scott behind. 

You’re already sitting and paging through a book noncommittally when Bruce decides to join you. He sits in the two chairs beside, resting back on the chair and the wall.

“Sup Doc.” You greet, shutting the book and looking up at him.

“Hey Y/N, how you been?” 

A thoughtful expression passes your face,“ truthfully better than ever.”

“That’s great.” He nods, looking over at Natasha,“ I’m guessing married life is treating you well.”

Your eyes fall over to your wife as well,“ it has it’s ups and downs. But I couldn’t be happier.”

While there use to be a longing look on his face you can now see how he’s simply happy that Natasha is happy. 

Conversation between you two shifts from Natasha to the “time heist” as Scott calls it.

“Be honest, do you think this’ll work?” You ask him quietly. 

A frustrated hand runs up his face and through his hair,“ there’s a chance.”

“Bruce. There’s a ‘chance’ to fix climate change. There’s a ‘chance’ to solve poverty. I’m gonna need this to be a little more than a chance for me to trust this plan.”

“Sorry Y/N, that’s all I can give you.” 

Shaking your head, you slouch in your seat.

Thoughts race through your mind, all of them connected to one single thought. You don’t want Natasha to get hurt again. 

Losing the first time shook her, nearly destroyed her and you’d struggled to pick up the pieces it left her in. At times you knew that even though she took comfort in your presence and she appreciated you being there, it wasn’t enough. And as much as you hate to admit it, you still aren’t enough. 

Natasha loves you and you’d never deny or doubt that but you’d never be able to replace or even fill the gap of the family she’d lost. Brothers and sisters, her friends and partners. 

You see the hope filling her and the last thing you want is for her to be let down. Essentially having to lose all over again. 

By the time you get to the compound the sun is setting. 

With the sky painted in shades of yellow and red, you decide to go to the roof. A slight breeze makes it just barely chilly so you continue on, sitting yourself on the roof’s ledge and looking out over the lake.

Taking a deep breath, you sort through your thoughts.

Admittedly you start to feel bad, almost upset with yourself. It’s so incredibly selfish of you to prioritize Natasha over the rest of the universe. You’re not wishing that the world stay this way but you’ve managed to have more than you could’ve ever wanted and the prospect of an even better future with Natasha hangs in the balance of this plan. 

You can’t help but think that you’ve gone from one extreme to the other. In the past you’d completely disregarded your desires, so much so that you allowed yourself to be used by HYDRA and the KGB. And now you’re so sure of what you want that you’re borderline willing to leave things the way they are. 

In truth, all you need is assurance. You need a guarantee that this will work with little to no consequences. Natasha needs to be safe from any possible downfalls. Your new found friends and family can’t be in harms way at all. It’d be ideal to save yourself. 

Part of you knows that if you have to sacrifice yourself to ensure Natasha gets everything she could ever want, you will. Insane really, since your point is to not lose her, but if it meant her happiness it’d be worth it. 

Lost in thought, you don’t pay attention to the door that opens and shuts. Nor do you anticipate the presence of the blonde behind you.

“I have to say, I’m surprised you’ve been so quiet about all of this.”

Turning around, your eyes trail over Steve’s tall and muscular form. You sigh and face forward again.

Steve moves to sit beside you,“ I didn’t miss what you said at Tony’s. And I don’t know much of anything about your past, still I assume you’ve gone through a lot so risking what you have now with Natasha isn’t ideal.”

You scoff,“ ideal? No Steve, it’s not an option. Don’t get me wrong, I want to help bring everyone back, I lost people too, but we don’t even know if this will work. Tony had a point, multiple ones but mainly, what if we screw everything up even worse than it already is.”

“We can’t focus on the negative side of this-”

“You won’t even consider the negative side. Optimism is nice but not blind optimism. If you expect me to even begin to trust this plan I need you to be realistic.” 

His crystal blue eyes follow you as you stand and step away from the ledge. He follows, crossing his arms as he stands in front of you. 

“Be real with me and yourself, right here, right now. How confident are you that this works?”

Instead of an instant reply, Steve takes a deep breath, his shoulders moving as he releases it. You don’t miss the way his fingers rapidly tap against his arm.

Finally he speaks,“ I can’t promise that things won’t change. I can’t promise that there won’t be risks. All I know is that we have to try, if we don’t we’re no better than every bad guy I’ve crossed.” 

A moment of silence. You process his words, observe the honesty in them and even the slight bit of hesitation that displays in his eyes before he looks away. 

“Look, Steve, you’re a good guy and you’re a hero through and through. I’m sure there’s no shortage of sacrifices you’d make to save the world, but,” running a hand through your hair, you take the smallest of steps forward,“ if there’s even the slightest chance that something happens to Natasha I’m out.”

He looks up at you, not expecting what’s been implied by you. 

Yes, you’re willing to try. No, you didn’t expect to cave to quickly. You blame those steely blue eyes.

A breath of relief leaves him and he nods. With that established between you two, you leave the roof. 

Inside the compound you go your separate ways, your destination being the lab. 

Surprisingly, you don’t find Bruce there, which you’re partly grateful for. Being left with your thoughts now isn’t so bad, in fact it helps you work better. 

Your current project is a new suit for Natasha. 

It’s inspired by Tony’s suit. The nanotech sits in the Black Widow symbol of her belt and is activated with a simple touch. You made sure to keep it as form fitting as possible so it doesn’t hinder her speed or agility. 

Instead of repulsor beams like Tony’s suit, it shoots electricity, mimicking the voltage of her widow’s bites. You maintained the same durability, adaptability, and power that Tony’s suit has. Not being as clever as Tony the A.I. you created was simply named Assist and doesn’t stand for anything.

Lastly ensuring that it’s fitted with Natasha’s go to weapons: a staff/batons and the standard pistols. 

You’re in the lab well into the early hours of the next morning and the lack of your presence isn’t unnoticed by Natasha.

Despite having been in deep conversation with Bruce and Scott about the upcoming time travel test, she went to search for you.

She hadn’t realized how much she actually missed your presence until she started looking for you. When she finally gets to your lab there are tears in her eyes. 

Her sniffle grabs your attention. You’re instantly on alert, completely disregarding your work to focus all your attention on your girl.

“What’s wrong love?” You reach for her hands, slowly just in case physical comfort isn’t what she wants.

Instead she steps into your body, wrapping her arms around you and pressing her face against your chest.

“I miss you.” 

You just barely catch her words but your heart tugs at the sad tone of her voice. 

“I didn’t mean to be away from you so long Tash, I’m sorry.” Stroking her hair, you glance at the clock that reads three eleven.“ How about we get to bed yeah?”

She nods against you,“ can we get ice cream first?”

With a chuckle you agree to it.

A couple hours later, after ice cream and a much needed sleep, you regroup in the empty hangar of the compound. 

You clutch a cup of coffee in your hands, standing behind Natasha and away from the equipment. The sun pours light through the floor to ceiling windows, agitating your groggy state, as the coffee has not taken full effect yet.

Your forehead rests on your wife’s shoulder as she taps away on the tablet in her hands, simultaneously speaking with Scott and Bruce about the plan. 

Eventually they’re ready, running a check of all operations. For some reason you feel like they’re missing something but your brain isn’t functioning at full speed just yet.

Who’s idea was it to do this at seven in the morning?

“Okay, here we go.” Bruce speaks up, causing you to stand up straight and sip your coffee.“ Time travel test number one. Scott, fire up the uhhh, the van thing.” 

Taking a quick second to gather yourself, you roll your shoulders, and move to stand beside Natasha just before Steve comes back in, letting you all know that he’s set the breakers and back up generators.

“Good. 'Cause if we blow the grid, I don't wanna lose Tiny here in the 1950's.”

A laugh falls from you before you can stop it but you instantly shut up as Natasha levels you with a look. Then she, Steve, and Scott look at Bruce concerned.

“Excuse me?” Scott ceases to adjust his suit.

Natasha shakes her head,“ he's kidding. You can't say things like that!” She tries to give a reassuring smile to Scott.

“Jus- it was a bad joke.” Bruce fumbles, obviously having meant it.

“You were kidding, right?” Natasha asks after Scott turns away.

“I have no idea. We're talking about time travel here. Either it's all a joke, or none of it is.” The green man whispers before looking to Clint,“ we're good! Get your helmet on, Scott. I'm gonna send you back a week, let you walk around for an hour, then bring you back in 10 seconds. Makes sense?”

Safe to say Scott is confused by that, but a little bit of encouragement from Steve has him ready to go. 

With wide eyes, you watch the failure of a time travel test. Scott went in, only to come back as a child, an old man, and then a baby. Natasha and Steve look on in shock, before panicking and telling Bruce to bring adult Scott back.

“Y/N when I say so, kill the power.”

Nodding, you head over to the lever. Bruce presses some buttons then shouts now. You flip it and normal Scott reappears.

“Time travel!” Bruce exclaims, arms wide.

Everyone looks at him.

Shaking your head, you start to walk away,“ I need more coffee.”

Natasha starts to follow after you as Steve leaves to get air. 

Once the two of you are in the kitchen and you’ve refilled your coffee, you turn to Natasha.

Her emerald eyes look incredibly tired and she’s slouching. You’d thought this new found plan would ease her stress but she seems to be fairing exactly as she had in the past weeks.

You set your cup down, walking closer to her, and sliding your hands over her hips.

“I feel stupid for asking but, how are you?”

She leans into you,“ I don’t want to think what’ll happen if this doesn’t work.”

You nod, pressing a kiss to the top of her head,“ then don’t. There’s no reason to give up hope just yet.”

It’s quiet for mere seconds, and then-

“Well aren’t you two the perfect picture of love.”

Tony’s voice never ceases to make you roll your eyes. If you didn’t already like him you’re sure you’d have punched his cheeky ass a long time ago.

“Of course we are.” You look over at him,“ what’re you doing here?’

“Just sticking around so I can take all the credit when we save the universe.” He smirks.

Natasha perks up at that, suspecting that the genius has figured it out. His seemingly permanent knowing and cocky smirk tells you that he did.

******

Taglist: @thelastavenger-3000 @aaron-despair @messuhp@izalesbean @bvb-bk @username23345 @sighsam@confusinggemini612 @natasha-danvers @rileigh519@higherfurther-romanova  @dynnealberto

[whathappenedtomyweekend]

It’s Just A Spark Ch. 9 - Night Shifts

Gobber couldn't believe his eyes. What had originally started as a casual glance out the window had spiralled and now consisted of him staring down at the sight on the street in front of the fire department in parts fascination and parts complete and utter disbelief.

There he was, his colleague who might as well be his own son, the boy with the gapped front teeth and the scraped knees, the young man who was so busy reading that he forgot to eat sometimes, and the man who had told him, only a few months ago, that if his fate was to become an old cat lady it would be fine with him - beaming at the young woman facing him. She had blonde hair, tied up to a ponytail and was dressed, similarily to him, in sports clothes. They were still talking as they came to a halt in front of the building, both smiling at each other.

And of course, Gobber knew that this was Astrid Hofferson.

He watched Hiccup - Hiccup - grin down at her and gently press his lips to her cheeck (Gobber almost had a heart attack), then shortly hug her and turn around to walk up to the building, still grinning from ear to ear.

Well. Gobber remembered the first time the young woman had set her stove on fire. He remembered the exact expression Hiccup had had on his face and the way his eyes were flickering to the side when he'd mumbled something about his ears only being "this red, Gobber, because we were just near a fire, it was hot in there" after they had already been outside again for at least five minutes.

Gobber tried to act normal as the door opened and closed with a click.

"Morning!"

"Well, well, well, look who finally decided to show up to work!"

Hiccup placed his phone and headphones onto his desk, ducking away from Gobber's prosthetic arm.

"Sorry, I got held up."

"Yeah, I could see you getting held up alright - in the arms of a certain young blonde, I believe?"

He watched Hiccup's cheek flush and laughed, giving him an enthusiastic pat on the back.

"Was about time, boy! You were one arm and three cats away from becoming me."

Hiccup snorted, "Yeah, right. Don't think having a girlfried will deter me from adapting that lifestyle."

There were not many things you could get past Gobber without noticing. And words, no matter how fast- or low-spoken were definitely not on that list.

"Girlfriend now, eh?"

"I, uh - I mean - oh, man."

Hiccup looked at him, a bewildered expression on his face as if he'd only realised this for himself just now, his hands already flying up to his hair.

"Ooh my God, Gobber, she's my girlfriend. She's my girlfriend," he repeated as if this alone had been something he had never thought to actually be possible.

"Oh, boy," the older man chuckled upon seeing Hiccup's disbelief change to surprise to complete and utter joy.

"Astrid. Hofferson. Is. My girlfriend."

"Yeah, how'd you do that? I'm surprised you're able to hold up a conversation with that vocabulary you've got yourself, boy."

Hiccup had not really thought about this earlier when Astrid had accompanied him back to work instead of his apartment, but now, standing in front of his locker next to the bathroom, his only options for the monthly meeting with the mayor and comissioners a crumpled-up old shirt with Toothless' handiwork at the hem and gym shorts, he regretted not having stopped by at his apartment prior to this.

The young man uttered a curse on his breath but knew he didn't really have time to explore any further options.

So he quickly grabbed the shirt, returned to the bathroom and pulled it over his head, stepped out of his towel and put the remaining clothes on.

He couldn't wait until this day was over. The morning run had energised him, but a nine-hour response-shift ahead and a two-hour meeting were already pretty high on the list of things that would use up that energy.

Thinking about said run - or rather, its aftermath- , however, sent his heart spiralling and made him grin at his reflection in the department's bathroom mirror.

She'd said yes. To being his girlfriend, essentially. Or had she? Had she misunderstood him and had only agreed to an extended status of "just dating"?

Oh, God. Suddenly Hiccup didn't feel all that confident anymore.

"Okay," He leaned on the edges on the sink and stared at his ruffled, still wet-haired reflection. "Stop it. Get it together. Just ask her tomorrow, just to clarify."

Yes. Just to make sure they were on the same page.

His thoughts went - in an effort to take his mind off the question of their 'status' - over the preparations left to be made for their date. He'd have to sweep the flat over before 15:30, and clean the bathroom thoroughly. Also maybe dust off the shelves. Get something to wear - oh, no. He remembered his last confrontationnwith his wardrobe situatuon.

This was their fifth date.

He was out of shirts.

Shit.

"Hey, Gobber, you ready to-" Hiccup broke off when he saw Snotlout at his desk, waving at him.

"Yo."

Hiccup stepped in further, furrowung his brows in confusion.

"Where's Gobber?"

"Went to get lunch."

"What? The meeting's in five minutes, and we're already running late! When did he leave? Did he say anything about when-"

"Woah, take it easy, cuz," his cousin interrupted him lightly and spun his chair around. "Gobber's been late to these meetings since they exist."

Hiccup exhaled and chuckled, sitting down next to the dark-haired man.

"Okay, true. How's your morning been?"

"It was okay. Pretty chill. I took Hooky out for our morning walk - did you know Fish is out of town?"

Hiccup's head perked up. "He is?"

"Yeah, the café's all closed up."

"Huh. No, he didn't mention," Hiccup leaned on his desk and squinted his eyes at his cousin. "He usually always lets us know."

"Maybe something urgent came up and he's not ready to talk about it yet?" Snotlout wondered aloud and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. "I hope he comes back soon, I could kill for a plate of his waffles."

Hiccup smirked. "He'd kiss you again if you told him that in person."

He knew his cousin would never admit it if he asked, but it was quite obvious, even to Hiccup. Snotlout himself blushed, grumbling,

"It happened once, okay? And it obviously didn't mean anything to him, since he never brought it up again. SO," he pushed himself back and reached for his water bottle, fiddling with the lid with some degree of suppressed fury. "I'm not going to either."

"Alright, sorry."

His cousin sighed, his mood lightening up again. "It's okay. Just don't … tell him."

"You have my word."

"Speaking of which, you finished up those reports from last night?"

Hiccup chuckled. "Yup. I'm back on track." His cousin smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Despite being 'busy'?"

"Shut up."

He laughed. "Come on, nobody ever tells me anything anymore."

"Good," Hiccup shot back indignantly but grinned. "I'm not really keen on all of Berk knowing about it."

"So what's 'it'?"

"Honestly? You think I'm that unattentive?"

"When you're drawing, yeah."

Something about the smirk that was plastered on his cousin's lips seemed fishy to Hiccup. He did not like this grin.

"Scott," he drawled. "What did you do?"

His cousin's grin widened. "Oh, I did nothing. I just *sat* there. Listen, all I'm sayin' is, that maybe you should pay more attention to who else is in the room in the evening."

Hiccup blushed immediately as he remembered being in the common room in the evening, reading until he had absentmindedly started sketching - a pair of eyes, grey on paper but blue in memory, lips, just slightly parted, outlines of a face - "Oh, God," he spluttered. "I - it wasn't - I mean."

Snotlout laughed and nudged his cousin's shoulder. "Hey, I'm not judging."

He offered Hiccup an amicable smile and grinned when his cousin slumped his shoulders and returned the smile.

Who'd have thought? Seven years ago he'd have never even dreamed of sharing the same job with Hiccup and spending most of their shifts together, let alone having normal, amiable conversations and sharing jokes.

Gobber's voice from outside interrupted the dark-haired man's thoughts.

"Come on, Hiccup, we're gonna be late!" Gobber suddenly shouted from the hall, making Snotlout laugh and offer Hiccup a fistbump.

"Alright, I'm coming, just - stay where you are!" Hiccup shouted back rolled his eyes at his cousin, who only grinned and shrugged.

"Alright, I think we're done here, everyone. Dismissed," Stoick Haddock concluded and closed his folder, nodding at the men seated around him.

Hiccup sighed inwardly. The monthly check-in was something that had to be done, he knew that, but these meetings could be both lengthy and boring.

He'd tried to excuse his attire and had only got a few amused looks and some raised eyebrows; 'Could've been worse,' Hiccup thought and got up. At the sight of his father gathering up his files he remembered his post-meeting-agenda and quickly tapped his father's shoulder, lowly asking, "Dad, can I … talk to you for a sec?"

"Of course," Stoick nodded at the other men and led his son off to the side. "Excuse us."

His eyes met Hiccup's expression. The young man leaned in and murmured, "Hey, Dad, listen, um. I need you to do me a favour, please."

His father raised his eyebrows but Hiccup didn't fail to notice the faint smile playing on his lips. He sighed and inhaled deeply, shortly raking a hand through his hair.

"Oh man, I can't believe I'm actually saying this - Dad, I need a shirt."

"You need a … a what?"

His father looked at him, speechless. Hiccup nodded sharply and elaborated, "Yes, a shirt. Any colour, I just need - listen, Dad, Astrid is coming over tomorrow and I've run out of shirts, and I can't just wear the same over and over again, so - please. I just need a shirt or two, button up or down, you decide, I'm desperate."

To his suprise and utter mortification, his father let out a whoop of laughter, starting him and the other men in the room.

"She's really got you bedazzled, aye, son?"

"I - what?"

"I thought I'd never see the day you'd ask me to help you with your shopping!" his father bellowed, still laughing. "Oh, this is great, son, I've been waiting for this my whole life-"

"Dad, don't you think you're … overreacting, a bit-"

"-and I will not waste this opportunity. Consider your wardrobe situation saved."

With this he strode past him, muttering something about "my boy's finally getting his life together" and "wrapped around his finger, completely head over heels", leaving an abashed Hiccup and chuckling collegues behind.

"Well, you did it," Gobber laughed and patted his back, making Hiccup stumble forward involuntarily. "he will not rest until he's got you a month's worth of clothing."

Hiccup groaned. "What have I done, Gobber?"

"Made him the most excited I've seen him in years, you did," Gobber smiled, his expression gentle now. "Come on, let's get back to the department, lover-boy."

"Please don't call me that."

"Romeo?"

"Tragic death and stupid as fuck."

"That a yes?"

"No."

It hit Hiccup like a bolt of lightning. He'd forgotten to fill up Toothless' bowl when he'd left the house this afternoon.

"Shit. Shitshitshitshit," he spat through gritted teeth as he frantically searched for options. He couldn't leave the department now, he was the only one in.

Okay. What else? Call someone. It was at times like these Hiccup wished his entire support system wasn't built on people working in the administrative departments.

And Fishlegs was out of the city.

Then it dawned on him. The only person he could hope to be home.

His hands had already picked up his phone and clicked on the number.

"Hiccup?"

He exhaled. "Oh, thank God. Astrid, do you - do you have time? Are you at home?"

Her answer was hard to make out over the background-voices and music.

"I'm on my shift, why?"

His heart sunk.

"Okay, nevermind then-"

"Hiccup? Hello - hang on, I'll go outside, just give me one sec."

The noise faded.

Her voice got clearer as she grumbled, "You'd think people'd wait for a Friday 'til they hit the bar."

He chuckled. "I'd honestly love to be somewhere else right now, so I can't blame them."

Astrid snorted and finally there was nothing blocking out her voice anymore. "Trust me, you don't wanna be here. Anyways, what's up? Something wrong? You never call this late."

"Oh - yeah, I actually … Astrid, can you do me a favour?"

She didn't even hesitate and her answer let a wave of warmth and affection wash over him.

"What do you need and where should I be?"

"At my apartment. Or rather, first here and then my apartment."

Astrid furrowed her brow, for a second asking herself if this was some kind of disguise for something else but quickly discarded that thought as Hiccup continued quickly, "I forgot to feed Toothless when I left today and I locked everything, so he can't go out to hunt. Could you pick up my keys and feed him, please?"

She hummed. "Yeah, of course."

Hiccup sighed and smiled. "Thanks, I really owe you one."

Astrid laughed breezily and was apparently making her way back inside. From what he could hear, Pink's 'Raise your glass' was playing and people were screaming.

"No problem," he heard her say over them. "I'll think of something."

He chuckled and leaned on his desk.

"You have until tomorrow."

"Oh, so now there's a deadline for favours?"

"Only for that one."

She laughed again. "Well, maybe it's a project that can't be done overnight."

"Am I still talking to Astrid or Ms Hofferson who just pulled the ultimate teacher-joke on me?"

"Both. Hang on a second."

The sound was muffled since she seemed to be pressing the microphone against herself to block out the sound, but he still heard her distinct voice shout, "Heath, can you tell Al I'm taking my break? Be back in 45."

Another voice answered, loud but friendly, "Sure, don't worry. Gotcha, Stellar!"

Stellar?

The sound was back in its full intensity and so was her voice.

"Alright, I'm heading out. Be there in ten."

"Okay. See you."

Astrid smiled up at the sky. "You know, this isn't even a favour I'm doing you. You're doing me one."

Although she had called it multiple times, Astrid had never been inside the fire department of Berk before.

It looked a bit intimidating in the dark, and she only saw one big window with lights on inside. She squinted her eyes up and into the darkness and registered movement.

A slim figure approached the window, waving at her, chasing a smile across her lips as she waved back. Hiccup's sillhouette disappeared.

Astrid herself made her way into the building and up the staircase to the second floor, where she was greeted by a dark hallway.

A door was pried open, a small ray of light emitting from the crack.

"Astrid?" His face was stuck out of the open door.

"Hiccup? Why's it so dark in here?"

"We're saving up energy."

He was leaning out of the door, supporting his weight by the frame.

Astrid smirked and came to a halt in front of him. He didn't move, just stayed with his eyes fixed on her.

The young woman felt a weird sensation rushing through her stomach as she remembered her dream from a couple of nights ago, which had started just like this, opening a door and -

"You wanna come in for a sec?" he asked and interrupted her thoughts.

Astrid nodded, smiling. "Let's make the workplace situation even."

He laughed and led her inside. The building itself wasn't that big, but the headquarters seemed pretty spacious. There were only three desks inside with multiple screens, and by the wall stood an unsafe-looking plank bed.

"Welcome to my job where we get Sicca Syndrome and a bad back trying to sleep on these," he joked and ran a hand through his hair.

Astrid sat down on the plank bed, wincing as it squeaked and bent violently, making him laugh as he sat down next to her.

Without giving herself much time to hesitate, Astrid leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Do we have enough time for me to ask you what your day looks like?"

He chuckled and gently wrapped his arm around her, trying not to let on that he was shaking slightly, thankful she still had her eyes closed so she wasn't able to see his blush.

"Maybe. We could save that conversation up for tomorrow, though."

She opened her eyes and moved to get up, but Hiccup tightened his grip around her shoulders and grinned lopsidedly.

"That wasn't me trying to tell you to immediately get up. It's …" he hesitated, his blush deepening. "It's, um, really nice sitting like this. With you."

Astrid chuckled lightly and leaned back into him, nuzzling her head into the crook of his neck.

"You're really trying to outdo yourself today, huh?"

Her voice was muffled against his skin, her breath sending sparks down it.

"Is it working?"

Astrid grinned against him. "Yeah."

The young man laughed and tried to calm his heart yet again. To think that only sitting with her head on his shoulder, her lips making direct contact with his skin when she spoke was enough to turn him into a flustered mess. And they hadn't even KISSED yet.

"I'm beginning to regret this."

He froze, his heart dropping immediately. Regret what? This? Her decision from earlier? Being alone with him? Out of a sudden? Somehow?

Of course, his logical side knew better than that and patiently waited for Astrid to continue - his worry got the better of him.

"Why?"

"Because now going back to my shift is going to be really fucking hard."

'Oh. Oh, thank God.' He exhaled and relaxed again.

"Why?" he repeated, feeling stupid.

Astrid closed her eyes again. "Because I'd much rather be here and spend the night with you than going back."

Aaaand there it was. His pulse was sky-rocketing. And she was so close she might actually hear. His blush had deepened even more.

Astrid continued after a pause, "Or you know, I could just crash at your apartment and cuddle with Toothless."

He rasped out a laugh. "If you let me in tomorrow."

Astrid opened her eyes and pursed her lips to hide her smile.

"We'll see."

Hiccup really wanted to kiss her. He wanted to so bad it almost hurt.

Yet, there was something holding him back - the question from earlier. But he didn't want to bring this up now. Especially not since-

"Speaking of Toothless, I should probably get going now."

"Oh, y-yeah! Uh," he uncurled his arm from around her and jumped up, stumbling towards his desk. "Let me just … find the key … uh. Should've probably done that earlier."

"Let me help. I've got a knack for finding things."

She joined him at the desk and grinned when he shot her a short, amused glance.

"You do?"

"Oh, yeah. I found you, so that's one."

Hiccup chuckled and watched her pull out his keys from underneath the printed draft of the day's report and hold it up in front of him, grinning smugly.

"And you say I'm trying to outdo myself?" he muttered, making her laugh.

"Well, now we're even."

He shrugged and grinned. "True. You remember the direction?"

Astrid nodded, leaning against the desk.

"Good. Ah, and uh, mind the door, it always gets stuck, so it's a bit hard to open. Just, uh, throw your entire body weight againt it. At least that's what I do."

She nodded again and smiled up at him. "Jot that down. Anything else? Where's the food?"

"Second left cupboard by the window on the floor. You know, the one with the scratches?"

She snorted as she remembered which one Hiccup was talking about - and it seemed like he was either very forgetful or had a cat that loved to eat.

"Alright, got it."

"Thanks again, Astrid."

Somehow they had ended up facing each other, his hands on her arms.

Hiccup's gaze fell down on his hands and his first instinct was to let go, but Astrid smiled and put her own hands on his arms, squeezing lightly.

"You're welcome. But - by the way, where's everyone else?"

"Oh, Gobber's already home and Scott went for a quick nap down in the living area. He complained that my typing was too loud for him to sleep."

She snorted. "Well, at least you've got the place to yourself, right?"

His hands subconscuiously had wandered to her waist.

"I'd rather not. But I'm a bit picky about the company."

"That so?"

He hummed, his eyes dropping to her lips ever so shortly. He looked like he was almost going to lean down and kiss her - but there was something in his eyes Astrid knew well by now.

Hesitation. Something was holding him back.

Astrid smiled and pulled back slightly.

She'd give him time.

Until then … she stood on her tip toes and kissed his cheek.

"I'm gonna get going now. Don't wanna keep Toothless waiting."

She grinned up at him and was relieved when he returned it.

"Yeah."

She turned to leave but was held back by his voice softly calling out her name.

"Oh, and … Astrid?"

She hummed, turning around, already halways out the door.

With a few steps he had closed the distance between them. His eyes were warm as he gently wrapped his fingers around her left wrist, tugged her closer and pressed a lingering kiss on her forehead.

Astrid's eyes fluttered closed at the contact.

"Stay safe tonight," he whispered, his lips barely grazing her skin before he pulled back.

Astrid opened her eyes again and was met with his open expression and small smile.

She returned it tenfolds and whispered back, "You too."

Then she turned around and took the stairs downstairs.

Fires and people had a lot in common, but most people could be either reasoned with or at least punched (which was her own interpretation). Then again, her boyfriend was not the type to underestimate a thing like a fire.

Astrid stopped, her hand on the doorhandle. Boyfriend. She'd thought 'boyfriend'.

The air was a tinge colder when she stepped outside, but still had the distinct warmth of a summer night.

Well, he was, wasn't he? It was what he'd asked her this morning, wasn't it?

Astrid smiled to herself and maybe the sky, Hiccup's keys clinking in her pocket.

This was a very girlfriend-thing to do, after all.

[kookiebunnii]

🌗 two. confrontation

pairing: jinyoung x vampire!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: n/a

There aren’t a lot of things you have to fear as a vampire. Having superhuman strength, speed, and healing capabilities made you the epitome of an apex predator. Yet for some reason, standing outside of his bedroom window absolutely terrifies you.

You already took a huge risk by waiting three days to go back and finally resolve your mistake. In those three days he could’ve told a number of people, and you would have no real way of tracking them down and wiping their memories too. When you’re done pacing for the hundredth time, you jump up the side of the complex the same way you had three days ago. Throwing the side of your body upwards to grip the ledge of his window, you grit your teeth and once again enter through the slightly opened windowsill.

Silly human, still making the same mistakes after being dinner for a vampire.

This time you land a lot more gracefully, likely because you are not on the verge of insanity this time around. Having fresh blood was working wonders for you. These past few days had not plagued your throat with dull aching like before. Surprisingly, your features were also much less sunken and distraught as if the man you’d preyed on had simultaneously been a fountain of youth. This change wasn’t something you banked on for the long term though. You were still against feeding on people directly.

When you look up, the dark-haired man is sitting at his desk with a book in hand. The light thump of your entrance immediately causes him to set his reading material face down upon the wooden surface. His eyes instinctively find yours, and despite the prickle of fear you feel in your spine, you don’t look away.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

He says this with no semblance of horror or anxiety. Instead, his soothing tone could easily be acceptable if he were commenting about the weather or scolding a pet for finally returning home. It causes you to momentarily forget the whole purpose of your trek here, forgetting the dangers in letting a human remain aware of the existence of vampires.

“You aren’t afraid of me,” you mean it as a statement, an observation based on his responses, but you can’t help the fascination that holds onto the end of your sentence like condensation clinging a cool surface.

He smiles sadly, as if he realizes the same thing you do. Leaning his fingers against his cheek, he whispers, “Yeah. I guess not. Perhaps when you live in fictional worlds as often as I do, the supernatural rarely surprises you.”

Confused by his words, you step forward to move around the border of his mattress and approach his figure that is sitting by the desk. Your footsteps barely make a sound against the floorboards, but what interests you more is the lack of tension in his shoulders even as you stalk closer to him.

When you’re finally in front of him, his chin tilted upwards to maintain eyes contact with your empty gaze, you wonder if this human is formidable or foolish.

“You have no idea what I could do to you.”

The words slip out your lips without much thought, appearing into the air as soon as they’re formed in your head. The acknowledgement that a human could look at you in your entirety without disgust was something completely foreign. While you took the shape of a person, he knew that the essence of you being was far from that. From your oddly pale skin and your predatory movements, he should fear you like the monster you were.

“Maybe not,” he leans his cheek against the palm of his hand and continues to observe you, “I’d love to learn though.”

At this point you have absolutely no idea what to do. Mark had never taught you what to do when a human didn’t fear you, instead seemingly wanting to talk to you. You still had half the mind to wipe his memories, knowing that even if he didn’t tell others, it would still be a huge liability. The less entangled you were with others, the better. Humans included.

“I’m not your friendly neighborhood housecat that you can just chat up every afternoon. Besides, last time we met I drank your blood. Do you need another reason to be scared?” you take a seat on the side of his bed, allowing yourself to finally see him at eye level.

Seemingly ignoring your question, he scoots his chair closer to you. This causes you to momentarily seize up in fear. How funny, a human is making a vampire quake in their boots.

“Do you have a name? Maybe something dreadful like Dracula or Vladimir?” he asks, as if he were speaking to a friend, one he made online whom he was finally meeting in person.

“Pretty such Vladimir is an actual name humans use. That’s an insult to Vladimirs everywhere,” you crack a smile, and the motion feels so awkward on your face that it instantly surprises you.

Sitting back in his seat with a small smile of his own, he crosses his legs and says, “You don’t look quite that fearful when you smile.”

Quickly fixing your features back to the monotonous one you’re used to wearing, you quip, “Don’t get used to it.”

“Sure thing. Can you answer my question now?”

You hesitate, considering your options. It doesn’t matter all that much if you amused him for a bit. You could easily wipe his memories at any time, and he was too weak to stop you even if he tried. He wouldn’t remember anything you told him, so perhaps you could enjoy this brief lull in your journey. It’d been years since you actually spoke to someone about anything beyond the end you were searching for.

“Y/N.”

He looks at you quizzically and you roll your eyes to retort, “Not sure what kind of demonic name you were expecting, but most of us are turned and we keep the names we had before.”

“Turned?” he echoes, and for such a bright guy he was really struggling to connect the dots.

“Most vampires were humans at some point. I don’t know all the lore about how they first came about, but we’re not just born as a monstrosity.”

He considers this briefly before looking at you with a new shine in his dark eyes, “Why did you come back? Looking for another bite?”

You scoff, humored by the way he doesn’t seem to either dislike or like the proposition. It’s almost as if he asked you if you stopped by to borrow another cup of sugar, and you swear there must be something wrong with the man. He’s giving you all the wrong reactions.

“I’m here to wipe your memories. I forgot last time.”

His eyes widen slightly in surprise as he nods and runs a finger under his chin in thought, “So vampires can wipe memories too, that’s interesting.”

“It makes feeding a lot easier. For us and for you,” you fix the cuff of your shirt as you answer his musings.

“Does this happen often? Are the statistics crazy? Something like…one in every three humans gets bit once a week?”

You laugh, and the sudden noise seems to make him jump more than when you catapulted yourself into his bedroom without notice. Once you’re back to just giggling lightly, you notice how embarrassed he looks. This just makes you chuckle all over again.

“I don’t think there’s anything like that, no. Feeding from a live human helps dispel the thirst for a good amount of time,” you say, tilting your head to view him with interest, “You’re a rather curious sort of person, aren’t you?”

He rubs the back of his head shyly before responding, “I guess so. It’s just an interesting experience for me, waking up from a nap to see a woman hovering over me with fangs.”

You give him a lilting smile, “I agree, it must be rather odd.”

“My name is Jinyoung, by the way. I live alone so you definitely picked your prey wisely,” and once again, the nonchalant air about his words intrigues you.

“I don’t think I had much choice. I was practically delirious when I fell through the first open window I saw,” you note, slightly sheepish with your confession.

“Why? Were you sick?” bless his heart, he actually has the audacity to look concerned.

“Nothing like that. I needed blood but the hospital here was too crowded, so you became the lucky victim. Congratulations.”

“Hospital?” he echoes as if he couldn’t fathom why you’d need to be there.

“I don’t like feeding on humans. It’s rather dehumanizing for me. Which, I suppose, must be a rather funny notion coming from a fully-fledged vampire. All hospitals keep some portion of blood bags available for emergency purposes. I like to take some of those when they’re available, and I switch locations frequently to ensure I don’t drain the blood supply,” you explain, looking around his room to absorb the environment as you do so.

There’s a brief pause before he says, “You’re rather kind for a self-described monstrosity.”

If vampires could blush, perhaps that would have been your cue. Sputtering in anxiousness, you quickly blurt, “Kind? You’re actually crazy.”

He gives you a laugh of his own before saying, “You could bite any stray human any day of the week if you wanted to. You could take a whole city’s supply of blood bags if you were feeling particularly mischievous. Yet you do neither.”

You decide not to add anything further, knowing that there isn’t much you could respond with. Perhaps it would be strange for a vampire to take so much care, but it was something you naturally adapted to. Considerations like these were simply habits, and even if it made for a slight inconvenience on your part, you’d lived just fine for the past two centuries. No big deal.

Standing up suddenly to close the small gap between the two of you, you declare, “Well, I’ll have to wipe your memories now.”

He stands up abruptly at this, once again training those deep brown orbs on you. It unnerves you, that the only thing he seemed to fear was forgetting his whole ordeal with you, but you didn’t want to stick around long enough to figure out exactly why it was happening.

“Please don’t.”

You don’t know what to say, a feeling that’s overwhelmed you multiple times this evening. You knew that this was the right thing to do—the easiest thing to do. But why did it feel like such a loss? This human, Jinyoung, could you let him live knowing something dangerous like this?

“There’s no benefit to remembering. Leaving you like this puts me in danger. It’ll put both our peoples in danger,” the words are difficult to get out, but you know that the responsibilities mean more than whatever internal conflict you’re battling.

“I won’t tell anyone. In fact, I don’t even have anyone to tell. I’m not a threat.”

You laugh harshly, running your fingers through your hair. He was asking you to put your faith in a human, of all things, whom you’d just met formally half an hour ago. You might be a little wacky with all the years you’ve spent devoted to ending your immortality, but you weren’t stupid.

“It’ll be better for you too. It’ll be quick and painless. You won’t remember a thing afterwards,” you reach up to brush the side of his hair away from his forehead.

The strands are soft against your skin, and when you rest your fingers against his temple, you can feel the tiny vibrations of his voice when he speaks.

“Let’s make a deal.”

You can’t help but smirk, wondering if you were in some teen webcomic where the main character makes a pact with the devil. There wasn’t anything a human could offer you, especially since you weren’t exactly looking to bargain for souls as the cliché goes.

“Let’s hear it then,” you decide to give yourself, and Jinyoung by extension, a last moment of interaction. You can feel his pulse quicken under your fingers, likely excited by the possibility that you were actually interested in his intentions. Humans are so easy to read.

“You can have my blood. Anytime you want it, I’ll be here. In exchange, let me keep my memories.”

Smiling at him as if he were an innocent and foolish child, you reply, “You’re really giving yourself up like that? Just to remember the countless times your skin is pierced, your blood is drawn, your eyes meet that of a starved vampire? You’re rather masochistic, Jinyoung.”

A slow smile draws itself against his lips, and not even living for more than two hundred years could prepare you for his additional proposition.

“Six months later, I also want you to turn me into a vampire.”  

______________________________________

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[bi-bard]

Invisible String- Dean Winchester

Title: Invisible String

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader

Requested: Nope but PLEASE SEND IN SOME REQUESTS!

Word Count: 2,279 words

Warning(s): Mentions of character death

Summary: (leads up to the end of season 3/beginning of season 4) No one knows how but Dean and (Y/n) always seem to meet each other. (Y/n) isn’t from a family of hunters yet they seem to bump into Dean in every town he moved to. Maybe there’s a reason for that... maybe it takes something terrible to bring that reason to light.

Author’s Note: Inspired by “Invisible String” by Taylor Swift

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

It all started our junior year of high school. I remembered it distinctly. I was the one with the highest grade and got told to work with the new kid on the next project. 

The new kid. Dean Winchester.

Dean... didn’t think he should’ve had to do any of the work. He had been able to get others to do it for him before. I wasn’t having any of it. I snapped at him when I noticed him slacking.

It must have stuck with him. We ended up getting a good grade on the project. He tried to be kinder to me after that. He had been a kind of friend for a while.

Then, he was gone. Without a single word, gone. 

I didn’t end up seeing Dean until the following summer. I had gone to visit my aunt in a state over. She lived on a lake and thought that it would be a great way to spend my summer before I had to apply for college and scholarships and all of that stuff. 

He had been dropped off by a car and ended up on the shore next door. He barely recognized me in my bathing suit, which was far. I had cut my hair and started lifting weights in the hopes that I’d be able to defend myself one day.

The conversation last for hours. He was keeping an eye on his brother, Sam, while we were talking. It was nice to be able to catch up with him again. He just wouldn’t answer where he had gone off to during the school year. 

He stayed at the house next door for another two weeks.

We were both sitting and talking on the shore when a loud and gruff voice yelled for Dean. I turned around to see a man- who I assumed was his dad- directing Sam into the car. Dean got up quickly. 

I followed him, giving him a tight hug. It seemed to catch him off guard. It took him a moment to hug back but he seemed really happy to be getting a hug from someone. He left with a quiet goodbye and his head down.

I didn’t see him again until late into my junior year of college. I had given up any hope of seeing Dean again. Then, my roommate went missing. She went to a party and then never came back after that. I was terrified because I could’ve been next.

I knew something was off when Dean showed up, claiming to be an F.B.I agent. I called him out instantly. Dean was shocked but smiled at me anyways. I hugged him tightly, just needing some comfort.

“How are you holding up,” he asked, after sitting on my couch. I shrugged. “Your roommate wasn’t the first one.”

“What,” I asked. 

“There were other disappearances around here,” he explained. “Their bodies were found torn up. We think we know what it is.”

“Do you mean ‘who’,” I tried to correct him. He shook his head. “Was it a wild animal?”

“No,” Dean sighed. “It was a vampire.”

“Okay,” I let out a sigh, trying not to get angry. “My roommate’s gone and you’re trying to be funny. I need you both to leave.”

“(Y/n)-”

“Leave,” I repeated. “It was nice seeing you.”

I should’ve listened to him. But when you lose someone so close to you, would you believe a man who runs in saying it was a vampire? Or would you think that someone was trying to make light of a really serious situation?

However; I knew I was wrong when I was almost attacked and Dean busted down my door. He had gotten tackled by the creature and I picked up the machete that Dean had dropped.

Dean had managed to shove the vampire so it landed on its back. Without hesitation, I lifted the machete up and brought it down to cut off the thing’s head. I flinched a little when the blood splashed before throwing the machete down.

“Are you okay,” Dean asked, touching my arm. I nodded, not looking away from the corpse. He hugged me tightly, hiding my face. “How did you know to decapitate it?”

“I thought it was a safe bet,” I mumbled. “Take out the head and the whole thing goes down.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “How about you go get in the shower and change? When you come back, it’ll be like nothing ever happened.”

“O-okay,” I replied. 

I went upstairs and did what Dean had told me too.

He was right. I came downstairs and everything was gone. The blood, the machete, the corpse... even Dean. It was almost like I had imagined the whole thing. The only indication that I had actually seen anything was the smell of cleaner and my door, which had been kicked in.

Then, there were another three years. 

Now an active member of the working world, I had noticed something was off with a co-worker of mine. They went to the bathroom and I subtly checked out their cubicle. There was some yellow powder in the corner.

Also, there were a few people missing. I was scared it was going to be like what happened back home 

Oh, and then a familiar-looking F.B.I agent showed up at the office. There was someone with him... holy shit, was that Sam? When did he get so tall? I almost chuckled when they asked to talk to me in an empty conference room.

“Small world,” I commented after the door had shut. Dean chuckled before sitting in the chair next to me. “Is that you, Sam?”

“Nice to see you again, (Y/n).”

“Damn, you’re tall,” I noted. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

“Well, have you seen anything strange,” Dean asked. 

“Yes,” I nodded. He seemed shocked that I was so honest. “Besides the missing co-workers, there’s a guy about two cubicles over from me that has been acting different lately.”

“Did you find anything there?”

“Like...”

“Sulfur-”

“Yes,” I exclaimed. “Sorry, I couldn’t figure out what it was but sulfur is a yellow powder, it makes sense. I found it by his desk.”

“Were there any nights he worked late,” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “About three weeks ago, I asked him if he was heading out but he said he had last-minute work to do. I thought it was weird but it wasn’t my place to question him.”

“Thank you,” Dean said before standing up. I stood up with him and hugged him. 

“We keep meeting, Winchester,” I chuckled.

“Maybe it’s fate,” he joked in my ear before going to step back. 

“Good luck,” I waved before going to head back to my desk.

It wasn’t another three years until I saw Dean after that, I saw him a few days later. I had been sitting in my living room, reading a book when someone knocked on my door. Dean stood there in his normal jeans, shirt, and jacket with a small grin on his face. 

“I just wanted to stop by and thank you for your help,” he said. “We caught the demon because of you?”

“Sulfur equals demon,” I asked.

“Sulfur plus disappearances plus strange behavior does usually equal demon,” Dean replied. I nodded before chuckling. “I umm... you’re a natural at all of this.”

“What is ‘this,’“ I asked. 

“My family... hunts... things,” he explained. “We hunt monsters.”

“So that’s why you were always moving?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “And then we kept meeting. And you killed that vampire and helped us with that demon... you are a natural hunter. I know I can’t ask you to abandon everything and join Sam and me but I figured I’d let you know that the option is there.”

“Can you teach me to actually hunt and not just get lucky about it,” I asked. 

“Definitely.”

“Okay.”

“That’s it,” Dean asked. “You’re just gonna accept right away?”

“Either I accept now or we meet over another monster trying to kill me or people around me,” I replied. “I don’t want another multiple-year gap, Dean.”

“Oh.”

I smiled and looked down for a second. With a small moment of confidence, I leaned forward and kissed him softly. He moved closer to me and put a hand on my back and a hand on the door frame. 

“Come on,” I mumbled after pulling away. “You can help me pack. I am not leaving with one set of clothes.”

“Okay,” he nodded, following me inside. 

--Time Skip--

One year. That’s what I got with Dean. One year of hunting and staying in crappy motels and sometimes eating the crappy food that he somehow survived on. One year of being loved unconditionally and protecting each other.

I wouldn’t trade that year for anything. 

The only thing I wanted to get rid of was the memory of him getting dragged to hell. It haunted me. I couldn’t sleep. I could barely eat. I was pretty much useless when it came to hunting after that.

I ended up going home. Sam had dropped me off. I never unpacked completely. I had suitcases sitting in my room, a bag full of books, and a backpack of toiletries and supplies. I just wanted to go back to normal.

I thought I had... for about four months... and then a man in a trench coat and suit showed up on my doorstep.

“Um... how can I help you,” I asked awkwardly. He looked confused. 

“(Y/n),” he said.

“How do you know my name,” I went tense, ready to jump for one of the many weapons I had in my house.

“It’s me... Castiel,” he furrowed his eyebrows. “Oh my god... you don’t remember. They wiped your memory.”

“Who did? Who are you?”

“I’m Castiel, an angel,” he explained. “You’re (Y/n), an angel... a guardian angel specifically.”

“I’m calling the cops,” I sighed. 

“No,” Castiel mumbled. Before I could react, he put two fingers to my forehead and we were in a warehouse or barn of some form. “Now, look.”

He pointed at the wall behind me before putting some distance between the two of us. I jumped at the lightning but caught sight of the wings in the shadow.

“Holy shit,” I put my hands over my mouth. “Okay, okay. Who am I supposed to be a guardian angel to?”

“Dean Winchester,” he answered.

“Well, I fucked that up,” I mumbled.

“I understand why,” Castiel said. “I wasn’t aware that they had wiped your memory. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s why we kept meeting,” I said. “I was supposed to stay with him and protect him.”

“You couldn’t keep him from making that deal.”

“I didn’t even think about it.”

“We can fix this.”

“How?”

“I’ll teach you.”

--Time Skip--

“Stay here,” Cas directed me to the corner of a room. “You may overwhelm him. We need to approach this carefully.”

“Okay,” I nodded, practically shaking from nerves. 

I watched the entire interaction closely. Dean looked scared and nervous and confused. I wanted to help him.

“So you just yanked me out of hell,” Dean asked.

“No,” Cas shook his head before looking at me. I took that as a signal to move forward. “I just taught (Y/n) how to do it.”

“What,” Dean looked at me in shock. I felt tears in my eyes as I looked at him. Another flash of lightning went off, showing Dean both mine and Cas’s wings. “Holy shit.”

“To be fair, I only knew after you were gone,” I explained. “Heaven apparently wiped my memory before shoving me at a vessel. I grew up thinking I was a human.”

“You pulled me out of hell?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “It’s part of my job description.”

Dean ran over and hugged me. I felt myself breakdown. I was finally able to hug him again. Four months and he was back.

“I missed you so much,” I mumbled. “I’m so happy that you’re back.”

“I missed you too,” he said. “I... I love you.”

“I love you too,” I placed a hand in his hair.

“I’m guessing I should go,” we both looked over a Castiel. 

“Wait,” I stepped away from Dean. “I’m still new to this. How am I supposed to know what to do?”

“I’ll be there to help you,” he promised. “Also, you should be able to use your grace to help him. You know what to do. You just have to do it.”

“Thank you,” I nodded. Cas nodded back at and in a flash, he was gone.

“Come on,” Dean grabbed my hand. I turned to look at him again. “Baby’s waiting outside.”

“One second,” I mumbled. He furrowed his eyebrows at me. “God, you’re clueless.”

I stepped over and kissed him softly. Dean smiled against my lips and wrapped his arms around my waist. I pulled away and smiled before kissing his forehead.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” I grabbed his hand and started walking. “Come on, I want to get back on the road.”

“So do I,” Dean replied before pretty much dragging me to the car. “Plus, Sam’s waiting for food in a motel and is probably losing his shit.”

“How did he look,” I asked. I hadn’t seen him since he dropped me off at home. 

“He’s getting better.”

“He has an older brother to whip him back into shape,” I joked before jumping into the passenger seat. “Oh, Baby, I’ve missed you.”

“That’s exactly when my first reaction was.”

“I’m telling you... we’re connected by destiny.”

“And whoever’s calling the shots up there,” Dean chuckled before starting the car. 

It was really nice to be home. 

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