#count as a secret. and what is a secret id actually be fine with sharing. that's one I guess

[ratwars]

Tell me a secret ;p

I investigated the shit out of anyone I've ever been in the talking stages with way back when I was dating because to say I don't trust ppl is an understatement.

Like digging up all their accounts going back years looking into all their friends, pulling them (the person I was talking to, not the friends) up on the damn county clerks website down to their parking tickets finding all their old addresses and commiting things to memory in case I caught them in a lie (like that would be my excuse to dip). This was before those records aggregate sites existed too so it was work 😔

Like I know ppl will run background checks before meeting ppl irl sometimes like for safety and that's maybe more normal but my ass was like 2 years back in someone's posting history on a gaming forum trying to make sure this person never said anything that would piss me off. I was pre-learning the sibling and cousin's names in case something didn't match up "just in case". I was dead ass serious too but I did not tell anyone (except my current partner but tbh it was years and years into us being married at that point)

Ask game

[padfootagain]

Just Fine

Hi everyone! Here I come with a new request for my Comeback Event! This is actually the last request!! I've completed the whole list! Thank you to all of you who participated in the event, and I hope you enjoyed the fics I wrote!

This was sent in by an anon: “hi!! I hope you are doing great 💕 can i request Sirius Black, soulmates au, wounded character leads to confession xx”

Thank you so much for your request, anon! I hope you enjoy what I’ve written for you!

****

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Warnings: Violence, graphic depiction of torture, main character being severely wounded

Summary: You knew you should have never accepted this mission Dumbledore gave you. But someone had to go, and if risks were to be taken, you might as well be the one taking them. But when you are badly wounded, Sirius can’t help but confess one of his most precious secrets…

Word Count: 6270 ( a little long… oops?)

You never looked at the compass that adorned the skin of your left forearm.

A circle and an arrow engraved into your skin in black ink. Or well, what looked like black ink, but marks like these coloured the arms of babies since their birth. A compass to point every individual on the planet in the right direction. A compass to make sure that everyone on Earth would have a chance to find their other half, the person who would spend their entire life loving them, their soulmate…

True love. Follow the arrow on your skin. Follow it to the end of the world, if necessary. Find your soulmate. Find this other piece of your soul, this individual the Universe has appointed to you. Love them. Marry them. Be happy. Build your life around them, and if you’re lucky, you’ll leave this world with them too. Holding each other for your last shared breath. Eyes closing together for the last time.

Find them. Follow the arrow on our skin and be happy forever.

You looked at the bandage you cautiously wrapped on your forearm every day.

Bullshit. All of it.

Find your soulmate, be happy… no one was happy, these days. Finding your soulmate, that didn’t mean being happy these days, it meant being weak. A weakness… you couldn’t afford that king of things. You had a war to fight. A battle to win. Another risk to take…

You gathered some cold water into your palms and rinsed your face with it. Cold, invigorating…

As you looked up and caught your reflection in the mirror, you noticed the dark bags under your eyes. You still had a bruise colouring your jawline and a scratch across your cheekbone. Signs left by your latest mission…

And around your left forearm, a white bandage that you placed there every morning, making sure to not look at the compass engraved on the inside of your arm. You didn’t want to know. You didn’t want to know where your soulmate was, you didn’t want to know if they were close or not, you didn’t want to find them. What was the point? In a world at war, it would only bring you sorrow and fear. No… no, better not know about it. Ignorance was better than sadness.

Because, if you were to be honest with yourself, you were lying when you pretended that you didn’t want to find your soulmate to avoid worrying about them all the time. Actually, you worried about them already.

If your soulmate died, the arrow on your skin would disappear. If they were dying, the inky mark would slowly fade, till it would be gone for good. And you didn’t want to know. If they were gone already, if this crazy war had killed them before it could kill you, you didn’t want to know. You reckoned that you weren’t strong enough… You already had to take in the violence, the risks, the fears… you couldn’t carry on your shoulder the weight of losing all hopes of finding the person you would love most on this Earth too. It would be too painful. After all, if you took so many risks, if you accepted the most dangerous missions, if you were ready to die out there, it was mostly because of this stranger you loved already.

You had never met them. You didn’t know their name, their identity, their favourite colour or even if they were a wizard or a muggle. You didn’t care. You loved them already. And if you wanted to have a chance to taste this happy life this compass promised you, then you needed to make the world a better place first. To have a chance at a happy ending, you needed the world you lived in to allow such a thing.

You heaved a sigh, put on your shirt and walked out of the bathroom to grab a quick breakfast.

One day, you would take off this bandage and look for happiness. For now, you had a war to fight.

Sirius knew you were walking in the room before he turned towards the door and saw you. He knew it, because he always did. Whenever you were near, it was like a sixth sense… his heart skipped a beat.

He pulled on his sleeve to make sure the compass on his forearm was hidden. He knew you didn’t want to know who your soulmate was, so you couldn’t see that the arrow on his arm was pointing at you.

It took a while for Sirius to figure it all out. When he finally discovered the truth, once he was absolutely certain that it was you, that you were his soulmate, that the two of you were meant to be together… it was already too late. You were in your sixth year, and he was in his seventh, and you had already planned to join the fight against Voldemort. You had already decided that you didn’t want to know about your soulmate. You had already started to cover the mark on your skin with a bandage.

You didn’t want to know, and he understood why. Had he known what it would be like to fight in this war, Sirius would have probably taken the same decision. It was painful, really, to worry about you all the time.

So, he didn’t say anything. He kept his mouth shut and his compass hidden, and he fought every day, hoping you were safe, hoping you would both survive this crazy war, hoping he would have a chance to finally tell you that he loved you with all his heart already…

But for now, all he could do was to smile as you walked into the backroom of the Leaky Cauldron, barely a few minutes before the meeting of the Order would begin. You walked towards him with a matching smile on your lips.

You looked beautiful, even though it was obvious that you were exhausted. He wished he could hold you close, let you rest your head against his shoulder, cradle you until you would fall asleep…

“You look terrible,” was his only welcome.

“Thanks. Fighting three Death Eaters at once will do that to you.”

Your smile was amused now, it was reaching your eyes.

“You look pretty exhausted yourself, Black,” you added, your smile widening even more.

“Yeah well… What can I say? James’s snores are worse than Death Eaters at times.”

You chuckled, and butterflies flew across his stomach in response.

He wished he could kiss you…

“Do you know why Dumbledore made us all come here so quickly? Did something happen?”

Sirius shrugged.

“I have no idea. All I know is that he called for a meeting on short notice. But then again, I reckon that if he did so, it is because he must have learnt some bad news, indeed.”

You nodded, finally taking a seat next to him. The room was full, with chairs lined up in five rows, facing an empty seat that had been saved for Dumbledore. The air trembled under hurried whispers between the different members of the Order of the Phoenix.

You brushed your arm against his without noticing as you took a seat, and it sent shivers running down his spine…

He wondered sometimes if you felt the same, even if you didn’t know that you were destined for each other. Did you still feel bound to him? Did you feel attracted to him, even if you didn’t know that it was meant to last for a lifetime? He had found out about the two of you pretty quickly after you started being friendly towards one another, so it all came quite naturally to him. He wasn’t sure if he was already in love with you by the time he was certain that you were his soulmate. He didn’t really care though… you didn’t want to be in a relationship, not even a casual one. No strings attached. Wise decision, without a doubt.

“So, you’re still staying with the Potters for now?” you asked him, checking your watch.

The meeting was about to begin, but Dumbledore was still nowhere to be seen.

“Yep. It’s safest that way. James and Lily will soon have to go into hiding, and so will I. But for now, it’s better if we remain together. We can take turns at night to keep an eye on the door, you know?”

You nodded.

“Yeah… I’ll soon have to go into hiding too, I reckon.”

“Really?”

“Yeah… my last mission was rough. I know some Death Eaters have been looking for me. Actually… this might be one of my last missions out there, in the open.”

Sirius tried to hide how relieved he was by the news.

“If you’re chosen for this mission, that is,” he replied.

“Of course. But… you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know. Well, I hope we both have a chance to actually go into hiding,” he added with a grim look painted all over his face.

You looked at him for a moment. You looked for a few seconds at his long dark hair that he had tied in a low bun. You looked at his stormy eyes, the dark bags that coloured the skin right under them, the stubble that coloured his jaw and cheeks. You had noticed already that he had been losing some weight over the past few months, his cheeks were a bit more hollowed than they used to be. Your eyes lingered on the beauty spot under his right eye…

You hoped he would go into hiding. You hoped he would be safe. Somehow, you knew that it would break your entire life if anything happened to him…

“Let’s hope so,” were the only words you had the strength to speak out loud.

Finally, Dumbledore entered the room. He looked exhausted as well. In the tiny room filled with dust and ashes from the large hearth sitting against the left wall, there were about twenty people gathered. All looked tired, most were wounded already. You were all in a pretty bad shape these days…

“My friends, thank you all for coming so quickly,” Dumbledore welcomed his soldiers. “I am terribly sorry to force you to come here tonight, but there is a matter we must discuss that cannot be delayed.”

He settled in the empty chair, facing the group. In the dim light of the room, turned golden and red as it came mostly from the fire burning in the hearth, his little glasses were shining bright, even more so than his blue eyes.

“I have gathered some information about a weapon that could be used by Voldemort against us. It is a very ancient artefact, that is safely kept at the Ministry of Magic. Or at least, for now it is kept there. One of our spies has warned me that Voldemort intends to steal it. This artefact would give him an immense power. We cannot let him have it.”

“How do you propose we do that, then?” someone asked, and you recognized Arthur Weasley, sitting a couple of rows before you. “It will be hard to place people to protect the artefact 24/7.”

“We will not protect the artefact while it is inside the Ministry. We must steal it. Or to be more precise, we must steal it before Voldemort has a chance to do so himself.”

A heavy silence settled inside the room.

Stealing something from the Ministry… it sounded like madness.

Dumbledore turned to you, and you already knew what he was about to ask. You worked at the Ministry. You knew the place like the back of your hand, you had learned all of its secret passages and hidden corridors in case something like this would happen.

You were Dumbledore’s way in and out of the Ministry.

“Y/N Y/L/N works at the Ministry and has been memorizing all the details needed to enter or exit each room of the building. We have a way in and a way out thanks to her. And if you agree to take such a risky mission, I reckon that we don’t have much of a choice this time. We need your help.”

You gave him a reassuring smile, and you didn’t notice the way Sirius’s fists clenched beside you as the old wizard spoke.

This was madness… this was too dangerous… If you were caught by Voldemort’s spies in the Ministry, you would be killed. If you were caught by any other member of the Ministry, you would be arrested, and sent to Azkaban, without a doubt. No matter what this artefact was, it seemed powerful enough to be a threat. If you were caught trying to steal it, it would be a one-way ticket for you towards the wizarding prison…

“You can count on me,” you nodded, and Sirius was impressed by how well you could hide your fear. You seemed peaceful, confident, as you answered.

“Good. I would also like to ask Arthur Weasley to go for this mission. You work at the Ministry as well, Arthur. I reckon that Y/N could use your help.”

“Of course, I’ll go,” he nodded, and his wife held his hand in hers, a sad but resigned expression painted on her features.

“We need one more person for this mission. I am now asking for a volunteer. It is dangerous, desperately so. I know that I am asking a lot from all of you; and I completely understand if you refuse to volunteer. But we must take the risk, or we might lose the war this time.”

Dumbledore was about to speak again when Sirius stood up.

“I’ll go with them.”

His voice was determined, firm. When you looked up at him, he didn’t seem afraid.

Your heart shattered at the thought of Sirius taking such risks.

But then… what choice did he have? The woman he loved, his soulmate was about to head right into a suicidal mission. He didn’t have a choice. He needed to go with you.

You would either both get out of this alive, or you would both lose your lives. But he intended to protect you, no matter the cost…

You don’t know where Sirius is. Nor do you know anything about Arthur. At this point, all you are aware of are the sparks and flames and the debris flying across the corridor as curses crash into the wall next to your head.

You feel something on your cheek. It’s wet and warm, it rolls down the side of your face all the way to your jawline. When you pass a finger across your temple, it’s painful. You look at your fingertips and recognize the dark liquid staining your skin now. You’re bleeding.

“She’s over there!”

You start running again. This hiding spot of yours, at the corner of a corridor, it couldn’t last for long, anyway. It was temporary. Just enough to catch your breath again before running as fast as you can once more. You need to reach the second floor, but you don’t know how. The more you run, the more certain you become that you’re not going to make it. No way. There are too many of them…

Arthur has the artefact, Sirius is with him. Your job now is to buy them some time. They need to get out of the Ministry, to ensure that Voldemort doesn’t get his hands on this magical object. To ensure that Sirius lives, too…

You run faster than you’ve ever run. You can see the end of the corridor now. You pass a series of closed doors on your right, empty offices left unattended for the night. Because it is night, indeed. You can’t see them now, but outside, constellations are lighting up the heavens with their cold and distant brightness.

You’ve almost reached the door to the stairs when sparks and flashes come flying around you.

Green. Red. Red. White. Green…

A red spell hits you on the leg, and you fall as a jolt of pain springs through your right knee. Your hands are not enough to break your fall, and as you nose collides with the floor, you hear the loud crack of your bone breaking. Blood floods from your nostrils. It hurts like hell…

You reach for your wand, but it’s too late. The three cloaked figures have closed up on you already, and your wand flies across the corridor, landing several meters away. As you roll to lay on your back, one of them kicks you hard in the stomach, and all of a sudden you have no air left in your lungs and you’re choking, unable to breathe at all for long seconds.

“How many of your lot are here?”

You recognize the voice. It’s easy to do so. She has a madness in her tone that matches no other.

You glare up at the skull hiding Bellatrix’s face.

“No one,” you reply.

“I know it’s a lie. There are at least two of you. I saw my cousin running away, like the coward he is.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just working late tonight…”

“Don’t try to play dumb.”

“Just matching your own IQ, really…”

Another kick in your stomach prevents you from answering, as you struggle for breath again.

The tall figure standing next to Bellatrix tilts their head, as if weighing their options.

“Should we kill her now?” asks a voice you can’t recognize, although it belongs clearly to a man. “Or do we have time to have a little fun with her first?”

Bellatrix and the stranger turn to the third Death Eater. He’s clearly the leader of this operation.

“Do as you please. But if you hurt her first, try to find out about her accomplices. We need the artefact.”

You recognize that voice though. Cold, slow, unbearably detached…

“Fuck you, Snivellus.”

You guess a smile in the sound of his voice when he replies to your insult.

“Looks like you’re not the one laughing anymore, are you Y/N?”

He turns to the others, giving orders in the same impersonal tone he always wears.

“I’ll go look for Black. You two try to make her talk. You have ten minutes. Then, whether or not she’s told you anything, kill her. Aurors will soon be here, we must leave before they arrive.”

He walks down the corridor again, leaving you alone with Bellatrix and her deadly friend.

She lets out a mad laugh, clapping her hands together in excitement.

“Finally! Finally, we can have some fun!” she cries in excitement.

“Tell us where your friends are,” the man asks, already pointing his wand towards you. “How many of you came here tonight?”

You try to move your legs again, but fail miserably. Your wand is too far for you to have any chance to reach it.

So… that’s how you’re going to die, huh?

You merely hope that Sirius makes it… At this moment, you can’t find a way to care about your mission, about the artefact, not even about Arthur, even though you genuinely like the guy. No, all you can think of is Sirius. You pray for him to be safe. You can’t say that you’ve ever really believed in God. How could you with all that you’ve seen of the cruelty of this world? Still, if there’s a God, any God, you beg Them now. You beg Them to save him…

If you could have had a soulmate, you wished they could have been Sirius…

But you don’t have any time left. It’s okay, as long as Sirius lives…

“Go fuck yourselves, you psychopathic piece of shit,” is your only answer, you spit the words with all the hatred your heart is physically able to create.

You don’t need to see their faces to know that they’re both grinning. They’re enjoying this. They’re enjoying the fact that your silence is synonym of an excuse for them to torture you as much as they want for the next ten minutes.

So be it then.

Red sparks form at the tip of the man’s wand before he even speaks the curse. You know what he’s going to say. You close your eyes, bracing yourself…

“Crucio!”

He doesn’t know where you are. That is the scariest part. He has no clue.

Arthur is gone, safely escaping with the artefact. He’s going to call for reinforcement. And Sirius was supposed to follow him as he Apparated, he was supposed to run away as well.

He can’t. How could he leave you behind?

He’s running. Running as fast as he can. He has never run so fast in his entire life. He pulls up his sleeve, staring at the arrow inked in his skin.

Right. He must turn on his right next.

He’s coming. He’s coming for you he simply hopes he’s not too late. Lungs burning, throat dry, panting. Everything hurts. He’s never been one to believe in God or a superior power, after all, he’s seen too much of the world for that. Still, now he’s begging. He’s begging, if there is a God out there, They must protect you. They must because… because he’s fucked in the head, and a real mess, and beyond saving, beyond repair, but he loves you so much it aches there in his heart, that feeling that gnaws at him at night. He loves you so much he can’t live without you. He can’t do it. He understands it now, how most soulmates simply die together, in their sleep, as if they had agreed on their body giving up together. He understands now all these widows and widowers dying right after their partners has passed away.

Because the mere thought of you leaving is unbearable. He can’t take it.

He reaches the end of the corridor, collides quite violently into the wall as he’s been running too fast to turn the corner. He glances down at his arm again.

Straight ahead.

Straight ahead, Sirius is running once more. He’s coming, you just have to hold on… just a little longer…

He hears it before he sees you.

He hears the ear-piercing shout you let out. His heart is already pounding because of this crazy race of his but it breaks now. It shatters, like crystal falling on the floor. He can’t go faster, he physically can’t and it’s killing him…

At last, he’s come close enough to see the red sparks leaving the Death Eater’s wand, red in the almost-complete darkness that covers every inch of the corridor. A flash of red, you’re screaming again…

They’re torturing you. The realization strikes him, and when he hurries towards you and the two Death Eaters, it is with the intention of killing them both that he forces his feet forward.

His steps echo through the corridor, and your tormentors hear him coming. No advantage bound to surprise. He doesn’t care. When Sirius throws a Reducto curse at the Death Eater on the left, and that the man flies across the corridor to crash into the wall, Sirius hopes he’s dead. He wants him to be. He’ll deal later with his guilt, with morality, with good and evil, for now you’re lying there, on the ground, he can hear you crying in the stillness of the dark corridor, and he doesn’t care about anything but you. He can lose his soul for all he cares. He can be sent to hell, he can be arrested, he can lose his humanity, he doesn’t give a damn. All he cares about is your form lying there, huddled up on yourself, softly crying, in pain… you must be in so much pain…

For how long have they been hurting you like this?

He dodges a murdering curse, the green flash missing his shoulder by only a few inches. The duel begins. He’s certain to know this voice.

It’s Bellatrix. He knows it’s her…

She’s mad, but she’s strong, and he struggles against her. After a couple of minutes, both of the fighters have to take a short break. Only a moment spent staring at each other, although all Sirius can see in the dim light is the vague appearance of a dead face…

He notices then that you’re silent. There is no noise left in the building but his breathing and Bellatrix’s. You’re not crying anymore.

Bellatrix lets out one of her mad laughs.

“Ha, there she goes. I reckon your little friend here has passed out. Or perhaps she’s dead? Possible, we had a lot of fun with her, after all…”

It’s back. The complete, pure hatred in his heart. He’s tired after duelling, perhaps that’s why his wrath had partly faded. Now it’s back.

Before she can add another word, Sirius summons all his strength, all the magic boiling inside of him to curse his opponent. Despite the shield she summons, Bellatrix is sent flying towards the wall as well, and lies there unconscious.

It leaves Sirius empty, exhausted…

He doesn’t care though. He summons some more light at the tip of his wand in a silent spell, and hurries to you. He falls on his knees by your side more than he consciously kneels down.

“Y/N…”

His voice is a mere whisper, barely audible, barely there at all. He bends down to rest his ear against your mouth, but he can hear you breathing and he feels the air brushing his skin. He heaves a relieved sigh, even if he notices how irregular and weak your breathing is.

He calls for you several times, gently shakes your shoulder, before you finally blink your eyes open.

“Sirius…” you call, only half-conscious.

Everything hurts. Everything hurts like never before. You can barely breathe at all, you notice how hard it is to force every intake of air into your lungs.

It hurts… you want it all to stop…

Sirius carefully brushes his knuckles across your cheek in a soothing gesture. You love the feeling of his skin against yours and you do find the tender touch reassuring.

“Y/N, you have to stay with me, okay? Arthur is gone to look for help. They’re on their way. You just have to hold on now, okay? Can you do that for me?”

“Snape… he was here too…” you breath, your voice hoarse and shaky but this is important and you force the words out even if it hurts your chest and ribs and face to do so…

“Snape?”

“Yes… he went looking for you. They saw you when we separated.”

“Don’t worry about this git, he’s not important right now.”

“You could stop him…”

“Who cares about stopping this prick? I’m not leaving your side.”

You start coughing, it hurts too much to breathe, it’s too much effort…

When blood comes out of your mouth, Sirius’s eyes grow round.

He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t have a clue. He’s shaking by now.

You don’t seem able to calm down this coughing fit, so Sirius slowly, carefully, takes you in his arms and cradles you. It’s tender, the way he holds you against him. It’s loving, actually.

He strokes gently your hair to calm you down, and it works somehow.

He smiles.

“Calm down, it’s okay. I’m here, help is on its way. You’re going to be just fine.”

But you know he’s lying. You know it because you can read it in his grey eyes. Stormy. The colour of a rainy afternoon.

You know you’re dying, you’re not stupid enough to believe in miracles. You’re happy these eyes are the last thing you’re going to see though.

A tear rolls down your cheek, and Sirius gently brushes it away before putting down his wand next to him, so he can caress your cheek properly.

You have one last regret though. Now that it’s time… you might as well admit it out loud.

“Sirius…”

“I’m here. Don’t speak, keep your strength. It’s okay…”

“I wish…”

You have a bitter smile as you glance down at the bandage that never leaves your forearm.

“Can you… can you take it off?”

Sirius frowns hard.

“I thought you didn’t want to know about your soulmate.”

“Yeah… that was… pretty stupid. I wish I knew them… I wish… I wish I could see them, at least once…”

Your eyes flutter shut, but Sirius sounds so distraught as he calls your name again that you have to force your eyelids to lift up again.

You give him a smile.

“You know… I wish… it’s gonna sound silly but… I wish it were you.”

Sirius lets out a chuckle, and you don’t understand why. Maybe it’s because it really is crazy… but then again, you’re dying. You’re not fully aware of what you’re saying.

“You idiot!” he lets out between gritted teeth. “You moron!”

You frown a little, the movement too painful for you to do it properly.

Sirius shakes his head at you, before pulling on your bandage to reveal the compass painted on your skin.

He lifts up your arm a little so you can see the arrow pointing towards him.

“It is me, you moron,” he breathes, and you notice then that he’s crying too. “I’m your soulmate, you bloody imbecile!”

He hears you gasping, but the sound is hoarse because of your wounds. He cups your face in his large, calloused hand, forcing you to look up at him. And as you lose yourself in his grey eyes, drowning in salty tears, you reckon you could never look away again… you don’t have that kind of strength…

“I’m your soulmate,” he repeats, cradling you closer in his arms. “You’re my soulmate, Y/N. I love you… so much. You have to stay alive, do you hear? Because if you die… I can’t take it. I can’t lose you. So please… I’m begging you, Y/N… hold on. Just a little longer, please. They’re coming to help you, but you need to hold on. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave…”

You’re going to speak, when Sirius looks up. He’s heard footsteps hurrying towards the two of you, down the corridor. He reaches for his wand, points it at the approaching sounds… he can hear that several people are approaching.

When he finally recognizes Arthur, along with James and Marlene and Moody, he heaves a relieved sigh, and lowers his wand again, a hopeful smile curving up his lips.

But then he looks at you once more, to find your eyes closed, your lips slightly parted.

And no matter how many times he calls for you, you don’t wake up.

When he looks at his compass again, the lines are fading. Slowly, they are disappearing, the dark lines becoming paler and paler… He stares with horrified eyes.

His compass is vanishing.

You’re dying…

You were lying on a bed. When you woke up, you were alone in a hospital room of St Mungo’s. Your body was aching but the pain had mostly subsided, it was bearable now. You could breathe easily once more. You were exhausted though.

You stared at the white ceiling for a while. It was stained with tiny cracks and defects in the paint. It felt cold, impersonal. Like everything in a hospital.

The first thought that came back to you was the Ministry. This corridor, Snape, Bellatrix and the unknown Death Eater. The pain, so much of it…

And then, Sirius.

You remembered Sirius holding you against him, you remembered his grey gaze drowning in his tears. You remembered the shakiness of his begging voice, you remembered the arrow on your arm pointing at him, you remembered his confession.

Sirius was your soulmate…

You were glad to be alone in this hospital room. Because it meant that you could play the scene over and over again in your head.

Your heart was pounding.

Sirius was your soulmate…

As realization finally formed in your mind, a smile appeared on your lips.

You wanted it to be him. You wanted Sirius for soulmate, and suddenly it was very clear why you longed for him this way. He was your soulmate. That was why you wanted him. Why you had always craved for him, hoped it would be him that the Universe had sent for you.

You lifted your arm, noticed it was still bandaged. You made a movement to take the clothe off, but the door of your room opened, and you were distracted, looking up at the newcomer.

Sirius gave you a crooked smile.

“So… how is our hero of the day doing?”

You grinned at him as he sat on the edge of your bed. He smelled of cigarettes and was holding a warm cup of coffee in his hand. You guessed he was coming back after a smoke.

Had he stayed with you while you were asleep?

“Have been better,” you admitted. “It’s a tough job to be heroic.”

“I can see that. You look terrible.”

“You look exhausted yourself.”

“Just trying to match your energy, really. Wouldn’t want you to feel too bad by looking my usual gorgeous self.”

You couldn’t refrain a chuckle, and the sound of it made him grin.

“Thank you for your sacrifice.”

“You’re welcome.”

Silence settled in the room for a moment, as you stared at each other, until Sirius would take a sip of his coffee, looking down as he reached for your hand.

“Do you remember what happened at the Ministry?”

You nodded.

“What happened to the Death Eaters?” you asked, not quite ready yet to talk about what Sirius meant to discuss.

“They ran away. I was too busy taking care of you, I didn’t notice anything. I let them get away.”

“Well, you did save my life, so… I reckon you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself.”

His thumb drew tiny patterns across the back of your hand, it made your heart jump and skips beats.

It felt soothing, reassuring… A simple gesture that meant the world to you.

“I wasn’t talking about the Death Eaters when I asked you if you remembered what happened, though,” insisted Sirius, his voice low, deep, warm and yet deadly serious.

You nodded again.

“I remember. Until I blacked out, I remember everything.”

You smiled.

“I reckon I won’t need to hide that compass anymore.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Mad? Why?”

“You didn’t want to know who your soulmate was, and I told you.”

“I wanted to know. I wanted to know before dying. I’m not mad at all.”

You noticed that he was clenching his jaw, and he suddenly fled your stare, looking at your entwined hands instead of your eyes; enlaced fingers that were meant to hold onto each other this way...

“You must be disappointed,” he breathed, so quietly you could barely hear him.

You frowned hard.

“Disappointed? In what?”

“In me,” he answered simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

He shrugged, a bitter smile adorning his lips now.

“I’m a mess,” he went on. “I’m… lost and… my childhood and everything… it’s still hard for me to deal with it all. I’m not… You could have much better than me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry your soulmate had to be someone like me.”

When you remained silent, he ended up looking at you again, because he couldn’t take the stillness that had settled around the two of you. It was too oppressive, too scary.

But when he met your eyes once more, you were smiling.

“You really are dumb sometimes, Sirius Black.”

He quirked an eyebrow. You gave his hand a tender squeeze before speaking again.

“I’m very happy it’s you, Sirius. I told you in this corridor that you were the one I wanted, and I was being honest. I’m so happy it’s you. I wanted it to be you.”

“Why?” he shook his head, frowning hard by now. “I’m… I’m a mess…”

“True. But then, I’m a mess too. And besides… you’re a kind, smart, reckless, loyal mess and… that’s all I want really. Doesn’t matter if you’re a mess, the world is a mess. I’m just happy you’re the one for me. Cause I love you… tremendously so.”

Finally, he grinned. You let him unfasten your bandage, unwrap the clothe to reveal the compass on your skin. He rested his forearm next to yours to show the two arrows pointing at each other.

“You gave me a hell of fright tonight, don’t do that again, please…” he whispered.

“What if we went into hiding together? Keep each other safe?”

He grinned again.

“Sounds like a good idea. Very responsible.”

“One of us has to be. And you’re reckless, it can’t be you.”

“You’re as reckless as I am!”

“Maybe… but I’m still smarter.”

You laughed together, but Sirius had to give it to you.

“Maybe. Or well… wiser, at the very least.”

“I’ll take it.”

You raised your hand to his cheek, fingers shaking slightly. He leaned into your soft touch, closing his eyes to bathe in the warmth of your palm.

“I’m terrified about this. About us,” you admitted. “Because now… I depend on you. I depend on you so much…”

“I know. I feel the same.”

“Sirius… are we going to be okay?”

But as he smiled, you couldn’t see any lies in his grey eyes. He seemed to speak the truth. And despite the war raging outside, despite the risks you had to take, despite what had happened during the night, despite your wounds, despite all logical thinking… when he answered you, you believed him.

“Of course, love. We’ll be okay. You’ll see. We’ll be just fine.”

****************

Taglist : @reg-arcturus-black @hells-escapees

[klarion-the-witch-boy]

20 Questions For Fic Writers

Tagged by @marirah! Love you, babe 😘

I'm TheWitchBoy and Klarion on AO3. 🫡

How many works do you have on AO3?

158 on TheWitchBoy

14 on Klarion (but I don't feel like logging into Klarion rn, so that's probably the only thing I'll answer for Klarion)

What’s your total A03 word count?

904,184 words on TheWitchBoy

What fandoms do you write for?

A lot of DC, some Marvel, a bit of Star Wars, a pinch of Harry Potter, a dash of Supernatural. Anything that strikes my fancy, really.

What are your top five fics by kudos?

Odd One, or, Wally's Mysterious Boyfriend. T, Birdflash, Secret ID Reveals, Humour.

A Strange Family. T, SuperBat (Pre-Relationship), Secret ID Reveals, Shenanigans.

A Game of Guess Who With Big Blue. G, Gen, Mistaken Identities, ID Shenanigans, Humour.

Grinning Shadow of the Bat. T, Batfam, Dialogue Centric, Shenanigans, Humour.

Secret Visitors (on the Watchtower). G, Gen, Secrets, Humour.

What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I know this one... It's one of my DCWC fics. Uhh. The Unwanted Return of the Past. Or maybe The Cliff Walk? I'm not much of an angst writer, I don't think.

Oh wait, I did try my hand at writing expressions of grief that one time, of Dick after Jason's death. Picking Up the Broken Pieces.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Damn. Happiest ending. Uh. Maybe ...Trading Spouses? Most of my fic has happy endings, idk

Do you get hate on your fic?

I don't think so?

Do you write smut?

Yes, but only on Klarion. I prefer TheWitchBoy to be (mostly) sfw.

Do you write crossovers?

Sometimes. Mostly DC/White Collar (I have a series for those ones, actually). Sometimes DC/Marvel.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so. But, way back in my dA days, I did lil Harry Potter comics and those were stolen lmao. I didn't care much at the time and I don't care much now, though.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of?

Have you ever co-written a fic?

Yeah! With the cryptid roommate! The Clue fic (it's Supernatural, that's you're only warning).

What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

That's a hard one. I think - if folks know me for any ship - they probably know me for Birdflash? That's definitely up there. In this minute, right now, though? Maybe Matt/Frank. Maybe TimKon. I'm not good at picking favourites.

What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Unrepentant. :/ I wanna do it, but at this point it's been so long I don't think I can fool myself about it.

What’s your writing strengths?

Dialogue (or so I like to think). It's what I have the most fun with, anyway.

What’s your writing weaknesses?

Remembering what I wrote, probably.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I prefer it in moderation? I dunno, I think dabbling in other languages isn't a bad thing, but for myself I do like to understand what I'm putting to paper.

But also I don't like when an English fic sticks Cyrillic or katakana or whatever else into dialogue - Romanize that, so it can be read, however roughly, please. Otherwise I hear like... Villager Gibberish when my eyes pass over it and that's low-key uncomfy lmao.

First fandom you wrote for?

Prrrobably Kingdom Hearts? Or Final Fantasy 7: Crisis Core? Damn, going all the way back to my pre-AO3 days, there. And pre-fanficdotnet days.

Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Right now, my favourite written/shared fic is Signs and Portents. It's a Fusion Fic of Supernatural and the movie Signs. I deeply enjoyed writing it. Sadly, it's not quite what folks were looking for to read. XD that's fine, though, since I wrote it for me, anyway.

Too tired to tag anyone, sorry. ✌️ If you feel like doing it, then you're it now. You're officially tag. Shoo, go write up your answers!

[goldenmorningglory]

i relate to will a lot mainly because i treat my friendships more precious than I've seen people treat their romantic relationships and that backfires on me sometimes.

so I'm thinking of how even after their heart to hearts, mike still can't be himself around will. and it's wearing on will because this is what happened last time. last time he brushed the offense off and Mike smiled at him before he left, hugged him like and and will thought, well, he had his best friend back. but he didn't. and now he's giving mike another chance but mike keeps acting like that. like hes on tenterhooks around will, when will is who he used to be the most comfortable with.

and i imagine will bursting out you know? one too many aborted hugs later will has had enough.

"you know, when you said team and best friends, i thought we were back to normal. or is friends don't lie something that doesn't count anymore now that you've grown up?"

mike trying to defend himself in classic mike style and will not standing for it.

"listen, i don't know mike, maybe if you don't want to be friends anymore you should say that. why is it that Dustin, Lucas, hell even steve can be so open with how much they missed me but my best and oldest friend can't even look me in the eye??? if I'm that much of a hassle mike, you don't have to try. you don't have to spare my feelings, I've grown up now."

"I'm sorry will, but that's the problem i can't be normal around you anymore. i don't know how to be."

mike's expression isn't really malice. it's shadowed, like he's suffering, like it brings him pain he can't express. it's been like that for a while, since before he officially broke up with el. will thought it was because of that, but it got only more pronounced when will finally have whim the painting, hoping that now he can show mike that will was still his best friend and Mike was his.

but will is in pain too. has been for too long.

"fine."

"because i automatically signed every letter to you as love mike "

and will thinks he misheard. mike shuts his eyes thinking about how it's out there. he never actually needed words with will. text or subtext will got him.

"mike?"

mike looks up. that's his best friend's face. that's the face he saw every summer morning in the summers of their childhood when nothing was more painful than school. that's the face he would sleep too at their thousand and one sleepovers. the one that comforted him when his parents pantomime of a relationship made him feel hollow. thousands of shared glances, simultaneously rolled eyes, secret grins, high fives, completed sentences, bike rides, words that needn't be said.

except this time he had to.

"when i wrote el letters i would slip up thinking about you and would write your name. my wastebasket would overflow with sheets i spent. when I'd call, id hear you voice in the background and think of how if you moved on from me, found someone new- a new best friend, I'd accept because i couldn't appreciate you when you were mine- my best friend. and still can't even after all these chances you're giving me because will."

he's kinda desperate now, and will's wide but hopeful eyes are his tether.

"will, friends don't lie and i can't keep calling you my best friend without feeling like i am. without feeling like- like I'm trying to convince myself."

"convince yourself of what?" it's soft, free of judgement. it's will and it's gentle and it let's mike finally rest.

"that it isn't more to me. that i don't feel more than that for you."

[charthanry]

BBS: Deconstructing the Entire Series (Part 3 of 13)

Welcome to my deep dive into each episode where I break down character motives, P’Aof’s delivery, and general musings of all things BBS. Basically, a scene-by-scene recap with commentary from me, your friendly neighborhood commentator. If you missed the previous installments of this post series, you’re welcome to check them out:

Part 1  |  Part 2

Recapping the recap: We left EP2 with Pat and Pran bickering on who gets to move out of their dorm, resulting in neither moving out. We learned that their three-year separation was because of Pran’s mom and that Pran is hesistant about letting Pat into his space, preferring to keep him at a distance as a means of self-preservation. The episode ends on their idiot friends destroying the bus stop.

Episode Three: The Bus Stop, I Like Seeing Your Face, and a Long-Kept Guitar (or AKA “This is me staying away”)

EP3 begins with one of my favorite episode openings of the series, and I can’t believe I’m saying this because Waisel plays a prominent role here, but he’s only there as a catalyst so it’s fine, I’m fine. The scene opens on Pran doodling during a free study period. He’s supposed to be working on his new song for the Freshy music contest but is suffering from writer’s block. Wai shows up and sees Pran struggling and tells him to stop using his head and instead to look inside his heart for inspiration. He then asks Pran, “Haven’t you ever had a secret crush on someone?”

We are then gifted with the cutest flashback of the world’s one and only handsome guitar pick. Where Pran is gobsmacked by Pat earnestly cutting his own ID card so that Pran won’t hurt his fingers while strumming his guitar. Pran looks at Pat incredulously and Pat just cheekily grins back at him. And we are all incredibly moved by Pat here, such a small gesture but also so very, very large and befitting of his personality. I’m pretty sure this isn’t the moment that Pran begins to fall, but it’s likely the moment he accepts that he CANNOT STOP. 

The show has been very precise with its use of flashbacks, only inserting them if it moves the story forward in some way. To include it here in the episode’s opener is BOLD, but also sneakily well done because it informs us of this episode’s main focus and that is Pran figuring out how Pat (and his feelings for him) fits into his present life. Let’s find out along with him.

Be cool, be cool. It’s just a meal with your longtime crush. No biggie. *Pran internally screaming* AHH! THIS IS THE BIGGEST DEAL EVER!!

A late-night noodle craving finds our two boys sharing a meal while bickering with each other laced with some deeply veiled flirtation. This is the stuff we signed up for. There’s some back and forth where both accuse the other of being nosy and Pat asks are you this nosy with everyone or just me? And really, we want to know too, Pran. But evasion is the game and Pran is a championship-level player.

The two engage in a ridiculous chopsticks duel over a stolen wonton that would make panda Po and his Shifu proud. Pat can’t resist pulling Pran’s metaphorical pigtail by stealing yet another wonton, but Pran doesn’t give Pat the satisfaction of reacting and he pouts that Pran’s no fun. He gives Pran a wonton from his own bowl stating that he’s done anyway. Pran tells Pat that he doesn’t need to wait for him, and Pat says who’s waiting, I still need to pay and ends up paying for both their meals. It’s totally a date! For those keeping count, this is their second date. Pat is dressed the part in his Tim Hortons shirt (because what screams date more than repping the iconic Canadian?), the activity is a shared meal, and Pat pays. Date! 

Pat tells him that it’s his treat and Pran is surprised but also secretly pleased and thanks him. See? You two can be nice to each other. Pat watches intently as Pran eats and then tells him to hurry up because he’s actually waiting. Ha!

After literally walking each other home, it’s so a DATE! – they learn that their dorm elevators are out of order. Pat suggests they race to see who can get to their room first. Pran smirks and trash talks that someone like him doesn’t need to compete with Pat, but then totally negates all that big talk by making a run for the stairwell.

The two race up the stairs taking three to four at a time. I’m amazed at both their cardio and the fact that they just ate, but also LEGS. Legs for MILES! We see Pat take advantage by pulling and yanking on Pran. Again, what is it about Pran’s waist that has your hands all over it, sir? Look at their faces though, they are both loving this. And so are we. They finally reach their doors with Pat winning by a slim margin.

Pran, unable to accept defeat, says who was even racing you? And Pat laughs asking then who ran all the way here? Making their face pale? And I love that Pran’s only rebuttal is it’s called pinkish fair skin, yeah you tell him what’s what Pran. We then get the best incorporation of a product placement I’ve ever seen in Thai BL. Pran pulls out the black inhaler and starts sniffing and turns on Pat, you’re the one who’s looking colorless, are you dying? Them fightin’ words, but also secretly laced with concern? Pat starts saying he’s fine, it’s all good but is now eyeing Pran’s inhaler and asks him to share. He comes closer for it and we are then treated to round two of their post-date frenzy.

I’m not saying that this is Pran’s O-face, but I’m not saying that it isn’t either.

We see Pran holding the inhaler out of reach as Pat clamors for it. But also, wow, can I be crowded against a door in between those muscular arms too? I love this entire sequence filled with Pran’s expressive reactions to Pat trying to climb him. And how much do I live for this keep-away teasing Pran does with Pat? Is this foreshadowing for Pran delaying Pat’s gratification later on? (Okay, that’s a record even for me, we’re only 11-minutes into the episode and I’ve already managed to make it sexual. In my defense, they make it entirely too easy.)

I'm loving how playful it is between them, how for the briefest of moments the family rivalry is forgotten and it’s just two guys competing with barely concealed flirtation. They’re both undeniably drawn to each other and giving as good as they get. And we can all see how AMAZING IT COULD BE between them, how well they complement each other, and our hearts soar impatiently for both guys to realize it already.

Things are getting a little too intense in the proximity department, so Pran backs Pat to his side of the hallway. And the physicality Pran displays here makes me go all in on feral kitty Pran. (Do we think Pran leaves scratch marks on Pat’s back when he really goes wild in bed? He totally does, right? I can’t be alone in thinking this!) Pat heaving and gasping for breath here doesn’t help any of us pick our minds up and out of the gutter. 

Pat moves to go into his room but turns around again to deliver his final parting shot If you want a rematch, you can knock on my door anytime. But if you miss me, don’t knock. Just come in. Thinking he’s got the last word; Pat is all sorts of smug. And God, do we want to affectionately SMACK HIM. But Pran, not one to easily surrender, holds out his fist as if in agreement, surprising both us and Pat, who reaches out to bump it with his own fist, only for Pran to give him a last-second middle finger. Pat can only stand there flipping Pran off behind his back. Look at this idiot waving his finger around.

Please accept exhibit #743 for the evidence records. We’ll make it impossible for the defense to refute our claim that love was the cause and the reason, your honor.

Safely inside his room, Pran lets out a deep exhale and the total euphoria on his face is EVERYTHING. He can’t help but turn around and take another look through his peephole for any lingering signs of Pat. If this ain’t love. Just a peek is all he needs to tide him over. He then takes a moment to get his heartbeat under control and simply bask in the evening’s turn of events. It’s the disbelieving shake of his head that does it for me. Aww, everything about this night totally made your week didn’t it, Pran?

Later, Pat is in his room when he gets a knock on his door and the smile on his face can only mean that he thinks it’s Pran back for more. But alas, it’s his cronies bringing their beat-up selves for Pat to mend. They claim it was all a one-sided attack as if they were innocent in the whole ordeal and weren’t asking for it. 

The next morning, Pran and his friends are awaiting the fallout of the night before. The architects’ version of Professor Pichai tells the boys they’ll have to take responsibility for the bus stop rebuild including all the expenses involved. Wai can’t take it sitting down and whines that they weren’t the only ones fighting, why are they the only ones being punished. Not-Pichai tells him you’re lucky you’re not academically suspended. You’ve made your beds, now lie in them. He then gives them the list of detailed expenses, tells them to get it done before the month is out, and leaves.

Pran gets an incoming call from “just a friend” which he lets go unanswered.

The scene changes to Pran on a mission to gather estimates on supplies. He waits for Pa to finish with a customer and asks her if their shop has his list of items since his own shop is out of stock. She asks him what’s this all for and the look he gives her means he’s not holding back on ratting out Pat.

Pat is at home, and we see him attempting yet again to call Pran which still goes ignored. Pa comes in and gives Pat an earful. He’s let her down and she calls out his manhood for not keeping his promise to her. Pat tries to defend himself explaining that he had nothing to do with it and that it was all Korn. Pa doesn’t want to hear it and storms out, leaving Pat to do his own laundry. Oh, the horror. 

Hello from the other side (of this tin can) I must've called a thousand times To tell you I'm sorry for everything that I've done (and have yet to do) But when I call, you never seem to be home (but I can literally see that you are) 

At his wit’s end, Pat decides to go old school and pulls out their old tin-can telephone and tosses one end through Pran’s window. Pran is reluctant to listen to what Pat has to say, but Pat threatens that he’ll shout across to him if he’s forced to so Pran holds up his end of the makeshift phone. 

Pat tells Pran to stop being unreasonable and that Pran’s friends were the ones that started the bus stop fight, not his. Pran defends his guys saying if Pat’s minions didn’t post the video of them bullying Wai, then his guys wouldn’t have gone crazy. Pat is confused as to what video. (I told you it was going to come back to bite you, Pat.) Pran thinks Pat is playing dumb, but Pat is truly lost in all of this. Pran calls him out saying that’s funny because Pat sure seemed to be laughing it up in the video’s background. He then tosses his end of the phone with a clang and shuts his window. Conversation effectively over.

The face of a gangster who stubbornly doesn’t listen when he’s told to stay away. 

The next day after their shared class ends, Pat follows Pran as he’s leaving when he’s abruptly pulled into a dark hallway. Pran thinks Pat is playing games and tells him to stop, but he only wanted to let Pran know that he took care of the video and it’s now deleted. He wants to help, but Pran doesn’t care and tells Pat to stay away from him.

Pran is in the library crunching numbers for the bus stop expenses when Pat shows up refusing to stay away. Pran decides if Pat doesn’t leave then he will, which makes Pat concede that fine, he’ll leave but not without telling Pran to not miss him later. THIS GUY. Turning to go, Pat notices an ad for an ecology contest. Pat is super observant guys, he acts like he’s a himbo gangster, but the guy is very aware of his surroundings which makes his lack of awareness of his feelings for Pran such a conundrum to us. Maybe it’s one of those cases where he’s observant if it’s anyone other than himself? 

In the span of seconds, he decides this contest is exactly what Pran needs to help with the bus stop finances, he takes a flyer and turns back to Pran. But since he was just scolded to stay away, he instead sits at the table behind Pran and folds the flyer into a paper airplane and flings it in Pran’s direction. When Pran turns around to yell at him, Pat pretends to be dozing. As Chandler Bing would say, could you BE any more adorable, Pat? 

I hereby declare my reelection for President of The-Can’t-Look-Away-From-Pran fanclub. This is my campaign poster. Vote Pat.

Pran is at an office building to present his project to the company’s bigwigs. Pat unexpectedly shows up and says he’s there to be Pran’s good luck charm. Aww. Pran says he’s more of a jinx than lucky to which Pat responds a jinx can’t be this hot. Pran shrugs but doesn’t refute Pat’s claim. Ah! You agree that Pat’s hot; you want him so bad.

They’re packed into an elevator as more people get on and Pran is squished. He nudges Pat and asks if they need to be squeezed in this close? To which Pat replies, it’s not like he wants to (yeah okayyy, we believe you) then SQUEEZES INTO PRAN EVEN MORE. They’re crowded in from all sides and we are blessed with this look from Pran thinking Pat doesn’t notice. Sorry to break it to you, buddy, but he definitely notices. Remember the whole observant thing?

Everything I’ve ever wanted is right in front of me. Yet so out of reach.

Pran presents his bus stop project to the group of VIPs while Pat looks on proudly. He also turns to study the audience’s reaction. In addition to his observational skills, Pat has impeccable perception when it comes to reading people. I’m confident his successes in life so far have been based on 50% charm, 25% smarts, and 25% on his ability to read people. Add to that his boyish good looks and none of us ever really stood a chance, Pran included. He’s really the total package.

Pran wraps up his presentation and looks to Pat for reassurance which he gets in the form of an encouraging nod. Aww, these boys. They’re already such great partners and unconsciously look to each other for moral support. The bigwigs seem open to Pran’s ideas, but they just approved a similar project so invite him to come back and present again later in the year. Pran is understandably disappointed as Pat looks on. Before they’re dismissed, Pat speaks up and says they have another concept to pitch. Pran is shocked but Pat gives him a look that says trust me and I got you.

Pat presents them with his idea of a 100% eco-friendly bus stop, using solar power and recycled materials. Then he follows up with the kicker, if their grant is approved, they’d essentially be receiving company advertisement throughout the university campus. It’s a win-win for both sides. The VIPs are interested and Pran looks at Pat with stars in his eyes. Well done, Pat!

Back in the elevator, Pran asks Pat how he knew they were into eco-friendly projects and Pat points out the poster on the wall. He tells Pran to be more aware of his surroundings instead of constantly looking at him all the time. (I told you he notices, Pran!) Pran feels like he’s being called out and Pat gives him an out by saying, Pran is always eyeing him as if he’s there to cause trouble, calling him a jinx. Oiii Pat, why’d you let him off so easily?

They make a stop at the music store where Pran naturally migrates to the guitars. Pat comments that he already has one. Pran said he used to but it’s probably termite food by now. Pat suggests he look for it and that it may still be around. This seems like such a throwaway comment that doesn’t draw much to be read into, but we know better. Pran responds with no need and that this last fight probably banned them from competing in the music contest. Pat comments that when he gets to compete against him, Pran takes it very seriously.

I can’t help that when you’re near, my face looks at you like this. It’s not something that I can control.

Pat then catches a glimpse of Chai outside the store and pulls Pran in to hide. Okay, two giant-sized boys crouching behind what looks like a guitar amp, suuure, you’re now hidden from plain sight!

After a while, Pran says the coast is clear, but Pat doesn’t move away. He then sniffs Pran and says he smells damn good and that he likes it. Pran is all kinds of adorably flustered and doesn’t know what to do with this information, but then Pat goes and ruins it by asking him to do his laundry for him. And we all collectively face palm at the idiocy that is Pat.

Pran shoves Pat off him and says it’s not that Pran smells good, it’s that Pat smells bad. He leaves and tells Pat to shower sometime. Pfft!

We keep this love in a photograph We made these memories for ourselves Where our eyes are never closing Hearts are never broken And time's forever frozen, still

That night at the bus stop site, Pran sits alone brainstorming ideas when Pat shows up. I guess that built-in homing beacon goes both ways because Pat knew exactly where to find Pran when his texts and calls went unanswered. Pran asks what the hell he’s doing there and Pat looks around and says nobody is around, he can drop the pretense and speak nicely to him. Aww. Pran seems taken aback that Pat would actually ask.

Pat says he’s there because Pran didn’t respond to his messages. Pran says that he does respond when Pat means business. Pat questions why they can’t just chitchat? And then avoids eye contact as he asks, are you as hard on your other friends as you are on me? Aww. He’s basically asking Pran to confirm that they’re friends now. Pran takes a beat, but then responds with I wouldn’t be as hard on my friends and a visibly disappointed Pat comments he’s sorry that they’re not friends. Aww, puppy.

I’ve watched this scene countless of times and still managed to somehow miss that this is foreshadowing to their handshake later. 

Pran tries to get Pat to go away but the boy isn’t budging, he’s determined to help. And his earnestness is truly undeniable because Pran eventually gives in. He asks Pran why he’s been staring at the site for a while now but still hasn’t drawn anything in his sketchbook. Pran snarks that engineers have it so easy, they don’t understand how difficult it is to be creative. Pat concedes that engineers might not be as creative, but they’re very practical and they get shit done. You tell him, Pat. He gets up determined to prove it to Pran and holds out his hand to help Pran up. 

Pat says you can’t just sit and try to imagine a finished bus stop, you have to actually place people there to see what their needs are. He then suggests they role play as to the kinds of people who wait at bus stops; again, Pat is truly a reader of people. It’s crazy how it’s almost second nature to him. Pat suggests they act like they’re friends to which Pran emphatically says no. Then without pause, Pat says okay, lovers then, to which Pran is so surprised that he doesn’t even respond. Ooh, Pran, we see you sir.

After some back and forth on who gets to be the guy and who the girl, Pat calls Pran out on being picky over an imaginary scenario and says fine they’re two hot guys and they’re boyfriends. And Pran does not put up any argument! I need to shout this again for all to hear. Pran agrees to Pat’s terms, they’re two very hot boyfriends! Pat concedes that he’ll play the role of wife to Pran’s role of husband to which Pran’s only response is you’re such a masculine wife. Uh, that’s ALL you have to say, Mr. Parakul?

Pat fully commits to his role as a pouty wife and whines that it’s raining, and they should seek shelter under the bus stop. This whole act inspires Pran with several great ideas and with Pat’s prompting, Pran gets into it and starts envisioning the entire space. He starts scribbling away in his notebook, verbalizing his ideas to a receptive Pat. They are SO GOOD together. Why can’t they see it? Gah!

Pat says he’s thirsty from making a high-pitched girl’s voice, so Pran fishes out an Oishi bottle from his bag and Pat pouts for Pran to open it for him. Pran does and feeds him while he’s at it. But because they’re them, Pran purposely overdoes it, and the drink ends up drenching Pat all over. We are then treated to an adorable scene of Pat chasing Pran to wipe his sticky mouth on him. And God, this whole chase scene is so sickeningly wholesome and also foreshadows Pat chasing Pran later on. But just look at them. Look how disgustingly happy they are. Our dopey idiots.

So you can keep me Inside the pocket of your ripped jeans Holding me closer 'til our eyes meet You won't ever be alone, wait for me to come home

They’re eventually worn out and end up lying on the ground. Pran looks over at Pat and finds him already staring at him. Aww. Pat then asks Pran if he likes “it” but Pat takes enough of a pause for the “it” to be an open question in which Pran just stares at him. Pat then qualifies it by saying, the bus stop. Do you like the new bus stop? Pran says he does, but he’s not sure if others will like it, too. Pat assures him that they will, because Pat does. God, this script is just too good and OhmNanon play it so naturally. I absolutely love conversations where there’s more meaning behind the words than what we’re given.

Pat then cuts the tension by chin booping Pran and says his honey is so smart using the high-pitched voice again. Pran tells him to stop, that he’s getting goosebumps, and his girly voice doesn’t suit his giant body. Ha!

The boys are back at LogTech where they’re informed that they’ve got financial backers for the bus stop. But the expenses are too high so they can only sponsor half of their proposal. As the boys leave the office building, Pran is visibly stressed out and Pat tries to help by suggesting they can save money by using lower-grade materials for the construction. He tells Pran not to worry that they’ll figure it out. Pran says that’s easy for him to say since it’s not his friends’ academic careers on the line. He leaves with the parting shot that it wasn’t even his friends who started this whole mess. Pat responds with, then who did, me? Ah, it’s like one step forward and two steps back with these two.

Woof. Pat in uniform is his best look on the show. I’ll fight anyone who disagrees. Also that lean. Boy can lean.

On campus, Pat sees his friends playing games on their phones without a care in the world and it pricks his nerves. Yesss, Pat! Ours too. He smacks Korn on the back of his head with his bag and asks them why they posted that video because now the architects are up shit’s creek. The morons turn it back on Pat asking why he’s so frustrated on the architects’ behalf? Need they remind him that he’s from the engineering faculty? Pat seems stumped as though this is the first time he’s asking himself, yeah why am I so upset for them?

When words fail, actions speak. LOUDLY.

We switch to Pat alone in his room deep in thought. He opens his closet and pulls out Pran’s guitar case, shocking us all. He smiles as he recalls their conversation in the music store, unzips the bag and pulls out the guitar and we see that it is in pristine condition. Pat has taken care of this guitar for YEARS. 1,095 days more or less. For Pran. Without being asked. 

Pran is sitting with his friends discussing the bus stop reconstruction. They’re still short on funds and need to find ways to make it work. Pran suggests going to the bus site to see what can be salvaged and sold.

Look at this gangster and his merry men rolling up in slow motion. Of course Pat would get the hero’s slo-mo entrance.

At the site, they determine there’s nothing worth selling. Wai starts counting that there’s four of them. Congratulations, you know how to count Waisel. He whines that how are the four of them supposed to rebuild the bus stop by themselves. Pran says it’s an impossible task and they’ll need to hire people to help them. Pat’s ears must be burning, because he chimes in, are you talking about us?

We get a quick flashback of Pat manipulating his friends to help the architects with the rebuild project by telling them that if they forfeit the pavilion of peace to the other faculty, they’ll have no leg to stand on going forward. Pat is either a genuis or his friends are really just that dumb. 

I read a youtube comment saying it’s a good thing Pat found these guys before a cult did. And ain’t that the truth. They remind me of the tiny green aliens from Toy Story and Pat is their Mr. Potato Head who saved them from the claw. “You’ve saved our lives; we are eternally grateful.” Wait, does this make Pran their de facto Mrs. Potato Head? LMAO. Now I can’t unsee Pran packing Pat an extra pair of his fierce eyes.

Back at the present, Pat tells everyone that if they work together, they won’t need to hire any more people. The engineers will oversee the project and he already got everything approved by their professors. Pat did his homework. The two boys shake on it while their squads look on. I love this scene so much because you can see the stirrings of something happening with Pran. He’s trying to school his face, but it still slips through. 

That night Pran is pacing the hallway between his and Pat’s rooms. He looks to have been at it a while working up his courage when Pat opens his door and asks him what’s up. Pran then thanks him for the bus stop and convincing his friends to help with the rebuild. Pat tells him they’re responsible too, for posting the video, so can they call it even now? Pran agrees. Pat turns to go back into his room when Pran stops him. He takes a beat where we can see him again calling on his courage, c’mon Pran, you can do this. Have you eaten? Aww. He did it and we’re all cheering for our brave boy!

Pat takes a moment to respond, and we can see him considering whether he should lie and say no, but instead he tells Pran he ate already. Dammit Pat, this is the wrong answer. Pran turns to leave but now it’s Pat’s turn to stop him. He tells him to wait and goes inside. He comes back out with the guitar and proudly presents it to Pran. Oh, our hearts.

Pran’s joy at reuniting with his beloved guitar shows Pat that it was worth his effort of keeping it all these years. Pran’s happiness is tempered by their banishment from the music contest, and he says as much. Pat then says not so fast because they’re back in. Pran is surprised and asks Pat, how did that happen? To which Pat shrugs that he doesn’t know. But we know. Pat went to Professor Pichai, worked his charm, and got them both reinstated. The fact that he chose not to take credit for this with Pran. Oh, our hearts again.

He then encourages Pran to do his best in the concert by telling him not to lose to him and the engineers. Pran turns Pat’s earlier words back on him, you seem happy when you get to compete against me. Pat agrees and says it’s because he likes to see his face. OH. And the moment these words are spoken, we can see Pran’s eyes light up in a way that could brighten the darkest room. Our own eyes light up with his. Together we can power an entire city. Then Pat goes and qualifies it with... when you lose. Dammit again, Pat. He laughs and boops Pran’s chin and ruffles his head, then goes back inside.

Pran sits in their hallway, quietly looks down at his watch and at the guitar. His two cherished items returned to him years apart by the same boy. Oh, we feel it too, Pran. This boy is too good and worse, he doesn’t even know what he’s done. What he’s doing to you. How are you supposed to stop these feelings from coursing through your veins? He makes it impossible. Short of taking out your own heart. Draining all your blood supply. Even then. Even then this boy would still find a way. Pran eventually gets up, goes into his room, and shuts the door. A beat later we see the door opening again and the door tag is flipped to the smiling side. 

And that wraps up the third hour with our soft boys. And soft they truly are especially in this episode. My fear of episode three falling under the same pitfalls as the previous episode were put to rest as soon as we were treated to that opening flashback. Then it was sealed with the wonton noodles and racing up the stairs. And then further cemented by the bus stop role playing. The entirety of the returning the guitar scene will forever stay with me. Not that the show ever lost me, or ever could, but this episode thoroughly made me double down on these two boys and their trajectory towards each other. I will lay my life down and bet on their love confident that I’ll win every time.

I want to address the music selection for this series so far because it might sometimes get overlooked. The song choices made are peak level musicology, especially the instrumental background music. The soft melodies that envelope the heart, feed the soul, and serve as the last pièce de résistance needed to complete the overall mood of the show. For this recap, I wrote while the episode was playing in the background on low volume. I didn’t want to distract myself with the audio. But every so often, I would glance over to see which scene we were at, and I knew just from watching a few seconds that I had to increase the volume to listen to the background music. It’s that telling how much the music choices resonate with each scene. How the quiet seems unsettled and incomplete until you fill it in with the notes and harmony that hits just right. It truly makes you appreciate how much work goes into the production of a show. The musical composition for this series is exceptional and helps elevate the show’s title for best Thai BL.

This episode was mostly told in a straight, linear format. Again, we are given only one flashback, but instead of revealing it towards the end to gut us in the last half, it kicks off the episode with a banger. P’Aof is out here telling us to quell our predictions, and what we think we know of his storytelling style, he instead keeps close to the vest. And how lovely is it that past Pat and Pran are wholly unique to their present selves. It’s not just the hair style or the school uniform either. There’s a certain quality that only comes with outstanding acting where you can feel the minute differences in characterizations. We’re only with them for a few precious moments, but even then, past Pat is shown as being even more carefree. Pran, while still contemplative, is less cynical. It’s so well portrayed here that we wish we had a peek at the missing three years that made them who they are now while simultaneously mourning the versions of them they were then.

Remember 5k+ words ago 😇 when I said the flashback was to set our expectations for the overall takeaway of this episode? And that was for Pran to figure out what his feelings for Pat meant in this current timeline. It’s all laid out for us if we look close enough. It’s in the considering look Pran gives Pat while shaking his hand. It’s when he thanks Pat and asks if he’s eaten yet. It’s how he sits in their shared hallway and looks at his watch and the long-kept guitar. And finally, it’s in the flipping of his door tag from frowny to happy – these are the exact moments when we learn that Pran has given in. The show wanted us to be so confident in his choice that they showed it to us four times. He’s expressing in his own Pran ways that he’s here; he’s owning these feelings, not hiding from them, not denying them. More than passively putting on the watch, he’s actively in it now. He’s no longer running. And we’re in it with him.

There are so many conversations between these two that can’t be taken at surface level, and I am loving their layered multi-meaning. Take for example, Pran pacing in front of Pat’s door and then telling Pat thank you. It’s a thank you (for everything you did to help Wai and them with the bus stop.) And Pat’s response is we were at fault too, but you're welcome (but you do know, don't you? I didn’t do it for them. Surely you must know that I did it all for you. You don’t need me to say it, right?) And doesn’t that just make you want to go climb the nearest mountain singing at the top of your lungs that the hills are alive with the sound of music?

Pran asking Pat if he’s eaten yet may seem like a small moment but in fact it’s monumental. He wants a reason to spend time with Pat, but even beyond that, he’s showing concern for Pat, to Pat. That’s HUGE. How many times has Pat asked Pran to speak nicely to him? And how many times has Pran scoffed at him in response? We all know it’s deflection as a means to safeguard his heart, but Pat doesn’t know this. Despite his observational prowess, he’s an idiot at seeing what’s right in front of him when it involves himself. So, Pran’s have you eaten yet is equivalent to him holding up a neon sign that might very well say, if you say you haven’t, then I’ll happily feed you. Pat may have just missed out on some of Pran’s home cooking, we’ll never know. 

On the other side, the moment Pat tells Pran that he’s already eaten may seem minor, but I saw it as the point in time where Pat decides that he was never going to lie to Pran, even about the small stuff. Pat makes the decision here to always be honest with Pran and once Pat decides something, he’s immovable and resolute in that decision. He may tease and quip, but he won’t lie, not knowingly and never intentionally, not to Pran. It’s more than an unspoken promise he’s making to Pran, it’s a pact that he’s making with himself. This is the one person I will never hide from. And this promise carries throughout the remainder of the show.

And for his part, Pran has now accepted that Pat is in his life, present tense, he’s here to stay and Pran is weak to stop tornado-Pat from happening. Nor does he want to. So come sweep him away, Pat. We’re all ready and waiting.

):):):):):):):)

Thank you for reading and reliving BBS EP3 with me. Next up, the episode I’ve been looking forward to recapping for weeks now. Fun fact: I joined tumblr immediately after watching EP4 because I HAD TO to find someone to talk BBS with, it’s the episode that jumpstarted this blog. I’ve found my people in all of you. So, THANK YOU! And even now months later, I still feel like I could write an entire thesis on EP4′s ending alone. Watch me do it anyway. Until next time!

[the-bau-quinjet]

Anything for You

So, I got this idea in my head and I wrote it. This is not the first thing I’ve written, but the first that I finished. And the first that I’m posting. Sorry if it sucks. I hope someone out there likes it. Italics indicate past memories.

Summary: This takes place after Maeve. It sort of starts a month before Spencer goes back to work but then skips a year. Reader is the newest member of the BAU. Spencer lashes out when she tries to help him, but he doesn’t realize how much she can relate to his trauma. 

warnings: angst but also a little fluff, typical CM violence (kidnapping, torture, death etc.), dark thoughts about dying, I think that’s it

Word Count: 6218

 It is moments like this that make you rethink every decision that lead you here. You are on the jet on the way back to Quantico after a particularly rough case. The team managed to save the most recent victim, but only to discover three more hidden on the unsubs property. And to make it worse, they were children. Everyone on the team keeps shooting you concerned glances, worried that you might break. It’s only fair. You are still the newbie.

 You started at the BAU one month ago to the day. Your previous position was a desk job, but you were ready to get back into field after two years of endless paperwork. Not that the entire team knows you had been in the field before. Only Hotch knows. You don’t like to talk about it. You had gone so far as to cut Hotch off to prevent him from bringing it up on your first day.

 You are counting down the floors with each beep as the elevator rises to bring you to the floor that houses the Behavioral Analysis Unit. To say you aren’t nervous would be a lie, but that comes with the territory of starting a new job. Especially a job with one of the most elite units of the FBI. It’s hard not to be intimidated.

 The elevator doors slide open, revealing the all too familiar glass doors that lead to the BAU. When you were trying to decide if switching career paths was the right decision, you found yourself staring at these doors far more than you’d care to admit.

 You walk through the doors, immediately heading for Hotch’s office. He told you to meet him there first thing this morning. You knock on the open door to draw his attention.

 “Agent L/N, please come in.” He looks up from the file he has open on his desk.

 “Agent Hotchner, I would just like to thank you again for the position.” You have to stop yourself before you ramble on about how grateful you are for his taking a chance on you.

 “Please, call me Hotch. You’re new ID was just dropped off.” He says, handing you the plastic card to put in your credentials. You take a moment to admire the way your name looks just above the words “Behavioral Analysis Unit” before sliding it into the wallet.

 “I wish we had time for a more thorough welcoming, but we just got a case. I’ll introduce you to the team in the conference room.” He rises from his desk, you following behind him to a room already full of profilers. Of course, you already know of them all, but the introductions are nice nonetheless.

 “L/N, these are SSAs Emily Prentiss, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, and Jennifer Jureau and our technical analyst Penelope Garcia.” You shake hands with each member of the team as there name is called. “Team, this is SSA Y/N L/N. She transferred from violent crimes-” You know he is going to bring up your previous field work, so you cut him off.

 “It’s an honor to meet you all.” You smiled at Hotch, trying your best to get him to move on. Thankfully, you can see in his eye that he understands why you don’t want to relieve your past field experience.

 “Actually, that’s not all. Dr. Reid is on leave at the moment, but you’ll meet him when he returns.” You nod, taking a seat next to Derek. “Garcia, you can start now.”

 The memory fades and you try to ignore the concerned glances from everyone on the jet. Yes, you were the one to find the children in the back shed, but you have techniques to handle this. You’ve always been good at compartmentalizing. It comes with the territory of undercover work.

 You are more concerned with the wellbeing of one Dr. Reid. This is the first case you’ve worked with him, but it still feels like something’s off. Granted, you don’t know why he was on leave or how long it lasted.

 After everyone else is asleep, barring Hotch who is too focused on his reports to pay you any attention, you slide down into the seat across from Spencer. He doesn’t even glance up from his book.

 “Dr. Reid?” You can tell he’s stopped reading at the sound of your voice, but it takes him a moment to actually look up at you. When he does, you can see the sadness in his eyes.

 “L/N. Are you okay?” Of course he would ask you that. You’ve known him for all of 72 hours, but he’s still concerned about you’re wellbeing. The way your heart flutters at the sentiment catches you off guard.

 “Oh, um, I’m fine. I actually wanted to check on you.” He looks startled at that, but you just push forward. “I know we only just met, and I have no idea what you’re going through, but I just thought maybe I could help.” You can see the instant you finished talking that it was a mistake. He is clearly not ready to talk about his demons, especially with a near stranger.

 “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“ “No, you shouldn’t have.” His words are defensive more than anything. The words of someone who just went through unbelievable pain “You couldn’t possibly help me. Unless, of course, you’ve been kidnapped, tortured, and drugged, shot multiple times, and witnessed the love of your life being murdered in front of you just to name a few. I’m sure you have plenty of experience with that given your work in violent crimes.” The sarcasm is obvious, with violent crimes being a desk job. He mistakes the tears that spring to your eyes as pity rather than understanding. He scoffs, going back to his book while you wander back to your previous seat, trying to control your emotions.

 Spencer doesn’t know about your time undercover. He doesn’t know you experienced all of those things. He doesn’t know about the scars that line your torso or the more prevalent scars on your heart. You try not to take it personally. You’ve had years to deal with your trauma. His is clearly newer. You tell yourself over and over that he’s not angry with you, but with the world. You just happened to be the first available outlet.

 When the others wake up, they assume your red eyes are due to the case. That you are finally breaking down after a month on the job. They offer words of encouragement and promises to be there if you need to talk. They stress how you aren’t alone. They all know how you feel. You simply nod, gathering your things before heading home. You can’t help but think there is one of them who knows exactly what is going through your head. It’s the first time you’ve cried over Cameron in three months, the last time being the anniversary of his death.

 -------

 The next year at the BAU flies by. You actually feel like part of the family, knowing you could talk to any member of the team when you need a friend. Well, almost any member of the team. You and Spencer didn’t click the way everyone thought you would. Ever since the conversation on the plane, you hold back when you’re with him. It’s not that you two avoid each other. You’re just more like coworkers than family. You converse when you need to, but don’t seek each other out.

 Nobody understands why. Hotch especially thought the two of you would become close. You can see why he would think so. From your brief encounters with Spencer, you can tell he’s been through hell. Hotch was probably hopeful the two of you might bond over shared trauma, act as an anchor for each other to know you aren’t alone. Of course that required you to share your trauma with the team, which definitely has not happened.

 It’s not that you don’t trust them. It’s just that the moment hasn’t provided itself yet. First of all, you can’t just casually bring up being kidnapped and tortured for government secrets with your fiancé who was then murdered in front of you. Second of all, something in you says it would crush Spencer. You can tell he clearly still feels bad about what he said to you that day.

 You two hadn’t talked about it. It was a year later, and you still hadn’t talked about it. You would think he forgot, but he does have a rather prolific memory. Everything was fine though. Mostly. He still seemed nervous around you. Or maybe you were projecting. There is something about Dr. Reid…

 “Y/N, can I talk to you?” You were honestly surprised to hear Spencer’s voice saying those six words. Everyone else had already gone home, even Hotch. You just wanted to finish one more file.

 “Of course, what’s up?” You try desperately to sound casual, to pretend like you weren’t just thinking about him. Despite not talking to Spencer all that often, you still have a massive amount of respect for him. Watching him work is incredible. You would expect most people with his intelligence to come off as cocky, but he is somehow still so humble.

 “I just wanted to apologize. For what I said on the jet. I was in a bad place, and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have said those things, you were just trying to help me, and I threw it back in your face. Also, I’m sorry it took me so long to actually apologize. I just felt so awful, I didn’t know how to bring it up and the longer I waited the more nervous I became and” “Spencer,” he looked startled at the sound of his name. Granted, you normally call him Dr. Reid or Reid when you’re feeling more casual, but still. It’s his name, why is he so surprised you’re using it? “You didn’t do anything wrong. Trust me. You were dealing with an amount of grief nobody should have to go through. I shouldn’t have tried to step in without knowing more about the situation. I’m sorry.” This is your chance. Tell him what happened to you. Come clean about it all.

 He just looks so… relieved. As if you had lifted a weight off his shoulder just by telling him you understood he didn’t mean it. Seeing the hope in his eyes, you couldn’t bring yourself to put any of that weight back on him. He had just freed himself, he doesn’t need your problems weighing him back down.

 You can tell he still feels bad, but maybe now the two of you can try to move on. Maybe you’ll actually become friends. Telling him that you have indeed been through all of those things would just bring all that guilt back. For some reason, there is nothing you would rather do than protect Spencer Reid from pain.

 So, you’ve resigned yourself to never telling anyone unless you absolutely had to. You convinced yourself it was a secret you could take to the grave. Nobody needed to know.

 Until one day, they do. And that day happens to be tomorrow.

 --

 “Hello, crime fighters. This one is a doozey.” Penelope walked into the round table room and immediately jumped into the case. “Three heterosexual couples in Plano, Texas have been killed. The details are on your tablets. Be warned, it is not a pretty sight. All the victims were tortured. The men all died of blood loss. The women were drowned after multiple non fatal gunshot wounds and other various forms of torture.” You tensed ever so slightly at the description of the crimes. Hotch shot you a concerned glance, but you waved him off with a slight shake of your head. You zoned out for the rest of Garcia’s description, deciding instead to focus on every detail you could learn from the case files on your tablet.

 “Wheels up in 20.” Hotch’s voice drew you from your focus on the files. “Y/N?” You looked at him from your seat at the table, realizing everyone else had already left. “If this is too much for you, everyone would understand.” You stand, plastering the fakest smile Hotch has ever seen on your face.

 “I appreciate the concern, but there is a job to do. And I intend to do it.” There is no malice behind your words. Only a fierce determination to catch this unsub before he can hurt anyone else.

 “Alright, but Y/N, please. Let me know if you need to talk about it. The whole team is here for you.” You features soften into a genuine smile before you respond.

 “Thank you, Hotch.” And with that, you exit the room. You grab your go bag, meeting the other agents by the elevator.

 The flight to Texas is long enough that the team’s discussion doesn’t prevent everyone from catching up on sleep. While everyone else is resting, preparing to start up again on the ground with fresh eyes, you are pouring over every detail again and again. You just need to know if it’s the same people. The same people who killed your fiancé. The same people who tortured you.

 It was a day like any other. You had just gotten to the bar you were working at as a cover. Cameron was working security, you as a bartender. The mission was supposed to be simple.

 There was a domestic terrorist cell operating just outside of Plano in Addison, TX. The leader was believed to own the very bar you had gotten a job in. You were supposed to gather intelligence, and report back. You weren’t supposed to engage with the terrorist cell. It was a simple mission.

 That day, the day you could never forget, started exactly how you expected it to. The leader was supposed to be meeting with his right hand. You were supposed to learn who or what they were planning to target. You still can’t pinpoint the moment you knew something was wrong.

 Everything was normal when you clocked in. Everything was normal when you served you first few customers. Everything as normal when you walked up to the table hosting the meeting and asked if you could get them anything. Everything was normal until it wasn’t.

 You remember waking up in a warehouse. Cameron was tied to a chair across from you. He was injured, bleeding from a cut in his side. It didn’t look that bad, but there was so much blood. How could such a small cut produce so much blood?

 You had a million questions, but couldn’t form the words to ask them. You’re mouth felt like it was full of cotton. Cameron looked at you as if he knew something you didn’t. You suppose he did, given that he was awake before you. But that’s not what concerned you the most. No, it was the look of pure terror in his eyes. Pure terror, mixed with… resignation? That doesn’t make sense. Why would he be giving up?

 Finally gathering enough strength to speak, you mumble “What happened?”

 “Y/N… they know who we are. I don’t know how they figured it out, but they did. They are going to hurt me to get to you. You can’t let them, okay? Stay strong. Everything will be fine.” His words are rushed. You have a hard time following them, as if the words drift into the air, only to enter your head in a different order.

 Before you have a chance to ask any more questions, you hear a door swing open behind you. You can hear the footsteps, but can’t turn around enough to see who they belong to.

 “Do it.” You know that voice. You know you know it, but you can’t place it.

 A man appears from your left. He stands in front of you, a mask covering his face so you can only see his eyes. “Let’s have some fun.” You’re ready for him to hit you. Or cut you. Or hurt you in any way. What you’re not ready for is him pulling a knife only to walk over to Cameron.

 “No” The word is barely there. You aren’t even sure you said it out loud.

 “Y/N, don’t tell them anything. Okay? I’ll be fine.” Cameron is looking at you with pleading eyes. You both know he’s lying.

 “Your fiancé here is a liar.” The man sneers, dragging his knife down Cameron’s arm. “He will most certainly not be fine.” With that, the man plunges the knife into Cameron’s stomach. A gut wrenching scream leaves his mouth as the man moves the knife around inside his body. You try to control your reaction, but tears instantly spring to your eyes.

 “Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll leave your man alone.” There’s no point. Cameron would never forgive you if you gave up information to the enemy. He’s always been a loyal soldier. Either way, deep down you know he won’t live much longer. He’s lost too much blood. You are going to have to watch the man you love die. He’s going to bleed out in front of you. And there’s nothing you can do about it.

 You are shaken back to reality after the jet has landed. You slowly come to, realizing you must have fallen asleep while you were looking at the files. You can’t get the eyes out of your head now. The last time you had a nightmare was 6 months ago. Although, this was more of a memory than the usual nightmares you have.

 “Y/N/N? You good?” Morgan is looking at you with concern that hasn’t been there since your first month on the job.

 “Yeah, I’m fine. Just groggy.” You try to laugh it off, walking past him and jumping into an SUV. You’re supposed to go with Hotch to the precinct to set up, so you can avoid the rest of the team’s questions for now.

 You bury your head in the files again, trying to discern if anything feels off or if it is all too similar to be a coincidence.

 “Just answer the question. This will all be over.” Cameron is dead. You are staring at his lifeless body as the man tries to torture you to get the answers he wants.

 With all the strength you can muster up, you spit at him. “I didn’t break before and I won’t break now. Do what you want to me. You’ll never get your answers.” “Oh everyone’s got a breaking point. I’ll find yours.” With that, he storms passed you and out of the room.

 You try to inventory the damage he’s done, but it’s hard because he typically drugs you when he leaves. You’re too disoriented to remember everything. You haven’t heard anything else from the first voice, but you finally realized it was the owner of the bar.

 You are just about to drift back into unconsciousness when you hear a loud crash from somewhere in the building. You expect the masked man to come running back into the room, but instead you’re greeted with the face of the terrorist cell leader. He pulls you to your feet, mumbling about how this wasn’t part of the deal.

 You don’t have the energy to protest as he pulls you down hallways and through doors. He bursts into a large open room. It smells like chlorine, but your eyes are too fuzzy to figure out why. The lights just got so much brighter, and you can’t see. You keep slipping on the floor. The third time, you fall to the ground. Everything is wet. He’s kicking you now. No, rolling you. It all feels distant. As if it’s not happening to you, but rather you are watching it happen to someone. Like a movie.

 You hear the splash before you register the water surrounding you. You’re sinking. It’s actually quite warm. Like a comforting blanket tucking you into bed. The sounds of people yelling fade out as the water covers your head. You feel at peace as everything fades to black.

 Suddenly, the peace is gone. You can hear voices. They sound loud, but still distant. Like you are swimming and someone is trying to talk to you from above the water. But the ground is hard now. There’s loud bangs too, but you can’t figure out what they are. There’s no pattern to them, but suddenly they stop. Maybe you’ll never know what they were, oh well. You just want to get back to the peaceful darkness.

 Instead, you feel burning in your lungs and a pounding in your head. It feels like someone is punching you in the ribs. No. No. No. Where’s the peace?

 All at once, the burning liquid is expelled from your lungs and your eyes fly open. You try to spin around, to see what’s happening, but everything hurts. Your lungs are trying to fill with air. Your eyes are trying to adjust to the lights. You head is begging everything to just stop making noise. Then, darkness. It’s not a peaceful transition this time. It’s sudden, as if someone turned everything off.

 “Y/N?” The sound of your name draws you out of the memory again. You turn to see Hotch’s concerned expression. He’s parked the car outside of the station.

 You take a few deep breaths before speaking, trying to prepare yourself for what you never wanted to have to do. “I have to tell them.” Hotch nods with a grim expression on his face.

 “The team won’t judge you for keeping it a secret. We’ll all be there for you.” He tries to smile, but it’s more of a grimace. He’s too worried about you.

 “I know. It’s not me I’m worried about.” For the first time since you met him, Aaron Hotchner looks confused. It’s actually kind of funny. Although, your laughing sounds more delirious than amused.

 “Hotch, my first case with Spencer, do you remember it?” You shudder at the memory.

 “Of course. It was hard on both of you.” Your smile feels weak, even to you.

 “Well, I tried to check on him. I had only just met him, but he looked so sad. I wanted to take his pain away.” You can feel the tears coming, but you can’t figure out why. “He said unless I had been kidnapped, tortured, and drugged, shot multiple times, and witnessed the murder of the love of my life there was nothing I could do to help him.”

 You can’t bring yourself to look at Hotch. His worrisome expression will just make you feel worse.

 “You didn’t tell him.” The realization is evident in the lilt of his voice. Turning toward him, you try to explain, but he cuts you off. “He was listing trauma you’ve both experienced, and you didn’t tell him.”

 “Of course not, he would’ve felt so guilty! He already feels so guilty and he has no idea. We talked it out, you know. We were actually becoming friends, although it was hard to see from an outside perspective.”

 “You had me fooled. The two of you barely talk.” Hotch looks incredulous. You’ve never seen so many emotions on his face in one day, let alone one conversation.

 “I know. It’s still new. Honestly, it happened yesterday.” Hotch actually chuckles at that. “I think he still feels bad that my first impression was him yelling at me. He’s going to feel so guilty, and I just wanted to keep that pain away from him. He doesn’t need my emotional baggage on top of his own.” You can’t read the expression on his face anymore. You can tell he’s thinking something, though he doesn’t intend to share.

 “It’ll all work out in the end, Y/N. Reid is stronger than he looks. He’s been through a lot, but so have you. Let’s go catch this son of a bitch.” And the two of you exit the car as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred.

 Your nerves build waiting for the rest of the team at the station. Spencer and Derek are last to arrive. You were hoping to have a few more minutes to figure out how to tell them all about the worst moments of your life, but alas the time has come.

 Hotch clears his throat to get everyone’s attention. The conversations about theories die out as all eyes turn to him. “Y/N has a theory to share.”

 That’s one way to put it. Before you can back out, you jump right in.

 “The unsub was a for-hire torturer. I think he left the business and started killing for fun. A sadist. He enjoys the psychological torture of killing the one person you love more than anyone.” You can’t bring yourself to say another word. Spencer looks grief stricken. Everyone else is looking at you in confusion, except Hotch who is looking at you with sorrow. You can’t decide which is worse.

 “What makes you say that?” Derek is the first one to speak. He clearly doesn’t understand why you came to that conclusion. Plus, he’s probably confused that Hotch had to introduce your theory rather than just include it in the brainstorming.

 “Before I worked in violent crimes, I worked in the National Security division. I focused on domestic terrorism. We had a mission go wrong. It was supposed to be a simple, just gathering intel. Something went wrong and two agents were abducted.” You unconsciously decided to depersonalize the story. It’s something Hotch quickly caught on to, but what can he do about it? You just need to get the words out.

 “They were a couple. Engaged. The man, he died from three precise wounds to the abdomen. He bled out while his fiancé was forced to watch.” You’re grateful when Emily interrupts.

 “Did the woman drown?” The woman. You.

 “No. Well, yes. She was dead for 3 minutes when they found her. The cell leader dumped her into a pool in the building she was being held in. They caught him trying to flee the building. When they questioned him about a partner, he said he hired someone to torture the couple to get information. He didn’t know where he went. I think that’s the unsub.”

 Instantly, the team is theorizing. You stay quiet, listening. Where could he have hidden for this long? Were there more crimes in other states? Can Garcia look through unsolved double homicides that fit the signature? Before long, Derek asks the question you’ve been dreading.

 “Can we interview the agent who survived?” You’re grateful that he’s looking at Hotch when he asks. Spencer, though, his eyes haven’t left you since you started speaking. He knows. You know he knows because you can see the weight bearing down on him. You tear your eyes away from him when Hotch clears his throat to get your attention.

 “Y/N, can we interview the agent?” His tone is gentle. Hotch knows what he’s asking. Are you ready to tell them the truth? To share this pain with all of us?

 “Yes. You can interview her.” You are visibly tense, but Morgan is just confused about the interaction. Why would Hotch need to ask you for permission? Why does he sound like someone just kicked his puppy?

 “Great, when can she get here?” Of course, Morgan would ask the next logical question.

 “She’s already here.” Your voice is quiet. He almost doesn’t hear you.

 “What? Where?” He knows he’s missing something. It’ll only take him a few more seconds to put it together, but you save him the trouble.

 “Right here.” You gesture to yourself, eyes flitting between Spencer’s and the ground. The rest of the team didn’t hear you. They were still working out theories as you, Morgan, Hotch, and Spencer converse in cryptic sentences and brief eye contact. Spencer is frozen in place. Hotch was stressed for you. It’s never easy to share past trauma, let alone when you feel like you don’t have a choice.

 The realization hits Morgan so fast he almost falls to the ground. He rushes to you, pulling you into the tightest bear hug you have ever experienced. Morgan has become like an older brother to you. He always jokes about how he would beat up anyone who hurt you. You always joke right back about doing the same for him. He told you about Carl Buford a few months ago. It was also on a case. You would’ve told him everything then, but you didn’t want him to feel like you thought the two were comparable or that his trauma was somehow less important just because you’d been through some bad shit too.

 His actions drew the attention of Rossi, JJ, and Emily though. You weren’t an overly emotional person usually. Undercover work made you good at compartmentalizing, so you never really sought out someone to comfort you. The sight of you in tears, wrapped in Morgan’s arms threw them for a loop. You normally waited until you got home to go through your routine to decompress. It was easier that way. But right now, the thought of even looking at Spencer was enough to bring tears to your eyes. You just couldn’t stop thinking about him. It felt weird, to be sharing such an intimate part of your life with everyone and still be thinking about him. You had moved on from it all though. You knew how to deal with it. Of course, you still love Cameron, but you talk about everything in therapy once a week so you won’t break down like this.

 You see JJ look to Spencer for an explanation, but he’s too busy looking at you with more pain in his eyes than should be possible. He knows how it feels to see someone you love die right in front of you. He knows how it feels to try and move on from being drugged and tortured. He knows how it feels to be alone in it all. What he doesn’t know is how it feels to try and help someone through that grief only to have your own thrown back in your face. That’s what he did to you. Albeit, unintentionally but he did that. And it is so clear that he feels awful. You wish you could talk to him, but Morgan is pulling you into a different conference room for a cognitive interview that you somehow agreed to in your state of shock.

 Hotch explains the situation to Rossi, Emily, and JJ. Spencer’s guilt only pushes further down on him when he hears it all again.

 He stares at the room you’re in through the class doors of the conference room. He hasn’t moved in the ten minutes you’ve been gone. He expected JJ to talk to him first, but he was surprised to find Hotch instead.

 “Y/N told me in the car that she was scared to share that story.” Hotch starts slow, trying to ease Spencer out of his own head.

 “I would be too. It’s a painful memory to relive.” Spencer responds with a familiar tightness in his chest.

 “She wasn’t worried about herself though.” Spencer’s head jerks up to meet Hotch’s stare.

 “What do you mean? Who else would she be worried for?”

 “You.” Hotch says it as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. You being worried about him when you share your darkest memories.

 “Me?” Spencer practically falls out of his chair in an effort to sit up straighter. “Why would she worry about me?” Despite his genius IQ, he can’t fathom why you would worry about him in this scenario. If roles were reversed and he had to tell the story of watching Maeve die, he wouldn’t be worried about you. He slowly comes to the conclusion that he would be worried about you though. Now that he knows you’ve been through something similar, he would worry about you anytime it was brought up. Anytime anything remotely similar was brought up.

 “She told me what you said to her on the jet after your first case together.” Spencer falls into himself at the memory, his guilt pushing his shoulders down. “She said you still feel guilty about it. That hearing the things she has been through would push all that guilt back to the surface. More than anything, she wanted to protect you from more pain.” Hotch seems to know more than he’s saying, but Spencer is too shocked to profile him.

 “But, I, how would, but…” Spencer is muttering the beginning of every thought running through his head, but he can’t seem to form a complete sentence. “Why?”

 “You’ll have to ask her.”

 --

 Between your cognitive interview and Garcia’s sleuthing, the team find the unsub rather quickly. You stay at the station when the team goes to catch him. You try to protest, but Hotch, Morgan, and Emily stare you down until you concede. Really though, it was the concerned look from Spencer that convinced you to sit down and wait. The case wraps up quickly after that. The masked man ended up being Kyle Beckett. A classic sadist.

 It brings you more closure than you would have imagined to know he will be locked up for the rest of his life. You spent a lot of time in therapy trying to cope with the fact that he was never caught. And now, it’s over. You’re also extremely grateful you didn’t have to face him, although you would never admit that you were actually glad to stay behind. They can all tell though. They are profilers after all.

 You can’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu at all the stares you’re getting on the jet. It’s as if time itself was rewound to a year ago. You feel like the newbie again. Getting ready to have a heart to heart with Spencer. You’d be blind not to notice the parallels of the two situations when Spencer slides into the seat next to you on the jet after everyone else falls asleep.

 The silence is comforting at first, but quickly becomes unbearable.

 “Hi” You have a sleepy smile on your face when you say it. You are unbelievably exhausted after everything that happened. Too tired to fully conceal the emotions you know you have been denying. You’re always happy when you talk to him, even if the occurrences are a bit far and few between compared to other members of the team. “You look sad.”

 His mouth actually twitches upward at that statement, which you count as a win in your book. “You’ve been through hell on this case, and you’re still worried about me.” You can’t tell what he’s thinking. He’s too good at hiding his thoughts inside that big beautiful brain.

 “I’ve always worried about you. Ever since I met you. You just looked so sad and I wanted to make it stop.” You aren’t thinking before you speak anymore. Probably why Spencer suddenly looks so surprised.

 “Is that why you didn’t want to tell me?” Now it’s your turn to look confused. How did he know that? “I may have talked to Hotch earlier…” It takes longer than you’d care to admit for you to understand what exactly Hotch told him. But still, you’re too tired to be bothered.

 “I’m sorry if that was weird for you. It’s just, after we talked about it I thought maybe we could eventually be friends or something. I didn’t want you to be sad again. I know what it feels like to be sad. I also know what it feels like to be sad again when you realize someone else is sad for that same reason.” You must actually be exhausted because it feels like you’re talking in riddles. “Sorry, that doesn’t make sense. I just mean, I didn’t want you to feel bad about it again. I didn’t want you to feel more pain” You’ve started leaning toward him, about ready to pass out.

 “You’re incredible. You truly are amazing. I don’t think a day will go by where I don’t feel awful for what I said to you, but maybe with enough time I can make it up to you.”

 “I would like that.” You smile brightly as you look into his eyes. They seem sad still, but there is a brightness there that wasn’t there before.

 Spencer doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he lets you lay down in his lap as you drift off, the soothing feeling of his hands in your hair lulling you to sleep.

 You wake up as the jet touches down. The memories of your conversation with Spencer bring a smile to your face. He looks down smiling when you shift in his lap.

 “Thank you” You’re not surprised he still feels like he needs to thank you.

 “I would do anything for you Spencer Reid.” You get up to collect your belongings, turning back only when you realize he hasn’t moved from his spot on the couch.

 “Spence, let’s go.” Spence. He likes the sound of that. Maybe, just maybe the two of you will be okay. 

[hanniiesuckle17]

Hypothetically

A/n: I hope you all enjoy this! Ive never written something like this so I’m hoping I did this respectfully (so sorry if this is a little short)

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: mentions of sexual abuse/rape

Requested: by anonymous 

Tag List: @distrikt9​ @mini-meanhoe​ @poeticallyspaghetti​ @hanstagrams​ @desertofdessert​ @hoes4hoseok​ @yangomangos​ (Tag List is Open)

Summary: Chan is the best boyfriend. But, some things you just can’t talk about. When you finally confront Chan about a secret about your past you’ve been keeping you have no idea how he’ll react. 

Genre: angst, fluff, romance

❉

There was no reason to be anxious. Chan was wonderful. He was more than wonderful. He was....he was Chan. I had never met someone like him. Someone caring, and loving, and understanding. We had only been dating for eight months but it felt like I had been with him for years. 

I had forgotten being in a relationship could feel this good. I had been avoiding them for so long after...what had happened before. Chan never pushed me. He always seemed to pick up on cues I didn’t know I was giving. But, there was always this doubt in the back of my mind. 

Eight months. By now, in any relationship, a man would be expecting much more than simply nights shared together. I was too scared to give him even that. Chan never showed or hinted that he was impatient or that he wanted to sleep with me. In fact, I don’t even think the subject had ever been brought up. There was no doubt in my mind he was waiting for it though. 

There was no way he had the working parts of a man and he wasn’t getting the urge to jump on top of me after eight months. 

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to sleep with Chan. I did. Very much. The man was essentially walking sex looking like he did all the time. But, giving him that, would mean me being vulnerable in a way I wasn’t sure I was ready to do again.

My car came to a stop at the back of JYP Entertainment. Throwing it into park I looked up at the building. My nerves were twisting themselves into tightly wound knots. There is no way I would know how Chan felt if I didn’t ask him. 

I thought the drive from my apartment to the studio would be enough time to figure out what I was going to say to my boyfriend. But, here I sat. The perfect definition of an idiot; staring up at the menacing building waiting for it to sprout legs and chase me down the streets of Seoul. 

“Come on,” 

My words did not help the tightness growing in my chest. Memories I had pushed down were beginning to resurface. Instinctively my hands flew to my neck as if trying to pry off the hands wrapped around it. The hands of a ghost I had long since thrown out of my life. 

“Breathe. Just breathe.” I whispered. My fingers wrapped around my wrist, searching for my pulse. A steady but quick beat thumped against my fingers. After taking another deep breath, I opened the door and got out of the car. 

Hands shaking, I swiped the ID card Chan had given me about a month ago. The loud buzz of the door pulled me further away from the painful thoughts I chose to leave in my car.

My feet carried me on the familiar path to the small studio where I tended to spend any free moment I had these days. It was weird being in the building in the day time. I wasn’t used to nodding at people in the hall as I walked to Chan’s studio.

Music floated through the closed door at the end of the hall. Heartbeat pounding in my ears I reached for the door pushing it open. His head turned at the sound,  a bright smile filled his face. His long fingers pushed down the headphones to rest around his neck

“Y/n! What’s up baby girl?”

My purse landed on the couch behind him. “I need your advice.” Chan blinked a few times, but turned and gave me his full attention. In hopes of releasing some of my nervous energy, I began pacing in the small room. “So, I have this friend,” I started.

Chan nodded watching me pace with a gentle smile. “Is this your friend from class?” He asked sitting back in his chair. I stopped and looked at him, before continuing my pacing at a slower speed. 

“Uhh...no. Different friend. Her name is-uh...Mia...” My eyes looked at Chan to see if he noticed anything. He still seemed interested and none the wiser. “Anyway, uh, Mia- She has this boyfriend. His name is... Chris....stian. His name is Christian.” Chan nodded and watched me lean against the wall.

My hands fiddled with the hairband on my wrist, still needing something to do. “But, they’ve been together for almost a year. She was telling me she was really nervous because she hasn’t you know...slept with him yet. And I- Mia...thinks that Christian even though he never says it, is just waiting for her to let him sleep with her.”

“So, what’s the problem again?” Chan asked with a little laugh. His dimples made an appearance, making my heart skip a beat. 

“See the thing is she hasn’t been intimate with anyone for a really long time. It’s not like she’s bad at it or anything. Believe me- she’s very good. I mean. She told me, that she was good.” Chan laughed, interrupting my rambling. “But she hasn’t you know had sex in a really long time. Christian is her first boyfriend in years. It’s just that her last boyfriend wasn’t exactly....a good person.”

Again I looked to Chan. He sat, listening intently. “It was hard for her to talk about. She doesn’t want to tell him, because...she’s embarrassed and she afraid to be vulnerable. She just doesn’t want to get hurt like what happened to her the last time.” 

“What exactly happened to her that she’s so afraid to tell him or be with him? If he loves her and she loves him it shouldn’t matter.”

My cuticles suddenly became very interesting. He made a good point. Even though I had never said it, I was in fact completely in love with Chan. It was probably why I was obsessing over telling him about what happened.

“Her ex was fine when they started dating. But one night, he took it too far. She said she begged for him to stop...and he didn’t. Instead, he held her down by her neck until he was finished. She thought that it was maybe just a heat of the moment thing. Just something that would happen one time and she could forget it. Leave it as a mistake. But it happened again. And again. She would tell him to stop. He wouldn’t. He would hold her down. Hurt her when she wouldn’t do what he wanted.”

Chan stayed silent. 

“She felt like she couldn’t tell anyone. She thought, ‘it’s not rape if we’re dating right?’. It was consensual... at least in the beginning. She is just so afraid of being that vulnerable with him. She knows that he would never hurt her, but...” I shook my head, shaking myself out of the trance I had slipped into. “Mia asked me to put myself in her shoes. But, I don’t know what to do. If this was you and me...what would you do? Hypothetically.” 

I searched his eyes for any sort of thought or judgment, but he simply stared at me, hands folded in his lap. After a moment, Chan stood up and came to stand in front of me. 

“Hypothetically...I would tell you that I love you. I would never hurt you. And that you know you can always talk to me about anything.” His warm hand wrapped around mine, bringing it up to his lips. “Hypothetically,” He began again. “I would never make you do anything you don’t want to. I wouldn’t care about sex. I would care about you.”

“You really mean that?”

“Hypothetically, yes I do,” Chan said with a smile, kissing my hand again. 

I laughed, leaning my head against his chest. “When did you figure out I wasn’t talking about friends?” 

He sighed wrapping his arms around me. “It wasn’t very hard.” 

I felt safe wrapped up in his arms. “You really don’t care that we’ve been together for so long and we haven’t had sex?” Chan shrugged kissing the top of my head.

“I could care less. I respect you enough to wait until you’re ready and no earlier.” For a moment he just held me in his arms. “I’m really sorry that happened to you. I wish I had known sooner.” 

I looked up at Chan and kissed him, my hands pressing against his chest. “So, do you love me hypothetically? Or actually?” Chan smiled, holding onto me even tighter. 

“I love you. Actually.”

❉

Requests are temporarily closed, but open soon!

Masterlist

[sunsinrinn]

Secrets Part 8.

Bakugo x reader, Bakugo x Uraraka, Kirishima x Reader

Fluff- ish, language, angst

Word Count: 1,520

Idea: Y/n has a secret to share with bakugo not expecting a secret from him. She leaves heart broken and attempts to move on. But how will she move on if her secret can no longer be hidden? She fakes a relationship hoping its enough to not expose the true origin of the secret. (This is a terrible summary but I cant say much without spoiling future parts. 🙃)

Earlier,

Kirishima was walking to the cafe to meet up with Bakugo. God he hoped Bakugo was actually wanting to apologize. He hated that he hated him. He wished he could hate him, but being his best friend for years, and *maybe* wanting to be more than friends with him just make it impossible to hate him. Yes, he was furious for treating you like he did because he loved you too.

When he arrives at the cafe, he takes a deep breath before entering. When he’s inside he looks for him but cant find him. Not until he sees a hobo looking man with oddly familiar hairstyle. He approaches Bakugo and notices he was not in the best place, mentally and physically.

“Bakugo” kirishima’s voice is soft but still causes Bakugo to jump.

“Oh its you Kirishima.”

“Yeah, what did you want to talk about?”

“Right to the point I see...

I- I just want to apologize for the pain Uraraka and I caused Y/n-“

“Shouldn’t you be saying this to Y/n?”

“I- yes but I wanted to talk to you first... Look, the day of the baby shower after I left I saw Uraraka fucking another guy in my house.”

“Seems like you got what you deserve then. Is this why you’re apologizing?”

“Kirishima! Let me fucking talk shitty hair”

“Fine. Continue.”

“THANK YOU! Anyways, I yell at her to leave and before she does, she said something about manipulating me into cheating on y/n. I asked how she did it but she said it was a secret. I was confused because i don’t fucking remember being manipulated in any way. But anyway, She said she only slept with me to hurt Y/n. And then she was the anonymous tip that told the news and everyone y/n was cheating on me. To hurt her.”

“Wait- URARAKA WAS THE LEAK-“ Kirishima looks pissed of as hell.

“Yes, and I did not know anything about it. After she left I fell into a depression.” Bakugo looks embarrassed to admit that.

“Shit Bakugo, is that why you look like shit?”

“I don’t look like shit, thank you very much.”

“You do.” Kirishima feels bad for Bakugo, and without thinking he asks,

“Why don’t you come live with us for a while?”

Bakugo looks taken aback and hesitates.

“Are you sure Y/N would even want me there?”

“I don’t know... but I doubt she would refuse you, especially in your state.”

Bakugo looks conflicted about the offer but finally speaks up.

“I’ll go... but only if she agrees first.” Bakugo says in hopes to be able to talk to you and apologize and take him back. No, you won’t you have Kirishima...

Kirishima, the man who stuck with him through thick and thin, until he didn’t. He really did miss you and he also missed his best friend. He knew that if he never knew you, he would have dated Kirishima, but Kirishima doesn’t like guys. And now he has you and his kid.

Kirishima nods and nervously dials your number.

When you pick up both men perk up at your voice,

“Hello? Kirishima? What’s up?”

“Hey Y/N! How was the appointment? Is Mina there? MINA WHATS THE GENDER?”

“IM NOT TELLING YOUR ASS ANYTHING, KIRISHIMA! YOU KNOW THAT!”

You laugh and shake your head, “What’s up Kiri, why’d you call?”

He’s silent and sighs, and he hears your voice ask nervously,

“Kiri?”

“Y/n.. I need to ask something of you.”

He hears silence and thinks you’ve hung up but soon hear a response,

“What is it?” You ask shakily fearing the worst.

“I- I don’t know how to phrase this but I finished talking to Bakugo.”

“How’d that go.”

“Well he told me a few things. And he does not look like he is in a good place right now...”

“Oh no...” he hears sadness in your voice.

“And I suggested him live with us for a while....”

He hears your hushed voice talking to someone else, who he assumes is Mina.

After a minute of silence he hears you speak up again and Bakugo listens closely for your response.

“Kiri... I- I- yeah, its fine...” you sound unsure.

“Y/n if you dont want him there you can say so...”

“No no, its fine...”

Bakugo’s face falls at her answer sensing how sad and unsure you sound.

“T-thank you so much Y/n” Bakugo says.

There’s silence but again you speak up, “Y-yeah anytime.”

“I gotta go Kirishima. I’ll see you and Bakugo when you both get home then”

“Bye y/n, love you and see you soon. Tell Mina I said good bye as well”

You hum in response and hang up.

Kirishima and Bakugo get up and leave the cafe and head to Bakugo’s house to pick up a few things.

When Kirishima enters his house, he notices how overwhelmingly pink it is, “I didn’t know you liked pink...”

“I hate the fucking color. That bitch decorated the house like this.”

“Oh, okay. Well if you want me to help you pack a few bags?”

“Sure, make yourself useful”

Kirishima sighs but goes into the bedroom and helps him pack clothes.

After a moment of silence Bakugo speaks up

“Thank you.”

Kirishima looks up confused and bakugo elaborates more

“Thank you for hearing me out and taking me in”

“Oh- yeah anytime”

“Did- did taking me in bother y/n?”

Kirishima thinks for a while before answering,

“I don’t think she was bothered but more taken aback by the news.”

Bakugo hums, “You asked about the gender of the baby?”

“Oh yeah- Mina and her were going today to find out the gender but Mina won’t tell us. She’s hosting a gender reveal party. But only because she wants to one up Izuku and Shoto, since they’re the god parents.”

Bakugo nods sad that you’re building a life with out him. He really misses you and misses Kirishima.

After finishing packing they head home. Bakugo pays close attention to where they turn so he remembers where you live and sees the apartments right ahead.

As they reach the apartment and walk inside, it looks two times bigger than it should.

“Oh yeah, forgot to mention, we knocked down the wall separating mine and her apartment so now its one huge apartment.”

Bakugo just nods and stares at you as you come out of the kitchen. He notices your wobbling a bit and thinks again about how you’re way to big to only be 4-5 months pregnant, but that would mean you were pregnant with his child.

“Hey guys. Do you guys want anything specific for dinner?” You ask maintaining eye contact with Kirishima.

“Um, I don’t know yet, Bakugo?”

“Huh- oh whatever you guys want...”

You purse your lips but speak again, “Here then, I’ll help take your things to your room”

As you reach for his bags he pulls them away, you glare and Kirishima hands you a bag, “Best not argue or resist against her Bakugo. She’s in the mood swing stage” Kirishima jokes and you send him a fake glare.

“Wow- Kirishima so fucking mean.”

You grab the bag and head to Bakugo’s room. Both follow you and notice you had already fixed up the room for him to his liking. You set the bag down on the bed and head out.

“I’m going to lay down for a bit Kiri, and then I’ll start dinner.”

“Take your time babe”

Both men begin to unpack and put away Bakugo’s things and once they finish they smell food and head out to see you setting the plate down.

“Good, you both are here. Dinners ready.”

They are about to sit but you stop them. “Did any of you wash your fucking hands?”

The look on their face as they get up and clean up is hilarious

As soon as they are done, the three of you sit and eat in silence.

After dinner you pick up the dishes but Bakugo insists on cleaning them as a thank you, you finally relent and sit on the couch with Kirishima. Once Bakugo finishes he lets you both know he is retiring to bed.

As soon as he walks out, you look over at Kirishima when he clears his throat.

As soon as Bakugo heard kirishima clear his throat he stands still and listened to what they were saying.

“So, Y/N does it bother you that he is here?”

You stay silent for a while before answering with a simple no.

“Y/n, are you sure? I can always tell when something is wrong...”

“It doesn’t bother me Kiri, I’m just afraid he will find out the fucking truth. I mean its not long before i POP out the kid. He will know that I lied about how far along I am... I don’t want him to know he is the fucking father-“ you says kinda loudly.

“I get it y/n, but he looked so vulnerable and alone, I couldn’t leave him like that...”

“I know baby, I wouldn’t either...”

Bakugo freezes when he hears your words

‘IT’S MY FUCKING KID SHE IS CARRYING’

SERIES MASTERLIST — Part 9

A/N- three chapters in one day? Granted, one was supposed to be posted yesterday, but anyways- i HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS CHAPTER. I hope you guys tell me what you think- its spicy- anyways

If you’d like to be tagged in future parts or future works dont hesitate to dm, ask, or comment! I hope you guys had a lovely day today! Also if you asked to be tagged and I didnt tag you send me a dm so I can fix it :)

@hero-ink-pillar , @silentw-lkr , @ushiwakatrash , @purple-rabanito , @chaelysian , @puppycat714 , @fake-id-69 , @adaydreaminganon , @jessie9008 , @sam-i-am-1025 , @purple--nebula , @curiouslilbeast , @httpswwwtbhkcom , @setup-the-ace

[marauder-exe]

Christmas break- Fred Weasley x Reader

Request: 84 & 92 from the 2nd prompt list with Fred Weasley

Prompts: 84. “No, mom, don’t tell him/her I said that about him/her!”

92.”I love you in every possible way.”

Word Count: 2k

a/n: The confession scene under the stars was inspired by a fic I read a while ago where Fred proposes under the stars near the burrow! Although I cant remember the name:/

also i’d love some feedback if you guys don’t mind, you can drop it in my asks or inbox or whatever, i feel like my writing is getting a little repetitive

During Christmas break you had arranged to stay over at the Burrow with the Weasleys. Your family had decided to go on a cruise for your parents anniversary, so Mrs. Weasley gladly took you in for the break. You hadn't told Fred though, you wanted to surprise him. It was actually surprising he hasn't noticed you where keeping it a secret from him. He usually figured out your secrets within 0.2 seconds, having been best friends for the last 5 years, it wast really a surprise. So, just before your parents left for their cruise, they had driven you to Ottery St. Catchpole. Being muggle-born, they where very wary of you using magic.

So, as you pulled up to the burrow, you gave your parents a hug and a quick kiss, saying goodbye. You where far too excited to spend your Christmas break here. You had spent the previous night imagining all the scenarios that could happen over the next few weeks. It made you sad to be honest, knowing that they most likely wouldn't happen. But you could hope. You hurriedly knocked on the Weasleys door, waving a final goodbye as your parents got into the car.

Inside the burrow, Mrs Weasley was cleaning up from cooking, her family sat at the table eating, when she heard the knock on the door, she could only assume was you.

“Aww, Fred get the door please, im busy” Mrs Weasley huffed while all his siblings giggled at the table. Did he miss something? He gave his twin a confused look but brushed it off.

“Who is it, we aren't expecting anyone?” He wondered aloud.

“(Y/N)” She stated promptly, throwing a smile at him, preparing for what he would say next.

“WHAT!” He jumped from his seat. The last thing he wanted was to spend his Christmas break with her. Not in a mean way, he loved her and all but that was the problem. He was in love with her. He usually spent his Christmas fantasizing about what it would be like to be in a relationship with her, love her wholly and fully, have a life with her. He was excited, obviously to spend his Christmas with her, but Christmas meant gifts, then he had to get a gift that conveys ‘Ive been secretly in love with you since the day I lay eyes on you but I don't want to tell you in case I ruin our relationship so im going to wait for any smidgen of a hint that you like me, so I don't screw anything up and if that doesn't come then ill wait it out till you get a boyfriend, then ill cry and eat chocolate with George and try to get over it’ vibes, which was hard.

George interrupted his panicked thoughts. “Yeah! Mum invited her over to tell her all about how you drool all over her and daydream about herrrrr ”

“And how her eyes are so god damn dreamy” Ron and Harry had joined in and soon the whole table was reciting Fred's love lines.

“No! Mum don't tell her I said that about her!” He insisted. This had been going on for around 5 minutes while you where still stood outside, so you gave another quick knock on the door, as it was snowing and bloody freezing.

“Get the door!”

“Yeah, don't want to keep the love of your life waiting” Ron said dreamily, but Fred just threw a bread roll at him. He trudged towards the door, conflicted emotions but heart beating with excitement. He opened the door, there you stood, beanie on, snowflakes in your hair, basking in the moonlight, more beautiful than he had ever seen you. He was snapped from his trance by you, enthusiastically throwing your arms around him.

“Freddie! Surprise!” You hugged him and held tightly, having missed him.

“Blimey” He stumbled back from the force of your hug, but grabbed you protectively. “Its only been a week, you missed me that much?” He was right, your break from Hogwarts came about two weeks before Christmas, meaning one week to go. You subconsciously glanced at your case, wondering if he'd like your present.

“Of course I have Freddie! Couldn't live without my partner in crime!” She stated enthusiastically before they heard George shout from the kitchen. “What about me?!” You two laughed it off. You walked into the kitchen, Fred offering to carry your bags.

“How are my favourite gingers doing, and of course Harry?” They cheered as you walked into the kitchen, they all hugged you one by one, and you thanked Mrs Weasley profusely, but she just brushed it off.

“You'll be in the twins room” She smiled, Ron quietly wolf whistled in the background, causing Harry to laugh and Ginny to smack him on the shoulder, hiding a small smile. Fred nudged you.

“Wanna put your stuff upstairs?” He questioned and you nodded, he grabbed your stuff and started heading upstairs, with whoops and cheers behind you from the boys, while Mrs Weasley tried to calm them down.

When you where close to his room you asked the question that had been on your mind. “What was all the cheering about when they mentioned me sleeping in your room?” You questioned innocently.

“uh...” Fred felt a blush creeping up his neck. “its just, they know we’ll be sleeping in the bed, and you know how boys are”

It had never occurred to you that you'd be sleeping in the same bed, the thought made your heart speed up, you assumed you'd be sleeping on the floor.

“Unless of course you don't want to share a bed, id be fine sleeping on the floor” He said smiling.

“Don't be silly, of course we can sleep in the same bed, come on!” You raced him to the top of the stairs, both laughing like crazy.

The next week leading up to Christmas went crazily quickly. And the first night sleeping in Fred's bed with him was possibly a Christmas miracle, at least that's what it felt like. You guys where cuddled up, obviously George had given you the ‘no shagging while im asleep next to you two’ talk. But honestly, it felt right, being there with him. You tried to convince yourselves you where just friends, but that was never the case.

And so the day of Christmas came, and the entire Weasley family and their guests where so excited. Molly had helped Fred pick out something he knew you'd love. So the crackers where opened and candy canes eaten, and it was time to open the presents, you and Fred had waited last to give yours to each other. After everyone had finished giving gifts, they turned to you two expectantly. You ran to your suitcase, gently picking up the box, and Fred went to get his present. You'd returned to the living room, adorned In your own honorary Weasley jumper, clutching the present.

“Ill give yours first?” You asked, he nodded and you handed over the present. He carefully unwrapped it, savouring every moment. He flipped open the lid, and stared at the glinting ring.

“See, its a ring, but it has the first words you ever said to me on it” You giggled, the ring had the first words he had said to you on that train in first year. ‘Blimey, your gorgeous. Wait, what?’ The Weasleys laughed at the fond memory, and Mrs Weasley recalled all the letters she received that year, about the pretty Gryffindor that he was enchanted by.

“(Y/N), i-” He was honestly speechless.

“Oh and also!” She bounced excitedly “Its charmed to show a different picture of us and glows every time you think of mwah!” She giggled and mockingly flipped her hair. God she was perfect. He hugged her, tighter than he'd ever hugged her before. He whispered a quiet ‘thank you’ in your ear, you kissed his cheek and giggled, adding an ‘of course Freddie’. They pulled away and it was Fred's turn to give you his gift. Mr and Mrs Weasley where already tearing up at the scene in front them. Fred delicately handed you a similar box, you slowly ripped away the gold wrapping. Flipping the lid of the white box, sat a ring similar to the one you gave him, but as well as gold it had a purple stripe (your favourite colour) and a green stripe (his favourite colour). You stared at it, it was so beautiful.

“Its a promise ring” He began to explain. “i promise to always be...” He paused, breath hitched in his throat. Your faces where astonishingly close. “Your best friend” He breathed out. It honestly felt like a dagger in the chest, for both of you. You stared into each others eyes, desperately waiting, wanting, willing something to happen. Until you snapped away at the sound of Ron couching and Mrs Weasley shouting everyone for dinner.

Later that night, after dinner and the sun set, You and Fred had decided to go and watch the stars. A comforting act in itself but felt suddenly romantic with Fred. You two lay on a hill at the back of the burrow. Your head on his arm, cuddled up into him. You pointed out a star, Sirius.

“See that one?” You pointed towards the brightest star in the sky. Fred reached past your hand and pointed somewhere in the sky, that was definitely not where you where pointing.

“That one?”

You grabbed his wrist and moved to point it at the star. “See, Sirius, my uncles named after that star, ya know. Isn't it beautiful?” You questioned but Fred wasn't listening any more. Any thoughts of the stars had been discarded, he was only looking at you.

“Yeah, yeah it is beautiful” A small smile lit up his face as he stared at you in the moonlight.

You giggled as you saw Fred's ring glow brighter than any star in the sky. “Freddie, you rings glowi-” You turned to look at him but he was already staring. “What's up?” You questioned, a concerned look on your face.

“i love you in every possible way” He was still staring, a peaceful glint in his eye. Your heart stopped, your breath hitched. What did he just say? You sat up on your elbows and turned to look at him.

“What-” you whispered quietly.

“i love you (Y/N)” He matched your position on his elbows. “Ive loved you since that day I stepped foot into your carriage on the train and accidentally called you gorgeous. Ive loved you since you stood up against that Slytherin in second year. Ive loved you since you played that prank on Snape in third year. Ive loved you since you gave Hermione advice about her crush on Draco in 4th year. I love you under the sun and under the stars, in the Burrow or in Hogwarts or anywhere. I love you now and ill love you forever. I don't care if it ruins our friendship any more because I want you and only you.” You where brought to tears by his speech, and so where all the Weasleys who where watching from the kitchen windows. You threw your arms around him and kissed him. Pouring all the tears and bottled up feelings into the kiss.

“Of course I love you back Freddie, you idiot!” You jumped on top of him and he began giggling, you burst out in a fit of giggles. Mr. and Mrs Weasley watched from the kitchen, knowing his son had finally found the one. That was the most magical and memorable Christmas of your life.

[duskypinkbow]

Shitty weather II Jeff Wittek

summary: You meet Jeff again after a long period of time.

word count: 3,4k (upsy daisy)

note: This is my first fic ever so pls bear with me! :)

A veery very big shoutout to my lil angle @geoffwittek for proofreading and correcting my mistakes! Love u gurl u r the best 🎀

“The house could be packed“ Natalie took the time to warn you. You waved her off while putting your bag between your legs „that’s totally fine“.

As you two drove through LA traffic you looked out at the sky and noticed the clouds are getting grey. „it might rain today..“ you determined, while the two of you continued your conversation. Finally, you pulled up at her house, or to be more specific, David’s house she happened to be living in. Nat parked the car in front of the gate due to the fact that the entrance was already blocked by other cars. Your friend looked at her phone „yeeep“ she said as the scrolled through her messages „there is definitely something going on here…“ - „oh, well I can always leave right away if it gets too much“ you promised while unbuckling your seatbelt and making your way to the house.

„Daaaaavid!“ she screamed, falling to the ground in fear. „You can’t do that to me!“ she complained as her hands rested over her heart. The brown-haired boy giggled, his phone still recording in his hands. After putting it back in his pocket he helped Natalie stand up again. „That’s my idiot roommate..“ Natalie explained to you. „aaaaand boss“ he added smugly, smiling from ear to ear. He stuck his hand out towards you. „David“ he said - „y/n“ you introduced yourself in return.

Once the introductions were done, you observed a big living room further down the hallway. „Come with me…“ Natalie instructed “I’m gonna show you my closet“. You followed her steps through the living room, which was indeed packed with people. Some of them sitting on the big white couch while others were leaning on the kitchen island. Natalie greeted them with a shouted hello, while you just waved shyly in an attempt to symbolise a well meant greeting to all of them.

In the bedroom, your best friend showed you her very well organised closet filled with dresses and fancy skirts alike. „What size shoes are you?“ she asked. “umm.. y/s/s..“ you answered while looking through the endless hangers. „damn, so I can’t give you those fanc-„ before she could even finish her sentence a loud „Naaataaalieee“ came from the hallway. „ugh“ she groaned, reluctantly setting the pair of high heels down. “I’ll be right back..“ you softly nodded and continued to look through her closet.

After some time had passed you still couldn’t decide between three of her alluring dresses. You put the hanger of one of them above your head so that it was hanging clearly in front of your body. „Oh you would look so cute in that one!“ Natalie said as she was re-entering her room. You smiled at your reflection in the big mirror. „Don’t you think it’s a bit too much for a wedding?“ you asked, still a little uncertain. „Absolutely not!“ she denied your worries. „When is the wedding anyways?“ - „in like three month..“ you answered, still glancing in the mirror while posing a little for yourself in assessment. „Then just take this one and the other two… you can decide closer to the day.“ you looked up, in slight disbelief at her offer.  „I mean it..“ she asserted „I won’t need them…at least not in the next couple of months“ her words reassuring you.

With the dresses in your arms, you made your way to the hall in order to leave the big house again. You waved your goodbyes to the people still sitting and chatting in the living room.

As you made a turn in the hallway your head collided with a solid chest, your body almost falling down at the sudden loss of balance. Instead, two hands rested on your shoulders, effectively preventing the fall. „sorry i didn’t see-“ you said while looking up to be met with a pair of brown eyes. Your mouth remained slightly open, the rest of the apology stuck in your throat. It’s been almost six years since you last saw him.

~ 

You met on a rainy day in late autumn. Your clothes soaking wet as you stepped through the door of the studio. „shitty weather out there huh?“ first words he ever spoke to you. „tell me about it“ you nodded, focused on trying to wring out your soaked hair. „I don’t think that will help“ he chuckled lightly. The first time you heard his laugh, the handsome boy looked at you with a little smirk. „heey..can we get a hairdryer or somethin’ for her?“ he requested the man who was passing through the room, his right hand pointing in your direction. „Yeah I can grab one, you guys here for the shoot?“ the employee asked. Both of you nodded simultaneously „Perfect. Could you get ready in here?“ he instructed you on where to go and promised someone would bring the hairdryer.

It was silent on your way in before he decided to end the quiet by asking: „Sooo..is this your first job?“ - „umm, second“ you answered shyly, a bit intimidated by his hight, especially next to your smaller figure. „Is it that obvious?“ you asked, now a little embarrassed, questioning if you already did something wrong. He chuckled again „not at all“ he reassured, holding the correct door open for you „Jus’ wanted to start a conversation “ you smiled, feeling your cheeks flush at his straightforwardness.

„Yeah, I actually have another job in like two weeks“ you said while on the phone, a little after you two began to take some photos for the launching clothing line. „No…- I guess.. - no I need to find a new place for that time.. - yeah.. - worst case scenario I will just go to a hostel or rent a cheap hotel room…- i mean I’m just sleeping there right? - no yeah...i understand.. - i should really get going now.. - i’ll call you back okay? okay.. bye“ you end the call and return next to the tall stranger you just met, waiting for instructions on what’s next in the shoot.

„uhmm“ he begins shyly, still looking to the cameraman who was adjusting his camera. „not to be nosey..but did i hear that right? You need a place to live or something?“ you looked at his side profile, explaining your current situation. „Alright, so about that..“ he interrupts, glancing between you and photographer. „A friend of mine has a spare room going in his apartment. He’s actually already looking for a new roommate, but that could be postponed. If you want to I could call him up and ask if it would be okay for you to stay there?” - „wait.. deadass?“ you ask, his generous offer shocking you. „well, I mean only if you want to?“  He looked down to observe your reaction. „I- yeah..- i mean your friend won’t murder me right?“ you joke, looking up and into his warm. He’s the first to break the eye contact, glancing at the cameraman again. „He’s one of the nicest guys I know out there…“ he assures with a small smile present. „He is so fucking nice, wouldn’t even kill a fly…“ his words of comfort continue. „Well, then yes, please I am totally willing to take you up on that offer“ is your enthusiastic response, his full attention back on you & a genuine smile decorating the handsome features. „Alright...I will ask him after the shoot is over then..“ - „Thank you so much!… it really means a lot -...umm?“ you begin, hopeful of catching his name „Oh shit yeah, guess I never introduced myself right?“ the man realised. „..My name is Jeff“ he said, reaching out for your hand „Yeah right“ you chuckle, not about to fall for his joke. „No, really..“ the smirk is back on his face. „Oh, so you are an undercover police officer just like me?“ you whisper, hoping he might catch the 21 Jumpstreet reference. „damn..“ he mutters while searching in his back pocket „this fuckin’ movie really ruined my life..“ his hand emerges with a wallet, the ID in it soon handed to you. „Jeffery Wittek..“ you read aloud „the one and only..“ he confirms still smiling softly at you.

After the shoot was over Jeff called up his friend, confirming it would be alright if you stayed with him. The very next day he helped you take all of your stuff over to his friend’s apartment.

In the weeks that followed, the two of you grew inevitably close. Although both busy with work & other responsibilities on some days, you still managed to spend at least a few hours each day together.

Sometimes he just checked in on you, making sure to ask if everything was alright. On other occasions, he visited his friend and stayed the whole day to do nothing but spending time together.

You showed him pictures of places you have been to, in return, he would share his childhood memories. You even told him about your plans for the future, while Jeff opened up about his past. It became your favourite pass time to make jokes about his inability to read properly, to which he would only tease about your short height.

Throughout your stay, the pair of you talked almost every night, about everything, just because it came so easily between you two. Always enjoying every second of valuable time together, not wanting it to end.

One of those nights, you finally built enough courage to admit that you were moving out of the country to live in Italy with your boyfriend. In reply, Jeff confessed his plans to move out to LA cause he met a girl.

Your friendship started innocently. Neither of you would have thought that it could ever build into such an intense and deep connection within the short amount of time. You were strangers only days ago, now openly sharing secrets usually too afraid to tell even the closest of friends. Maybe it was because both of you understood the reflected lack of ulterior motives in honesty. After all, you made sure to just keep things friendly, flirting carefully avoided. Or because you knew both of you were leaving, that alone reason enough not be dishonest with each other. Whatever it was, it started to become a little dangerous with time, you all too aware that the two of you were playing with the fire.

Time continued to pass, you could feel yourself begin to like the familiar boy more and more. Your heart would beat faster any time you saw him, breathing stopping for a second every time his skin touched yours. It continued on: you would get lost in his beautiful eyes whenever he looked at you, asking yourself if he could feel the same way you were. If there could ever be more. You did your best to stop those thoughts immediately, reminding your mind how you were about to leave the country for your boyfriend, whom you loved and didn’t want to betray. Besides, Jeff started to see that girl.

One night, Jeff's friend decided to hold a little get together with some of his friends, your stay in the apartment effectively forcing you to take part. Everyone had their fun, all chatting & playing drinking games on a cheerful night.

After a while, some of you somehow ended up on the rooftop of the building. Most of the people out there just wanting to get a bit of fresh air or have a cigarette, but you went up solely to enjoy the view. You loved going up to the roof just to see the shining lights of the city that doesn’t sleep.

„So your stay here is coming to an end huh?“ Jeff was the one to interrupt your admiring, walking up to you, while you looked out to the lights. You nodded „yeah“ the word spat out sadly before taking another sip of your drink. „I never thought three weeks could be over with so quickly..“ his words carried a sad undertone. „Me neither..“ you acknowledged, „i think i did and saw more in those three weeks with you than ever before“ he chuckled at the true words. „yeah.. we experienced quite a lot of New York together“ he made sure to exaggerate with his accent, sight remaining locked on you.

When you finally looked up at him, you couldn’t help but tease „So.. Is the tough Wittek gonna miss me?“ you asked jokingly while running your hand through his wind tousled hair. „Of course i will.“ he admitted. „Haven’t had so much fun in a long time..“. A smile sneaked its way across your face „oh your gonna have fun again when you are reunited with your special lady.“ you rebutted, oblivious to how his smile faded a little. Of course he would have fun again he thought. But the girl he was seeing right now wasn’t you. She was funny, but her humour couldn’t compare to yours. She was beautiful but she didn’t have those cute little dimples, which only showed when you laughed aloud. She had a promising career in front of her, but she just wasn’t you. „I guess…“ he eventually replied, still deep in thought about the girl who couldn’t compare.

You took another sip of your drink and gazed away into the distance before finally glancing at the man who had your heart.  „I think you- ..you have a little eyelash on your cheek“ Jeff said, abandoning his drink in favour of stepping a little closer and moving his hands up to your face.

One of them rested gently on your cheek, to give your head some balance as he titled it upwards, the other grazing right under your eye to get the fallen lash. His fingers lightly brushed over your skin, grasp so gentle on your face as if it was something precious. As if it could break if he put too much pressure on your little cheek. It was the very first time you really let yourself look him in the eyes tonight. Not that you haven’t looked into the brown pools before, but this time, in the light of the city, just inches away from your face, you really saw the artistic strokes of the different shades of brown melting together. You saw how the dark parts covered up the few light spots,  saw his kindness and how much he truly cared about you, all by simply looking into his beautiful brown eyes.

His hand stayed on your cheek, despite the lash being long gone. You breathed out audibly, lost in the present moment. The scent of his cologne travelling up and into your nose in the proximity you two shared right now. „we should-..probably get back to the party…“ he whispers slowly, involuntarily glancing at your lips while his palm moved from its hold on your cheek to the back of your neck. „mhmm“ you could only hum lightly in response, feeling your heart starting to beat faster, slowly rising to your tippy toes. Your face is slowly inching closer to his &  then you can feel his breath on your lips, eyes starting to close on their own accord, the two of you so close and right before your lips could touch - „Paarty time!“ one of Jeff's friend accidentally interrupts, tipsy shouting entering the rooftop. The two of you pull back immediately, not wanting him or anyone else to witness the kiss you almost shared. The friend walks obliviously towards Jeff. „man we thought you’ve left already!“ his word stuttered drunkenly. „No, I wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye“ he chuckles away as if  the moment you two just had never happened.

You had three more days in New York after that slip up before you finally left for Europe. Neither Jeff nor you mentioned the moment you two had together. After that night, and after you both finally sobered up, you convinced yourself that Jeff was too drunk to even remember what could have happened. His own thoughts were similar. Both of you far too scared to say something and ruin the time left. You were too embarrassed because Jeff had already started to date that girl he thought he liked, not to forget you were in a relationship with a boy you thought you were in love with . Both too cowardly to admit that there is indeed a spark there.

As your last day has come Jeff and his friend escorted you to the airport. „Man it will be so weird not having you around anymore y/n“ Jeffs friend said while driving through New York traffic. You looked out of the window in the backseat of the car. „I’m really gonna miss this..“ you stated, now slyly looking at Jeff, sitting in the passenger seat without returning your longing glances. In reality, what you would really miss..is him. You would miss his high pitched laugh, dark sense of humour and dry jokes, his warm and caring hugs and especially, his presence in your life. Not knowing if you would ever see him again or if you will ever come back to America again.

Jeff and his friend lead you to your gate, saying their goodbyes, promising to visit you in Italy someday, assuring that you’ll always be welcome if you decide to return. You hugged your new friend, who allowed you to stay in his apartment so graciously  before looking up at Jeff. „Come here..“ he says, opening his arms for your embrace. Your arms wrapped around his waist, his head resting atop of yours. You breathed in heavily, trying to hold back the inevitable tears. He stroked your back in comfort „I’m really gonna  miss you y/n/n..“ he conceded in a whisper. „me too..“ you admitted as well. „Promise me we will see each other again?“ Jeff asked, now looking down at you, while your own gaze travelled up to his eyes. You smiled sadly „I promise..“ you nodded with watery eyes. He hugged you again, saying your last goodbyes before you left to get your flight.

~

Jeff’s hair was slightly wet from the rain outside, a similar expression of shock on his face.„wow..uh, what?“ you let out, first to break the silence between you. „wow…“ he repeated dumbfounded. His hands were still resting holding onto your upper arms before he eventually raised them to his head in an act of disbelief. He shook his head, not sure if this was really happening right now, if it was really you in front of him. „I-„ you started again, but before you could keep talking he quickly forced you into a tight embrace.

His hands went back to your shoulders, still unsure if it was really you „This is insane..“  He muttered eventually, „it is..“ you confirmed. „How long has it been?“ Jeff was quick to ask while you still struggled to grasp the situation. „Almost 6 years..“ you uttered lightly.

„How’s Vince?“ he couldn’t help but ask with interest. „Oh...we uh, we broke up a while ago..“ you admitted, remembering your days in Italy. „oh I’m so sorry.“ the reply was sympathetic. „Yeah..how is Cierra?“ you asked in return, curious about the girl he started to see when you guys just met. Jeff glanced over into the living room, suddenly aware of all who were witnessing your reunion. „we also broke up a while ago..“. The information delivered with no emotions. You nodded lightly, unsure on how exactly to react or respond.

You checked your phone to look at what time it was, „I should probably go now..“ you mentioned, breaking the short moment of silence between you two. „Yeah..“ Jeff nodded, freeing your way to the exit. As made your very first step towards the door he stopped you by saying „Listen, before you go, can i get your num-“ before he could even end his sentence you interrupted „-just ask Natalie for it“ you informed him, „‚cause if you won’t, i’ll promise you that i will..“ you stepped closer to the door while teasing. „I’m not gonna lose touch with you again Wittek..“ you reveal and he chuckles.

Just when you were reaching for the front door again Jeff stopped you „y/n..“ you turn to look back at him, seeing that his stretched out hand held an umbrella „Here, take this..“ he demands softly „S’shitty weather out there..“ he adds with a little knowing smirk.

[rqnvindr]

birthday miracle

pairing: tendou satori x fem!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1.3k

sypnosis: your childhood best friend, tendou can read you like a book and is full of surprises on your birthday

a.n: happy birthday to my sweet babie @honeycrisp-breeze​, the one who got me into haikyuu !! thanks for always being there for me, appreciating my meme spams, and for introducing me to this series; i wouldn’t be here without you ! i hope you enjoy this scenario with your favorite miracle boy ! love you bae <333 (also she’s new to tumblr, please go follow her ! she plans on posting her acnh designs and trust me they’re AMAZING)

--

it’s not surprising that this had become a routine for the two of you. at least in the sense that it didn’t feel unnatural despite the tingly feeling you got from the closeness of nearly brushing shoulders, and sometimes fingertips whenever you walked him to the gym before practice. there was no filter in a conversational sense in your friendship with the boy, definitely not, with the way he could tell whatever you were thinking no matter how hard you tried to conceal your thoughts, making it pointless for you to not tell him anything. 

despite possessing guessing skills beyond normal human capability though, tendou still had his fair share of traits that brought him back to earth. one of them being his lack of experience when it came to love. sure, he read manga and fanboyed over his favorite actresses but that wasn’t enough to prepare him for confrontation with the awkwardness of teenage love. you knew that much to come to the conclusion that he didn’t know about your secret crush on him. you accepted it for a while, until now. part of you wanted him to find out so that you could at least get rid of the ambiguous tension that made your stomach turn and heart race. 

“hey (y/n)-chan your birthday is tomorrow isn’t it?” tendou’s voice causes you to temporarily push your thoughts to the side. 

“yeah, it is.” you reply. “what, did you only just remember?” you laugh and he raises an eyebrow, chuckling. he lightly karate chops your shoulder in a repetitive motion.

“oh c’mon what kind of friend do you think i am? how could i ever forget when you always used to pester me about it when we were little?” 

“satori that was a long time ago!” you smack his arm. “look at you bringing up the past to make me look bad, such a good friend you are.”

the two of you approach the doors to the gym, still bickering, drawing attention to the other third years. semi rolls his eyes, and leon just laughs knowingly. 

“aw semisemi you’re just jealous that (y/n) is MY best friend and not yours!” tendou taunts his fellow teammate while wrapping his arm around your shoulder. you blush at the gesture, being put in the spotlight in a positive way by the one you yearned for, being shown off by him. 

“whatever, tendou practice is about to start so tell your girlfriend that you’ll see her later.” you flush even harder at the mention of the word girlfriend, daydreaming about a day where you could officially hold that title at all times and not just in a fleeting remark made my someone else other than him. 

tendou turns around to face you, ruffling your hair. “i’ll see you later to-be birthday girl.” he heads off. you were used to him ruffling your hair but now the lingering feeling of him having let his hand touch you for longer than usual made your heart squeeze. you quickly brushed it off though in order to not be noticed by his teammates and head back to your dorm to get your homework done before your special day.

--

your eyes flutter open at the sound of your phone going off on your nightstand. your annoyance from having been woken up at midnight immediately goes away upon reading the caller id: ‘my miracle boy <3′

“(y/n)-chan!!!! happy happy birthday!” tendou’s voice rings from the other line. “come out to the field, i have something for you!”

“satori, thank you so much but, we’re gonna get in trouble!” you chide.

“c’mon, it’s your birthday! fuck school rules and let loose!” 

you sigh, before getting out of bed. “fine, i’ll be right there. but if we get caught i’m blaming you.”

after changing out of your pajamas and putting your shoes on quietly, so as to not wake up your roommate, you make your way over to the field, not having to rely on any directions since it was you and his spot. however, this was the first time he had ever invited you to sneak out, causing anticipation to bubble up in your stomach. 

you find tendou sitting in the middle of the grass, appearing to be holding something in his lap. he turned to you at the sound of your footsteps, grinning widely, and hides the item that was in his lap behind his back as you take a seat next to him. 

“i have a surprise for you~” tendou brings out a bento box in a floral yellow wrap, singing happy birthday in that cute, excited tone that you could never get enough of. you gasp as you open it up to find an assortment of onigiri with smiley faces on them and a chocolate cupcake that he baked himself. 

“satori,” you sigh happily, grabbing one of the onigiri. “you didn’t have to, oh my gosh thank you so much.” he chuckles softly as you dig into your snacks. 

“how could i not make a bento box for my foodie friend’s birthday?” he playfully flicks your shoulder. “c’mon, don’t be silly (y/n)-chan~”

after going through all of the onigiri in a flash, tendou grabs a fake candle from his pocket and places it on the cupcake.

“i couldn’t bring a real lighter to school, so this fake little thing is gonna have to work as a substitute for now. make a wish~” he watches you close your eyes and clasp your hands together before blowing out the fake fire from the candle. he applauds at the end, making you giggle. 

“oh satori, we’re 18 and you’re still an expert in pretend play. you’ll never grow up will you?”

“now now i’m not the one who just turned one year older today, stop making this about me!”

you continue to banter with him while eating your cupcake, even giving him a little piece as an apology for poking fun at him. 

silence befalls you two after a while, and the night grows colder, causing you to snuggle up into his shoulder for warmth. you inhale a shaky, frosty breath before speaking again. 

“satori,” tendou hums in response. “less than a year until we’re off to college huh?” the boy sighs pensively as he looks into the distance. 

“i know. i’m still thinking about my plans since i know that i’m gonna quit volleyball after high school. i’m still unsure exactly about what i wanna do, but i know one thing for sure.”

“what’s that?” you raise an eyebrow.

your heart stops as he takes your hand and leans in closer, pressing his face against yours, breaths mingling. 

“i wanna spend every moment of my future with you.” tendou whispers before pressing his lips to yours in a soft, gentle kiss. the tender movements of his lips against yours plus the surprise gesture makes you dizzy and you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, to feel him, to ensure that this isn’t a dream and that your crush for as long as you can remember was actually kissing you. 

the contact is brief, but your foreheads remain pressed together after breaking the kiss, breaths mingling from the ministrations. 

“satori,” you breathe out. “i-i,” he hushes you with a kiss to your cheek.

“i know you like me and i like you too. i’ve known all along. i just wanted to make my confession special so i waited until your birthday.”

you gape at him. “y-you knew?”

“(y/n)-chan we’ve been friends since elementary school, i, the guess monster can definitely read you like a book. and i also know exactly what to do to catch you off guard.” he smirks.

still taken aback, you hug him tightly with a smile, and he kisses your forehead as he holds you in his arms. 

“well, what a way to surprise me and make my wish come true, my birthday miracle boy.”

[flamehairedwritings]

The Fiancé: Chapter Seven

Characters: Steve Rogers x Female Plus-Size Reader

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

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

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

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

The Fiancé Masterlist

All Works Masterlist

Read on AO3

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

The Interview

THURSDAY

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

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

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

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

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

Today’s the fucking day.

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

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

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

Marise.

The paint.

The car attack.

Steve has stalkers.

Someone had tried to break in.

That’s a lot for one gal to take in.

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

I wonder if SHIELD will cover my therapy fees.

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

And today’s the fucking day.

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

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

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

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

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

That’s this evening’s problem.

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

— 

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

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

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

It’s always fucking perfect.

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

“Good morning.”

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

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

You look up and meet his gaze.

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

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

“I could do with a glass of water.”

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

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

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

“I told them not to come until 11.”

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

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

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

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

Well... After yesterday...

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

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

You pause, watching him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not that I know of.”

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

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

“Are you nervous?” you ask quietly.

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

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

“Yeah, but—”

“This isn’t any different.”

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

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

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

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

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

Unreasonable. That’s what you’re being.

God, I hate being irritable.

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

It’s three hours. We’ll be fine.

—

You don’t fucking feel fine.

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

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

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

Suspects, hang on...

Licking your lips, you look at Nat.

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

“In SHIELDs custody.”

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

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

Sounds like someone I know.

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

Sam shifts in his seat slightly.

“No, they’re not. Not yet.”

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

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

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

Because it’s made your fucking heart race.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, fuck...

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

Right, happy couple.

Or did he do that to comfort me.

I don’t know anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hang on, what...

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

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

...

...

... uh...

Your brain might have actually disappeared. 

Happy couple.

Or did he do that to comfort me.

I. Don’t. Know. Any. More.

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

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

“Go with Emma.”

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

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

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

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

“I’m pretty nervous, actually.”

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

Thank God.

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

Everyone but my own brain.

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

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

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

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

You glance at her in the reflection, quiet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, why not.”

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

And maybe it’ll make me look more alive.

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

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

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

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

I definitely look more alive.

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, I hope so.

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

Don’t. There are people in your corner.

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

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

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

“No, thanks.”

“You want a drink?”

“No, thanks.”

“You wanna get out of here?”

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

“Ah, that’s sensible.”

“Yeah, annoyingly.” 

Nodding at the nearby couch, she moves to it. “Come on, let’s sit down. Gotta rest my legs while I can.”

Sitting beside her, you finally seize your chance. “So, how’re you doing?”

“I’m fine, thanks, how are you?”

“No, I mean, how are you really?”

Nat side-eyes you, an eyebrow arching a fraction. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, but really—”

“Y/N!”

Fucking hell.

Jolting, you look up to find Maeve beaming down at you.

“Wow! Look at you! Emma’s great, isn’t she? Would you like something to drink?”

“Uh, yeah, she is. And, no, thank you.”

“All right, can I get you anything at all?”

She’s just doing her job, she’s just doing her job, she’s just doing her job...

“No, thank you.”

“Oke doke, let me know if you do, I’m just gonna see how Megan’s doing.” With another wide beam, she’s then trotting off to the set.

“Who’s Megan?” you murmur to Nat.

Nat inspects the nails on one hand idly. “The interviewer.”

“Oh.”

Because I’m here to do an interview, that’s right.

“You’re gonna be fine.” It’s like she can read your mind.

Glancing at her, you blow out a breath, looking down at your hands. “I just can’t wait for today to be over.”

“I know. It’s just a twenty minute interview, it’ll be over before you know it.”

Your gaze darts back to her. “What? I thought it was an hour?”

A corner of her mouth twitches. “It was. But then they wouldn’t tell me what they were gonna ask so I cut it down. It means essential questions only.”

I love you.

Your smile widening a little, you nod. “All right, I think I can handle that.”

“Good.” Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she taps on a message, answering swiftly.

Looking down at her phone before quickly looking away before you see anything you’re not meant to, you lick your lips. “... So how’s it going outside?”

“Fine.”

“Is there a big crowd?”

“Yeah.”

“The biggest this week?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Yeah.” She puts her phone away, her arms folding across her chest. “Means there’ll be better cover for anyone wanting to blend in. We’ve got plenty of agents on site, too.”

“Well... That is good.”

She’s about to reply when she looks beyond you and raises her eyebrows. “God, you took your time.”

Turning your head, you pause as you see Steve approaching.

“Sorry, I was signing a few things, filming a few birthday messages, you know...” He looks sheepish and you smile quickly to console him, even as your stomach flutters.

You kissed me.

Technically.

Looking between you both, he returns your smile. “You look nice.”

“Thank you, so do you,” you answer automatically, even though he looks exactly the same because his skin is always smooth anyway and his hair’s always perfect and he’s always fucking gorgeous—

Slow down, stop it.

He opens his mouth when Maeve suddenly appears, again.

“Look at you both! Wonderful! Now, there’s about five minutes to go, so if you’d like to follow me, Megan’s ready, too.”

Five minutes.

You take a breath as you push yourself up, meeting Steve’s gaze. He smiles lightly, almost secretively, then holds out his hand to you.

A fucking life-line.

Sliding your hand into his, you return his smile as he squeezes it gently. Then, you both turn and follow after Maeve.

Nearing the set, your heart is pounding again, your eyes darting about, watching the crew set up and laugh and chat together.

It’s live.

It’s gonna be fucking live.

And I have to convince these people and the world that I’m happily engaged.

“Megan?” Maeve steps away a little as you round one of the cameras, and there the set is.

There’s a large Persian carpet in the centre with a small glass table on it, with three bottles of Fiji water, and three grey, fabric armchairs, one on the left side of the table, two on the other, and a few potted plants. The large window behind it provides the back drop and lighting, though there’s plenty of lights beside the cameras, too, and you can already feel the warmth of them. You suspect this isn’t where they’d usually conduct interviews like this; Nat had probably requested they do it here and this has been thrown together.

The interviewer, Megan Owens, smiles gracefully as she rises from her seat at Maeve’s voice. She’s dressed in a light blue, sleeveless dress with a red belt, coiffed, chestnut hair, and a radiant white smile, and you steel yourself.

 Steve’s hand leaves yours as she extends her hand to him, and he takes it. 

“Captain Rogers, it’s an honour to meet you,” she enthuses, her voice honey-warm.

“Just Steve is fine,” he insists as he shakes her hand with a smile, “It’s nice to meet you, too, Megan.”

If her perfect beam could have gotten any wider it would have as she simpers, “The pleasure is all mine.” Dropping his hand, her gaze then turns to you, her beam fixed in place. “Oh, and you must be Y/N.”

Duh.

“Hello,” you say brightly as you shake her hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Who am I.

“And lovely to meet you, too.” She shakes your hand lightly before pulling her hand back and raising it, gesturing at the studio. “What an honour it is to have you both here, thank you so much for choosing America Today for the interview, we’re so honoured, really.”

“It’s nothing,” Steve answers, surprising you by his hand returning to yours, lacing your fingers together.

Oh.

Megan gestures at the two grey chairs that are side-by-side. “Please, take a seat, you there, Y/N, and you there, Steve. Get comfortable.”

Hilarious.

As you sit, you in the one closest the window, Steve the one closest to the camera, you clasp your hands together in your lap without thinking.

Megan smiles at you as she crosses her legs. “I take it this is your first ever interview, Y/N.”

Your eyebrows rise as you manage a smile. “What gave it away?”

She laughs lightly as a man appears to smooth down her already perfect hair. “Oh, nothing, we just didn’t find any interviews in our research.”

You feel strange again, and try not to think about strangers searching you on the internet. Two women appear to mic you all up, and Megan continues as if they’re not there. “You’ll be fine. I suppose you can imagine what I’ll ask and the answers will just be about you or Steve so it’ll be nice and easy.”

Oh, I wish.

The woman finishes adjusting your mic and moves away, and you watch the other woman fit a device to Megan’s ear. So the producers can communicate with her, probably. They’ll be sat in a room somewhere, watching, excited. You’re surprised you haven’t met them, then again maybe it’s Nat’s doing. Maybe she’s tried to keep it as underwhelming as possible.

Nice try, but I’m still overwhelmed.

Another woman’s voice suddenly sounds from behind one of the many cameras as the mic woman moves off the set, and your gaze darts over automatically to find the source. “All right, everyone, quiet on set! Megan, you’re on in 5, 4—”

Silence descends. Your eyes dart back to Megan as your mouth dries and your stomach flips and you feel hot.

“ — 3—”

Suddenly, Steve’s hand finds yours in your lap and you grip his tightly, not caring if it’s for comfort or for show.

“— 2...”

Megan tilts her head as she looks into a camera, her hands folded on her lap. “Thank you, Andy and Jean, and good afternoon to you, America, and the world. Here with me today is a couple that needs no introduction. All week, right around the world, we’ve all been discussing them and their upcoming wedding, and now, in an exclusive interview, they’re here with us today to tell us the truth and details in all the speculation.” She looks to you both, her smile widening. “Steve and Y/N, thank you so much for joining us.”

“Thank you for having us,” Steve says as you just smile, hoping to whoever’s listening that you look relaxed.

“I’ll start with what we’ve all been dying to know, how did you two meet?”

Oh, fuck, I’m gonna have to take the lead on this one—

“Well,” Steve begins and God, thank you, “after I finished my rehabilitation with SHIELD, I wanted to find a place of my own for some sense of normality, and I wanted to be closer to the Triskelion, so I moved here and I ended up moving into the same building that Y/N would happen to.”

He’s told this story before, it’s nothing new, so you feel yourself relaxing a little... Except he glances at you, and you know in that split-second he’s judging whether you want him to carry on or whether you want to talk.

Well, I can’t just sit here like a lemon.

This is easy, you know this.

“I moved here after accepting a job offer and just took the first apartment I could,” you say, your voice mercifully steady, looking to Megan with a smile. “The landlord just happened to leave out that Captain America would be my neighbour.” 

You’re bolstered suddenly by the surprising sound of quiet laughter from some of the crew.

Megan laughs, too, though hers seems to be more out of politeness. “So no pressure, huh?”

It’s your turn to laugh politely. “No, not at all. But I still didn’t know that when the evening I moved in I did what any good neighbour would do and I knocked on his door to introduce myself.” There’s more quiet laughter again, okay, I’m doing okay. “And he was very polite and kind as I just stared at him for about a minute thinking I’d lost my mind.”

That’s true... Except you leave out the part where you’d babbled in introducing yourself and had practically given him your whole life story out of nerves and embarrassment and just plain not being able to be quiet. He’d listened attentively the whole time and had even asked you, having gently cut off one of your ramblings, if you wanted to come in and sit down.

You’d said no, in horror, before quickly back-pedalling your tone and saying that you just didn’t want to disturb him.

He’d given you that smile and said you weren’t disturbing him at all.

The memory makes your stomach flutter.

“So, you two became friends after that, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve answers, “We just kept bumping into each other and then during one conversation we realised we were both classic film fans so we decided to watch one that was on TV that night together and then it became a weekly thing, and then we were going out for walks, having dinner together and just enjoying each others company.”

... Well, that’s not wrong.

“When did you two realise you were in love?”

You’re prepared for this but it still makes your stomach flip as you take the lead. “I think we just knew, you know? We spent a lot of time together and felt something change and now... here we are.”

You’d all agreed you couldn’t make every answer detailed, so you’re very pleased that you’d decided to make this one vague.

Megan smiles and hums in agreement before her gaze shifts to Steve as her smile widens. “Now, go on, Steve, what is it about Y/N that made you fall in love with her?”

Your breath catches in your throat slightly and Steve releases a polite laugh.

Oh my God, we didn’t prepare for this.

Remembering you’re on camera, your fixed smile widens a little more as you make yourself look at Steve. He glances at you, his eyebrows raising with a smile, before he looks to Megan.

“Well, as Y/N said, sometimes you just know, and who can explain love, right?” Megan hums in agreement. “... But,” Steve continues, his gaze returning to you, “... I think it was her empathy and kindness, her sense of humour, the fact we can talk about absolutely anything until about 2AM, and... just how easy it is to be with her, really.”

You can’t look away from him, your lips slightly parted, your face warm, and he’s not looking away either.

“And what about you, Y/N?”

You blink and look at her, before back to Steve. “Well, I, I would say it’s how comfortable he makes me feel. I can always be myself around him and I don’t feel judged, and he makes me feel valued.” Your smile softens as you look at him. “It’s so easy to be with him, too, there’s honestly no one else I’d rather spend the rest of my life with.”

Oh. Oh, no.

That last part just slips out, but that’s fine, that’s absolutely fine because you’re meant to be in love, that’s fine.

Looking away, your face so fucking hot, you smile at Megan, who looks suitably charmed. 

“That’s so lovely. What do you do for work, Y/N?”

Right, this is an easy one, that’s good.

“I work at June & Mayflower Publishing, I’m the Head of Marketing for the branch here in D.C.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Oh, I love it. I’m very lucky to have such great colleagues, too.”

And they’re probably screaming, ‘you’re damn right’, at the TV in the staff-room right now.

“And how do you feel when Steve has to go away for work, Y/N?”

Oh, fuck.

This was something you’d never, ever spoken about, either of you. You’d never told him that it’s always there in the back of your mind when he’s away that he could be hurt, could be captured, could die. How can you say that now, though? On live television and in front of him?

Keep it light, Nat had said when you’d discussed the probability of any difficult questions.

Smiling, my God, my cheeks hurt, you shrug slightly. “I know what I signed up for. His sense of duty and honour is one of the things I love about him, too. Yes, it can be hard being away from each other, sometimes for several weeks, but Dolly always says—”

“Dolly?” Megan interrupts gently.

Your smile is easy now as you nod. “Oh, sorry, my friend Dolly.”

“That’s a lovely name.“

“Yeah, her parents are huge Dolly Parton fans, which, who isn’t, she’s an icon, so they named her after her.”

Megan laughs, and it feels real. “Yes, she is an icon. But do excuse me, please continue.”

“Well, Dolly always says that if it’s right for you and something you really want, then it’ll work out, and Steve and I have and do make it work.”

You feel him squeeze your hand gently as you nod, and you assume it’s to tell you you gave a great answer.

Megan nods. “Well, absolutely, Dolly’s right.”

You all laugh politely, and then Megan’s smile is replaced by a gently sympathetic expression. 

“Now, there was an incident last night at the The Venue, wasn’t there. what happened?”

You have to suppress a sigh. “Oh, I was there having a few drinks with two friends, one of them Dolly, the other Bridget, and someone threw paint on me.”

“Paint?” Megan responds with a tone of quiet shock, though you all know she already knew that.

“Yeah, blue paint.”

... For some reason, you’re smiling... maybe because fuck this, you can’t be bothered to spin a sob story.

There are people in your corner.

“I looked like a member of the Blue Man Group.”

Megan laughs, as do some of the crew, and Steve chuckles, and you feel a weight lift from your shoulders.

If I laugh, they haven’t won. In fact...

Waiting for Megan’s laugh to finish, you start to speak before she can. 

“In all seriousness, though, I think what happened last night displays an issue we have in our society about how we treat people that we put on a pedestal, the people we consider celebrities. The way we’ve been hounded this week, it’s not healthy for anyone. I’ve had things shouted at me, and thrown at me, from people who don’t even know me but feel entitled to expressing an opinion that they believe is fact, formed from what strangers have written in papers and online and their own assumptions. They don’t know me or Steve, they’re assuming, and as last night showed that can be so dangerous, in fact history has shown it does get dangerous. There’s an obsession that people develop with celebrities that we have to ask ourselves how and why it gets to that point and who’s enabling them, because people have this sense of ownership over people they don’t even know and it’s not right.”

You kept your eyes on Megan as you spoke, so you don’t see the way Steve’s been looking at you.

With pride.

Megan looks quietly impressed, her eyebrows raising a little as she nods. “Wow, there certainly is a discussion to be had there. We’ll have to get you back for that one another time.”

“I’d love to.” You smile and incline your head, finding that you actually would.

“For now, though, you’re both going to be attending the Stark Christmas Party tomorrow night, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Steve takes over, and his hand is still held in both of yours, “We’re both really looking forward to it, it’s been a while since I’ve been to New York.”

“Will it be your first time at the Tower and meeting the Avengers, Y/N?”

“Uh, yes, it’ll be my first time there, and, yes, I suppose so, with all of them together.”

Oh my God, I haven’t even thought about that.

“What a sight that’ll be,” Megan gushes, “Will you be considering the Tower as a venue?”

You glance at Steve, watching his lips twitch. “Ah, no, no, we will not.”

You recall Nat having told you Steve had called it ‘ugly’ right in front of Tony.

“Are you looking for somewhere in Washington, then?”

“Yeah, we both like it here, and it means a lot to us ‘cause it’s where we met, so.” His hand squeezes yours and you look up at him, matching his soft smile.

We’re both acing this looking in love thing.

“Of course. And as for the dress, Y/N...?” She trails off with an expectant smile, and you feign a coy one as you look at her. 

“Oh, I can’t speak too much about that, we all like a surprise.”

Don’t we bloody just.

“Oh, how unfair, I guess we’ll all just have to wait for the big day, then,” she laughs. “You were spotted at The Pearl, though...?”

“Yeah, I have been trying some dresses from there, and it’s such a lovely place, the staff are absolutely wonderful, I can’t praise them highly enough.” You smile widely, delighted you could give Sally and the assistants a shout-out. “Oh, and they have just as many dresses and suits in-store for those who are considered ‘plus-sized’ so I can’t recommend them highly enough.”

“Ah, yes, a story got out yesterday about you having to leave a store that didn’t cater, is that true?”

Your lips twitch at the memory. “Yes, it is, which is such a shame because from a business point of view they’re really missing out, and it just makes them look like idiots, to be honest.”

If Megan’s shocked at that she hides it well, and just nods. “Quite right. Well, The Pearl had better be ready for plenty of clients now,” she smiles, raising her eyebrows. 

Then, she tilts her head and clasps her hands together on her lap. “Now, and I suppose this follows on from what you were saying about, as you say, people making assumptions, earlier today we did an interview with a co-worker and an old flame of yours.”

You freeze.

“Really?”

Megan nods and points towards where the cameras are. “For our audience, it’ll be airing later today, although it’s up on our website now, but if you could just both watch that screen, I’d be interested to hear what you have to say.”

You feel cold all of a sudden as you look at a TV screen, knowing the world is going to watch you watch your ex-boyfriend and whatever the fuck he has to say.

The screen goes from black to a clip of Joe, in a white button-up and navy tie, hands clasped together on his crossed legs, loose, relaxed, in his element, sitting across from Megan in what looks like a nicer room than this one.

He’s obviously just been asked a question because Joe takes in a breath as he looks up, considering his answer. Smiling almost sympathetically, he looks back to Megan.

“Y/N’s great, she really is. She’s really smart and a lot of fun, she was an absolute sweetheart... but she was quite insecure when we were together. She was quite quiet, and didn’t have much confidence, you know? She was always doubting herself and her work, and I tried to be there for her as much as I could, but there’s only so much you can do. She liked to be with her friends a lot and I just... I got a great job opportunity and had to do what was best for both of us, so I ended it.”

The clip pauses, but you remain staring at the screen, a surge of rage coiling within you.

“That’s classy,” you mutter.

Except you don’t mutter it, because it’s picked up by the microphone and everyone on the planet and universe will have heard it along with everything your ex has just said.

Megan’s eyebrows raise as she looks at you. “Classy?”

You look at her.

Fuck you, Joe.

Licking your lips, you shrug. “If I was all those things or came across that way it’s because that’s how Joe made me feel. He certainly didn’t make me feel happy, or satisfied.” You hear some quiet gasps and laughter. “It’s nice to now be with someone who makes me feel good about myself, despite and because of who I am.” Looking at him, your other hand now covers Steve’s. “He sees all of me and he still loves me.”

“Yes, I do,” he answers without missing a beat, without pausing.

Your breath catches in your throat as your stomach flutters. You hold each others gaze as Megan hums, and it’s only when she speaks that you both finally look away.

“That’s wonderful, that really is. So, I take it you disagree with everything Joe said?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“He went on to suggest, as some people have, that you might be using Steve to further your career, what do you say to that?”

You feel Steve stiffen beside you but you just laugh. “Further my career? In publishing?” You look at him with a grin. “I didn’t know you had any pull in the publishing world.”

A smile blossoms across his features as he chuckles. “What can I say, you gotta have some secrets in a relationship.”

You laugh, the tightness in you chest gone, and as it fades you look back to Megan. “Look, I’m very happy where I am, for now I don’t want to progress any higher. I think it’s Joe who wants to further his career here.”

Despite your laughter, she seems to sense the rage that’s gently simmering in you and nods and smiles brightly. “Well, just one more question, then... When’s the big day?”

Steve answers this time. “We’ll be announcing that very shortly, not much longer to wait, I promise.”

Yeah, two days and then you’ll all find out.

Megan tuts good-naturedly, her smile still fixed in place. “I guess we’ll just have to trust you! And, unfortunately, that’s all we have time for.” Tilting her head, she raises her hands slightly. “Thank you once again for joining us, it’s been an absolute pleasure, and on behalf of everyone at America Today we wish you the warmest of congratulations.”

“Thank you very much,” Steve says as you force a smile, and Megan looks into a camera.

You stare at Megan because she doesn’t say anything else, and then the woman from earlier calls out, “And cut! Thank you, everyone!”

Voices erupt as people call out to one another and some people even clap. Looking up to try and find them, you just smile slightly, and then Megan’s rising out of her seat.

“You both did great,” she says as a woman rushes over to remove her earpiece and her mic. “And, Y/N...” You raise your eyebrows slightly, and she gives a light smile. “... Not bad for your first time.”

You feel yourself relax a little as someone else removes your mic and then Steve’s.

Steve.

Looking to him, he’s looking at the woman removing the mic, smiling and nodding his thanks before she moves away. Then he’s looking at you

His hand is still in yours.

He smiles softly, and you return it.

“Steve! Y/N!”

Oh, Maeve, you’re so good at your job but please leave us alone.

You both look up at her, beaming at you as always.

“That was fantastic! Can we just get a photo of you both and Megan?”

Nodding, slightly dazed because it’s over, it’s over, it’s over, you stand and Steve’s hand slips out of yours. Clearing your throat, you move down the set where Megan’s talking to who you assume is the woman who called out, possibly the director. 

Her beam is back in place as she turns to you and stands between you and Steve. You just stare at Maeve’s phone and smile whenever she takes a photo of you three, and she takes several. Three people, two women and a man, come out of another room, and they’re introduced as the producers, and you shake their hands and say hello and receive their thanks and congratulations, and then you take a few photos with them as they thank you over and over again and say how great it was.

Then, thankfully, Nat’s there, talking over Maeve and thanking her and everyone and ushering you and Steve towards the elevator.

Oh my God, we get to go home now.

That was it.

The hardest thing is done.

You’ve done it.

You’ve done it.

Getting into the elevator, you feel lighter than you have in days, a breath leaving you. The doors slide shut, Maeve and the two security guards in there with you again as Maeve has insisted on seeing you down.

Looking at the doors, you don’t realise there’s a small smile on your lips.

Steve glances at you, and give a small smile of his own.

Then, you feel his hand on your back, rubbing gently. Looking up at him, you share your small, relieved, secretive smile, and you can’t stop your cheeks from warming. Looking away, your teeth grazing over your lower lip, you don’t notice him watching the movement.

The elevator slows to a halt, it chimes, and the doors slide open. As you step out, you spot Sam leaning against the SUV and give him a beam and a wave. He grins and gives you a thumbs up.

Turning to Maeve and the security guards, you, Nat and Steve take turns shaking her hand.

“Thank you so much, really,” she gushes, and, all right, she’s won you over and you’re beaming now. “This was such an incredible day for me, I’m so happy I could look after you and I hope you’ve had a good time.”

Why not.

“We did, Maeve,” you say before either Nat or Steve can answer, and you tilt your head. “Would you like a photo with us?”

Her mouth opens but nothing comes out, and then she’s scrabbling for her phone in her pocket. “Well, I, I wasn’t going to ask, it’s not professional and I’m not really allowed, but seeing as you offered I would absolutely love to.”

Catching Steve’s eye, grinning, you stand by Maeve’s side as Nat takes her phone and lifts it, her lips pressed together.

“All right, ready...”

Maeve’s arms go around you and Steve and she beams at the camera.

Nat taps the screen a few times before lowering the phone and stepping forward, handing it back to her. “There you go.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” she says, almost hugging her phone to her chest. “That’s so kind, thank you.”

As you go to say your goodbyes, you hear the elevator chime again, signalling it’s arrived, and out of instinct you glance over her shoulder to see who it is. The doors slide open and Joe—

Joe steps out with a man in a suit, laughing at something he just said.

You stare at him.

Why is he still here.

Oh... He must be doing other interviews.

... Pure rage surges within you once more.

You don’t hear Steve saying your name as you stride past Maeve towards him. Upon hearing your name, Joe lifts his head, his eyes land on you, and they widen.

“Oh, hey—”

Your hands slam against his chest, gripping the front of his jacket, and you shove him back, pushing him against the wall beside the elevator.

“Why the fuck did you do that, Joe?!” you hiss, “Who the fuck do you think you are?!”

You don’t see it, but Steve, having stepped forward, puts an arm out, halting the security guards and the man with Joe from going to his aid.

Joe stammers as he looks behind you for help, then back to you. “L-Look, I’m, I’m sorry, okay, but I don’t think I said anything that wasn’t truthful—”

“Really?!” You don’t realise you’re practically yelling. “You humiliated me, you told the whole world my insecurities like it was nothing, like you had the right to.  You’re a fucking asshole, you always have been, and you didn’t deserve me.”

Releasing him, you step back, your breaths coming quickly, your jaw tight. You go to turn away when he quickly says, “I needed the money, Y/N.”

You scoff as you turn back to him, watching him straighten his jacket. “No, you don’t, Joe, you’re a manager—”

“I lost my job.”

You stare at him, your brow dipping. “What?”

He swallows, one hand going into his pocket, the other playing with his tie. “I was fired. A month ago. I moved back here to stay with a friend and find a new job. Yvette wouldn’t give me my old one back, so...”

You shake your head, your eyebrows raising in incredulity. “So, instead of finding another job, you went on television and humiliated your ex-girlfriend?”

“No, I, well, I didn’t mean to...” He trails off, looking at you helplessly, wanting you to give him an out, the benefit of the doubt, throw him a life-line, like you used to.

Your tongue running over your teeth, you shake your head. “You’re a fucking asshole, Joe.”

Turning away, you smile tightly at Maeve, and say as you pass, “Thank you so much, really, you’ve been great.”

You don’t hear her reply as you carry on striding across the lot, Steve right behind you. Sam gives you a gentle smile and opens the door for you so you can climb straight in. Sitting back, you secure your seat-belt as Nat, Sam and Steve slide into their own seats.

No one speaks as Nat drives to the barrier, and then you’re waved out and onto the main roads.

You’re glad you said that to Joe. So relieved. It’s like a weight off your fucking shoulders, everything you should have said when he dumped you.

But you’re so fucking mad. Fucking livid... at everything. Maybe it’s the hangover. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep. Maybe it’s the fucking week. All three is a deadly combination. You don’t care about peoples opinions, you don’t, you try very hard to not pay attention to them or let them get to you and you succeed most times, but Joe has presented an image of you to the world that isn’t you, that you can’t control, and... It’s like the last straw on top of a lot of last straws.

You realise, then.

Even when this is supposedly over, it won’t be. People will still know who you are. You’ll still be Steve’s friend, his neighbour. People will still have an opinion of you. People will still be able to make an assumption about you, scream things at you, throw things at you.

And you thought you’d done well in the interview, but depending on what people want to believe, Joe could have undone all of that.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Nat says suddenly, “I didn’t know they had interviewed Joe, they fucked us over.”

“It’s not your fault, Nat. You’re the one keeping this fucking thing together, you’re doing your best, you all are.”

"You are, too.”

You lift your gaze to Steve. You make yourself take a breath and exhale it as he smiles, and you return it but it’s an effort.

What will we be like after this.

Stop it.

God, I hate hungover, irritable me.

You’d said the night before that you would take all of this if it meant you got to be his friend. And you still would.

So you widen your smile and exhale another breath.

His own features relax as he nods slightly, maybe understanding a little.

“... Man, I was really hopin’ you were gonna knock that guy out,” Sam says, and you glance over at him.

Then, you burst out laughing.

Steve chuckles as Sam looks back at you, his eyes wide. “I’m being serious, I was just waitin’ for it, we can turn around if you like? Finish the little rat off?”

“No,” you insist through your laughter, “As tempting as that is, I just want to get back and nap this hangover off.”

“You sure? I’ll be your second?” Steve chimes in.

“No.” You’re grinning, even as you narrow your eyes at him. “Yelling let me get it all out.”

“All right, all right...” Sam grumbles good-naturedly, then reaches into his jacket. “Here’s your phone, by the way.”

Sam had offered to keep it in the car for you so it’d be one less thing for you to worry and you accept it with a nod.

“Thank you very much.”

Unlocking it, there’s messages from Bridget, Dolly and Aaron, all having responded to things while watching it, and all ended by saying what an asshole Joe is. You spend the rest of the drive replying to them, telling them you’re okay and just looking to have a quiet night in. 

You pause before locking it, then you message Yvette, asking if she knew Joe had been fired.

She replies within seconds.

I did. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, didn’t want to upset you, he was fired on the grounds of incompetence basically. At least the whole world knows he’s an idiot now. You were fantastic.

Incompetence. Ha, sounds right.

You tell her not to worry, that you miss her, and thank her.

You’re welcome. And I suppose I miss you, too.

Smiling, you lock your phone just as you arrive back at the penthouse. Leaning over his seat, you hug Sam goodbye, then get out with Steve and Nat, the latter only wanting to go with you up to your door. In the elevator, she leans against the back of it and folds her arms. 

“So, how do we feel?”

You and Steve nod in unison, and both say;

“Yeah, good.”

“Fine.”

She nods, her lips twitching slightly. “Good. I think we’re all relieved that’s over. And I’m sorry again about what happened, Y/N, I’m gonna call them later and yell at them.”

“It’s fine, really,” you answer with a slight shrug. “I get they needed to make a story and make it exciting. I’m okay, really. I’m glad I got to do some yelling myself.”

Nat’s lips lift. “Yeah, that must have been very cathartic.”

You can’t stop a smile. “It was.”

The elevator slows to a halt and the doors slide open. She waits until Steve opens the door and she knows everything’s okay inside before she leaves, waving you off and saying she’ll message you later.

You close the door, kick your shoes off, and head down the short hallway, and pause, looking at Steve stood in the living room, his hands in his pockets, a gentle smile on his lips.

“So.”

“So...” you answer, your own smile widening.

He inhales a breath, his eyebrows raising a little. “Thank God that’s over.”

“Yeah.” You fold your arms as you move closer. “It was okay, though, wasn’t it? We did okay, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, I’d say we did. More than okay, actually.” He lifts a hand out of his pocket and gestures at you. “You were great.”

You scoff, shaking your head slightly, only a step or so away now. “Me? What about you, when she hit us with the ‘what made you fall in love’ curveball you were great, you said some really good stuff.”

He shrugs slightly. “Well, they are the things I do like about you, so.”

You look at him, your stomach fluttering and your breath catching in your throat and your lips parting and your heart beating faster and, oh.

His gaze is lingering on you, and he watches your tongue wet your lips.

“Oh.... Well... What I said is what I like about you, too,” you say quietly, watching him.

There’s a pause. Then, he takes a step closer, opens his mouth and—

The sound of his phone ringing makes you jerk and his lips press together, his jaw tight. Clearing your throat as he slides his phone out of his pocket, and he glances from it to you.

“I’m sorry, it’s Buck, I gotta take this—”

“No, no, that’s absolutely fine, take it—”

“You sure? I can—”

“No, take it, it’s fine.” You’re smiling far too widely as you head for the stairs. “I’m gonna take a nap, anyway. Say hello from me!”

“Yeah, I will do.”

You fix your gaze ahead, moving swiftly up the stairs, and he keeps his eyes on you as he accepts the call and raises his phone to his ear.

“You have impeccable fuckin’ timing...” he mutters into it as you disappear into your room and close the door, his gaze finally dropping.

—

After washing your face and changing into more comfortable clothes, you’d closed the curtains and climbed into bed, groaning with relief.

You’d fallen asleep almost instantly, your body and mind delighted to now be able to rest undisturbed. You hadn’t set an alarm so you sleep for a few hours, and by the time you awaken, it’s already getting dark. Hungry and thirsty, you roll out of bed and rub at your face, pulling the door open.

You hear the sounds of the TV, and as you move down the stairs you see Steve sat on one of the couches, his long legs stretched out. Lifting his head, he smiles at the sight of you.

“Hey. Feelin’ any better?”

You yawn even as you nod. “Mhm. Or maybe I’m more tired now, I don’t know. How are you?”

“Fine, thanks.” He watches you as you move into the kitchen, finding something to eat and drink. “Buck’s comin’ over in about half an hour, by the way. He’s bringing alcohol.”

He chuckles as you look up at him and pull a face.

“Hmm, don’t think I could handle any alcohol for a little while. I think I’ll leave you two to it. Just have a bath and then maybe watch a little of something.”

He nods as he rubs at his jaw, watching you lift your glass to your lips and take a sip. “That sounds nice. What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?”

You swallow, his eyes drifting to your throat, before rising swiftly to meet your gaze. “Uhm, shopping for a wedding dress, and a dress for Saturday. Turns out my glad-rags aren’t so glad.”

A corner of his mouth lifts higher than the other. “Okay. How about I cook us dinner tomorrow, we have a quiet night in. Change Thursday Night Classic Movie Night to Friday Night Classic Movie Night just this once?”

Oh... a taste of the past, of normality.

Your lips lift high as you hum. “Mhm, yes, please, that sounds so great.”

His smile widens. “All right. It’s a date.”

You hum a slight laugh as you move to go to the stairs, then your gaze darts back to him.

What.

He’s back to facing the TV, his eyes on it, and you stare at him.

...

Was that just a figure of speech.

It had to be.

We’ve said it before... right?

We must have.

I can’t ask him to confirm what he meant, I’ll look insane.

You carry on moving to the stairs.

Once in your room, you close the door and pause.

It was just a figure of speech.

That’s it.

Moving into the bathroom, you shake it from your mind and turn the taps on on the bath. You find some bubble-bath in the cupboard under the sink and pour some in.

Undressing and getting in, you lie back with a gentle sigh, closing your eyes as the warm water soothes you. It’s nice and quiet, the only sound the gentle sloshing of the water whenever you move slightly.

Date.

Date.

Date.

Stop it, it’s just a figure of speech. How many times do you say it to Bridge’ and Dolly?

Except today he kissed you on the forehead and said that all the reasons he listed for pretending to be in love with you are actually all the reasons why he likes you.

Stop it. The kiss was just for show, as was the hand holding, or to comfort me, either way, whatever, and the reasons he listed... well... 

...

Stop thinking about it.

You spend the next ten minutes in the bath just thinking about anything but today; wondering what dresses you’ll try on tomorrow, what dresses you liked from before, how fun it’s going to be, what you can watch later.

After getting out and draining the tub, you pat yourself dry, moisturise, and change back into comfy clothes. You want to get another drink and more food so you head out again, this time to the sound of masculine laughter.

You’re already smiling by the time you reach the bottom of the stairs, finding Steve and Bucky stood in the kitchen, opening bottles of beer.

“Well, hello there.”

Lifting his head, Bucky smiles as you approach and start rooting through cupboards.

“Hey, kid. How’re you doin’?”

You and he aren’t huggers, but the gentle affection in his smile, tone and his nickname for you is enough.

You turn to him as you close the cupboard, a bag of cookies under your arm. “Oh, you know, living my engaged dream.”

Steve chuckles as Bucky’s smile widens and he leans against the counter. “So I’ve heard. I thought you did really well at the interview, though.”

You snort, setting the cookies on the counter and making yourself a drink.

“No, seriously.” You look up at him as his insistence, and, oh, he is lovely. “You were yourself. Very warm and friendly. Loved what you said about fame and Joe, too.”

You incline your head, giving a slight curtsy that has him smiling again. “Oh. Thank you.”

“Could’ve cracked a few more jokes, though.”

You side-eye him as your lips twitch and you grab your drink, heading for the stairs. “I’ll bear that in mind for next time. I’ll leave you two to it for a while. Have fun.”

“Yep, see ya.”

“Enjoy yourself,” Steve says a second later.

“Oh, I will,” you say with raised brows as you climb the stairs, “Got plenty of episodes to catch up on that duty has kept me from.”

Steve’s smile lingers on his lips as he watches you disappear out of sight. Taking a breath, he then starts to turn back to Bucky.

“So, how’s the—”

“What’s goin’ on.”

His gaze meets Bucky’s as he pauses at his quiet question, his friend’s eyebrows raised slightly.

“... What d’you mean?”

Bucky’s eyebrows rise higher. “With you and her, what’s goin’ on.”

Steve blinks, then lets out a slight scoff, a hand going to his hip as his other settles on the counter. “Nothing.”

“God, you’re still such an awful liar—”

“Oh, come on, don’t give me that shit—”

“You’re tellin’ me the truth, then?”

He presses his lips together. “... It’s complicated it.”

“Is it?” Bucky says, raising his bottle to his lips.

Steve’s jaw moves slightly, and he shakes his head a moment later. “Buck, I... After that letter threatening Y/N, I just—”

“What letter?”

Two sets of eyes dart to you at the top of the stairs, your own staring at them.

You’d forgotten the cookies.

If you’d been a second earlier you’d be having an entirely different conversation.

Bucky straightens, a quiet breath leaving him as Steve’s eyes remain on you, watching you move down the stairs.

“Y/N—”

“What letter, Steve?” you cut in, reaching the bottom step and moving closer, your arms folded, features expressionless.

His jaw moves minutely but he doesn’t look away. “... Six months ago I received a letter about you, threatening you because of our friendship. We had good reason to take it seriously so, don’t worry, we’ve had someone watching you to keep you safe—”

You scoff slightly, as your gaze darts between them, a coldness sweeping over you, not knowing what to process first. “Wait, wait, wait, hang on... I... You’ve had some stranger watching me for six months?”

There’s a beat of silence... then Bucky raises his hand. “Not a stranger, kid.”

You stare at him, your mouth moving slightly. “Every day?”

He shrugs a shoulder as he lowers his hand. “Nat and I take it in turns. As fascinating as you are, I need a day off sometimes.”

You let out an incredulous, slightly dazed laugh, because what the fuck. “Wow, okay... Wow, right, Fury must hate you both, giving you this kind of job when there are more important things out there.”

Silence. They shift slightly.

You look between them again, your smile fading. “... What?”

Steve runs a hand down his mouth with a small sigh before it goes to his hip, his gaze gentle on you. “There were a couple more letters after the first one. With pictures of you going to and from work, out with friends. and, uh... well, some not particularly nice things written with them.”

“Oh.”

Part of you wants to ask what. Part of you wishes you’d never forgotten the damn cookies and come out of your room.

Steve’s features soften as he moves around the counter, taking a step towards you. “Look, you—”

“Uhm...” You look at the ground, feeling slightly sick.

Someone had threatened you. More than once. Because you’re Steve’s friend. And that would hurt him.

So many different emotions are swirling and roiling inside of you, and somene had threatened you and you’d had no idea.

Are you comfortable with that? With that being kept from you?

You don’t know anymore.

“... I think i’m just gonna go to bed,” you say, looking up at them, because you don’t know what else to say. “Have a nice night. It was nice to see you, Buck.”

“You, too,” he answers gently as you retreat back upstairs.

As you climb, you glance at them, and see Steve bow his head, his eyes closed.

—

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[agent-breakdance]

(Icarus Ch. 3) - Flashbacks and Flashcards

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F! MC (Olivia Anika Cohen)

Word count: 2.3k words

A/N: This chapter will be slightly less angsty than usual. Hope you guys enjoy the little bit of respite but don’t worry, we’ll be getting right back to it in the next chapter which happens to be the last of the series. There is a sequel in the works, however.

Warning: Language, mentions of drug abuse, gratuitous use of flashbacks. 

Disclaimer: PB owns characters. There’s lots of Grey’s Anatomy references with some dialogue borrowed from Open Heart.

Tag list:  @deliciouslydeafeningstarlight​​ @drethanramslay​​ @ohramsey​​ @theeccentricbibliophile​​ @justanotherrookie​​ @kaavyaethanramsey​​ @batgirlassociationofgothamcity​​ @tyrilstarfury​​ @lilypills​​ @juneiswriting​​ @fleur-de-jasmin-fdj​​ @mvalentine​​ @sanchita012​​ @choicesstan1​​ @junggoku​​ @aylamreads​​ @whatsamottowithyou​​ @utterlyinevitable​​ @openheart12​

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

Song: Uncover by Zara Larsson.

Olivia was seated in another one of Professor Hardman’s lectures as he went completely off-topic. This time, however, she had found ways to keep herself occupied. Her eyes scanned the room only to find dozens of students dozing off, including Tobias. Her eyes finally landed on Ethan. 

He felt her eyes on him and turned to look at her. She saw as his lips quirked up in a small smile. She had no doubt that he was remembering the events that had occurred starting off with their ‘talk’.

Olivia was very curious upon receiving a mysterious text from Ethan asking her to meet him “you know where”. She stared at the text as she arrived outside the abandoned lecture hall. There was no sign of him anywhere. Suddenly, a hand reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her inside the room and shutting the door. She let out a relieved sigh upon facing him.

“You figured it out, huh Rookie?” 

“Well, it was pretty obvious considering this is the only place we’ve ever been alone. Why’d you ask me here anyway?”

“I thought we might need to talk about what happened.” Ethan said.

Olivia laughed. “Uh huh. What do you want to talk about? I thought everything was pretty obvious.” 

“How about you make it completely clear so I don’t make a fool of myself?” 

“Now, that I’d like to see.” Olivia chuckled and earned a glare from Ethan which promptly dissolved into a smile at her next words.

“We’re dating, Ethan.”

He crossed the distance between them and captured her lips in a kiss. Her breathing grew ragged as the kiss deepened but they both pulled back with a smile before getting too carried away. 

“I don’t mean any disrespect but would you mind if we keep this to ourselves for now? I don’t want all of our friends teasing us about it.” Ethan asked. 

“I was going to suggest it if you weren’t.” Olivia said with a smile. 

“I guess we’re a lot more alike than we thought.”

The rest of the week was filled with secret rendezvous at ‘their spot’ and a lot of secret texting. Ethan hated texting but he made an exception for their situation and for her.  

There had been a lot of close calls where they had almost been discovered by Tobias or the rest of their friends or the janitor (oops?) but the thrill of secrecy only amplified the excitement of their relationship. 

Tobias suddenly woke up. He saw Olivia trying to discreetly look in his direction and smiled. At that moment, he was completely oblivious to Ethan sitting to his left.  Her gaze fell on his and she quickly averted her eyes. Her mind started racing as she prayed that Tobias hadn’t seen her little interaction with Ethan. She let out a quiet sigh of relief as she heard the professor dismiss the class. 

“Saved by the bell. Well, metaphorically.” She thought.

***

As the evening rolled around, they decided to end the week by getting drunk at their neighborhood bar.  

“What can I get ya?” The waitress asked as she approached the table.

“Liv, we doing this?” Bryce asked. Olivia gave him a grin and looked around the table. Aurora groaned and flopped her head onto the table. Jackie had a smug grin on her face, Elijah wore an excited smile and Sienna muttered to herself.

“Not again...”

Her gaze landed on the terrified expressions of Ethan and Tobias and she gave Bryce a nod.

Before Ethan could place an order with the waitress, Bryce got up and walked to the bar and Olivia thanked the waitress but refused her service.

She was met with confused stares from Ethan and Tobias. 

“What’s going on, Liv?” They asked simultaneously. 

Their question was soon answered as Bryce arrived at the table with a tray lined with glasses filled with the familiar blue liquid. 

“What on God's green earth is that monstrosity?” Ethan asked. 

“This is a drink of my own invention. I call it ‘Early Onset Alzheimer’s’. In honor of a couple of new additions to our group.” Bryce grinned.

“Please tell me I don’t actually have to drink this.” Ethan whispered to Olivia.

“Oh you’ll be fine. You can order your ‘scotch, neat’ later.” 

“How did you know that was my poison?” 

“The time I met Tobias at the bar, I noticed your drink. You should know by now not to underestimate me.” Olivia winked at him.  

“Indeed, Rookie.” He smiled as he tossed back the drink. 

Everyone except Bryce groaned as they set down their glasses.

“That was vile, Lahela. Remind me never to accept a drink from you ever again.” Ethan said.

They all laughed as Tobias flagged down the waitress to take their actual orders.   

An hour passed as they all got progressively more drunk. By the end of their fourth round of drinks, they had gone through a whole bottle of tequila and were now using it to play Truth or Dare upon Olivia’s suggestion.

She spun the bottle and it landed on Bryce. 

“Truth or Dare, Bryce?” 

“Dare.”

Upon seeing the mischievous smirk on Olivia’s face, he groaned. “I do not like this at all.” 

Her eyes darted around the bar and lit up when she saw Professor Hardman at the bar counter.

“You have to go ask Prof. Hardman about his trip to Australia.” Olivia said which earned hoots from around the table.

“What did I ever do to you, Liv? That man could talk for hours about Australia.” 

They all laughed as they saw Bryce engage in conversation with the professor.

“Well, he won’t be back for at least an hour or so. Let’s play!” Sienna said.

They played a few more rounds which consisted of Jackie guzzling hot sauce, Elijah calling up his crush to explain the rules of monopoly and Aurora successfully intimidating the first person Jackie had picked out for her into giving her his number. 

Bryce returned to the table after a grueling hour and a half. 

The bottle landed on Ethan. “Truth or Dare?”

“I suppose if I’m being forced to play this ridiculous game where my fate depends on an empty bottle and the mercy of your creativity, I will pick truth.”

“Do you have a crush on anyone at the university?” Bryce asked with a smirk.

Ethan and Olivia shared an imperceptible smile. She quickly looked away only to meet Sienna’s eyes.

Olivia walked back to her dorm, her mind still swirling from the flashbacks to Ethan telling her about his own past and the kiss. She stepped into her room only to find papers and textbooks strewn about on the floor, waking her from her rumination. 

“Hey Liv!” She heard Sienna’s voice as her head poked out from under a pile of books. Olivia sat down next to Sienna. 

“What’s that?” Sienna pointed to a white piece of cloth poking out from her coat pocket.

The bold monogram ‘EJR’ stood out perfectly in the white background. 

“Aren’t those Ethan’s initials? I’ve seen them on his lab coat.”

Olivia remained silent as her mind raced to come up with a logical explanation. “Yeah, it’s Ethan’s handkerchief. I had an accident in the lab and he gave it to me to wipe up the blood on my hands.”

“Uh huh. There’s no blood on the handkerchief, Liv.”

Olivia tried to come up with an excuse but she finally relented and narrated the encounter, save for the details of both their traumas.

Sienna exclaims and rushes over to hug her. “So, Mr. Stick Up His Ass, huh?” Sienna waggles her eyebrows jokingly. 

Olivia laughs and playfully pushes her. “Turns out he’s not so bad.”

Ethan’s eyes flit to Olivia for a second.

“I suppose it was too much to expect a decent question from you. But to answer your question, no I do not.”

“Aw, you’re no fun.” Bryce said. 

He handed the bottle over to Jackie and watched as she spun it. It landed on Tobias. 

“Truth or Dare, Tobias?”

“I think all the tequila is giving me some liquid courage. I’ll go with dare.” Tobias said.

“I dare you to kiss the most attractive person in the bar.” Jackie said as the table cheered him on.

Tobias stood up as all eyes remained trained on him. He walked over to Olivia and kissed her, eliciting hoots and hollers from the table. 

Ethan’s eyes widened and flashed with jealousy but he quickly composed himself. 

“He cheated! I’m obviously the most attractive person here.” Bryce said in mock anger. 

Olivia laughed as they broke apart. Her eyes flit over to Ethan and she gave him an amused smile, taking note of his jealousy.

Bryce walked over and pulled Tobias in for a kiss. 

“There! Now it’s fixed.” Bryce said with a smile.

The table erupted in laughter at Tobias’ shocked expression. 

“Ok guys, we’ve all officially had too much to drink. We should go.” Olivia said, chuckling. 

They made it back to their respective dorms after last call. Olivia and Sienna stepped into their dorm and closed the door behind them.

Sienna stepped into the bathroom to freshen up when her phone lit up with a call. 

Olivia made her way to the phone upon Sienna’s instruction and read the caller ID.

“So are you and Ethan a thing now?” Sienna asked.

“We haven’t talked about it yet. It was just a kiss.” 

“For now.” Sienna smirked.

Their conversation was cut short by the ring of Sienna’s phone. She glanced at the screen and hesitated before putting her phone away.

“Everything alright?”  

Sienna sadly shook her head. 

“That was my ex- boyfriend. He’s a drug addict. We were supposed to go to med school together but his addiction got so bad that he wasn’t able to take any tests and got expelled. I tried so hard to help him but he refused to go to rehab or even NA meetings.” Her eyes glistened with tears.  

 “I couldn’t take it anymore so I had to break up with him. But now, he keeps calling me to tell me that he’s finally in rehab and he wants to get back together but I can’t do it again, Liv. I just can’t.”

She breaks down crying as Olivia envelops her in a hug.

“It’s alright, Si. You don’t have to. You’re allowed to focus on yourself now. He has other people to lean on.”

“You’re right.” She grabs her phone and blocks the number. 

“I have Grey’s Anatomy cued up. Do you want to watch?” Sienna asks with a small smile on her face. 

“You bet.”

“Si, it says it’s the sponsor.” Olivia called out. 

Sienna answered the phone, a curious expression on her face. She returned a minute later. 

“It was his sponsor telling me he just had a relapse. I told her that we had broken up and gave her his sister’s number. It was the best I could do.”

“You did great, Si. I was going to watch Grey’s Anatomy. Do you want to join me?” Olivia asked with a smile on her face.  

Sienna’s face lit up with a laugh and she nodded resolutely.

***

The next morning, they had all gathered on the cool, grassy lawn to study for their first big test. 

They quizzed each other from question banks and flashcards that Jackie and Aurora had procured from second year students using a little intimidation.

“This would be easier with some tequila”, Jackie said.

“I think we had enough of that yesterday night.” Olivia said, giving Bryce a pointed look. 

“Alright, symptoms of appendicitis?” Aurora questioned.

“Sudden pain in the right side of the lower abdomen, nausea, vomiting, loss of appetite,constipation or diarrhoea and abdominal bloating.” Ethan listed them in rapid succession. 

“Also, a low grade fever that may worsen as the illness progresses.” Olivia said. 

Ethan shook his head with a small smile as she smirked at him.

As Elijah read out another question, Tobias leaned over to Olivia.

“Are you my appendix? Because I have a funny feeling in my stomach that makes me feel like I should take you out.” 

Olivia doubled over with laughter. She heard the tail end of Sienna’s answer to Elijah’s question about tachycardia. 

“That was funny but I think I can do better.”

“Blood is red, cyanosis is blue, I get tachycardia when I think of you.” Olivia said. 

“Oh that was pretty good, Liv but get this- What do you and a febrile patient have in common? You’re both hot.” Bryce said.

The morning passed as they laughed together, trying out pick-up lines on each other. Tobias offered to pick up lunch for everyone and dragged Ethan along with him to the taco truck across the street from the quad.

They laughed, talked and occasionally studied till evening rolled around. They hadn’t gotten much done for the test so Sienna suggested that they pair up to quiz each other.

She decided that the pairs were going to be Bryce and Aurora, Jackie and Tobias, herself and Elijah and… Olivia and Ethan. 

As they moved to join their counterparts, Sienna threw Olivia a wink over her shoulder which she repaid with a grateful smile.

A semblance of privacy gave Ethan and Olivia the chance to talk.

“So, Sienna knows about us?” Ethan questioned.

Olivia winced. “I’m sorry. I had your handkerchief and she figured it out.”

“For once, I really don’t seem to mind.” Ethan said with a small smile. “Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for those ridiculous pick-up lines they were using on you.”

“Seems like that really bothered you…” Olivia said with the ghost of a smile on her face.

“Uh…only because they were ridiculous.” He said with a flustered expression. 

“Oh, I’m sure.” She laughed.

“Can we get back to studying, please?” He said as he cleared his throat.

A while later, Tobias approached Olivia and Ethan. 

“Can I join you guys? Jackie asked me very kindly to fuck off because I was talking too much.” 

Olivia and Ethan burst out laughing before nodding and making some space for him.

As they were getting back to their studying, Tobias’ expression turned serious. 

“Liv, can we talk?”

Chapter 4: Dear John

[mokuhchi-manuscripts]

Salvere: Chapter 2

A/N: I apologize that these chapters are somewhat short, I'm trying my best :)

Word Count: 1,540 CW(s): mentions of nausea

Find this on my AO3 as Well!

⤾ Previous Chapter | Navigation | Next Chapter ⤿

Yamaguchi sat on his bed, legs crossed and school work scattered around him in an arc. Textbooks, loose papers, and pens were sprawled across his covers. He had been attempting to study for English for hours, but his mind was racing, prohibiting him from even attempting his school work.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door unlocking. “Tadashi?” the melodic voice of his mother called.

“Upstairs.” he shouted back. He could hear his mother shuffling, most likely removing her shoes and coat. Footsteps began to approach the stairs, followed by the creaking of their old wooden staircase. His mother popped her head through the doorway.

“How’re you feeling?”

Tadashi shrugged in response. “The same.” She nodded in acknowledgement. He watched as she made her way into his room, pushing aside scattered papers so she could sit next to him.

She ran her fingers through his hair as she spoke, “So I was able to get a doctor’s appointment-” he immediately opened his mouth in protest but she raised her hand in a silencing gesture, “and you’re going to go.” Yamaguchi slightly deflated. Going to the doctor meant accepting something was wrong, and he was still hoping that he’d wake up after months of feeling ill and finally be okay again. A part of him didn’t want to know what was wrong out of fear, but the other part was desperate to have an opportunity to fix his ailing body.

“Tadashi?” his mother’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked over to her and could see the expression that had become all too familiar to him: worry.

“Okay.” he acknowledged his mother’s earlier statement. She sighed, stood up, and made her way to the doorway where she paused. “I love you, Tadashi.”

“Love you too mom.”

He flopped backwards into his pillows, suddenly incredibly tired. He felt horrible that he had to visit the doctor knowing that bills existed and volleyball equipment was an expense already beginning to burden his mother. He eyed his sports bag in the corner of his room. It felt like it was mocking him, laughing at the money they spent on it and its contents only to have the sport ripped right out of his hands. The urge to cover the bag began to overwhelm him, so he removed his sweatshirt and tossed it across his room, it landing atop the bag. He breathed a sigh of relief when it was no longer clearly visible.

He turned his head to face the ceiling. There, above him, were the old glow-in-the-dark stars he had forced Tsukishima to help him put up when they were younger. In an attempt to steady his mind, he dug into the back of his brain for the constellations they had placed. He raised his arm and traced the shapes of Ursa Major and Minor with his finger, dragging it along until he found Leo, and Lynx, and then he couldn't remember the rest of the names.

“You’re pointing at Draco.” Yamaguchi snapped his head to the side and of course, there leaning against his doorway was Tsukishima, “or so I’m assuming. And your mom said I could come up. Before you ask I haven’t been standing here long.” The blonde righted himself and made his way to Yamaguchi’s bed. He moved Yamaguchi’s papers to the floor, and laid down next to the other boy. “Over there is Gemini,” he explained, pointing as he spoke. “And by that is…” Tsukishima’s voice trailed off in Yamaguchi’s head. No longer was he staring at the ceiling, but instead at his best friend’s features. His eyes grazed up the sharpness of his jawline, he looked to his eyes and traced the slope of his nose. Sometimes he forgot just how beautiful Kei was.

Yamaguchi could remember back when they were children, lying in the grass and looking through Kei’s telescope. He could practically hear the sound of laughter as fireflies buzzed around them. Kei always compared them to stars you could hold in your hand.

He thought back to when they first put the stars up in his room. He had begged his mother to buy him the stick-on stars and promptly invited Tsukishima to help him. His friend had showed up with a reference book and a grin, and together they got to work planning out the constellations that would fit on Yamaguchi’s ceiling. Kei was determined to have it be accurate, leading him to check, double check, and recheck again.

“Are you even listening?” Tsukishima tapped the center of the other boy’s forehead, effectively pulling Tadashi out of his memories. He realized he had been staring, and with a warmth to his face he looked away.

“Sorry, Tsukki. I was just remembering when we put those up.”

“Oh, yeah. I remember. You had trouble reaching the ceiling so I had to put most of them up.”

“It’s not my fault you’re freakishly tall!” Yamaguchi laughed. He could sense Tsukishima rolling his eyes, followed by the sound of the bed creaking under the taller boy’s weight as he shifted to face Yamaguchi. Tadashi couldn’t help but flush under his friend’s gaze.

“Are you okay?” Kei’s soft words fell like feathers onto Yamaguchi’s ears. He was being quiet, as if sharing a secret.

“I don’t know,” Yamaguchi responded honestly in the same hushed tone, “I know I’m going to the doctor in the next couple of days but I’m torn. On one hand I want answers because answers means treatment, but going to the doctor means accepting something is wrong when I don’t want anything to be wrong.” Yamaguchi darted his eyes to the right, momentarily interlocking glances with the same intimacy as holding hands. He wanted to look away, afraid of his own impulsivity at this small distance, but he was so engulfed in the concept of Tsukishima that he didn’t dare look away. “I don’t want to be dramatic but what if I can’t play volleyball? I’ve also been missing some classes from getting sick so what if I fail? I guess I’m just kind of lost and confused and I want things to go back to how they were but at the same time I know it’s impossible but I’m terrified of what the future holds.” Tsukishima nodded. It was obvious he didn’t know how to respond, and he could tell Yamaguchi wasn’t expecting him to.

A song loudly began to play from behind Tsukihima’s head, and a groan from the blond quickly followed. “It’s your phone,” he said. Yamaguchi sat up and reached over Tsukishima’s body, quickly recoiling back as soon as he grabbed his phone from embarrassment of the position they were almost in. A part of him wanted to stay close and over Tsukishima, but in an effort to fight that urge he reeled back, effectively smashing his head against his wall. Tsukishima couldn’t help but snicker as Yamaguchi rubbed the back of his head. Tadashi looked down at the caller ID. ‘Suga.’

“Hey, Suga.”

“Hey, Yamaguchi!” he could hear another voice in the background but it was hard to pinpoint who’s it was, “I was just wondering how you were doing.”

“Oh. I’m fine. Tsukishima’s actually over right now so..”

“So you don’t want to talk? I got it. Well if you need anything just now the whole team is here for you. Bye!”

“Bye.” Yamaguchi hung his head and let out a sigh as soon as he heard the line drop. Tsukishima nudged him, causing him to look up. Tsukishima quirked an eyebrow, a silent question of ‘what happened’.

“Suga was just checking on me, and I get why but having everyone wanting to keep an eye on me has never felt so frustrating. It feels like everyone is handling me like glass, like if they don’t protect me I’ll shatter. I’ve just gotten sick a couple times-” Tsukishima gave Yamaguchi a look, “okay, multiple times, but I’m not dying.” Yamaguchi lowered his head again, his voice following suit. “It’s just so frustrating to know that for most of my life I’ve felt invisible, but the moment something seems to be wrong with me and I want to be invisible, suddenly all eyes are on me.” Tsukishima nodded once more in acknowledgement, although this time the brunette didn’t see it.

“You know,” Yamaguchi turned his head to face Tsukishima who unexpectedly spoke, “I rarely ever see you this frustrated.” A smirk played against his lips. Yamaguchi couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh.

“Shut up, Tsukki.”

“You’re stealing my line.” Yamaguchi couldn’t help but laugh again at the comment.

“What made you come over anyways?” Tadashi changed the subject.

“I saw you struggling with english earlier so I thought I’d come help.”

“Thanks, Tsukki!” Yamaguchi was delighted for his best friend and the help he offered. The shorter boy slowly made his way off his bed, making sure to climb over Kei, and eventually found himself sitting on the floor with his school books. Tsukishima soon followed. He thumbed open the book and began to explain the material, “Okay so first what you’re going to want to know is these grammar rules.”

And for a moment, Yamaguchi Tadashi felt normal again.

· · ─────── · ☆ · ─────── · ·

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[anika-ann]

Lessons in Rule-breaking - Pt.2

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 2830

Warnings: …nothing major? Swearing, fluff, gooffiness.

Summary: Arrangement made, arrangement cancelled, Finding Nemo screening and... ;)

Story Masterlist

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You hated yourself, you really did.

It wasn’t the fact that you couldn’t have held on a little longer and you had texted Steve the very next day in the morning – unable to follow some basic rules of socializing – just to let him know when you could possibly arrange the movie theatre thing. It wasn’t even that you had done puppy eyes at everyone you had been trying to convince to tolerate the project. That was all okay.

You hated yourself for the burning sting of disappointment that had come when Steve hadn’t texted back. You had been sitting by your phone like a super-excited nag for three days and you had been getting sadder with each hour with no response.

Now you were just annoyed.

It was ridiculous and you had been unbearably stupid. Of course he wouldn’t text back. What had you been thinking? Chances were he had even given you a fake number, no matter how genuine he had seemed when talking to you – he was probably used to that kind of interaction and he hadn’t wanted to be rude in person, trying to maintain some sort of an image; even when being so casual you would have believed he was just a kid from Brooklyn, just your average Jack on the street. He had been nice and you had trusted him.

Stupid, stupid-

“Oh god, I’m such an ass,” you murmured and went to continue on your pizza from the place on the corner of your street – you had it delivered despite the fact you could have just walked for five minutes and get it yourself. You were pathetic.

You stared at the rest of your food, losing the last remains of your appetite when remembering that stupid wannabe genuine eyes of his.

Your phone rang, interrupting your sulking.

You eyed it suspiciously, wondering who was calling you – perhaps you didn’t check in with mum for too long? Possible. Someone wanted to switch shifts? More than likely.

To your shock, the ID was announcing a completely different caller. Steve. And just like that, you realized you weren’t pissed at yourself only, but also at him. But you were too curious about what he would have to say for you to let the call unanswered.

Also, there was a possibility of some poor bastard, whose number Steve had given you when trying to dodge you, was calling now, confused about your text.

“Hello?” you said to the speaker unsurely, anxious about what was to come.

There was a relieved sigh on the other end. “Hi! I’m sorry, it’s Steve, I-…“

Well. Now what?

“Uhm… hi, Steve.”

“Hi,” he repeated hastily and if you weren’t angry with him and also utterly disappointed, you would have found his hastiness endearing – but you were. “I… I wanted to apologize for not texting back-“

You sighed and decided to save him from his misery. “It’s okay, Steve. You don’t have to explain anything. I understand.”

You did understand pretty well. Maybe you could have said it less harshly, but you were pretty proud of yourself for just speaking with him.

“I… don’t?”

You cleared your throat and swallowed the stupid tears of humiliation that had no logical explanation.

“No, Steve. You were just trying to be nice and didn’t know how to get rid of me, I get it. I won’t bother you-“

“What?” he breathed, sounding honestly astonished. “No! I— is that what you think? I didn’t even know you texted me until five minutes ago, we left for a mission in the middle of a night and we have ‘no-phones’ policy during those, so… I’m really sorry.”

You sat on your couch, frozen, letting the information sink in.

Hold on a sec. Was Steve still having missions? Was he-- it kinda made sense; he had been there for the battle of New York. And what else he would be doing? Posing for art students? Barely – he was a soldier waking up after seventy years. Of course he was still fighting. Probably under some super-secret organization.

Oh god.

“Oh god, I’m such an ass,” you whispered for the second time this evening, letting your head fall into your palm.

You thought he was being a dick. And had been saving the world.

Who’s the dick now?

“Oh my god, Steve, I’m so sorry.”

“What for?” he asked, seeming confused.

”I… may have thought… you… lost the text?”

“That can happen?!”

You pressed your lips together. Sweet summer child, still learning about technology…. You cleared your throat. “It can. If you help it… disappear.”

“…oh.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I honestly don’t know what I was thinking. Well, I know what I was thinking, obviously, but… yeah. It’s… it would be a perfectly natural response, you know, to ignore it-“

“Yeah, no,” he interrupted you, determined. “I’m sorry if I made you upset. I… if the offer still stands, I would really like watch a movie with you.”

And just like that, your heart melted completely.

“Awww, Steve,” a new voice joined in the background. “You are so sw-“

���Go to hell, Romanoff-“ Steve cut off the woman and you could hear some rustling then – did Steve try to cover the speaker?

“Ouch. I’m wounded, Rogers,” the woman continued teasing him and you bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing since you could still hear Romanoff clearly.

“Just— shut up. Go away.”

You could hear a laugh and then a bang, more rustle and Steve was back with you.

“Sorry for that.”

You chuckled. “It’s okay, Steve. She seems like a piece of work,” you noted and heard him inhale sharply.

“…how much did you hear?”

“Not much, just about… everything?”

“I’m going to kill her. Yeah, Natasha can be a bit too much,” he mumbled and you would swear he sounded embarrassed.

“Sounds like it would be a shame to kill her. Bet she’s a keeper.”

“Wait until you meet her, you might change your mind.”

Your lips parted, your heart sent into a cardiac arrest. Holy— did he just imply he would like you and the Natasha woman meet? That he wouldn’t be against you meeting his friends/co-workers? That was--… nice.

“Anyway, can I still take you upon the offer? Please?”

Oh god, the soft timid ‘please’ was enough to erase the past few days. You were such a goner.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can. When do you have time? Did you pick any of the days I suggested?”

“Tomorrow?” he offered, taking you aback greatly, your stomach clenching immediately. That soon?! “Or not-“

“Yes! Tomorrow’s fine. Why wait, right?”

“Exactly,” he breathed, relieved. “I much rather meet with you soon so they can’t call me away again before I do. So…”

Your heart just swelled. You needed to stop reading more into all this.

“…tomorrow. After eight. Looking forward to it, Steve-” Too much, ALERT, too much!

“Me too,” he replied and you would swear you could hear a smile in his voice.

“You got it bad, Rogers,” the woman from earlier said then and you covered your mouth with your palm to muffle the giggle on your lips.

“For god’s sake, Natasha!”

“Goodnight, Steve,” you whispered.

“Night. See you tomorrow,” he whispered back softly. “You’re dead, Romanoff!”

“Steve, you need to press the red button to actually end the call,” she teased him and then you heard a growl and you were cut off.

You burst out into a maniacal laughter and squeezed you phone tighter.

Alright, time to stop sulking. You had a movie to download.

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Mia knew someone was coming over and since you had a deal with the guards, she didn’t question it – she let you check out the exhibit after closing time, grateful she didn’t have to do it, and left with a suggestive wink. You rolled your eyes and pretended you didn’t blush.

Steve arrived ten minutes after eight, wearing his perfect disguise in a form of a baseball cap, finding you at the desk. Seeing him again – a tiny smile settled on his lips and bright eyes smiling at you as well –, you scolded yourself for thinking he had been ghosting you.

“Hey. Welcome to Smithsonian cinema. How can I help you?” you greeted him, not sure where it came from. Steve smiled wider.

“Heard you were playing a great movie tonight. Couldn’t resist. Plus, I‘ve been promised popcorn and… some pleasant company. I can see I came to the right place,” he started rather confidently, turning bashful in the end.

How the hell could you resist and not read anything into it when he talked like that?

“Oh— oh yes. Come in. I’ll get the popcorn.”

“Thanks. How much for it?

“About two hours of your time, Captain,” you told him the price, rising from your seat. “That okay?”

One corner of his lips rose higher. “More than okay. And for the company? That would actually call me my first name?”

You lowered your gaze, wondering if you were crossing a line. “Smile is enough, Steve.”

You were glad you had some time for yourself during preparing the popcorn – you needed to calm down. Your palms were awkwardly sweaty, your throat was dry and your heart was beating like crazy.

Calm down. Just two not-even-friends hanging out. Nothing more. Sure, you’re doing a service to your country by educating national hero in pop culture, but you have literally no reason to be nervous, because it’s not like you have to make him LIKE like you. That’s not gonna happen anyway. Loosen up.

By the time you started the movie and handed Steve the popcorn he had insisted he had to share with you, you convinced yourself it was the truth. And within ten minutes through the movie, you got comfortable enough to make a note to the plot, your body getting on with the program of two not romantically involved people sitting in an empty movie theatre. And you had fun. Steve seemed to appreciate the notes, a laugh escaping him from time to time and it was amazing.

When the end titles started rolling down, you turned to Steve, finding him already watching you instead of the screen. He smiled and you smiled back as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

"That's it. You've been educated," you announced, rising from your seat and making your way to the projector. He followed your lead.

"Thank you. It's was… very enlightening."

You stopped dead in your tracks. “Oh. Was I rambling too much? I was, wasn’t I?”

Steve shook his head, still smiling, and his eyes shined even in the dim light of the computer you were turning off.

“No. I appreciated it. Like I said – very enlightening,” he whispered softly, his gaze locked with yours, effectively sending your heart racing again.  

"Oh. That's great! If you find a movie you think definitely deserves to be watched in somewhat cinema quality, I think we can manage to arrange this again.”

“I’d really like that.”

“ ‘kay.”

You were so glad when you got out from the theatre, though it wasn’t like the lightning was less intimate in the common space of the museum at night. Steve walked by your side to the counter desk where you had your stuff.

“Uhm… next Thursday works?” he asked, sounding quite hopeful and you couldn’t help but grin. He really liked it!

“Yeah, sure. It’s a date,” you blurted out, realizing only a second later how it sounded. “I mean like— did you use to say that back in the day? I meant like ‘it’s a deal’, I didn’t-- didn’t mean like date date!”

Did he really just lower his gaze, stuffing one of his hands into the back pocket of his jeans as if he was nervous? Hey, you were the nervous one around here! You rather picked your backpack before you could interpret something in a wrong way. Again.

“Oh. That’s… that’s a shame,” he mumbled, peeking at you through his eyelashes. Your lips parted in shock as you stared at his shy smile.

“...what? You— you would-- you would like it to be… a date?”

“Or not. Wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Did Steve just ask you out?!

Did… Captain freaking America asked you on a date? What the hell was wrong with him? Why on Earth would the original hero want to go on a date with you? Of course you would say yes, you wanted to shout it from a rooftop – or maybe just here really, the sound would echo greatly here – but… really?

“…not the word I would use,” you choked out finally, after what felt like forever. Though you were entitled – Captain America was asking you out. Come again?!

Hesitant smile appeared on his lips, his eyes twinkling. “So… next Thursday? And it’s a date? Maybe with a dinner before of afterwards? Steve here is asking.”

Was he a mind-reader too?

“Yes, Steve. It’s— it’s a date.”

He examined your face closely, looking as if he was trying to crack a very difficult puzzle. Then he leaned in quickly and placed a light kiss on your left cheek.

“Wonderful. Goodnight.”

You blinked in surprise, unable to let out a word or to move. Steve disappeared behind a corner abruptly and suddenly the weight of what just happened hit you with full force.

You had a date. With this amazing specimen, who was not just incredibly attractive, but also very sweet.

You couldn’t hold it anymore. You giggled. You giggled like a schoolgirl. You couldn’t believe it.

A date.

With Steve.

You giggled into your palm again and then threw your hands it the air, spinning around, consumed by the euphoria sparkling in every cell of your body.

“Maybe I should take you dancing instead,” you heard someone call out and you yelped, stopping abruptly and turning to the source.

Steve was leaning against the wall of the very same corner he had disappeared behind, his arms crossed on his chest and slightly amused expression on his face.

“What are you doing here?!” you whisper-yelled after him, your face red as a lobster.

It was probably pointless to hope he hadn’t seen your embarrassing schoolgirl moment, wasn’t it? Oh god.

He bounced off of the wall, confident in his steps as he walked to you – you were too frozen to run away and hide somewhere you could die of embarrassment in private.

“I realized I haven’t offered you a ride home. I wouldn’t want you to wander the streets at night alone.”

“I always do that,” you shrieked, escaping his intense gaze. His brows furrowed.

“Well, I’d like to change that. At least for tonight. I kept you longer than you are usually staying, right?”

“…yes. But it was a pleasure, really.”

His hand tentatively rose to your face, cupping your cheek. You couldn’t breathe as his head – which meant his lips, his lips were right here, unfairly kissable – bowed to yours, his gaze focused on your face as if nothing else existed.

“It was. Would you let me take you home so I can be sure you got there safe?” he pleaded lowly and you couldn’t help it – your gaze flickered to his lips again, because goddammit, so close and so soft; you would know now, the ghost of their touch was still burning on your cheek.

You weren’t sure how it had happened, but you were nodding.

You couldn’t form one coherent thought beside ‘Steve is touching me and his mouth is dangerously close to mine’. And the said mouth just spread in a wide smile.

“Thank you.”

You had no idea what he was thanking you for, only being able to perceive that his hand slid much lower, taking your own and leading you out.

Steve was no wuss; he didn’t bother sneaking out in secret even when he was in the museum long after the closing time. He led you right through the main reception, where you met with Stan-the-guard’s wide-eyed gaze; he gave you a thumbs-up. Your face got even redder if possible, but you smiled at him shakily.

When outside, you found out that Steve’s definition of safe was a little bit different from yours, but if the man was offering you a ride on his bike, you were not about to say no. When he smoothed your hair before helping you to get the helmet on, you were about to melt, climbing beside him without him even asking you to do so.

“Hold on to me tight,” he whispered over his shoulder, readjusting your hold on his firm body. Honestly, if something would happen, you would die happy, because touching the firm muscles on his torso when dying seemed like a good way to go. But if you survived, you might touch it some more, so that was a motivation right there.

“Oh, I will.”

Trust me, Steve, I will.

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Tags: @mermaidxatxheart​  @lovesmesomehiddles​

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That’s it! Thank you for reading :))

[joon-ipersgirl]

O1 - "the intoxicating introduction”

genre: mafia!au, angst, fluff, slow burn, mystery-thriller

pairing: namjoon x reader

summary: charismatic. beautiful. fearless without question. the ambitous team of seven young men in charge of spiral, downtown district’s hottest new club, go above and beyond to provide 100% satisfaction to their clients.

after an eventful night out, you have no choice but to join the team for property damages greater than your intern salary. challenging a series of events that can no longer be left to coincidence, secrets threaten to burst at the seams as your professional and private life collide, and another - more sinister - debt is added to your total.

how far are you willing to go to pay back your pound of flesh? remember, nothing is ever as it seems...

word count: 2.4k

warnings: cursing, harassment from man in club (not a member), mild mentions of alcohol drinking

a/n: my first fic in years! it feels great to be writing again and i hope you guys enjoy the story. this part is a little slow, but the next part picks up fast. as mentioned, the fic is currently in progress and i will update as soon as i can and am able to. as always, feedback is appreciated and welcomed. thank you to @alversia for being my editor-in-chief and to you all for reading. enjoy!

full masterlist // series masterlist // next

You’re looking forward to a nice night out. It had been a long, rough week at the office and all you wanted to do was sit at a bar and sip on an Old Fashioned, your favorite drink. James had forgotten to submit his report on time which meant that your files were out of order, but of course, you were the one to be reprimanded. You had never seen a set of people more incompetent. It still surprises you that the company had managed to stay afloat this long when all of its workers seem determined to see it fail.

Dressed in a short, black dress and matching black heels, your oversized leather jacket slung over your shoulders, you know you look good. The change of clothes giving you an additional boost of confidence; you’d wanted to be as far away from office worker you as possible. The breeze is cool as you step out of the taxi and stand in front of Spiral, a club you had heard about at work. The reviews were generally positive and you hope that your coworkers’ judgment of fine establishments is much better than their ability to actually submit their files on time.

Shrugging off the jacket in the warmth of the club as you head down the stairs to the bar, you're careful not to trip. Spiral is crowded. Bodies cling together like wet clothes on a body and your lip turns up in disgust. The thumping music encourages them to bump and grind, making it hard for you to pass through. You hate being close to people and you hate clubs almost as much as you hate people, but that Old Fashioned is calling your name. You dig your elbows into the sides of strangers with a new sense of purpose until you finally break free on the other side of the dance floor - your safe haven: a bar stool.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks you as you plop onto the seat, slightly exasperated. You lay your jacket and purse across your lap as you try to get some air to flow into your lungs. Damn the rest of these people out on a Friday night.

“An Old Fashioned, please,” you sigh out. The hair at the base of your skull is sticking to your neck and you pull it into a makeshift knot in an attempt to cool down. 

“ID?” Rolling your eyes, you rummage through your purse for the piece of plastic.

“Just a routine check. You can never be too careful,” he says with an apologetic smile. He returns it to you and you give him a tight-lipped smile as a thank you.

He sets your drink down in front of you on a square napkin and leaves to tend to other patrons. Watching him move around the small space with ease, you wonder how he does it so easily when his broad shoulders take up so much room. Like yours, his jet-black hair is pressed against his forehead as the heat from the club steadily rises. You could see why he was a bartender, his face better looking than most guys you would see walking down the street. Hell, even better than some of the models with their three-page catalog spread. One could even call him handsome. You’re sure his high cheekbones help with his tips. You sip your drink slowly, welcoming the smooth burn as you swallow. They might call it an old man’s drink, and shit, maybe that’s who you are now, but it sure did its job well. Just like you.

“Excuse me?” You glance over your shoulder. “Are you here alone?”

He was a tall man with average features and a nice smile. Definitely not as good looking as the bartender, but not bad on the eyes either. He looked like a regular company worker that sat at his desk hunched over his keyboard, eyes glued to the screen as he crunched numbers or filled out progress reports. You’re only speculating because of the slight curve in his spine as he leans over to be heard over the music in addition to the almost permanent crease of his shirt just above his belt.

“Depends on who’s asking,” you say. You take another sip of the brown liquor, swirling it slowly.

“Jay. Jay Smith.” He sticks his hand out for you to take. You look down at it and back up at him.

“Sounds like a fake name to me,” you tell him. You don’t take his hand.

“I get that often,” he says with a chuckle.

“I’m sure you do,” You murmur, turning away from him. You could tell that he hadn’t moved.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Already have one,” you say, annoyed.

“Well, after that one?” he asks.

“No, I’m not interested,” you tell him.

“Well, can you at least tell me your name?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Though he’s growing visibly agitated and you know you should care, you don’t. You’re just as annoyed as he was, if not more so. He was just another sleazy corporate leech who thought he could intimidate you and you weren’t having it. Apparently, neither was he as he grabs your upper arm sharply.

“What the fuck did you just say?” he growls in your ear.

“You’re hurting me. Let go,” you tell him sternly.

“Don’t tell me what to do, bitch.” He yanks you further out of the chair and you grimace from the pain.

“Do we have a problem over here?” You look to your left and there stands a short man with a very grim expression etched onto his face.

“Mind your fucking business,” the man grabbing you sneers and pulls you closer to him.

“You’re in my club. It is my fucking business.” The coldness in his voice sends a wave of nerves through your belly. You continue to try and pull your arm from the other man’s grasp to no avail. Tears are welling in your eyes as you were sure he was leaving fingerprint sized bruises along your arm.

“Jin!” the shorter man yells over the noise of the blaring music and jerks his head towards you. You realized he’s talking to the bartender. Within a few seconds, Jin has made his way around the bar and is snatching the man off of you. Cradling your throbbing arm, you let out a cry of relief. You watch as another man - you assume the security guard - comes barging through the crowd to assist Jin in throwing the man out. Were all the men who worked here attractive?

“Come on. I’ll get you some ice for your arm,” the short man says and holds out his hand. You grab it and your things and let him pull you through the semi parted crowd who watch the two of you pass with mild curiosity.

You both climb a set of wrought iron spiral stairs to the second floor. There are fewer people here and you assume it caters to those who were considered VIP. Booths lined the opposite side of the walkway with thick black curtains closing off those inside from the rest of the world. You glance over the railing and see Jin heading back to the bar while chatting to the man who had helped him, the two of them sharing a laugh. The rest of the partygoers had shaken off their mild concern over your incident and were back to dancing in the middle of the floor. Continuing further down the walkway, the two of you stop in front of a large leather-covered door. The mint-haired man in front of you pulls out a key, inserts it, and pulls you through.

As he closes the door behind you, you take in the small office space. Bookcases lined an exposed brick wall from floor to ceiling. A fully stocked bar is opposite that while a small table and two chairs sit in the middle of the room. Across the room is a large wooden desk and one of those fancy office chairs that seemed to be covered in the same leather as the door you had just come through. What really catches your attention though is the man sitting in that chair behind the desk.

His silver hair glistens almost as brightly as the silver rings covering his fingers. His expression is one of boredom, but his eyes are beautiful. Feet kicked up on the desk, he reclines back in ease as he scrolls through his phone. He didn’t seem to care that you were in the room and you felt like you had intruded on him when you remember that this was supposed to be the mint-haired man’s office.

“A snack? Suga, you shouldn’t have.”

“Get out, Min.” Your escort walks past you towards the fridge. Min feigns a hurt expression and presses his hand to his heart.

“Out? But Suga, we have a guest. Don’t you want to intro-”

“No. Get out.” Suga’s tone is final and you feel the conversation shut down as quickly as Suga had appeared by your side downstairs. Min rolls his eyes and gets up. The chair squeaks in protest of being vacated so abruptly.

“Fine. Always ruining my fun,” he huffs. As he crosses the room, your breath catches in your throat at just how stunning this man is up close. Clearly the alcohol was getting to you because there was no way, again, that all the men here are this beautiful.

“Have fun, darling,” he coos at you, his fingers brushing across your arm and his eyes mischievous.

“I’m not here for that!” I call after him, but it falls on deaf ears as he is already through the door. The sound of it closing cuts off his laughter. Heat rises in your cheeks and you bite your tongue from embarrassment.

“Don’t worry about him. He’s always like that. Sit,” Suga commands.

You sit in the chair he had gestured to and he sits across from you, handing you the makeshift ice pack: a couple of ice cubes wrapped up in some flimsy paper towel. The cooling sensation is welcomed though and you slump back into the chair grateful. Suga watches you carefully and you shift slightly under his gaze remembering how much more exposed you are in your dress than your everyday outfit. You notice his lips are thinner than the other two men, but his eyes hold the same intensity as they continue to watch you.

“Suga? What kind of name is that?” You question, breaking the silence. Though his hair is the color of your favorite ice cream, his demeanor is anything but sweet.

“Nickname,” he responds shortly. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened tonight. Whatever you ordered is on the house and the next time you come back, that’ll be free too. We try not to let dickheads in, but I guess this one slipped through the cracks.” He mumbles the last part to himself.

“I would have ordered more drinks had I known they were going to be free.” He laughs. “I didn’t even get to finish that one,” You say with a frown.

“What were you drinking?” he asks.

“An Old Fashioned.” He raises his eyebrows at me.

“Yeah, yeah I know. It’s an old man’s drink or whatever. They’re good and I enjoy them,” you say with a shrug. He laughs again and gets up.

“I’ll make you another one before you go. How’s your arm?”

“There’ll be bruises, but I guess I’ll live.” You observe him pour the whiskey into a glass filled with ice before adding an orange peel. Taking it from him, you gulp down almost half of it to soothe the ache in your arm.

“Take your time.” You roll your eyes at his comment as the phone on his desk rings and he goes to answer it, cutting your conversation short.

As he continues his call, you toss the melting stack of paper towels into the trash while admiring the impressive view from the large windows. The city always looks beautiful at night and as a raging insomniac, it was a comforting sight to see even when the sun rolled up over the skyline. You sigh as you think about the journey you would have to take to get home. At least you didn’t have work tomorrow. Just as you’re tossing back the rest of your drink, Suga asks you if you’re ready to go. You nod and he escorts you back to the narrow walkway you had first crossed.

“Are Jin and Min brothers or something? Why are their names so similar?” Suga only laughs at you as he guides you down the slippery stairs. Though it is much later in the evening, Spiral is just as crowded as when you first came. You glance up at the DJ booth and wonder how long he had to stay for, feeling sorry for him. On your second glance, you spot Min dancing next to him and your sympathy grows further.

Suga stops at the exit and you turn to him.

“Remember, next time drinks are on us. Get home safe kid.”

“I’m pretty sure we’re the same age,” you say, squinting at him. “Thank you though. For what you did.” He waves his hand as if to dismiss your comment.

“Gotta keep the customers happy, right?” You laugh and nod. “Alright then.” He nods to himself and you watch his mint-colored head disappear into the crowd.

You laugh to yourself at his nonchalance and manage to tug on your leather jacket with some mild difficulty. As you ascend the stairs while searching for your phone to call a taxi, you bump into another man. He grabs your upper arms to stop you from falling backward and you let out an anguished cry.

“Shit! Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” You can barely make out his features from the tears welling in your eyes.

“My arm, you fucking dickhead,” you groan as the dull throbbing returns tenfold. As he reaches for you again, you swat his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

With the most coordination you can manage after a drink and a half of whiskey, you push past him and head up the stairs. Were you that small that people couldn’t see you coming? Clutching your bruised arm with one hand and your phone in the other, you manage to hail a taxi on the street corner. It would be a miracle if you made it home in one piece. So much for a nice night out.

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