#give me my best friend back i miss her silly quips

[originsofevil]

my loz hyperfixation is reaching heights not seen since December 2022. i can officially play link between worlds in my head when im not on my ds ive been playing it so much

[minranghae]

Taste | 18+

》 pairing: c.san x f!reader

》 genre: fluff, smut, angst if you squint really hard

》 warnings: friend’s brother!san, female reader, general silliness, stubborn reader, san loves to tease, hes a sweetie too ofc, smut, piv, oral (f. receiving), fingering, pet names (angel, baby, etc.), coworkers, san bites reader one (1) time, barely proofread, unprotected, lmk if i missed any

》 wc: 5.2k

》 hello! i am back from the dead with my second fic and second installment in the senses series. i do apologize that this took so long, but i do plan on releasing more stuff soon-ish. i'm working on a longer series, so who knows what'll hapen lol. also! i am cross posting on ao3 now. the user is femdoms, so check it out if you are interested. finally, i just want to say thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy this!

 “God, I really can’t stand you, San! Stop following me, pervert!”

“Yeah, whatever, just get in so we can talk,” he yells to you with his arm hanging out the window of his car, an annoyed, yet amused smirk covering his face.

“No way!” You yell over your shoulder, too embarrassed to face him both physically and figuratively. 

Really, how could you? Not after you found him with your diary in his hands, reading it like it was his favorite novel. At first, you tried to convince yourself that he didn’t see those pages, but the blush on his cheeks told you otherwise. 

And that’s why you’re here: running away from San in the middle of the night.

“I’ll make you a milkshake,” San coos from the car, causing you to turn your head in interest, “You know you love ‘em,” he offers, as if you’re a dog and he’s holding a treat in front of your face. 

And god damn it, it works.

“Fine, but I’m not talking to you until I get one,” you say, opening the car door and climbing in.

“You’re talking to me now,” he quips, earning a look from you that he thinks would’ve killed him if it had the ability.

“Alright, tough crowd,” he murmurs to himself with a dry laugh, hoping to earn a giggle- or at least a smile- from you, but to no avail.

The whole situation was so embarrassing. And degrading, and stupid, and embarrassing-

“Stop thinking so much,” he swats at your arm playfully, noticing the clear look of discomfort and sheer, unabashed embarrassment on your face, “you don’t even know what I have to say yet.” 

You answer him with a small hum, deciding against giving him a verbal response, because no matter how much you’d like to curl up in a hole and die, you’re still as stubborn as the day San met you. 

You officially met him the first day you worked at the diner. Your best friend’s family had owned it since the old owners left, leaving the significantly smaller family of four looking for new employees. College debt had already begun sneaking its way into the back of your mind, and Eunbi needed to work with someone other than her nagging parents or annoying older brother. It was the perfect opportunity for you.

“C’mon! Just try it!” The boy working with you begged.

“I already told you, I have trauma with milkshakes!”

San laughed to himself, trying to hide the amusement evident on his face.

“Look, I’m sorry you found a hair in your milkshake however long ago, but I can assure you that my milkshake is hairless,” he held his little finger up to you, “pinky promise.”

Rolling your eyes, you locked your pinky with his. Your hands lingered together for a moment too long, until San pulled his away to push the drink closer to you.

“San, you know, I’m not really a huge fan of chocolate-” 

“Didn’t you and Eunbi make chocolate cupcakes for your birthday though?”

You freeze, cheeks heating up at his question, unsure if it was the fact that he’d caught you in a lie or that he knew and remembered what you and Eunbi had done for your birthday bringing the blush to your face. Attempting to hide your embarrassment, you shot him a small smirk, gently pursing your lips.

“‘Gotcha there, honey.”

Ever since that day, San always had a milkshake waiting for you at the end of each shift. And maybe it was that kindness that made you blush, or maybe it was the fact that his eyes smiled along with his lips every time he greeted you. It could’ve been the way he always knew how to make you giggle, but whatever it was, it was clear that you’d fallen for San.

Which is weird. Weird because he’s older than you, he’s your coworker, he’s out of your league, and worst of all: he’s Eunbi’s brother.

Really? How cliche is that? It’s not even like you could tell Eunbi about it. That would’ve made everything so much worse. It’s embarrassing enough to be so head over heels for a guy who just sees you as his little sister’s best friend, but to have people know about it too? There’d be no coming back from that.

And that’s exactly why you decided to start keeping a diary, or mindful journaling as you called it. That sounded better than keeping a diary.

You originally started it to confess some of your feelings about San. You wrote how embarrassed you were to have a crush on him. You wrote about the milkshakes he made you and the times he defended you against angry customers. You wrote about how stressed you felt about life in general. Your worries, your fears, the moments of your days that you wanted to forget, but your mind wouldn’t let you. You wrote about anything you couldn’t confess to another person. 

On particularly late nights full of hopeless pining and horny desperation, you’d write about your fantasies, some involving random celebrities or TV characters, but most involving San. 

It was nothing too in depth, it was more about how much you wanted just a taste of him. You knew you could never have him for good, but if you could just feel his strong arms around you or his lips on your skin just once, maybe that’d be good enough. Just a little taste. It felt dirty thinking about him in that sort of way, but who would see it anyways? 

Little did you know, San himself would.

It had slipped out of your bag. And being the kind, and relatively organized coworker he is, San picked it up to put it back in your bag for you. The way it landed on the floor, though, left it open on its spine with its pages just begging to be read. 

He wasn’t going to read it. That would be an invasion of privacy, and San wasn’t that kind of guy. He wouldn’t do that.

But when he picked it up, he couldn’t help but notice his name on the page. And unfortunately, as it does most of us, curiosity got the best of him. 

San tried to stop himself, he really did. But, knowing just how eager you were for him put his head in a spin. He just couldn't help but picture you underneath him, with that adorable blush and shy smile that only appears when he starts teasing you. He wanted so badly to hear how you whimper, to feel how warm you are, to see how sweet you taste. He had a feeling you liked him, but he never would've guessed you reciprocated the feeling so strongly.

He saw this as more of an opportunity for you two. He wasn’t going to tell you what he’d seen; he’d just confess to you one night. And maybe it’d have to be secret for a bit, but eventually you could be his, and he wanted nothing more than that.

No big deal.

But, as soon as he heard a small gasp from the doorway and looked up to see your eyes welling with tears, he knew that plan was well fucked. 

San always thought you were pretty. From the moment Eunbi first brought you over, he couldn’t help but notice your expressive eyes and beautiful hair. But what he liked most was that shining smile you had. And seeing that he’d wiped it from your face as soon as you walked in, he just had to chase you.

And so, as you sat across from him in a booth in the dimly lit diner, he studied your face: the embarrassed blush and sweaty gleam sheening your forehead, your pouty lips wrapped around the straw of a chocolate milkshake as your eyebrows furrowed.

Even your beauty was stubborn.

He began softly, so as not to scare you, his fingers drumming against the table in a gentle rhythm, “So… do you like the milkshake?”

You looked up at him, an eyebrow quirked, “Yeah, it’s good.”

San pushed out a sigh at your icy reply, settling back in his seat as he let his palm fall flat against the table. He knew what he wanted to say, he just couldn’t find the words. You broke the silence a moment later.

“Look, we can both pretend like you saw absolutely nothing at all and I’ll ask to work different times of the day so we won’t even have to see each other. I’m not weird, I promise, I just-”

“Shh,” he cooed, grabbing one of your hands, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back of it, “you didn’t even let me talk yet.”

San’s gaze scanned your pretty face for a moment, falling onto those eyes and lips he adored. His heart pounded against the back of his ribs, and yet, you seemed so nervous. Had he read it wrong?

“Did you mean it? What you wrote?” he asked, his voice holding a subtle tone of insecurity. His gaze fell to the table where your hands met, his grip tightening just slightly.

You looked up at him, your wide eyes sweeping over his strong face and your breath picking up. Of course you meant it, but did he want you to mean it? 

“Why are you asking that?” you mumble, pulling your hand from his shyly. Your entire face was tinged pink from embarrassment and guilt, so anxious. San couldn’t stand it.

He made an effort to grab your hand again, his other hand lifting your chin gently so you’d look at him. He shook your head a little, trying to bring out a tiny smile again. 

“You said you needed my face between your thighs…”

Your body went rigid. Out of all the entries, he just had to read that one? You remember writing it after watching him open something with his teeth one day, his jaw flexing as he used his teeth to rip open the plastic packet. Unfortunately, your mind was clouded by unsavory thoughts later that night, and so, into the journal those fantasies went. 

“I’m just saying, I’ve needed a taste for a while now, too. Just give me a chance. Don’t run, please,” he pleaded softly, his grip tightening on your hand ever so slightly. He gave you that look, the one where his eyebrows would furrow so gently and his eyes gleamed softly, a desperation hidden in them. San wasn’t one to beg, but he couldn’t let you think he didn’t like you.

To his surprise, the confession didn’t make you smile. Instead, you felt your eyes well up with tears and a heavy weight lift off your shoulders. Slowly, you snaked around the table to San’s side of the booth, immediately wrapping your arms around one of his as you cried into his shoulder. He received you warmly, his free hand coming up to pat your head softly with sweet coos leaving his mouth, calming and affectionate.

“I thought you were gonna hate me forever, Sannie. I’m so sorry,” you sobbed, hiccuping softly, no even noticing your snot blotting San’s shirt. Such a mess.

San let out a breathy laugh, guiding your face up and off of his shoulder. He grabbed a napkin from the holder at the end of the table and wiped your nose with it gently, an affectionate air about him. He’d never seen you so emotional, and though his heart constricted seeing your tears, he was just happy to be the one taking care of you: his precious one. In a way, seeing you so worked up over something he saw as no big deal was endearing. Then again, almost everything about you was endearing to San. 

He smiled down at you after wiping your nose, mumbling, “Pretty girl.” You could feel your cheeks go red instantly, feeling like it was your first time having a crush all over again. 

He continued, his deep voice soft and sweet suddenly, “I could never hate you. Never, never,” he shook his head a bit, leaning in so that your foreheads were pressed together, “what I read only surprised me, but it would never make me hate you. So, don’t apologize for liking me. I like you, too.”

You swore your heart skipped a beat as he said that. In fact, it seemed like cardiac arrest would be the next step if he didn’t stop looking at you with those soft eyes.

“Never knew you had such a dirty mind,” he teased, rubbing your arm with his free hand gently.

And just like that, your eyebrows furrowed again and you hit his arm gently, too embarrassed to be sappy for long.

“Stop that! It’s not good to hold in all your thoughts, you know. You should write your feelings down,” you scolded, face bright red and lips pouting. San took the scolding at first, but it wasn’t much use. He was too focused on how cute your face looked all scrunched up. 

And, he couldn’t deny it. Being scolded was pretty hot.

“There you go again,” San interrupted, sighing playfully. He couldn’t help but tease. You stopped mid-sentence, unsure of what you were even scolding him about now.

“Hm? What?” you asked softly, a little pout remaining on your lips.

San giggled a little, his eyes squeezing shut as he threw his head back. It was just too much fun for him. He leaned in closer to your face, close enough that your noses nearly met in the middle, whispering, “You’re too busy being angry to let me give you a taste of me.”

That cocky bastard. Cocky, and teasing, and sexy…

Your eyebrows quirked up and your cheeks burned even hotter as he leaned in closer, his mouth just next to your ear. 

“That’s what you wanted, right? What you wrote in your diary… ahem, journal,” he whispered, need dripping from his words. 

And yet, you were too embarrassed to speak. Or, maybe flustered was the right word. Either way, your brain didn’t quite work when San teased you normally, and especially not when his hands traveled to your waist, thumbs pressing into you gently.

“W-well, yes, but it was just a fantasy! I was just imagining! If you read more, you’d see I wrote about celebrities also…” you stammered, your hands searching for a place to rest along with your eyes. 

“Oh, so you’re saying I’m not special?” San asked, biting his lip to hold back a cocky smile.

You gasped a little, hands instinctively finding San’s firm chest, “No, no! I just meant, just,” you panicked a bit, somehow losing your words yet again as San put his hands over yours.

“So, I am special? Am I special enough to have a taste of you?” San asked softly, still teasing, though there was an undercurrent of seriousness in his voice, something like an invitation.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea, Sannie… What would Eunbi think?” You ask softly, eyes round and full of worry. Unintentionally, you leaned further into San’s chest, prompting him to pull you into a hug. He cradled the back of your head, petting your hair softly.

“She doesn’t have to know yet. And you can always say no, baby. I know I tease you a lot, but it’s just because you’re so cute when you’re worked up. We can take things slow if you want. It’s just that journal entry… it made me…” San trailed off towards the end, his own cheeks getting pink now.

Softly, you reached up and ran your fingers through San’s hair, finally offering him a big smile, “Look at you blushing now.”

San blew a bit of air out of his nose, suppressing a shy laugh. “How couldn’t I blush? The thought of you wanting me that way…” He trailed off again, voice high and squeaky now that he was being teased. He pulled you close and buried his face in your neck, letting his lips place a soft kiss before he continued.

“I want to hear you say it, angel. Tell me I’m special and it’s more than just a fantasy. Tell me how you want me,” he mumbled into your neck, using every ounce of self restraint to stop himself from kissing it again.

And, in that moment, months of yearning for, pining over, and wanting San in every way came back to you. Your heart ached a bit, and so did the space between your legs. Everything you had imagined and told yourself was just a dream was coming true. It was true that it would be difficult to hide this whole thing considering Eunbi could read you like a book, but you couldn’t let this opportunity go.

“God, San, I want you in every way possible,” you breathed out, tilting your head back to give him better access to your neck. As soon as you did, he latched on to it, sucking a small bruise into it. You trembled a little, involuntarily letting a tiny whimper cross your lips as you whispered, “But I really need you to fuck me right now.”

“That’s all I need to hear, baby. Here,” he murmured, detaching himself from you quickly. He swiftly switched spots with you, leaving the booth seat and pulling you to the edge of it. He kneeled in front of you, one hand on your thigh and the other gripping the table still. Pushing the table towards the other side of the booth, San ran his hands up and down your thighs, eyes pleading and lust filled. “It’s alright if I taste you?”

“Please, need it so bad, Sannie,” you pleaded as he slowly undid your jeans, pulling them off your legs along with your panties in one fatal swoop. You were already dripping onto the seat and he hadn’t even touched you yet. 

San pressed gentle kisses up your bare thighs, using a thumb to rub gentle circles into your clit. You gripped the top of the seat, already feeling a pulsing need in your heat as San’s mouth inched closer to it. His breath tickled the area, making your squirm, but what was worse was the look in his eyes. He stopped just in front of your cunt and looked up at you with dark, lustful eyes. In that moment, you understood San wanted this just as much as you did.

It was true. San couldn’t even recount the amount of times he pumped his fist in bed or in the shower thinking about you and your sweet pussy. And as much as it made him blush just thinking about it, he wanted nothing more in life than to bury his face in between your thighs some days, making you squirm and hearing what noises he could pull out of you. He wanted to have you, to know you on a deeper level. And what was more intimate than knowing the way a person tastes?

“Pretty,” he murmured into his direct line to heaven, his nose nudging your clit 

gently. A long, hot stripe was licked up your pussy, making you twitch expectantly. Instantly, your mind began to grow foggy and your hips bucked, San whispering, “It’s alright, just relax, baby.”

And so, you did. You let your torso fall all the way back against the booth seat and your fingers tangle in his hair, a soft grunt leaving him as he dove in deeper. His tongue swirled around your entrance, dipping inside every once in a while as a quiet hum vibrated against you. He kept up his agonizingly slow pace on your clit with his thumb, savoring that way you tasted on his tongue.

Soon, though, San needed more of you. He needed to see you squirm more, hear you moan just for him. He pulled you even closer to the edge of the booth, another grunt leaving him as he had to pull his face away for a moment. He hoisted your legs up onto his broad shoulders, instantly attaching his lips to your clit, kissing it softly before sucking it. 

A thick finger found its way inside of you, knuckle deep and wriggling. You squirmed, unable to hold back your noises. Even with just one finger, he filled you up better than you’d ever been before. He added a second finger a moment later, getting familiar with your body inside and out. Scissoring his fingers, he stretched your pussy out, mumbling something about how perfect it was.

“Fuck, San, even your fingers are big,” you slurred, back arching up in the air. San answered with another hum against your pussy, one you could tell was a shy giggle. He curled his fingers, letting his lips pulse around your clit now that he could tell you would finish soon. He slowed his pace down for a second, lifting his head to look up at you.

“You wanna cum? Want Sannie to make you cum?” He asked with a condescending pout, mirroring the one on your own lips. You nodded fervently, but it wasn’t enough for San.

“Gotta hear you say it, angel,” He furthered, eyes darkening as he held back another sly smile. You whined, kicking your legs gently. San tutted, swatting your thigh gently, “Don’t be so stubborn. Just tell Sannie.”

“Please, San, make me cum. Wanna cum all over your tongue,” you relented, hips bucking back up towards San’s face, nudging his chin against your clit. San cooed gently before diving back in. Lapping at your hole, he circled your clit relentlessly with his thumb. He wasn’t going to let you cum anywhere but his tongue.

It didn’t take long for you to do just what you’d asked for. Suddenly, your entire body began to tingle, radiating from the place between your thighs. Your toes curled and your knees tried to squeeze together, locking San’s head in place so that he could lap up every last bit of your essence that was flowing out of you. He made sure he got every last bit, taking his time to lick and kiss every last part of your slick, throbbing cunt.

Eventually, he pried your legs open and helped you sit up, smiling hard at your flushed out face. He swiped his chin with his thumb, bringing it up to his lips before licking off that last bit of you. He sighed, “Could live in that little hole forever, baby.”

You blushed gently, turning away from him shyly, prompting him to sit next to you. He grabbed you by your waist, pulling you onto his lap so your back was flush against his chest. “Hey, you can’t get all shy on me now. Where’s the feisty girl I know, hm?”

“How could I be mean after you just did that to me,” you pouted, making San laugh. 

“You’re always mean to me,” he told you dramatically, grabbing your chin and turning your face towards his. Carefully, he grinded his hips up so that you could feel how hard he was. And he was. Just the taste of you had San throbbing, and the only reason he let you cum so quickly was so that he didn’t cum in his own pants. 

You gasped softly, feeling San’s cock pulsing against your ass, then again when his thick fingers began circling your clit again. He rested his chin on your shoulder, speaking so softly into your ear, “And what’s really mean is how you made me so hard, I almost came from how good you tasted. You wouldn’t leave me like this, right, baby?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and turning around in San’s lap. His hands went straight to your ass, cupping it and pulling you down to grind against the tent in his pants. Your eyebrows furrowed gently as your hips moved back and forth on him, concentrated huffs falling from your tongue.

“Greedy girl,” he teased, nudging your jaw with the side of his head gently, “you want my cock in you?”

You nodded, pouting at him, “Please, San. Need you in me bad.”

San just laughed, guiding your hands to unzip his pants. He lowered his voice, looking down at where your crotches met, “Alright, you can have it. But, you gotta do the work now. You really tired me out there before.”

You whined again, this time out of pure exhilaration. Wasting no time, you unzipped San’s fly, yanking down his pants and boxers as best as you could. His cock sprung out, hard and red, begging you to take it.

But first, you giggled mischievously as you gave it a few pumps, enjoying its weight in your hand. San groaned, throwing his head back and cursing under his breath. It didn’t take long for him to grow impatient. He grabbed your waist and guided you to sit up better, right above his manhood.

You moved your hips around just to antagonize San as he’d done to you so many times. He let out a frustrated groan, burying his face against your neck yet again, kissing it softly as he pleaded, “Cmon, baby, don’t make me crazy here.”

“Wanted this for so long, Sannie,” you breathed out as you finally sunk down on him, his hips thrusting up to meet yours. San chuckled, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I know, baby, read all about it,” he smirked, that smug look on his face melting into a lovesick smile as you swatted at his chest. He couldn’t help but suck another bruise into the side of your neck before chiding, “Just teasing you, been thinkin’ about this for a while, too.”

He rutted up into you, hungry and needy, filling your slick heat completely. Your body twitched with each thrust, languid and deep, San’s silent confession. He was savoring his meal, taking it slowly and enjoying it wholly.

The only sound in the room was that of skin on skin, San’s hips snapping up into yours. He knew just the spot to hit inside of you. You cried out in pleasure, prompting San to speed up. The two of you, hungry and desperate to cum, moved together in a near perfect harmony. 

“Fuck, this pussy was made for me,” San stuttered, trying to keep himself inside you, but it was hard with your bouncing and his thrusts, not to mention the wetness you spilled each time he left your body for a moment. San grunted in your ear, biting down on your shoulder a moment later. He was close. It didn’t help that everytime he thrusted up into you, you let out the sweetest sounds. San wanted to listen to them all the time, but even the thought of doing this again with you made him harder. 

Honestly, his cock kept getting harder with each second it spent inside you. You were so warm, so tight. San was normally a patient man, but it was hard to take his time with you.

You couldn’t be helped either. As soon as he sunk his teeth into you, you came all over him. Wetness poured out of your cunt, coating San as you cried out his name. He followed suit soon afterwards, pulling out and cumming on your thigh. Quickly, San pulled you into a hug, still heaving as a big hand came up to cradle your head. 

For a few minutes, the two of you sat together, your form still tucked into San’s warm embrace as he rocked you back and forth. You both tried to regain your breath, but every little touch made either one of you gasp softly before you turned your head the other way, embarrassingly lovesick. 

San was warm, physically and figuratively. Sweat dripped off his forehead and fell onto yours, but you couldn’t care less if it meant being held by him. It was strong, secure, surreal… it was everything you had written about before. There were days when all you needed was a firm hug, to be held without the fear of falling, somewhere warm and safe. San was all of that, and you could feel it now. It wasn’t just something you wrote about anymore. It was real.

San noticed the face you made when you were thinking and his heart rate picked up. Was it not good? Did he disappoint you? He nudged your head with his shoulder, pouting, “What’s wrong? Was it not good?”

“What? No! It was amazing, I just… I like you a lot. And I like that I don’t have to imagine things anymore… Well, that is if you want to continue this,” you trailed off, blabbering embarrassedly. Maybe all he wanted was a hookup. Uneasiness settled into your features while amusement settled into San’s.

“Silly girl,” he scoffed, enamored by everything you were, “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

Your eyebrows shot up and your heart fluttered. You were never one to get so worked up so easily, but San had a way of making it happen. You cleared your throat, trying to regain some composure.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?” you mirrored, acting coy now. San cupped your face, dimples on full display as he smiled at you, meeting your gaze. He leaned in and gave you his first real kiss of the night. Your lips molded together perfectly, San’s tongue swiping across your lower lip occasionally. You felt his warm cheeks against yours, which made you giggle sweetly. San’s heart melted.

The boy pulled away a moment later, letting his forehead rest against yours, “Does that answer your question, baby?”

You snorted in response, shaking your head bashfully. You wanted to hear him say it. San rolled his eyes in response, his hands moving down your back to rest on either side of your ass. Still, he smiled and whispered, “Yes, I want to be your boyfriend.”

You sighed sweetly, unable to hold back the big smile on your face. San delivered a little spank to your ass, playful and teasing, “Happy now?”

You nodded, allowing a little squeal of excitement to leave you. “Very happy, Sannie. Very happy,” you whispered back, laying your head on his shoulder to look around the dark diner. 

Just then, your eyes spotted a little red light up in the corner of the diner, seemingly connected to a security camera. You jumped, whisper yelling at San, “Fuck! Fuck, the cameras, San!”

San jumped as soon as you did, following your gaze up to the security camera. He mirrored your panic for just a moment before pulling you further into the booth, pulling his jacket off to cover up your still bare bottom half. 

And just as you thought you were going to have a heart attack, San laughed, and somehow, the uneasiness melted away. He ruffled your hair playfully, moving you off his lap and onto the seat before zipping his pants back up. He stood up, leaning down to your level, “I'll go take care of it, honey. Just clean up and get dressed. And finish your shake,” he told you, motioning to the table where your half empty, half melted chocolate shake sat.

But as soon as he turned around, he turned back and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before scurrying off to the office, ready to delete the footage. You couldn’t help but smile knowing San would take care of it. What a dream boy.

[donaweasley]

What If

Pairing: Loki x Fem! Avenger! Reader

Plot:

A silly game of “What-Ifs” between two friends eventually leads to the realisation that the future, if spent together, may not be as bleak as they had anticipated it to be. A dialogue-based best friends-to-lovers cliché.

Warnings: Relationship angst, too many dialogues, long read, happy ending!!!

Read time: ~28 mins

Author's Note:

It's a long read with far more dialogues than can be deemed healthy. The reason is, I didn't want their arc to feel rushed. It had to be cooked slow. Another reason is that, I can't help hearing my characters, and it triggers a flood of dialogues! I'm trying to work on controlling it. 😬 Hope you enjoy!

Now has a sequel: Their Little Secret

“C’mon! You’re breaking the rules now,” Loki casually waved his hand at his best friend.

“I’m not. There’s nothing to answer really,” (Y/N) replied with a shrug.

“There must be something on your mind!”

She pretended to think for a second, and shook her head.

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

It was a usual night in the compound. It was just another night when one of these two friends had called the other in the middle of the night for some midnight snack. It was just another of those happy times when they had tiptoed into the kitchen like thieves because...no, no one would mind some missing nachos or ice creams, but because it was fun!

It wasn’t easy for Loki to open up to someone, let alone to allow the other person in. Neither was it easy for (Y/N) to trust somebody, given her past, especially when that somebody was infamous for betraying almost everyone, at every step, not to mention his attempts at ruling Earth and causing massacre.

But time is a healer and a magician.

And here they were now, looking at the moon-washed night life through the west-facing glass wall, and playing a game of “what-ifs”. One would say that it was silly and immature; some would even call their talks gibberish. But when the night was so relaxed and carefree, why wouldn’t they be?

The pale yellow orb hovering above the western horizon cast a soft ray of light through the glass wall. Oblivious to its movements across the room, Loki and (Y/N) were wrapped in a thin blanket on a couch, their feet resting on two separate pouffes.

It had all started with a silly question, something like, “What if you weren’t stuck in this building tonight?”, or something along those lines; they didn’t even remember correctly anymore.

One question led to the other, and soon they found themselves tangled in a game of questions that would have been enough to create an alternate reality. But eventually, they found themselves, not answering with imaginary scenarios, but debating over one particular question:

“What if you find the love of your life tomorrow?”

This question was posed by Loki, rather theatrically, amidst the many others that had tossed different possibilities of their near future. And it was here that (Y/N) refused to play along anymore because, as she stated, it was “the most silly question ever”.

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

“So, you claim that my question is even worse than your ‘What if you were a Jotun cat’? What kind of a question is that anyway?” Loki teased.

“Of course, it is. Undoubtedly!” With one wave of her hand, (Y/N) dismissed his appeal.

“And how is that even logical, may I know?”

“C’mon, this entire game is out of the boundaries of logic,” she claimed. “Your behaviour is like that of a cat. Don’t make that face; it brings you closer to being a cat. And...a Jotun cat sounds cool!”

Loki sighed. “And my question is ridiculous! If the game is beyond all reason, then...” he shrugged, “say something...weird, and move on!”

“Fine! If I-if... If I meet the love of my life tomorrow,...I’ll stab him. Or her. Or them. I don’t even know.” She huffed.

“Ouch!” Loki made a face, ”Didn’t see that coming. I would enjoy the stabbing part though. Thank the Norns, you never declared your feelings for me!”

She looked at him sideways with a stern face. Loki noticed the irritation simmering just beneath her skin, ready to burst out at the next prodding.

“Hey,” he placed a hand on her arm, “what happened? Was it something I said?”

She turned her face away. But Loki wasn’t giving up that easily.

“(Y/N),” he gently tugged at her arm, “look at me.”

When she finally turned towards him, he held her by the shoulders just to make sure that she couldn’t move away again.

“Now, you’ll tell me everything. What happened?” He inquired again. “I thought you were having fun.”

“It’s nothing Loki, it’s just that...you know I don’t like discussing my non-existent love-life. It’s...it kind of makes me...sad sometimes. Especially in a setting like this!” She waved her hands at her surroundings. “I mean, look at it, a full moon, a silent night, blankets and… It just leaves me with this reminder that I’ll be alone all my bloody life!”

Loki’s hands slowly retracted from her form and folded themselves on his chest. And just like that, they both found themselves staring out of the window.

“I’m sorry,” Loki’s voice audibly reflected the guilt that had formed within, “I never intended to...”

“No, you shouldn’t be. It’s...I overreacted. I’m sorry, Loki. I just ruined the mood. Shit! And it’s not my hormones, mind you!”

“I know,” Loki chuckled. “And you did not ruin anything. It’s natural to feel, isn’t it?”

She looked at him with a raised brow, “Somebody’s learning!”

“Somebody’s got a good teacher,” he smiled.

“Aww!! I love it when you acknowledge my awesomeness!” She wrapped an arm around him, pulling him in closer, and pinched his cheek.

“Ugh! Let go of me! Let...go!!”

The room was filled with (Y/N)’s cackles and Loki’s threats as he wriggled out of her grip.

“Do that one more time, and I’ll stab you!”

But it wasn’t enough to stop her chortles.

“Would you now?” she teased, and raised her hands again in a faux attempt at squeezing his cheeks.

He swatted them away.

“Stop it!” He warned again, only to emanate snorts from her.

But the next second, his voice changed into a compassionate one, “Why do you think you’ll be alone all your life? How old are you anyway? 80? 90? Isn’t that supposed to be old in human years?”

Once again her cheerful mood fled behind a thick curtain of annoyance. But this time she did not look away. She simply rolled her eyes, and pulled her legs from the pouffe to sit cross-legged, and shifted to face him.

“No, I’m not that old. But why are you suddenly so interested in this topic?”

“Because suddenly, you seem to have found an interest in getting annoyed.”

“Then don’t annoy me.”

“Not in my nature, I’m afraid.”

She couldn’t decide whether to hit him or laugh at him.

“Loki-” She curled her fists and shut her eyes.

“I’m listening, darling,” he smirked.

Of course, she knew how stubborn Loki could be!

Who else would know that better than me?

“Okay,” she placed her palms flat on her thighs, “the thing is...I can never make a relationship last more than two years. I waste my time trying to establish a...a proper, long-lasting relationship - something permanent - and end up with a heartbreak. Every. Fucking. Time. I’ve given up. I’ve had enough! Now, even if anyone makes a move, or if I’m interested in someone, I just remind myself that it’s not gonna work! I just don’t put any effort anymore.”

Loki hummed in response; his eyes were focused on her as if he was trying to decipher a mystery.

“And,” she continued, “given my current ‘job’,” she air-quoted the word, “I’m more sure than ever that no one will last more than two months now!”

Once she voiced the storm in her head, her eyes softened and she looked down at her lap. Through hooded eyes, she stole a guilty, fleeting glance at her friend, who seemed to be musing about something really serious. His eyes were strained on the carpet, while his chin rested on a fisted hand balancing itself on his thigh.

For a long moment neither said anything. Only the distant buzz of the sleepless city floated through the air and filled the room.

It was Loki who disrupted the silence with a long and heavy sigh.

“I knew that Midgardian men were impatient, narcissistic-”

“Look who’s talking,” she smirked as she interrupted him.

He gave her a quick deadpanned stare before resuming, “-imbeciles, but I was beginning to think that they have good tastes in women. It’s disappointing, not surprising though, that they have proven me wrong.”

A small laugh almost made its way to its escape, but she pushed it back. “You think so?” She quipped.

He shrugged, “From what you’ve said, there is no reason to think otherwise.”

She sat a little straighter. “Really? Do go on!”

Loki immediately noticed the effect that he had planned for. Without giving away the joy of his small triumph, he continued, “Indeed! Look at you! You’re an amazing woman! You’re brave, witty, independent...smart...excellent with knives! And that’s my favourite thing about you, by the way. ”

Feigning offence, she exclaimed, “And I thought your favourite thing about me was that I tolerate all your tantrums, and keep up with your shenanigans.”

“I don’t throw tantrums, darling,” he pushed the accusation away with his silky tone, “and don’t tell me that you take no pleasure in the havoc that we wreck together.”

At this, she could no longer suppress the evil grin that spread across her face, “I do love a bit of chaos. It’s fun.”

“To think of it,” Loki added excitedly, “had you been on Asgard, you might have been the Goddess of Chaos!”

“Oh! Thank you!” She replied with a dramatic wave of her hands.

Both laughed at the way their words were unfolding.

“Thank you, Loki,” (Y/N) said after their little whirlwind of laughter had calmed down, “I guess I needed to hear something nice about myself. It’s been a long, long time since I heard it.”

“I meant every word of it,” he replied in a solemn tone that made something flutter in her chest.

Was it gratitude? Was it joy? Was it love for her best friend?

It was hard to tell. It seemed to be everything at once.

She simply smiled at him. “Even the ‘Goddess of Chaos’ part?”

“Especially that part,” he asserted, and she laughed.

“You’re the best, Loki!” She gave him a half hug.

“That, I definitely am. But you’re not too shabby yourself. And you should never ever be sad for someone else’s failure.”

“Alright, I get what you’re trying to do here,” she landed a playful punch to his shoulder. “I’m fine! Really! I just got a little carried away.”

“No, I really mean it,” he tried to assure her. “You are one of the most magnificent women I have known! And mind you, I’m rather picky in these cases.”

She laughed, “Of course, I’d know that! ... Loki, it’s...it’s alright. Some people just don’t have it in them to sustain relationships no matter how wonderful they are. I’m okay with it.”

“Come on! A narcissistic God is showering you with genuine compliments! And you’re still not convinced that it’s not your fault but of all those who failed to keep up with you?”

She tried another attempt at convincing him, “It works both ways.”

“Norns! I can’t believe you’re so foolish!”

“Enlighten me, please,” she drawled.

“I believe I have already established the fact that you are phenomenal.”

When she giggled and nodded, he carried on.

“Good. Now, your job, as you put it, shouldn’t be a hindrance in your relationship. You’re doing the marvellous job of being a guardian to thousands of people. People you don’t even know! How many would put their necks out there to do it?”

“C’mon, Loki, when duty calls, you have to leave everything behind and just go! Who’d tolerate that for days? They will snap one day.”

“I’d never do that!” Realizing his mistake, he quickly corrected himself, “What I mean is, had I been in their place, I’d have never done that.”

“That’s because you’re on the team,” she argued. “So, it’s normal to you.”

“No, it’s not because I’m on the team. I’d-” He sighed. “Fine, why don’t you try finding someone from this field? Stark’s parties are a great place to hunt humans.”

“‘Hunt humans’?” She snorted, “I like the sound of that. Nay, haven’t found anyone. Besides, mixing professional and personal life can be fatal. You never know when your personal life might get jeopardised because of a mission gone wrong. Y’know, the usual blame-game and all. I hate all that!”

Loki brooded over her words for a few seconds before asking, “I don’t get it. Why would it be fatal? I mean, look at us,” he gestured in between them. “We have a perfect understanding. We’d never blame the other for any petty thing. Or-or let it affect our friendship.”

“That’s because we have the perfect understanding, Loki! You said it yourself. It’s a rare thing that we have. And I can’t expect it to be with anyone else. They’re not you, Loki.”

“They’re not us,” he corrected her.

Joy seeped through his senses as he watched her face brighten up at his words.

With a nod, she continued, “You see, all that spark, excitement, promises - these sound really great at the beginning. As time passes, as the real world pushes in, love moves to the backseat. Love is not enough. There comes a time when you have to balance everything together, and love becomes one of those things. It becomes a chore.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow you,” Loki stated with a frown. “That sounds so sad!”

“It is!”

“Well, it shouldn’t be! Loving you shouldn’t be a chore! Let’s say...hypothetically...if I’m in love with you, then you’d be my passion. And passions never become a duty, not even in the worst of times. Instead, they help us breathe when everything comes caving in. You’d be my...my moment of peace in a war. How could I not be tempted to embrace this beautiful moment?”

“Unfortunately, Loki, that’s not how it works. See, when you have a lot on your plate, say your job, your dreams, your daily life and all the pressure that comes with these, you’ll find less and less time for your loved one. Things get hectic and eventually frustrating. You won’t be able to keep that flame alive even if you want to. And one day, you’ll come to realize that you have distanced yourself from your moment, even if you never wanted to. But it’d be too late. There’d be no going back.”

“I’d never distance myself from you! I mean, from my moment. I’ve been a king, and I know how taxing royal duties can be. Sometimes, it seemed like a luxury to get even a minute to myself.”

“See? So, how could you have found time for me?”

“I would have, darling. Not plenty, but whatever little time I’d have gathered, I’d have made them memorable. For you. For us. And maybe we could have gone on long rides occasionally. Rekindle the old flames? Or-or we could have gone on visits to other realms...for political reasons, of course, but could have taken the opportunity to spend a small vacation with each other. What do you say?”

Painfully tempting images of a life that could have been floated in her eyes.

“And what if we came back to Earth, and I got involved in...say, a job that was all hectic and left me all frustrated, and with little time for you?” She shrugged.

With a sigh, Loki shifted to face her fully. “We will take care of each other, (Y/N). If one gets low, the other pulls both up. And I know that together, we can do anything! I believe in you more than I believe in myself.”

She smiled brightly as she acknowledged, “That is...that sounds doable, yes.”

“You’re special,” he placed a hand on her cheek, “and you need to be treated in the most special manner. One that befits my queen.”

A moment passed between them as they looked into each other's eyes, both seeing the same beautiful picture.

His queen!

My queen!!

Wait, what is he...?

Damn! What am I doing! What will she...!

Loki cleared his throat as he abruptly pulled his hand back to his side.

“I’m sorry, I...”

“No, it’s okay,” she cringed at the way the words squeaked out of her. Clearing her throat, she continued, “We were just giving examples.”

“Yes, just examples,” he agreed.

“It’s fine! I understand.”

“Great! It’d have been quite...awkward...otherwise.”

“Oh no! It’s...uh...totally fine. We’re best buddies!” She gave his arm a light punch.

“Right!” He nodded, and focused his gaze on the floor.

After taking a minute to calm his heart, he wore his witty persona back.

“See, having a relationship is not at all tough. All you need is a good partner. And I’ve proved myself right again! No, wait. There’s something you mortals do. It’s...uh...about throwing something...”

“Goblets? We don’t do that. It’s you-”

“No, not throwing, it’s about dropping something...after you have proven a point...”

“...Mic drop?” She chuckled.

His eyes lit up.

“Yes! ‘Mic drop’. So, as I was saying, all you need to have a happy and successful relationship is a good partner. Mic drop!” He concluded as he mimicked the action.

She sighed. “There’s just one tiny problem. I’d probably never find the right person. The ones that flirt with me, don’t understand me, and the ones that understand me have friendzoned me.”

“I’ve never friendzoned you,” Loki quickly replied with a frown. “J-Just clarifying...in case you were talking about me.”

“Of course, I’m talking about you, you big oaf!” She flicked his arm.

“Hey! You friendzoned me.”

“No…? It was you! Well, yeah, I never tried to flirt with you or anything but...anybody could see that you were being just my friend.”

“I can say the same about you,” Loki playfully accused.

“Whatever,” she shrugged.

A thought started playing in her mind. And a couple of seconds later, she decided to say it aloud, “I...umm...Just curious...y’know, don’t take it in any other way. Did you ever think of flirting with me?” She put forward each word very cautiously.

Loki furrowed his brows, and opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, she warned him, “Be honest!”

Immediately, his confident attitude changed into a helpless one. “Yes, I did. Maybe once. Or twice. But that was all! I assure you!”

She could hardly contain the amusement that was bubbling inside.

“What’s so funny about it?” Loki asked with furrowed brows.

“Nothing,” she shook her head as she tried to hold back her laughter, “nothing at all. It’s,” and then she lost it, “I’m sorry! It’s funny! I don’t know why, I find it funny hearing from you!”

“Look who’s laughing!” He said wryly. “I could clearly hear your thoughts the first few days after I stepped into this structure. Every compliment that your little mind cooed at my divine persona. And may I dare say that not all of them were decent.”

Her hysterics were long forgotten as her face went red at the comment.

“How dare you invade my mind?” Her hand had balled into a fist, ready to hit his arm when he caught it.

“I didn’t invade it, darling. You were practically shouting inside that pretty head of yours. I could have heard it from the other side of the planet!”

“That was a long time ago,” she refused to meet his eyes. “I make better choices and better decisions now.”

“Do you?”

She opened her mouth to speak but closed it without uttering a syllable, and crossed her arms.

Loki nudged her with his elbow. “Hey, it’s fun to tease you. Don’t be a spoilsport.”

“I hate you,” she peeked at him through the corner of her eye.

“What can I say,” Loki sighed. “Alright, if you say so.”

She smirked as she glanced at him sideways.

Loki cleared his throat in a not-so-subtle manner. “So, the next time Stark throws a party, I’ll find someone for you.”

Immediately, she face-palmed, and groaned, “No.”

“What?”

“Please drop this topic. And you’d probably find me a psychopath, anyway” She joked.

“That hurt!” Loki exclaimed with a hurt look masking his humour, “do you think so little of me? Can’t I find a proper partner for my best friend, my darling?”

“No, it didn’t hurt. Don’t fake it. I know you better than anyone.”

“No, you don’t. You-”

“I do. And...I’m fine, Loki” she reassured him, “being with myself, with the people here, being with you.” She gently bumped her knee into his.

“Will these be enough?” His tone had left the playfulness behind. “Will I be enough? For all your life?”

She shrugged, “I think so. You...stick with me all the time, you understand me, you...make me feel good. What more could I want to be happy?”

“You know what more you are missing. A friend can never touch the boundaries of what a lover can give you.”

“I don’t need a lover. Just be with me all my life, and I won’t need anyone else.”

He gave her hand a light squeeze. “I will. I promise.”

Her playful smile was back. “Thanks for all the pep talk, my dearest God. But turns out that I’m better off alone. Now can we please go back to the game? It’s my turn to ask you.”

“Alright,” he smiled back, “if you say so.”

“Stop saying that!” A defeated sigh left her. “You won’t be convinced, will you?”

“Probably not. Because I know that this will gnaw at you again a few days later. I know you’ll be sad again. And that I won’t allow on my watch.”

“God!”

“Right here, listening to you!” Loki quipped.

Rolling her eyes, she muttered, ”Damn you!” And proceeded to put forward a proper argument.

“The reason why I’m avoiding a new relationship is because I don’t want another heartache. I can’t handle breakups. That’s why I’m...”

When Loki didn’t make another attempt at dissuading her from her arguments, she added, “I just...try everything to avoid a heartbreak. Because when I get one, I lose control over myself.”

“Yes, I’ve seen. Once.”

“Then you must have noticed how vicious I become. Sarcasm drips from my mouth all the time, I say things that I shouldn’t, I...I hurt people. And in turn, I hurt myself. I yell at those who want nothing but good for me. But...”

“But being mean seems to be the only way to mask the pain,” he finished her line.

“It does, yes!”

She looked at him, and into his eyes that silently spoke of the pain that was resurfacing. She remembered something.

“You and I are so...alike!”

He nodded with a smile. “And maybe that is why we understand each other more than anyone ever could. … But we’re more than just being alike, if you think about it.”

She noticed how his voice gradually rose from its usual calmness to an excited tone, and his hands moved with his words.

Loki continued, “You point out my mistakes but don’t accuse me like everyone else does. You show me what’s right. And there’s this-this thing about you, which is so scary...the way you make me do all the things that you want. I-I mean, I am the God here! But you…a mortal...how can you have so much power over me?”

He sighed as his voice dropped to a compassionate tone, “You make me happy, (Y/N). You’ve taught me to forgive when I can, to forget what I can’t fix.”

“Don’t always do that,” she interrupted with a smirk.

His evil smile made a brief appearance before he resumed his warm note, “I like being with you. No...I love being with you! You make me feel good. You make me feel...I don’t know.... You make me feel…”

“Complete?”

“Yes!” He observed her, “You complete me.”

For yet another time, silence enveloped them. The only difference was that this time, it was comfortable. Even in their hushed moments, they could hear each other, know what the other wanted to say.

After a while of exchanging quiet stares, (Y/N) spoke, “All this time I believed, but now I know for myself, that you are indeed Silvertongue!”

Loki looked at his lap and laughed, but in the pale light of the setting moon, she noticed the pink that had crept up his ears and cheeks.

“I meant every word of what I said,” he reassured her once again that evening.

“I know, Loki.”

Loki watched her as she shifted to a kneeling position, and leaned towards him. He felt his face becoming hotter as she supported herself on his shoulder with one hand, and placed a soft kiss on his cheekbone.

As she settled back, her lips tingled with the memory of Loki’s skin on it.

They had been best friends, yes, but she had never allowed herself more than a quick hug because she knew that Loki wasn’t someone open to random touches. And she wanted to respect that. Always.

But this peck felt right. It felt necessary. And it felt...different.

What happened next wasn’t guided by logic anymore, but only by their senses.

Loki put his legs back on the pouffe, and scooted a little closer to (Y/N). Taking the cue, she shifted so that her leg was stretched out, and back on the pouffe - not on hers but his - and sat close to him. He arranged the blanket so that it covered them both again.

Another stretch of silence enveloped them. To them, the moment was beautiful. To Loki, who had never experienced anything similar before, it was precious. If he could stop time, he would have done it right then and there.

“Why haven’t you found anyone yet?” She asked him.

“Royalty has its disadvantages,” he replied without taking a moment to think.

She leaned back slightly to get a good look at his face, “Didn’t you ever find anyone from the royal...uh...what do you call it? Of royal blood?”

Loki laughed at her naivety. “Can’t say I didn’t. But none of them were the one. Besides, most people chose my handsome brother over me. And if anyone chose me, well, it was mostly because of my royal title. None of them were real.”

“That’s awful! I would never have done that to you! I’d have chosen you for the wonderful being that you are. But, I get it; happens on our planet, too.”

“Everywhere,” he asserted.

“So...who do you think is the one for you?”

He looked down at her face, which was mere inches away from his. For the first time in months of their friendship, he felt something swell inside his chest at the closeness.

“I still don’t know,” he whispered, “but I think the Norns might have started giving me clues.”

He didn’t need to explain, obviously. All the tension that had been building up throughout the night had placed them both on the same page.

Without thinking, Loki moved his wrist so that his palm was facing the ceiling. And instinctively, (Y/N) placed her hand in it, their fingers closing around each other.

"It's odd," she announced after a while.

"Indeed."

"It's weird. I mean, what were we even thinking!" She huffed, although she was still clutching his hand, as was he holding hers.

"Exactly what I was thinking. You and me?” Loki laughed nervously, “Come on!"

"Yeah!"

"Right".

Silence, their faithful companion for the night, visited them once again.

"Could it be? You and me?" Loki’s voice was a little more than a whisper, and bordered on the edge of confidence and doubt.

"Doesn't sound so bad. Not after all these... Talks?" She whispered back.

"Right!"

"Right."

And once again, they fell quiet.

The strangeness of the moment pushed them both into a whirlpool of thoughts. From acquaintances to partners to friends to best friends to...lovers?

Can this even be possible? What if it’s just a passing phase? What if everything goes back to normal tomorrow? Will we still be able to talk normally? But… This feels right. Just...right.

With a sigh, (Y/N) put her head on Loki’s shoulder.

"I don't want to rush into anything and ruin what we have," she confessed in a hushed tone, eyes staring into the night outside.

"Neither do I. You're the only one I have."

With a raised brow, she looked up at him.

"And Thor," he corrected himself with a small smile.

"Glad you remember him "

"Shut up.

Slowly, hesitantly, Loki put his free hand around her. Unsure of the appropriateness of the action, he kept his arm loosely hanging around her frame.

He waited for a while. Had Loki looked at her face, instead of looking straight ahead in fear, he would have noticed the small smile that had formed on her lips.

When she didn’t flinch or protest, he began to rest his arm properly but gently on her. He even went ahead and made the slightest possible effort to pull her closer to him.

The smile that had started forming on her now spread wide enough to turn into a grin. Its reflection was found on Loki’s face, too, who could finally muster the courage to look at her, although he was equally worried that she would be able to hear his heart trying to hammer its way out of his chest.

With every minute that passed, Loki became more baffled, for he couldn’t decide which moment he’d frame and hang on the wall of his heart as the most precious one.

"Are you feeling hot?" She asked without looking at him.

"A bit, yes. You, too?"

"Quite a bit, actually," she gulped.

"Is it normal?"

"I guess, yes. Totally! Had we been cool about it, it'd have meant that there's no spark between us. It’d have felt awkward, wrong."

"So, you agree that there's a spark between us?" He didn’t even attempt to hide the mischievous smirk that shone on his face.

"I had always suspected," she nodded.

"Hmm. When was the last time we went out for dinner?" He asked.

“Probably last month...or was it-”

(Y/N)’s head snapped up to look at him. She could barely put a lid on her excitement.

"Are you proposing to take me out on a date?"

"Well, if we are going to do this, then I'd like to court you properly."

She felt like she'd burst out of sheer excitement.

"If you'd agree to it, that is" Loki clarified.

Taking a large breath, she replied, "I'd love it."

The night was going better than either had expected. Who would have thought that a game of weird questions and a few confessions could change their lives!

(Y/N) put her head back on his shoulder, and let her body slump against him. He held her confidently this time.

“It still feels weird though,” she declared.

“It does, yes, but...maybe this is...right?” In a long time, Loki was hopeful about something, and he wasn’t going to let it slip away. No.

“I hope so.”

“Me, too.”

“Just so you know,” she sat up straight, “Thor is handsome, yes, but you are devilishly charming. You’re intelligent, well-read, witty, sarcastic, great at combat...uh...”

“Go on,” Loki smirked, earning a playful glare from her.

“You are,” she continued, “seductive! And who can resist a sorcerer who knows his way around everything!”

The evil smile that Loki had put away found its way back on his face. “As far as I remember, I did nothing to seduce you. I wonder what will happen if I try...”

“Shut up, Loki! You know I give away raw compliments. I didn’t really mean...I didn’t think...”

He laughed heartily at the furious way she was blushing.

“I was only pulling your leg. I had imagined you to be wise,” he clarified.

“I am! It’s just... I was...” She shook her head.

“So,” Loki resumed, “you think I’m devilishly charming?”

“Drop the topic, please!”

“You can’t resist my sorcery, ha?”

“Please change the topic! Forget what I said!!”

Loki laughed as he continued teasing her. It wasn’t going to be an easy ride, she realized, with the God of Mischief, but it was going to be the best ever!

“(Y/N)?”

“Hmm?”

“I know it was your turn to ask but, what if...you and I are indeed meant to be together?”

She smiled as she rubbed her cheek on his shirt, “I think we’ll have a gorgeous future together. And...I’d love that more than anything else.”

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

The next morning...

“Morning, Wanda-”

“Shh! Shh!!” The red-haired witch silenced Natasha, and pointed towards the couch.

Curious, Natasha’s eyes followed the direction that Wanda’s finger was pointing at.

There, snuggled in a blanket, fast asleep, sat (Y/N) and Loki, their legs spread on a pouffe, tangled with each other’s. Loki’s arm was wrapped around her shoulder while she was holding his waist. Her head lay on his chest and his on hers.

“Aren’t they cute?” Wanda whispered.

Before Nat could reply, Tony’s voice cut the conversation.

“Who’s cute?”

This time, both the ladies shushed him, leaving a perplexed expression on his once sleepy face.

When they pointed towards the couch, Tony huffed, “These two! God knows what’s taking them so long to realise! They’re just so-” His face lit up. “Know what? I have an idea! I’ll make them confess. Who’s up for it?”

***

Now has a sequel: Their Little Secret

And...a song for keeping the feelings floating...💕

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

You Are In Love (M.YG)

Warnings : mentions of cheating

Word Count : 2149

Synopsis : while laying in bed, she realizes she’s in love with min yoongi

When my eyes opened, I was met with my boyfriend’s sleeping face, and a smile spread across mine. His arm was lazily draped across my body, unlike the tight hold he had on me when we had fallen asleep the previous night. Watching him sleep peacefully like this, I couldn’t help but think about how lucky I am to call him mine. “What are you looking at?” He grumbled in his morning voice, his eyes slowly opening to meet mine.

           “The most handsome man in the world.” I whispered, leaning up to kiss his nose. He scrunched his face before pouting, saying I missed the obvious target and pulling me in for a sweet kiss. When we pulled away and I met his eyes again, his hand moving to brush some hair out of my face, I was hit with the sudden realization that I was in love with him. I knew I was falling; I’d been falling for him since we started dating. But being with him like this feels so domestic, and I want to wake up to his face every day for the rest of my life.

           “Coffee for the pretty lady.” Yoongi smiled as he sat across from me, placing both our drinks on the table between us. I thanked him and reiterated that he didn’t have to pay for me. “Let me be a gentleman.” He pouted and I giggled, completely giving into him.

           I was so nervous, playing with my hands in my lap as we talked and got to know each other better. But as the date went on, I found myself laughing more and becoming more comfortable with him. After we finished our coffees, we decided to take a walk around and enjoy the nice weather. At one point, he had slipped his hand into mine, smiling down at me when I looked over to him. “I like holding hands.” He said simply, his gummy smile on full display.

           “Me too.” I tightened my grip on his hand, and we continued walking around like that, telling each other stories of our lives, and just enjoying each other’s company.

           I met Yoongi through a mutual friend, Jung Hoseok, and there was a connection almost immediately. He was a bit distant at first, and I later found out through Hoseok, and then Yoongi, that it was because he found me pretty and got nervous around me. It took him almost three months to ask me on our first date, and then another month to make us official.

           “For you.” He said with a nervous smile as he handed me the plush he had won at the game at the fair. A blush rose to my cheeks and I accepted it, thanking him. “Those games are rigged, but I really wanted to win you something.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as we slowly walked by all the concessions.

           “You’re cute.” I told him, causing him to stop walking. I stopped a couple steps ahead of him, and turned to face him, a look of confusion on my face. He just stared at me in silence, a small smile dancing across his lips that slowly grew into his wide, gummy smile that I adored.

           “You think so?” He chuckled, taking the two steps towards me, and slipping his hand into mine as we continued walking.

           “I know so.” I countered as I started swinging our arms back and forth, looking around at all the lights that seemed to brighten the darkening day. We made our way to the ferris wheel, completing our fair date night with a cliché. I looked out at all the lights, and watched as couples wandered around hand in hand, much like Yoongi and I.

           “Can I kiss you?” His question caught me off guard, and I looked at him with widened eyes, before giggling at his question.

           “You’ve kissed me before; you don’t need to ask.” I told him, and he wasted no time; cupping my face and crashing his lips to mine as if he would die otherwise.

           “Just let me be a gentleman.” He said softly after he pulled away, his hands still cupping my face as he rested his forehead against mine. The ride quickly came to an end, and we decided to call it a night.

           We held hands as he drove me home, his thumb running over my knuckles subconsciously. The ride was silent save for the soft music playing from the radio, but the silence was comfortable. When we made it to my apartment, he walked me to the door like he always does, but he seemed really nervous this time. I thanked him for a fun night and gave him a quick kiss goodnight. “Y/N.” He called before I could open the door, and I turned to face him. “Be my girlfriend.” He spit out quickly and my eyes widened. “I mean, uh, would you want to be my girlfriend?” He started kicking his feet and rubbing the back of his neck, and I couldn’t help but smile.

           “I’d love to, Yoongs.” I walked towards him, lazily wrapping my arms around his neck, and bringing him in for a sweet kiss.

           “I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch with Hoseok?” He asked and I nodded, asking him if he could pick me up. “It would be my pleasure.” He kissed me one more time before heading home.

           Hoseok wasn’t surprised when we told him we were dating, having to deal with our pining for months. He would act as if he hated being the third wheel but was actually really happy we both were happy. He’s taken so many photos of us it’s almost like he’s our own personal photographer.

           “God you two are disgustingly cute.” Hoseok rolled his eyes as he walked into Yoongi’s kitchen, Yoongi behind me with his arms wrapped around me as we cooked together. Neither one of us moved from our position, and Hoseok snapped a couple pictures. He definitely wasn’t complaining when he dug into the food and ate most of it, going on about how delicious it was.

           “It was made with love.” Yoongi smiled, pressing a quick kiss to my lips.

           “Wow I cannot wait until you two are out of the honeymoon phase.” He quipped, but I could see the small smile on his face as he watched his two best friends fall in love.

           Before meeting Yoongi, I believed I wasn’t meant to find love. Everyone I liked and dated seemed to treat me like shit; toss me aside for something better. I was scared Yoongi would do it as well, but he’s proven over and over again that he’s in this for the long run. And as I lay here in bed, staring into his eyes, realizing that he’s the love of my life, I can picture him at the end of the aisle, smiling as I walk towards him.

           “Y/N! What a small world.” Mark exclaimed, pulling me in for an awkward hug. “This is Jennie, my fiancée.” I looked down at her ring finger, seeing a beautiful diamond ring adorning it. “This is Y/N, my ex. She’s chill people though.” He said to Jennie. I smiled at her, extending my hand for her to shake. She did so with little hesitation. Yoongi slid his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him as he looked at the couple in front of us.

           “This is Yoongi, my boyfriend.” I told Mark, smiling up at Yoongi who was already looking at me with a smile. “This is Mark.” The two of them shook hands, and the four of us stood around for a couple of minutes before I excused us so we could go greet the man of the hour. “I forgot he and Jackson were friends.” I told Yoongi, trying to calm my pounding heart.

           “Are you okay? You don’t look so good.” Yoongi immediately led me to the closest chair, sitting me down and kneeling in front of me. He placed his hand on my forehead, checking my temperature while looking at me with concern in his eyes. I grabbed his hand from my forehead, holding it in my hand as I told him I was okay.

           “Mark’s the guy I told you about. The one who doesn’t do marriage. The one who was cheating on me; with Jennie.” He cupped my face with his hands, wiping away the tears I didn’t know fell.

           “Well honestly, that’s his loss. You are the most beautiful, kind-hearted person I’ve ever met. And because he was an idiot, I get to show you what true love looks like.” He ended his small speech with a small kiss. “Now, what do you say we go wish Jackson a happy birthday and then sneak away and go see that movie you wanted to see?” I smiled and nodded, taking his hand as we both stood up and made our way to Jackson.

           Yoongi was right. We just celebrated our 6 months last night, and I’ve felt more loved during these last 6 months than I did the 2 years I was with Mark. Yoongi always reminds me how much he cares about me, how beautiful he finds me. Not a day goes by without him reminding me. I was so sure I was going to marry Mark, but in this moment, I know that was just a silly dream, a wish. But marrying Yoongi, I can picture it. I want to spend the rest of my life showing Yoongi all the love he’s shown me, and then some.

           Come outside. His text read, and I didn’t even think twice about throwing on some clothes and meeting him outside. The sun had long set, and the stars littered the sky. There was only a small breeze ruining an otherwise perfect night.

           Yoongi was standing beside his car when I got outside, a wide smile spreading across his face when he saw me. I practically jumped into his arms, giving him a quick kiss. “You make it seem like you haven’t seen me in ages.” He joked; his arms still wrapped around me.

           “I haven’t seen you in 2 days. That is forever!” I jokingly exclaimed, throwing my head back to further make my point. A chuckle escaped his lips, and I absolutely loved the sound. I have since the first time I heard it. I could listen to it on repeat all day and not get bored.

           “You know what, you’re absolutely right. 2 days is far too long without you, angel.” He leaned in for another kiss, one I happily returned. “Shall we go?” He asked, pointing to his car, and I nodded, even though I had no idea what he had planned. I trusted him.

           He had driven us to an open field and laid a blanket down. “I wanted to star gaze with you.” He blushed, rubbing the back of his neck.

           “You really are too cute, Min Yoongi.” We laid beside each other, and I listened as he pointed out different constellations to me. He would tell me the stories about them, and I would hang onto every word.

           “And that one right there, that’s Y/N Y/L/N.” My eyes widened as I looked at him, sitting up quickly. He sat up too, pulling a folded paper out of his pocket, unfolding it, and showing it to me. “As of today, there is a star named after you. Because you are my star.”

           “You really just went and named a star after me.” I said, tears welling up in my eyes. “Just take my whole heart, Min Yoongi. I don’t even want it back.” He chuckled, wiping away the tears that fell.

           “If I could buy you the entire world, I would.” He told me. And I know he would.

           “You are my world, Yoongs.” I admitted to him. And that’s when he pulled me in for the most passionate kiss I’ve ever felt. And it didn’t end there. It ended later that night, in my bed, soft moans in the air as we slept together for the first time.

           As I laid beside him, recounting all my memories with him, I realized I’d been in love with him the entire time. For me, there wasn’t going to be anyone else. Min Yoongi was it for me. “What are you thinking so hard about, love?” He said softly, a small smile on his face.

           “How absolutely, irrevocably in love I am with you, Min Yoongi.” I admitted and watched as his small smile grew. “I’ve always been in love with you.” I continued.

           “I am so in love with you, Y/N Y/L/N.” He chuckled. “And I’m going to show you that every day for as long as you’ll have me.”

           “I was thinking forever.”

           “Forever sounds good.” Forever sounds perfect.

[troubatrain]

i’d lie - m. tkachuk

a/n: this was the very first like super long fic i’d written for my own blog and tbh i still love it so i hope you guys do too :)

September 2019

The first time you met Matthew Tkachuk, you were running back to your apartment, mountain of textbooks in your hand. You’d run into a firm chest while trying to text your roommates back about dinner plans, your books knocking all over the floor. You apologized profusely, feeling awful for running into someone because you couldn’t get your head out of your phone. The stranger, who later introduced himself as Matthew, assured you it was fine and helped you pick up your books. You introduced yourself to him, thanking him for the help and making a light joke about how you weren’t paying attention. The two of you went your separate ways, but your mind wandered about the blue eyed stranger you’d run into that day.

The second time was definitely just a coincidence, and you were sure of that. You were grabbing a quick coffee before class, something you were in dire need of after your roommates came home well past midnight from a night out while you decided to stay in and study. You were waiting for your drink when you heard your name called from behind you. You turn around and meet Matthew’s eyes, laughing about how’d you run into each other just a couple of days later. The two of you made small talk, you explaining that you were just headed to class and him explaining he was grabbing an after practice coffee. When you asked him what sport he played, he looked at you in shock and laughed, explaining that he played for the Flames, you reluctantly admitted that you didn’t follow hockey much anymore, being just too busy. Your conversation ended quickly when you realized you had to run to class, telling Matthew you’d see him around even though you were sure you probably never would.

The third time was starting to feel like the universe was telling you something. You’d gone out with your roommates, celebrating a successful end to the fall semester. You were going to grab another drink when you felt someone grab your arm, when you turned around, ready to tell this guy to lay off, you’re met with a familiar pair of blue eyes. Matthew cracked a joke about how you’d seen him more times in the past week or so than his family and offered to buy you a drink. You took it, standing at the bar and talking to him for the rest of the night. You talked about school, your major, and your roommates. He told you about playing for the Flames, and how much he loved being in Calgary. When his teammates walked over to the two of you, chirping Matthew about talking to you, and when you roasted his teammate right back, Matthew told you that he was positive he was going to have a new best friend.

Matthew wasn’t kidding, finally getting your number at the bar that night and never leaving you since. It was slow, he started by inviting you out with his teammates after games, the boys becoming a permanent part of your life. Then you went to your first Flames game, in which Matthew scored twice and made you promise to never miss a home game after. After that, you were complaining about how loud your roommates could be when you really needed to get some work done, so Matthew gave you a key to his place so you could go there even if he was away. Matthew would send take out to your apartment if you’d had a particularly bad day or you would go over to his and cook for the both of you. He’d been there to help you study for finals, even though he didn’t have a clue about what you were talking about. You’d been there when the Flames got knocked out of the first round of the playoffs, holding Matthew while he ranted and raved about the game and how badly he wished they’d won. You went out to dinner with his parents when they came to town, you’d even made a trip to St. Louis over the summer. From an outsider’s perspective, and from the perspective of every person in your life, it seemed like you two were dating, but you felt like that ship had sailed and if it was going to happen it would’ve already.

You shake the memories of your friendship with Matthew out of your head as you turn the key to his apartment, sneaking in with the obnoxious decorations you’d bought. Yesterday, Matthew called you to let you know his contract was almost done and that he’d be back to Calgary for training camp the next day. You were excited, the contract debacle taking up more stress in your life than you’d liked. You’d sent the stuff down on his kitchen island, tying the red balloons you’d bought to one of the chairs and setting out the cake you’d bought that just says, “Congrats on getting PAID.” You hear the door creak open, and Matthew set his bag down by the door.

“Oh this is something,” Matthew chuckles, laughing at the small celebration you’d put together.

“Thought I’d welcome you back,” You laugh as he runs over to pull you into a hug.

“I really don’t deserve you,” He says, “Is that cake?”

“It is,” You smile, walking into the kitchen and pulling the groceries you’d bought to cook the both of you some dinner, “and dinner.”

“I really really don’t deserve you,” Matthew repeats, always appreciative of things you did to take care of him. Not that you minded it at all, the access to the quiet of Matthew’s apartment was enough to justify a few dinners, let alone when the two of you went out and Matthew insisted on paying the bill. While you never felt like you owed him anything, it definitely made you feel less guilty when you were doing something for him - even if it is just stopping him from eating out every night.

“You don’t, I know,” You joke, hip bumping him out of your way so you could grab a cutting board from his cabinet.

Matthew was over to the seats on the island, sitting in the one you’d decorated, “You’re going to be at our first home game right?”

“Of course, I planned my entire day around it,” You admit, knowing you’d made a silly promise to Matthew that you’d never miss a home game, “Why? Worried you’re going to bomb without me there?”

“I mean, yeah. I just-” Matthew starts, sighing, “After waiting for this deal and stuff I don’t want anyone to think it was a mistake.”

You didn’t realize your joke had actually struck a nerve. When you first became friends you didn’t think Matthew doubted his play or himself ever. He had a blind confidence, and he never let a mistake take over his whole game. It was something you actually admired, wondering if you could ever be that confident in yourself. But, when the Flames lost in the first round of the playoffs, and you’d gone to his place after the game, Matthew turned into a sad shell of a man in front of your eyes. That night you realized how much actually got to him, and while he listed off the mistakes he made in the series you’re heart broke with every word he said. The Canadian media wasn’t always easy, and it really bothered Matthew more than you think he even knew.

You turn around from the stove, “There’s not one person who doesn’t think you deserve your contract, and if they don’t I’ll personally tell them to fuck off.”

Matthew laughs, and your heart skips a beat, “I think I can do without you trying to fight anyone.” “Why? I’m absolutely terrifying,” You joke, your small frame wasn’t scary at all, but you weren’t about to let that stop you.

“You know what? You’re right,” Matthew says sarcastically.

“In all seriousness,” You start walking around the island to wrap your arms around Matthew’s shoulders, “I’ll always be proud of you.” Matthew tucks his head into your arms muttering a low thank you. The two of you spent the night together, catching up on your summers over the dinner you made. He told you about the trips he’d gone on, and his summer antics. You’d gone on about the vacation’s you’d gone on, and the time you spent with your family.

October 2019

You walked arm and arm with Brittney, Sean’s girlfriend, into the Saddledome for the Flames home opener. It was Saturday night, and you knew with the Kings coming to town on Tuesday the boys would definitely be celebrating their first win of the season if they came out on top tonight. You were excited, hoping they’d be able turn it around before it became a losing streak. You head up to your usual seats, walking into the family boxes with Brittany, all of the team’s significant others and families out for the first home game of the season. After finally grabbing a drink and sitting down you look down at the nice, spotting Matthew’s mop of hair buzzing around the ice.

“So anything change over the summer?” Brittany asks when she sees you looking at Matthew on the ice, a curious look on her face.

“Still best friends,” You say, shaking your head at her comment. You’d heard it a million times, about how Matthew needed to have you at his games, sitting with the rest of the team’s families or how you were always at his place or vice-versa but you assured everyone who asked that you were just friends - because you were.

“Okay but you can be best friends and date, you guys know that right?” Brittany says, trying to make you see it from her point of view.

“Britt, I really mean it, we’re just friends,” You shrug, not really in the mood to continue defending yourself. You ignore the knowing look she gives you, already knowing that her usual comeback would be asking you why you’re getting so defensive.

By the time the third period rolled around, the Flames were up 3-0 and you were sure this was going to end as a win. When the period was finally over, you headed down to the locker with Brittany to wait for Matthew to head out. 

He barreled out of the locker room, scanning the room to find you, running over and hugging you tightly, “We wonnn.”

You knew he was running on an adrenaline rush that he only ever got out of winning, “You did, are we going out tonight?”

“We are Y/N, Chucky can stay home,” You hear Sam Bennett’s voice behind you.

“Sam, what makes you assume I want to spend time with you?” You quip back before Matthew even has a chance to defend himself.

“You guys are really meant to be, you’re both cold as hell,” Sam says, shaking his head at the two of you.

You ignore Sam’s comment, turning to Matthew, “Ready to go?”

Matthew nods, leading the way to his car in the parking garage at the arena. You both slide in, you immediately grab his phone to change the music.

“You know it’s my car,” He says, already knowing you controlled the music in every car ride you took, despite who was driving.

“You know I don’t care,” You say back immediately, “Do you want to drop off your car?”

“No, you drink, I’ll just have a beer,” Matthew says, never wanting to let himself get too drunk if you were going to, afraid something might happen to you.

“But you guys won-” You start to protest only to be immediately cut off.

“But you had class all week, and don’t think I didn’t hear you stress crying after I went to bed the other night,” Matthew says, immediately shutting you up. You had a long week, and the idea of getting to go out with the safety net of Matthew taking care of you didn’t sound terrible.

“Fine, you win,” You say as you pull up to the bar you were meeting the rest of the team at. You walked in, immediately spotting Brittany and Sean from afar, walking over them wrapping Brittany in a hug.

“I’m really happy you guys are all back in town,” You say, still a little tipsy from the drinking you’d done at the game.

“Happy to see all of us, or just Chucky,” Sean says, giving you a look.

“Enough with that,” You snap, already having heard it from his girlfriend.

“Enough with what?” Matthew says, stepping behind you placing a drink in your hand.

“Nothing, Sean’s being a moron,” You say, leaning into his chest when he places a protective arm across your chest.

The rest of the night was an eventful one to say the least. You’d danced with the girls, Sam made you take more shots than a person should, and it was safe to say you were drunk to say the least. You finally walk back over to the table that Matthew was sitting at, talking to Noah.

“Matty, can you grab me another drink?” You ask, trying to convince him so you didn’t have to. You knew it wouldn’t take much and he nods and takes your empty glass without a second thought. 

Once Matthew was out of earshot, Noah turns to you, “You’ve really got him wrapped your finger.”

“Noah -” You start to defend yourself again.

“Don’t Noah me,” Noah immediately cuts you off, “Admit it, you have to see what everyone else sees.”

“You know what? I do and yes, it confuses the shit out of me but Noah, I like Matthew, a lot, but I don’t think he feels the same way about me,” Your drunken confession slips, your hand immediately covering your mouth that you actually admitted it.

Noah looks at you, eyes wide in surprise, “Oh my god, I was right?”

You start to give him a lecture about prying into your business before he cuts you off, “Your secret’s safe with me.”

You smile, “Thanks Noah.”

Matthew comes back and hands you a water despite you asking him for another drink, you roll your eyes, knowing he’s just decided to cut you off before you got messy.

“Ready to go?” You ask, sipping the water.

“Whenever you are, are you going home or staying by me?” Matthew asks and you notice Noah shaking his head at the two of you.

“Home, I need to spend my Sunday studying,” You say, leaning back into Matthew from the barstool you were sitting on.

Matthew nods, grabbing your hand and walking you back out to his car, opening the door for you to slide in. The drive back to your place was short, and you wished it was longer, admiring how the streetlights made Matthew look incredibly handsome. You knew the small crush that you’d been haboring since you met him only made it’s special guest appearance after you’d been drinking, and you were going to let it take over even just for the night. When Matthew stops in front of your building, he tosses his car into park so he can walk you to your door, even though you always insist nothing awful will probably happen to you between then and the minute elevator ride up to your floor. 

When you step in front of your door you wrap your arms around Matthew’s waist, tucking your head into his chest, “Thank you for always taking care of me.”

You feel him place a small kiss on your head, something he did often, “Anytime, get some sleep okay?”

You nod, “Text me when you’re home Matthew,” You say, using his full name to make yourself sound more serious. He laughs and heads back to the elevator while you walk into your apartment, walking into your bedroom and slipping one of Matthew’s old London Knights shirts on, passing out immediately.

November 2019

With November came an enormous amount of stress, the Flames weren’t playing up to their usual standards, losing five games on the road. Matthew was grouchy to say the least, you were always trying to cheer him up but there was only so much you could do while he was gone. You weren’t in the best mood either, the stress from school starting to build up. You’d spent more nights crying from stress in the comfort of Matthew’s empty apartment more than you’d admit to anyone, never quite feeling like you could catch up with all of your work. Which is why you were sitting on Matthew’s couch, head in your hands while you tried to finish the paper you had due at midnight when you hear him finally come home from his road trip, dropping his bag at the door with a bang, causing you to jump.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were here,” Matthew says, in a harsher tone he usually used. You could tell the losing streak was starting to get to him, his shoulders were tight, and the bags under his eyes were prominent.

“Do you not want me to be?” You say, while Matthew never complained when you were at his place, you did understand if he wanted to be alone.

“No you’re fine,” He says, “Are you going to come to my game tomorrow?” Your heart sunk, you wanted to, but you couldn’t justify spending a night at the Saddledome watching him play when you had so much work to finish before the chaos of finals started. You look at his sad eyes, afraid you might upset him if you said no.

“Matty, I have so much work I have to do, I don’t think I can,” You say, closing your eyes as if that would lessen the blow, you open one, seeing Matthew’s face crushed in front of you.

“It’s fine,” He says, the words not sounding like anything was okay at all, “We’ll just lose - again.”

“Don’t put that on me,” You defend, not wanting to feel guiltier than you are, “You miss shit in my life all the time because you’re gone.”

You regretted the words as soon as you said it. It didn’t matter if Matthew was there or not, anything important in your life, he made sure you knew he was proud of you. If it wasn’t a flood of texts, it was a bouquet of flowers to your door. He made sure you never felt like he forgot about you while he was gone, and you knew you were just acting out.

You hear Matthew sigh, a sign he was trying to keep his temper in check, “Maybe you should just go.” “I will,” You say, gathering your things and heading towards the door, turning back to him one more time, “For the record, you’ll be fine whether or not I’m there or not.”

--

You didn’t sleep that night - at all. Your mind replayed that stupid little argument you had gotten into with Matthew. You’d never actually fought with him, sure you bickered, but as soon as you’d call him out on his shit, he would let it go and that would be it. He looked so hurt by your words, and you knew you owed him an apology. You tried calling, texting, you even sent him an email, but he was ignoring you and you knew it. 

You lay on your bed, typing a paper for one of your classes while watching the Flames game, the Flames down against the Avs 3-2. You watched as Matthew got sent to the box, for the third time that evening, finally breaking his stick when he sat down. You knew he was frustrated, and you couldn’t help but feel like you might have had something to do with it. You turn the game off with five minutes left, not wanting to see Matthew’s face after they lost their sixth game in a row. You finally finish your paper, setting your laptop down and getting ready for bed. You slip into bed, ready to finally try and get some sleep when you hear Matthew’s voice from your living room, your roommate telling him that you were in bed. 

He opens your bedroom door, poking his head through, “Can I come in?”

You nod, watching as he steps into your room, still in his gameday suit. He lays down, immediately putting his head into your lap, while your hands move to play with his curls.

“I’m sorry,” You whisper, not wanting to break the silence in your room.

“You don’t need to be,” He says, “You were right - you always are.”

“Not always,” You smile, watching as his eyes close under your touch, “Do you want to stay here? We can watch a movie - whatever you want.” Matthew smiles and you knew you’d said the right thing, knowing that after a bad game it’s better to distract him until he finally opens up, “Can I have sweats?”

“Open my top drawer,” You say, “It’s mostly your clothes anyways.”

Matthew laughs, opening the dresser and realizing how many pairs of sweatpants and hoodies you’d actually stolen from him. It wasn’t your fault he has the comfiest hoodies known to man, and that he always offered them to you when it got cold. He steps into your bathroom to change, coming back out and climbing into your bed, pulling you closer to him so you could snuggle into his chest, grabbing your remote and throwing on a movie on Netlifx.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but somewhere halfway through the movie you finally knocked out for the first time in two days, wrapped up in Matthew’s arms. The two of you blocking out the noise from the outside world.

December 2019

With December comes the craziness of finals, but you weren’t about to let it stop you from celebrating Matthew’s birthday in the most ridiculous way you could think of. You’d set up a full on surprise party, using Noah as your partner in crime. The Flames were lucky enough to have a Sunday off, allowing you to have Noah keep Matthew out of his apartment all day so you could decorate. You went all out with decorations and invited everyone you knew was important to him - even having some of his friends from St. Louis fly up for the occasion. 

“I can’t believe you’re doing all of this for someone you’re not even dating,” You hear Brittany say, handing you the other half of the Happy Birthday banner you’d bought. 

“He literally flew me out to St. Louis over the summer for my birthday,” You say, “I think the least I could do is throw a party.”

Brittany shakes her head at you, distracted by Sean carrying in drinks before she could make a comment about how you spent your birthday with Matthew and his family. You greeted all of the guests as they arrived, waiting for Noah’s text that him and Matthew were on their way. Once you got the text, you had everyone hide out, shutting off all of the lights. You hear them come up the hallway, opening the door to Matthew’s place. You all jump out and yell surprise, promptly scaring the birthday boy. He smiles at you, knowing you were the only person who wanted to make a big deal out his birthday in the first place.

“Thank you,” He says, stepping over to you after he greets everyone at the party.

“How did you know it was me?” You joke, “It could’ve been Sam.”

“Because when I told you I didn’t want to do anything for my birthday, you proceeded to tell me that’s fine,” Matthew says, “and I know you were lying.”

You laugh, he was always able to tell whether or not you were lying from your body language alone. It made it easier to just tell him how you were feeling, even if you didn’t want to.

The party was dwindling down by the time you saw Matthew again, his body swaying indicating that he was definitely drunk. You laugh, getting the last groups of guests to head out so you could clean up and get Matthew to bed.

Once you shut the door, pushing Sam and Noah out while they made jokes about you and Matthew walking down the hallway, you turn around to see Matthew grabbing himself a water.

“Alright birthday boy, let’s get you to bed,” you say, trying to move his much larger frame into his bedroom. You’d only ever had to do it once before, a night out after the Flames clinched their playoff spot last season that ended in Matthew puking outside of the bar, and you were sore from trying to haul him to bed.

“Will you stay?” He says when you finally get him to sit on his bed.

“I mean, I planned on it,” you say, gesturing to your bag that was in it’s usual spot in his guest room.

“No in here,” He argues back, crossing his arms like a child. You knew you shouldn’t give in, and you knew climbing into bed with him was only going to make that small crush worse, the crush already growing from the last time you’d slept in the same bed as him. 

You sigh, walking over to his dresser to grab him some clothes, tossing them over to him, “I’m just going to go change.”

You walk across the hall to his guest room, slipping out of the jeans you’d been wearing and throwing on a pair of shorts and one of Matthew’s t-shirts. You tossed your hair in a bun, opening the door to Matthew’s room, seeing him in bed waiting for you. You smile, sliding into bed and cuddling yourself into Matthew’s chest as soon as you laid down.

“Thank you for the party,” Matthew whispers, hands twirling the ends of your hair.

“I told you, it wasn’t me,” You joke, finally letting sleep take over you.

January 2020

When Matthew got voted into the All Star Game, you made sure to tell him an obnoxious amount of time. You also insisted on blaring “All Star” by Smash Mouth in his apartment for an entire week before he told you he was going to take his spare key back if you didn’t stop. What you didn’t expect, was for him to insist you at least came for the actual weekend of the game. But once you found out that Brady was also playing in the game, you decided you should probably make the trip down.

You arrived Friday morning, Matthew making some time in the craziness of the weekend to pick you up from the airport, having you stay with him at his parent’s house. You arrive in the mass chaos of the Tkachuk household, his mom scrambling to get everything ready for the party they planned on having after the game on Saturday. You set your bag down, immediately running into the kitchen to see Brady and Taryn.

“Matt, you can leave now,” Brady says, wrapping you in a tight hug, “We’d much rather have Y/N here.” You laugh, missing the dynamic of seeing Matthew around his family. He was always more relaxed when he was with his family, even though he’d never admit that he actually did miss them during the season.

“Brady she’s my best friend,” Matthew says, grabbing your hand and pulling you into his chest.

“To be fair, I like Taryn more than both of you,” You mutter between the bickering boys.

You spend your Friday running around with Matthew’s mom, helping her with the party as much as you could. You enjoyed your time with her, knowing that it made Matthew happy to see how much his parents like having you around. Friday and Saturday seem like a blur, the craziness of the All Star Game taking over. You spent most of the time with Taryn and the rest of Matthew’s family that came to town, many of whom you’d met the last time the Sens came into town. You finally arrive back at the Tkachuk’s Matthew riding the high from winning the actual game.

Once the party was in full swing you were dragged around the house by Matthew, introducing you to players he’s played with in the past. You had a long conversation with Mitch Marner, who you found out Matthew actually played with when he played for the London Knights. You spent the night of some of the best athletes in the world and you couldn’t help but wonder why Matthew kept you around when he kept company like his friends who played around the league.

You step in Matthew’s bedroom, trying to take a moment for yourself. You look in the mirror, and sigh, just not sure of why you were there in the first place. It didn’t happen much anymore, but every once in a while the thoughts of not being good enough found themselves creeping in your mind. You couldn’t help it, as your hands started to shake, you heard the door open and Matthew step into his room.

“You alright?” He asks, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Why are you friends with me?” You ask harshly.

“What’s this about Y/N?” He asks, confused at your tone.

“I mean, you just, all of the people in your life are these accomplished athletes and are insanely good at what they do, and for some reason you choose to spend all of your time with someone who cries every time they get too stressed out,” You rant out, worried about how Matthew would react to what you were saying. You’d never let him in on this part of you, the part that’s doubtful and scared that one mistake could ruin everything you’ve ever worked for.

You feel Matthew grab your hand, pulling you down to sit on the bed. He kneels in front of you, wiping away the stray tear that had fallen, “I don’t want to spend my time with anyone besides you, please don’t ever think differently. You’re funny and smart and you care about every person in your life even if they don’t deserve it. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want you to feel like this ever.” You smile, trying to hide the butterflies you feel in your stomach when Matthew’s thumb grazes your cheeks to try and calm you down.

“Do you want to stay in here and hangout for the rest of the night, just the two of us?” Matthew whispers, not wanting to break the comfortable silence between you two.

You nod, climbing into his bed and waiting for him to join you, putting on a movie and pulling you into his arms. You knew there was a giant party going on outside of those four walls of Matthew’s childhood bedroom, but nothing could be better than laying in his arms just the two of you.

February 2020

After the All Star Game, you threw yourself into your schoolwork knowing Matthew was headed on a two week road trip. You’d spent the two weeks catching up on an enormous amount of work, so you wouldn’t have to worry about it once Matthew finally got back to Calgary. You were grabbing a coffee before your class, when your phone rang in your pocket - Matthew’s caller ID appearing on the screen.

“Helllllo,” You answer, excited to hear his voice - even if it was just over the phone.

“Hey, do you have plans for Valentine’s Day?” He asks.

“I do not,” you say, knowing for a fact Matthew knew you didn’t.

“We have this Flames gala thing and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?” He asks, and you can hear Johnny and Sam chirping him in the background.

“Matthew, that’s in like two days!” You say, scolding him for not asking you sooner so you could find a dress.

“I know, I just kind of forgot about asking you, I told the team I was taking you though,” He defends, knowing he said he was bringing a date before he even bothered to ask you.

“Yes I will go, but please remember to give me some WARNING next time,” You sigh into the phone, “Now if you’ll let me go, I need to go find a dress.”

“I keep an extra card in my nightstand, use it,” Matthew says, “And before you say no, consider it a gift for not killing me for telling you last minute.”

Initially you laugh, knowing Matthew kept an extra debit card in his apartment because he lost his more frequently than a normal person should, but once his words settled in you began the usual protest you gave him when it came to money, “Matthew…” you start, ready to explain to him that you don’t need him spending ridiculous amounts of money on you.

“Y/N, just take it,” He says, “I’m really too tired for this one.”

You sigh, “Fine, but this is the last time.” “Whatever you say, I’ll tell Brittany to make sure you use it,” He says, and you knew he wasn’t kidding, “Bye.”

You mutter a goodbye back, texting Brittany that you were in dire need of an emergency shopping experience before the Gala on Friday. She laughed when you called, already having received a text from Matthew to make sure that she made you use his card.

The night of the gala you head to Matthew’s, carrying your dress and all of the things you knew you would need to get ready, tossing them in his guest room when you arrive. You head into the bathroom, promptly starting with your makeup when you heard him get in from the rink, yelling about how he was going to shower and heading into his room. You finally set your hair into loose curls and start to step into your dress. The off the shoulder black dress stopped right above your knees and fit you like a glove. Brittany didn’t even tell you how much is cost, grabbing it and paying for it on Matthew’s card before you could even look. But, the way it made you feel outweighed the guilt you felt. You slip on the nude heels you chose to wear, and call Matthew in to help clasp your necklace.

“Wow,” He says, stepping behind you, fastening the necklace to your neck, “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks Matty,” You say, turning out to take in the suit he was wearing. When you told him you decided to get something black, he was excited having had a dark maroon suit in his closet he wanted to wear, “You look alright I guess.” “I look alright?” He asks, lightly tickling at your sides, “You’re such a brat.”

You laugh, “You look super handsome, happy?”

He nods, grabbing your hand and leading you out to his car. The Gala was in full swing when you arrived, the room filled with his teammates, fans, and other important people in the city.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” You hear Noah’s voice behind you while Matthew was over having a conversation with one of the team’s trainers who was at the event.

“What Noah?” You ask, ready for the comment about Matthew taking you as his date.

“You look like that and Chucky still won’t lock you down? He’s really dumber than I thought,” Noah says, gesturing to you.

“Don’t you have a date you should be complimenting?” You say back, knowing Noah had brought some girl to the event, even though they were never around long.

“Not one that looks as good as you,” Noah says, “So, still got that little crush.”

“Yes and I’m done talking about it,” You say, watching Noah’s hands go up in defeat as Matthew steps behind you.

“Do you want to dance?” Matthew asks, ignoring the face Noah was giving him for being so gentle with you.

You nod, grabbing his hand and following him out to the dancefloor. You place your arms around his neck while his move to your hips, swaying to the music. You look behind you, seeing Noah smirking at the two of you while dancing with his own date. You throw up your middle finger, not letting Matthew notice. The two of you spend the night with each other, dancing and having Matthew introduce you to a lot of people who were working in the front office with the team that you’d never met before. You couldn’t help but feel like something was changing between the two of you, especially when he kept his hand on your lower back while walking through the gala, or his hand gently stroking your thigh while you guys sat at your table.

March 2020

You never talked about how you spent your Valentine’s Day romantically slow dancing with your best friend at a Gala his team was throwing after that night. You couldn’t tell if thing’s had actually changed between the two of you, or if it was a result of the romantic atmosphere. Thing’s with Matthew had returned back to the normal routine, with the Flames in the middle of their playoff push, Matthew was around less, spending more and more time at the rink. You understood, taking the time to spend some time with your friends that weren’t him.

You finally both had a day off, deciding that you’d head over to his place to cook the both of you dinner. You arrive at his place before he does, placing your bags down and getting straight to cooking. You hear him come in, humming at the smells of the food.

“Hey stranger,” He says, joking about the fact that you haven’t been spending as much time together as you usually did.

“Oh please, you talked to me about your practice today on the phone for an hour, you’re hardly starved for attention,” You say, calling him out for being dramatic.

“I need all of your attention or I might actually die,” He says, wrapping you in a hug, “So what’s been up with you?” “Same old same old, this guy from my class asked me out on a date, I haven’t told him yes or no,” You shrug, moving back to cooking dinner.

“No,” He says, instantly, and you turn off the oven, turning around to face him.

“No?” You ask.

“I mean- uh- fuck,” He stutters, “You can’t go on a date with that guy I’m sure you’re too good for him.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms, “Matthew I know you live in a world where you don’t want me to get hurt, but I can’t not date because you don’t want me to.”

“I know, I just-” He starts before you cut him off.

“You what Matthew? Give me one damn good reason why I shouldn’t go out with this guy,” You snap back.

“Because I want you to date me,” He says quietly, “I wanted this to be better, you deserve it to be perfect, but I love you so much, and I can’t keep denying it any longer. I love when you spend all of your time here because I love spending time with you. I love that you get along with my teammates, and my family. I love when you get dressed up to go out, because I get to walk around with the most beautiful girl in the world under my arm. I was just terrified you didn’t feel the same way and that you’d hate me. Then when we were dancing at the Gala it felt different, like you were as into me as I’m into you.”

You uncross your arms, walking around the island to stand in front of him, placing your arms around his neck, “That might have been the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” “Really? Cause I think I could do better-” Matthew starts, but you cut him off by pressing your lips to his. His hands move to cup your face, kissing you back slowly, the two of you melt into each other like you’d been made for each other all along.

“I love you too,” You mutter against his lips, feeling him smile.

“You’re not gonna go on that date right?” He whispers, leaning his forehead against yours.

You laugh, “No, there’s only person I want taking me out on a date,” you joke, placing another kiss to his lips.

“Sounds like a lucky guy,” Matthew jokes back, kissing you again, solidifying how truly right it feels to finally be together.

[bokunosimpfiction]

Yandere!Heisenberg x Reader Pt 3

A/N: Since y’all demanded a plot that’s what you’ll get. Will it be good? No. I’ve never written anything with a plot in my entire life. Ever. Not even when I did Nanowrimo or whatever. I just bullshitted the whole thing. Like I’ll do with this fic. Y’all are going to have to remind me to update because I have the attention span of a goat. I’ll try to update this on Saturdays??? IDK at this point. ALSO, WHY THE FUCK IS THIS SO POPULAR?????????? DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY NOTES THIS HAS ON AO3???? 69????SIXITY FUCKING NINE??? I HATE EVERYTHING MY LEGACY WILL BE READER CALLING HEISENBERG DOOFSCHMIRTZ I HATE EVRYTHING DSHFUGSADFJ

Synopsis: You have totally, %100, given up on escaping. Totally. You haven't been gathering supplies for one, final last hurray. Nope. Totally not. All you have to do is persuade Heisenberg of that so you can change your mind at the last minute. Y’all know the trigger warning for this series but if you don’t tw:kidnapping (implied)

Taglist: it’s exclusivly @localdepressedvampire​  so if you want to be on it for just this story or for all my pieces fill out the google doc in my pinned post or dm me and I’ll put you on it. :)

             You’ve made a breakthrough in your long-term plan of escapism. Even with the mini escape attempts that were really about exploring the factory and less about actually trying to get out, you hadn’t made a lot of progress: until now.

             Well, two, really… Okay, maybe 1 ½. Firstly, you found a sawed-off two-barrel shotgun. With ammo. In fact, there was a various amount of ammo around the factory, but no actual gun. Until now. The second discovery, which is nowhere near as useful, was a window. Which was probably 50 or more feet up from the ground. You didn’t get a chance to inspect it that much, considering as soon as you saw it and got a glimpse at the far-off ground, you had to run again from Lycans.

             Which gives you a basic idea of a way to escape. You knew where the ammo was, you knew where the gun was and had a route to the edge of the building, and hopefully could find stairs at the end of the hallway. Now all you had to do was find a time where you could be gone long enough to get a decent head start before, he notices you’re even gone. Even when he was in the workshop, he kept a close eye on you, keeping you in arms-length to the point where it taxed on both of your mental health.

             And even then, in that chair in the small room, you watch him work in the finer details on something the size of your head and torso. You try not to look at the phone in your lap, he doesn’t even know you have it, much less how great the reception is in the building. How did he not know about his old phone that was still working fine? Oh well, he doesn’t need to know you’re looking at memes and reading feel-good wolf-star fanfic on ao3.

             The best idea you had was to leave him while he was asleep, but there were two some issues with that: he clung to you like his life depended on it, your back to his chest and arms around you almost tight enough to keep you awake; it was dark as hell in the hallways of the factory as is, but it would be impossible to navigate safely with the lights; and the Lycans were most active outside at night, which was where you were trying to go. They’ve tried to eat you before as they show no discrimination on food.

             The only way to get a good enough head start would be to leave while he didn’t notice you were gone, and wouldn’t notice for a long, long time. And that when it hit you. The only time he ever left you by yourself was when he had to deal with the other three lords. And while he left you in that basement that you originally woke up in, you had memorized your way out and found that going up five flights of stairs took you to that faithful widow.

             Would you have enough time to explore and look for an actual exit/entrance, or should you play it safe and find a way to go out that window. You wanted to laugh to yourself, you’d never think that going down a 50ft plus drop would be considered safe, but here you were, kidnapped and held hostage by one of the people your late grandmother warned you not to associate with, or even go near. The letter you received directly quoted “the four lords and their mother, Mother Miranda, are not to be approached or associated with at any costs. You’ll know them when you see them, they smell like death and money. See them and run.”

             You can’t help but find that ironic, considering that you did try to run, heeded her warning, and still faced the consequences that were far worse than she had warned you about. You regretted coming here, to this small village, when you first arrived: no friends, and even those you tried to approach held you to her standard and expected them to be just like her. You were far from her kind and optimistic nature (at least that’s what you heard of her; you hadn’t even known of her whereabouts until she was dead).

             Even the duke, who had helped smuggle you into the village, didn’t seem fond of you. It was a shame, you tried so hard to impress him. But he saw you to a point where you could easily reach her old cottage without having too many issues, turned his cart around, and left without a good-bye. It bothered you to no end that your only companion for about a year or so was an elderly outside cat and the creaking noises the walls made at night.

             And then the cat died and not even a week later you got kidnapped. You never considered yourself lucky, but damn if that wasn’t the worst streak of luck you’ve had in a long time.

             You pretend to turn a page in your book and scroll through your Instagram feed, seeing friends having fun at the beach, or studying at the library, or your old best friend taking selfies in provocative clothing to your ex-boyfriend. Did she forget he cheated on you? She wasn’t always the smartest, but she brought that heartbreak upon herself. You see a photo of your mom, she had posted a picture of a black and white photo of her with her mom, you’re guessing, you have no idea who that old woman is.

             This is the last photo I had with my mom before she died. We lost contact after I moved out. I wish we parted on better terms, Nana.

             She’s in a prairie dress, holding an ancient-looking key in one hand, and the other wrapped around her mom, a middle-aged woman with long hair in two braids and a face that had too many stress wrinkles. You guess your mom was as bad as you were in college. The background looks dreary. You would have guessed it to be the quality of the photo if you hadn’t recognized the house behind them as the house you lived in used to live in.

             The loops on the handle of the key look familiar. You spread your fingers apart to zoom in and see the blurry engravings on the side. It was the payment you gave to sneak into the village. You thought it was a worthless family heirloom at most and found it strange that he had even found interest in the key, or even valued it deeper than money in general. Maybe this photo or other photos of you and your family would help out.

             Why is that key suddenly piquing your interest? Were you that bored, as to sit there and think about a key that was at least twice your age? A key that you didn’t even have. You needed a hobby besides escapism and rejecting your captor’s sexual advances. You look up at him again, only to find him leaning against the desk, hat off and sunglass placed on his forehead, his gaze on you. It wasn’t his normal piercing one, that studied you and calculated your every move, but soft and lazy. His current gaze was dreamy; he was daydreaming about you. You found that equally undaring s it was unnerving.

             “Karl.”

             “Yes, Sweetiepea?” Honestly, what the fuck.

             “Firstly, why are you staring at me like that? Secondly, that is the most disgusting way to use that pet name. I need to take a shower after you called me that.”

             He chuckles light-heartedly. Even his softer more genuine, happy chuckles are booming and loud. “Okay… Sugarplum!” And he busts out laughing.

             Clearly dodging the first question and focusing on the second. You can’t believe you gave him ammo for his annoying-you-gun. And you thought you’d grown immune to most of his… less-savory traits. Were you growing used to him? Next thing you know you’re going to like him and develop Stockholm syndrome!

             “You’re a shit head, hobo magneto…” You turn your head away and let your hair cover half your face so he can’t see you smile. You’ll miss him when you escape and get the duke to smuggle you back to your home in Bucharest. But only a little. Just because calling Heisenberg these names are funny.

             “Why don’t you call me by my name, I know you know it.”

             “You sure about that?” You quip back.

             “You’ve lived with me for at least two months now!”

             “Hm…. I think I know your name! It’s uh…” You are totally faking not knowing his name. “It’s… Heidi Carlson? Yeah, that sounds about right!”

             “It’s Karl Heisenberg!”

             “Quit being so silly, Heidi! Maybe it’s nap-time!” This was a little too fun.

             He looks back at his project for a moment and genuinely considers it. “I know you’re being antagonistic but you’re probably right.” And with that, he walks towards you and goes to scoop you up. You have to shut your book quickly in order for him not to notice the phone in between its pages before you let him pick you up.

             He immediately notices that. “Are… Are you sick?”

             “No! Of course not!” Because you genuinely aren’t sick, and he’s already up in your business as-is, you don’t need him dotting on you because he thinks you’re sick or something. You’ll go fucking crazy.

             “You’ve put in zero effort into anything remotely physical since your last little failed escape attempt.” He gave it a little bit of thought. “You’ve given up, haven’t you, and you’re just depressed about it aren’t you?”

             You want to say no, you really do, but if Heisenberg thinks you’ve given up on escaping, perhaps it’ll give you enough space to plan the big one. The reverse heist so to speak. “No- I… okay maybe I have but I still don’t like you.

             He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Good girl. Now let’s get us that well-deserved nap.”

             You plug your nose and turn away as a joke. “You’ve gotta take a bath first, you smell like oil and sweat.” You don’t fight it, because you have to play the part, but you still have to act a little bit like yourself.

             “Okay, fine doll, but don’t think you’ve escaped my barrage of affection, because as soon as I get out of the shower-“

             You bonk him. And he looks at you so confused before he smiles and leans down to nuzzle his nose against yours. You try to hold the bile back in your mouth and lean forward and peck his lips before leaning back. You failed at trying to not visibly gag.

             “Ew… I can’t believe I just kissed you.”

             “Well, I guess someone caught feelings… Didn’t they?”

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Lionheart (Bonus Part)

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Fem Reader

Request: a pt 2 to Lionsheart wherein Anna Morgana actually develops some ~feelings~ for reader, due to them spending more and more time together? Then Cordelia gets a tad jealous, and second guesses her decision to bring Anna to Robichaux (but it’s obv resolved in a healthy and date I say, cute, manner)?

A/N: this isn’t my best, but I hope you’ll like it, anon (idk if this is what you meant by “cute” or if it was a secret code for “threesome”, in that case I’m sorry to disappoint). x

Word count: ~ 1 800

“Bacon and maple syrup pancakes,” Anna Morgana said as she set the plate down on the table before you. “Gross. I don’t understand people who actually like this.”

“Shut up, you fool. You don’t know what you’re saying.” You grabbed your fork and knife and licked your lips. “This is Heaven on Earth.”

“Yes but does it taste better than Foxxy?” Madison quipped as she brushed past you on her way out of the kitchen.

Anna Morgana burst out laughing and spilled her tea. “Oh, crap,” she moaned. She glanced up at you, smirked. One of her hands flew out; a flick of her fingers, and the tea was back in her mug.

“You’re so good at this,” you cheered. “You made so much progress.”

“Thank you,” Anna Morgana grinned, blushing with pleasure. “In two years I’ll be the new Supreme.”

You smiled indulgently. Jokes about the rise of the new Supreme weren’t exactly your favorites, because of what it meant would happen to Cordelia. But you knew Anna Morgana was fond of her and didn’t mean any harm.

“All things considered, it wouldn’t be that bad if you were the next Supreme,” you retorted, just as Cordelia walked into the kitchen.

“Wishing to get rid of me already, Y/N?” Cordelia pouted.

You rolled your eyes at her. “I meant for the Coven. Anna would make a fair leader.”

“Miss Cordelia it’d kill me to kill you,” Anna Morgana piped. She paused, frowned. “Not that I didn’t try already.”

“Water under the bridge,” Cordelia assured her with a fond smile. She ran her hand lightly in your hair before moving to the stove to pour herself some coffee. You gazed at her adoringly. It was a hot summer day, and she had tied her hair up in a ponytail, blond strands curling lazily down the nape of her neck. The thin, light blue summer dress she was wearing clung loosely to her waist. She turned, cup of coffee in one hand, and sauntered towards you, barefoot and smiling, looking exactly like an angel.

She was still smiling when she dropped a good-morning kiss on your lips. “Busy day today,” she said, almost sadly. “Don’t get up to mischief.”

“Anna and I were thinking of making lemonade for the girls,” you said. “It’s going to be a very hot day. And then we’ll go to town to buy henna for Anna’s hair.”

Cordelia laid a hand on your shoulder, fingers stroking your skin absentmindedly. “Anna and you,” she repeated. For a second her eyes veiled over, but then she offered a grin. “I’m so happy you girls are becoming such great friends, after everything that happened.”

You flashed a happy smile at Anna Morgana. Things had changed for the best between you two, and you were now close friends. Very close friends, actually. You spent most of your spare time with her, as Cordelia was busy being the Supreme. Anna Morgana and you discovered with badly-hidden delight that you had many interests in common, including a slightly unhealthy obsession with horror movies. The scarier the better. You and her would spend most of your evenings cuddling on the couch, in your pajamas, eating ice-cream till your stomachs hurt. You’d laugh together at all the stupid decisions the characters made, and cheer them on when they were being particularly plucky. At this point you had almost seen everything you thought was worth seeing, and were considering moving on to romantic comedies.

But the best part of those horror movie nights was joining Cordelia in bed and pretending you were still scared, so she would stroke your hair and hold you tight throughout the night. A sleepy kiss on your forehead, a whisper, “You’re safe” or “Love you” or “I’m here”, warmth, your heart melting.

You didn’t notice it, but as time went by Cordelia developed a new habit. She would emerge from her office when you and Anna Morgana were watching a movie and pace the room, making herself something to eat, chatting with some of the girls, sitting with you for a few minutes with her legs crossed and her hands folded on her knee.

One night Anna Morgana screamed when her favorite character got murdered by a zombie, threw her arms around your shoulders and buried her face in your chest. Cordelia’s brow furrowed just the slightest bit. And you should have seen it then, or even later for Cordelia’s face was always so open and honest; but the zombie killed someone else, and you shouted profanities at the screen, and Anna Morgana giggled, and Cordelia stood up with a smile and walked off.  

You waited for her to join you in bed that night. At one point you dozed off, and when your eyes opened again it was half past two and the bed was still empty. That was way past her bedtime; even when she was particularly busy, she would crawl into bed before one, or you would go get her and coax her into getting some rest.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you got up and shuffled downstairs. The light in the kitchen was on. Cordelia was sitting at the table, squinting at some papers, her left hand wrapped around a half-empty cocktail glass.

“Cordelia?” you called softly.

Her head snapped up. Her eyes locked with yours, but she raised her eyebrows in confusion as if she couldn’t quite recognize you.

“Delia,” you tried.

She giggled. “That’s me.”She giggled again. “My name’s Delia.”

You shook your head fondly, fighting a smile. “I know it’s you, silly. What are you doing?”

Cordelia pointed at her glass. “Did you know Campari and soda’s my favourite drink?” she said, her words just a bit slurred.

Tipsy, then. You felt a surge of worry. Cordelia never got tipsy. She was too worried something terrible would happen to her girls and she wouldn’t be able to save them because she’d had one drink too many.

You sat on the chair next to her and reached out for her hand. “What’s the occasion?”

Another giggle. “You and Anna.”

You frowned. “Me and Anna?”

“Yes, you and Anna.” Cordelia raised her glass and took a few sips. When she met your gaze again, her eyes seemed sad. “I’m raising a toast to your wonderful friendship.”

“Ok…?” you said, confused, but before you had time to probe that remark, the sadness vanished from Cordelia’s eyes and she laughed drunkenly.

“Have a drink with me, beautiful,” she slurred, bumping your shoulder with hers. She brought your hand up to her mouth, kissed it, gazed at you dreamily. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re very pretty?”

You rolled your eyes at her and poked her nose. “You’re drunk.”

“Am not.” She sighed. “You and Anna are really good friends,” she said, her voice suddenly very small. You frowned, gave her hand a squeeze.

“Delia,” you called gently. Those quick changes in her mood were starting to get you quite worried.

Cordelia lowered her gaze, stared at her glass. “Sometimes I wonder if I did right when I brought Anna Morgana to Robichaux’s. First she tried to kill you and now she’s trying to steal you from me.”

This was...unexpected of Cordelia. She looked almost as surprised as you, brow pushing up in disbelief.

“I…” she stammered, “I’ve no idea why I said that.” She glanced down at her glass sheepishly. “I think I’ve had enough to drink.”

“Hey,” you whispered, leaning towards her.

“I didn’t mean that,” she said quickly, looking at you, doe eyes big and sad. “Of course Anna Morgana belongs here with us. She needed help, and that’s what I do. I help my girls.”

“You do,” you nodded.

“Anna Morgana is such a gifted young woman.”She paused, took a breath. “I don’t know why I said that.”

You tried to give her a smile. “You should have told me how you were feeling.”

Cordelia’s mouth opened on a silent “oh”, curled in embarrassment. “I don’t mind Anna, really. I just wish I had more spare time to spend with you.” A sad smile. “I wish I got to do with you all the things you do with her.”

“Can I – you know what, sit up, sit up babe.”

You laid both hands on her shoulders and straddled her. Surprise flicked across her face, but was soon replaced by adoration. Her hands found their rightful place on the curve of your waist.  

“I’m pretty sure Anna doesn’t get to do that,” you whispered, leaning in to plant a kiss, sweet and loving, on her mouth.

Cordelia’s eyes fluttered closed. She hummed happily and bit her lower lip.

“Or this,” you went on, trailing kisses along her jaw. You nipped at her ear lobe and were rewarded by a soft gasp. One of Cordelia’s arms slid around your waist, pulling you closer.

“I hope she doesn’t,” she murmured, eyes still closed.

“I’m pretty sure.”

She opened one eye. “You’re pretty sure?” she teased.

You hummed. Tilted your head so you could kiss her lips again. “You’re cute when you’re jealous,” you whispered with a grin.

Cordelia opened one eye again. “I’m the Supreme, I don’t get jealous,” she pouted.

“Fine, then you’re just a tiny bit jealous. Because you love me.”

Her other eye opened, soft and incredibly fond. Cordelia’s teeth sank into her bottom lip as her mouth curled into that sweet, infatuated school-girl smile of hers that never failed to make your insides melt. “I do,” she said with a giggle. She raised a finger, poked your lip. “I’m the – “a hiccup “ –‘preme and I love you.”

“Alright, almighty ‘preme, let’s get you to bed.”

You wrapped one arm around her waist for support, just in case, as you walked up the stairs, which proved difficult for Cordelia seemed intent on kissing your neck. She was giggling against your skin, her hair tickling your nose, her hands sneaking under your shirt in a way that was entirely too distracting. Heat was slowly building in your stomach.

“Delia,” you groaned as she flicked her tongue over your pulse point. “Can you – gosh, can’t you wait?”

She let out a smug noise and proceeded to pepper hot open-mouthed kisses down your neck. You tripped over nothing and almost lost your footing.

A door opened. Anna Morgana’s tired face popped up. She squinted at you. “What’s up?” she mumbled.

You walked past her, Cordelia’s face still buried in your neck, praying your cheeks weren’t too flushed. “Don’t mind us. I’m only on my way to tuck the Supreme in,” you said, with a casual wave of your hand, as if Cordelia’s mouth wasn’t doing obscene things to your skin.

“The very cute Supreme who’s cute because she’s not jealous,” Cordelia giggled drunkenly.

Anna Morgana’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Right,” she said.

She was about to close her door and go back to sleep when Cordelia suddenly raised her head, locked eyes with her, quirked one eyebrow, and, with a smile that was so wicked it would have made the Devil shiver, sank her teeth into your cheek to sign her name in a neat row of crescent marks.

[muffindaddystyles]

𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐃

Author note: Mention of drugs, sickness and blood (if you're not comfortable with it don't read it) . It mighty be heart warming fluffyyyyyy.

You're his kitten. No matter the consequences you're. Cause even in his anger sometimes (which's rare and it's on the silly go-to's) he still sticks to that pet name because he met you like that under the bus stop's shelter in a heavy rain offered you an umbrella (while you were huffing and puffing like a kitten annoyed with the weather), walked you home, had a tea with you and some chocolate chip cookies. Been bestfriends from that year and there isn't a red light to your guys wild adventures—but he's been having a rough time recently. Had a cruel heart shattering breakup from a relationship that he thought was a never ending dream (she brought him happiness in a weird way he couldn't put into words) indeed it tightened your chest but his happiness's most important to you. To overcome it he's been scribbling notebooks over notebooks with lyrics that screams he miss her and the sex for the most part of it. It breaks your heart.

He's usually the one to melt all over you, give you forehead kisses, cuddles you when your periods are the bitchiest, makes you brekkie if he stays a night, runs you a bath and sometimes brings you pomegranate berried candles (he lies that he got them as a gift, he's one hell of a liar). He takes care of you with so much gentleness and helps you with study after wiping your tears and reassuring you telling you how proud he's of you. It made you guilty sometimes 'cos if you'd be in camille's place. . .you'd never be able not to get jealous. She was cool with it. Fills you with another curiosity that maybe she treated it like a fling.

He was devastated. Knocking on your door feebly. Then the moment your small confused body was under his weary gaze, boom!! It crashed upon him like a pitch storm and he fell to his knees tucking his head in your armpit crying his heart out. At that moment you felt his pain radiating to you and twisting your own stomach with a dagger, it was insufferable. He gave out no-deep scrapes but not to freak your bones muttered that he lost her. Eventually his bottled up emotions seeped into hues infront of you by passing week and to your littlest of information you got to know that they didn't ended up well in some perspectives so their relationship turned out to be a downfall. So As, you do with your girlie best-friend when she have a breakup you did it with Harry too. It didn't included feral clubbing (you left that part to his mates) but watching sappy movies that could fill your ice-cream bucket once you eat it whole, doing homemade face masks, playing drunk uno and knocking on your neighbours door to run way at last, dragging his arse to museum and in all of this you ended up convincing him to adopt a kitty (she lives with you thou).

The roles have been reversed completely!

He's been living at your flat for five weeks now. It's fading his usual cheekiness and the itch to annoy you every second he gets. Instead, it's just eating, spending bits of hours with you, going out with his mates and coming back to crash at your couch padding in your room in the wee of night demanding a warm coddle from you and that his back hurts from the cruelty of that single spring popping from the leather, staying with him when he'd wrench his stomach out in the morning. He's sensitive. His heart's soft that's one of the reason he gets hurt real quick, you admire that about him and reminds him that it's one of his qualities you're totally in love with. You're gentle with him. Giving him space and time to recover. Going with him at his friend's birthday little get together not drinking at all knowing one would have to stay sober as he chugged red wine staining his hawain shirt and when he clumsily poked his pink tongue out lazily to reach for the cigarette in her hand you tugged him back into you before he'd burn his tongue with sparkles announcing it's time to head back home and he'd be a pain in arse (a beautiful one though because his antics makes you all mushy) when he pretended to steal sandwiches from the table hiding them under his shirt saying that "'m pregnant with twins and it's hard to carry them" while you dragged him outside making him wear his coat like a stubborn toddler. Making him cupcakes sometimes, playing with his fluff of curls while he reads the book she gave him. It hurts. But, it subsides down with his single amiable glance that tells you he needs you. He always had. He always will. You give him extra forehead kisses and pecks on cheek while leaving for UNI, because it's irresistible to give dust to his pouty sulk.

It's seven in the morning when he tumbled through your door (has a key, you even brought his clothes and toothbrush from his house—he even uses your strawberry scented shampoo and body wash) his nose tip blushed matching his cheeks, eyes pooling with haze and hair poking in every direction. You were studying for a class you've in an hour. When you saw his irirses blown out you arched your brow putting the cup down beside your thick book, to mingle his sadness he's experimenting different fun wild things (told you bout it and you even called Mitch to take care of him).

"How many am I, pet?" You asked walking towards him seeing him struggle to get out of his vans and your giggles echoed into coldness when he peers down at your crouched state with his gold fish-y eyes, "dunno. . . but ye'r seem like. .like a-a sunflower floatin' in me head." His lips molding around his each word agonisingly slow drawl and his voice hoarse and scratchy. "You need rest, bambi." You got him out of his jeans and socks knowing he despises to sleep with layers on. "I'll be back with you in some hours. Hmm? Then we'll snuggle into blankets, you me and. . .salsa the pussy cat." You have to control your laugh everytime you take the kitty's name (Harry's worst at giving names you were horrified when he once joked that he loves chelsea boots so much he could name his daughter Chelsea) He whines at that nodding his head but not loosening his grip from around your wrist while you tucked him under your baby green patch work quilt. It's like his brain and heart can't decide how to choose.

On your way back you got Jeff's call asking why Harry isn't picking his phone his own voice resembling that of Harry's and you know he'd be looking shit at the time. Harry was still snoring out like a bulb in bright day on his tummy and you shook him gently at first but when he didn't woke up you had to be a bit harsher. "Harry wake up pet. . . Jeff's been calling ye for since." But, not even a hum in response so you placed your finger under his nose checking if he's even alive. Gratefully he was just sleeping like a literal corpse (he argues that he isn't that bad of a sleeper but in fact he is. Everything around him would burn down and he wouldn't even change a side).

It was seven in the evening when you were preparing for dinner when he woke up grumpy. His nose scrunched up, lips quirked up as if he tasted something yucky and his gait jello. You eyed him quietly even when he came in kitchen to drink water.

"Jeff was callin'. . ." You quipped stirring the veggies before pouring soup into a bowl and sliding it his way on the counter, "I know bombarded me phone with calls—" He gruffed spooning a mouthful and you flinched when he tried to cool it inside his mouth with "hawahhoohaha" little sounds (he knew it was hot, he's just an impatient leech).

"Stop being a gremlin. He told me ye' aren't writing, leaving everything like a cliffhanger neither you're attending the meetings he calls you at. . . I think you're done with your mourning it's time to do what you actually love and is there for you. Your music." You frown seriously trying to put some senses into his forever high brain. He drops the spoon back and dips his brows frustratedly, pinching his eyes shut.

"Fuckin' hell. Stop being my mama!" It's not the first time you guys are arguing and you're not gonna take it to heart. You stood up towering him and jabbing your finger to his chest, "you better stop filling your system with drugs before eighteen year olds come to you thinking you're a drug dealer—" He snickers at that a total mocking one (you know he's doing nothing hard it's just shrooms in the safe environment otherwise you'd have never never allowed him) but still you had to bring him back to his line so it was necessary. "Piss off." He mutters still slurping on his soup and you left him there with a loud smack on his head, "Wanker."

You care about him. Always did. Always will. He's the love of your life. Even your love has nourishment of just water and lacks sunshine from your sun it's still there into existence, how could you see him like this? Wasting his precious time and energy. It's impossible.

All you heard before going to deep slumber was the tinsy creak of your main door after that it was silent and darkness until now your phone buzzed under your pillow resonating Niall's tired words. You were a wreck havoc fumbling for your coat and wallet, covering pathway to tube with shivering legs hallucinating that everyone's eyeing your fiddly self with judgemental stare even though there're few.

You rushed to Niall's doorsteps knocking like a maniac, "where's he? Is he okay? told ye—" You pushed him aside marching inside to look for him. "He looked fine, he's a strong guy y/n they took him to hospital." You snaps your neck raising your brows.

"What the fuck, d'ya mean hospital!?" Your heart hammering in her ribcage overthinking the worst scenarios. "Take me there. right. fuckin' now." You tell him firmly not caring even if he's high too. Niall leads you to his car heating it up in the first beat taking glances of your petite body leaning against the glass with lips sucked in, eyes watered and legs constantly on bounce so placed his hand atop your knee giving you reassuring squeeze and a genial smile.

Your pink cheeks warming up with the heat of hospital radiating your way and loud growl left your chest when your blurry vision cleared to the sight of dishelved Harry sitting on the bench outside of ER, his irirses weary, mouth stuffed with cotton and has few scratches of rashes on his elbows otherwise he's fine. With each step of yours towards him something kept breaking inside you like you're walking on the nails and it's ripping you raw. He raised his head timidly hearing footsteps and when his eyes fell over your worried state panic flashed over his features and his only gaze turned you a puddling emitting heavy sobs within you before reaching towards him. The reality of situation dawning upon you because from what Niall told you in the car that they were high trying to have some fun, drove around neighbour hood and Harry jumped out of the window and bit his tongue between his teeth resulting in heavy bleeding a deep gnash (the fuckin' dumbstick he is).

"I hate you. I hate you so fuckin' much! you bastard." You tried to shout at him but the voice that came out of your mouth was that of mice as you threw harsh blows at his chest, bottom lip jutting wet and salty tears tricking down. He wraps his hand around your wrists ushering you closer down to his chest speaking muffled, "'orry." causing you to grunt angrily into the crook of his neck.

"Sorry my ass!" When you tried to pull back he tightened his hold round your neck snuggling you warmly to him with a hum. Jeff came back with medicines and when he parted his lips to speak in his defence you ignored him wiping your tears with the heel of your palms muttering a, "I hate you guys." The drive back was silent and the walk to your flat too, you passed by him to lock yourself into your room (you wouldn't because of the fact you wouldn't be able to sleep if not sure he's okay few feets away from you). When Harry attempted to roll his tongue to make some words nothing came out but a hiss making you spin, "'s okay we'll speak in the mornin'." Saying this you headed to bed and when you were bout to turn the lamp off he was lurking at the foot of your bed with a pillow in his arms smushing his face into it and squeezing it close to his chest gesticulating you that he wants a cuddle.

"Only 'cos y're adorable." You muttered moving your bum to make space for him suppressing your cooe when he grinned showing nothing but snow cotton, fuckin' hell being this cute should be illegal! He snapped his finger to call Salsa and she instantly galloped to shrink into his side while you spooned him. You woke up to the running tap and the time you were stretching under your quilt with yawns he padded out looking healed than last night.

He got a little lisp as he spoke, "can we talk?" You nodded knuckling at your sticky eyes criss-crossing your legs. "'Forgive me kitten." He continues, "sorry fo' mistreatin' ye' last night." You shake your head not realizing tears are dropping down your collarbones.

"Please. . .I don't wanna be a party-pooper in your life. you can live your life to finest but not at the sake of your life Harry– and. . . and if you're trying to invade the feelin' of sadness with all of this I don't approve it. What bout me? dunno what'll do if somethin' will happen to you, pet. S'not fair to me. is it? Just. . . love y—" your confessions cameflouging with sobs.

"Oh baby. ." He immediately cradled you in his embrace trying to soothe you with 'sorrys' and 'I'll never do somethin' like that again, promise'. Smooching slobery kisses all over your face and when you gazed up at him attracting him closer to your clean warm features all he did was peck the corner of your lips tenderly pulling away to pat your hair with a sigh.

"So. . .ye' love me." He teased you and you rolled your eyes grabbing his chin with your fingers, "show me your tongue." biting down your laugh when he retorted misheviously, "hmm. Wanna kiss it better?" Blowing him off with a remark that he's an utter pervert hiding the fact it splashed crimson to your neck.

"Mind makin' me poor self some brekkie?" He pouts and you giggled pecking the corner of his burgundy lips getting a timid smile in return, "in trade of?" He hip-checked you straddling Salsa over his shoulder and grabbing her little paws to expertise her in some dancey-dance moves.

"Mind bloggin' orgasm–ique dinner." He cackled loudly at the end when you shook your head in fake disappointment at him and he clinged by your side helping you to make some breakfast.

Think so you guys will figure it out.

[thrillridesz]

i don’t belong in this club ▫ sunwoo

➳ pairing: best friend!sunwoo x fem reader ➳ genre: angst, fluff (?) ➳ word count: 1.5k ➳ warnings: mentions of alcohol, language ( PG 15 ) ➳ requested? : yes

a/n: unedited!

“Don’t drive if you don’t know how to!”

The driver in the opposite lane screamed, his face almost purple with rage as Sunwoo sped past steadily.

The slew of vulgarities was difficult and nauseating to hear but even if he did find them so, he didn’t show it. His eyes were trained on the road ahead of him, his fingers gripping tightly on the leather steering wheel as he stepped on the pedal. The needle on the speed indicator at the dashboard of the car was increasing tilting towards maximum speed and although Sunwoo knew the consequences of going past the speed limit, he couldn’t care less.

The phone chimed merrily next to him and without wasting a single second, Sunwoo answered the call.

“Y/n? Are you still there?”

“Suuuun... Woo! *hic* You called?”

The last word came out as a slur and anyone from a mile away could have heard how drunk you were even with the bass pounding in the background.

“You said you were at the Reveal club right?” He asked, the worry etched on his face as he failed to hide the anxiety in his voice.

“Deeed I?” You asked, sounding like you were barely even conscious.

“Hey, beautiful! Let’s take another shot!”

Sunwoo’s face darkened significantly as his grip tightened on the steering wheel, his heart pounding heavily. His fingernails were starting to make indentation on the leather sleeve of the wheel and he could feel himself start to shake as he said in a steady voice, “Stay there. I’ll be there soon.”

As he drove along the highway, the only thing that was on his mind was you. The mere thought of you getting dead drunk and vulnerable was enough to make him go crazy with worry and even the idea of you potentially running into trouble drained the blood from his face. It felt like forever before Sunwoo finally managed to pull up hastily at the road outside the club, albeit carelessly. Ignoring the dirty look cast in his directions at his absurd parking, he made a beeline for the entrance of the club.

Before he could even rest his foot on the first step, a burly bouncer stepped in front of him, his muscular frame almost enveloping the boy.

“Hey, kid. Queue up.” The bouncer quirked an eyebrow, gesturing towards the snaking line of eager club patrons. The group of teenagers at the front of the line were giving him annoyed looks and were beginning to whisper among themselves as the patrons at the back leaned to the side to catch what was happening.

“Queue up! Don’t be a dick!” A man at the back hollered and the others murmured their agreement while some laughed out loud at the snide remark. Sunwoo regarded them quietly and without missing a beat, he turned back to the bouncer.

“I just need to get in there to get my friend. She’s stupid drunk and I’m afraid something might happen to her.”

The bouncer scoffed, folding his massive arms across his chest.

“That is not my problem or anyone else’s problem.” Cocking his head, the look in his eyes hardened as he replied, “Queue up to get in or don't get in at all.”

Sunwoo could feel his heart sinking as he surveyed the line and turned back to look at the towering bouncer who glowered down at him. Remembering the intermingle of voices in the background when you had called him earlier, he felt an inherent fear seep in, a fear greater than that of the one he now had for the bouncer who looked just about three times his size. Before he could hold himself back, Sunwoo made a mad dash past the bouncer, much to the latter’s surprise and subsequent anger.

“Stop that punk!”

As he stepped into the club, the dim purple light and flashing beams of multicoloured lights assaulted his sights as he tried to navigate through gyrating to a pop tune blasting from gigantic speakers that were situated on either sides of the DJ’s booth. The smell of alcohol and perfume threatened to gag him as Sunwoo searched frantically around the club, turning behind him to look out for bouncers. His blood ran cold with fright but he forced himself to push through. Your safety was more important and he would try anything to get you out of here.

It was almost as if the heavens had heard his silent prayers when he spotted you lounging around the drink bar but his face quickly darkened when he noticed the two other guys hanging by your side who seemed to be providing you with more shots.

“Why don't you come back to my apartment? We can take care of you.” One of them quipped, exchanging a leery, knowing look with his friend.

“Yeah, here. Have another shot, they serve really good drinks here.” The other added, placing a hand on your shoulder, a greasy smile on his face.

“Ouh... Kay~” You slurred, a silly grin tugging on your lips, reaching out to grab the drink from his hands. Before you could bring it to your lips, a hand reached out and slammed the glass onto the table.

“Hey!”

In your drunken daze, you could barely walk on your own two feet without swaying back and forth. Tottering recklessly and tripping over your feet, you felt a hand wrap tightly around your wrist, pulling you away from the chair as the two friendly strangers you were hanging with cried out in protest. The music was pounding in your ear and the blur of lights and moving figures were proving a little too much and you fell on the floor, causing the figure to pause. A split second later, a familiar face hovered into sight.

Whoever this was, he looked really... Handsome. Attractive. The shadow on his face highlighted the sharpness of his features and his plump lips looked absolutely luscious. The neon lights fell against his face, bringing out the darkness and deepness of those dark brown orbs. Was that worry you detected in those eyes?

Concerned, you reached out to cup his face.

“Whai are ooh worried...?” You said drunkenly, pouting.

“We have to go, y/n!”

“Hmmm I don’t wanna...” Lying on the ground, you could faintly hear a desperate grunt and before you knew it, you were lifted off the ground and tucked comfortably in somebody’s arms. The feeling was exhilarating, the wind blowing against your face as he pushed past dancing club patrons and out of the club and into the chilly night.

“Weeeeee!” You cried out joyously, throwing your hands up in the air.

Thank god the two of you managed to leave before the bouncers caught up.

Looking behind his shoulder, Sunwoo felt cold sweat run down his back and a zing of adrenaline coursing through his veins as he watched the bouncers burst out of the entrance, looking around for him.

Quickly dodging into an alleyway, he spun so fast that you screamed out.

“Roller.... coastar!”

Eyes widening, he sat you down and clamped his palm over your mouth. Sunwoo held his breath as he braced himself for the worst. You stared up at him blearily through half lidded eyes.

Giggling behind his hand, Sunwoo felt a jolt of electricity run when your lips brushed lightly again the palm of his hand. Despite his nerves, he could feel the heat rush up to his cheeks and if he had a mirror with him, he was sure that he’d be as red as a tomato by now.

“Are you... kidnapping me?” You chuckled softly and he felt his heart clench.

“Just how did you manage to get this drunk?”

You didn’t answer as you leaned your head against the brick wall behind you, your hair falling away from your face and under the moonlight, you looked more pretty than he had thought you were with your rosy cheeks and glassy eyes. Your eyes were closed as you whisper innocently.

“I don’t know.”

He watched as you tilted your head cutely to the side, already starting to drift off to sleep.

“Wait, here?!” Before he could even stop you, you were sleeping like a log.

“Aish! This girl,” Sunwoo exclaimed out loud with a sigh. Sometimes he wondered why he ever bothered about you but at the same time, he knew that he would never have allowed himself to leave you alone as well. The two of you had been friends since middle school and who would he be to leave a friend alone when she was in need? Except...

Sunwoo shook his head to clear his thoughts.

No. No, he couldn’t. He can’t think of you that way. Not when you already had a... a boyfriend.

He closed his eyes and tried to push the agonising memories of you and your boyfriend, Juyeon to the back of his mind. You would never have known just how painful it was for him to see you acting all chummy with someone else. All those moments were torturous for him to watch but all he could do was smile and pretend he was happy for you.

He looked at your sleeping form and an inexplicable sadness overwhelmed him. He lifted his hand to brush your hair out of your way, his worries about the bouncer far from his mind by now. You looked so beautiful, he could’ve sworn you were an angel. Perhaps even better.

“When?” He whispered.

“When will you realise how stupidly in love I am with you?”

[mka1098]

In The Bright Moonlight (You're My Sun) Day 1

Hear this story being read aloud to you at https://www.youtube.com/c/MKa1098/videos

Huge thank you to @shaniartist for allow me usage of their art and to @ladynoirjuly for the prompts !

Art credits: Shaniartist on Tumblr, shani_artist on IG

https://youtube.com/channel/UCqDgJF4q5oUKYvAt4qxCViADay

Day One - Older

“Chat.”

“ladybug.”

Chat Noir smiles at her but then yawns. She doesn’t blame him and ends up catching it. He snickers at that which makes her roll her eyes. God, he’s such a kid. “I’m exhausted.” She sighs. He agrees with his own heave. It’s nothing out of the ordinary though: a near mid-night akuma attack they had to take care of. Normally it would happen on a school night and she’d have to scramble home to sleep and or get work done. By some stroke of luck, today is a Saturday night, uh Sunday night... and she has a bit of time for a quick chat with Chat. However and comedically so, he looks ready to crush right here, right now. She stifled a giggle behind her hand; it didn't get past him. Chat gives her an exasperated groan.

“It’s midnight.” He complains. “Leave me alone.” He lowers his head between his knees. It doesn’t faze her even though he’s seated on the edge of a rooftop; she’s seen this and done this enough time to know that he’d be okay, even if he fell. Ladybug laughs and settles next to him.

“Yes it is.” She jokes, nudging his side. The moon is big and bright in front of them, impossible to miss. Especially during the fight. She even used a refraction of the light to get a head start on the akumatized victim. “I feel like we never get to enjoy the moon when we see it.” She hums. Chat snorts next to her.

“Because we’re fighting for Paris?” He points out cheekily. Ladybug rolls her eyes at him.

“Exactly. Yes.” She says dryly.

Chat laughs. “Oh so you agree?” He continues to joke. She gives him a pointed look. “Okay, okay.” He admits defeat and there is a cocky victorious grin on her face. “You are right though.” He says. “We don’t appreciate the moon much.” He looks out to the big white sphere in the sky and he looks so in awe, it’s almost like he’s looking at a magical act.

“No one does until they are tired and delicious.” Ladybug says.

“So us now.” Chat quips back. Ladybug scoffs and shoves his shoulders playfully. “I’m not wrong~” He says in an annoyingly sing-song voice.

“Perhaps.” She begurgdly admits.

Ladybug looks down at her yo-yo for the time: it’s 12:18. The fight lasted nearly 3 hours in total. It’s definitely not the longest one but it sure was draining. “Would you look at that -- it’s the fourth already.” She says with a little hum. Chat’s head pops up and he looks as if he’s been electrocuted. She raises a question eyebrow at him. “Are you alright?” She asks in a worried tone of voice. He only shrugs her off with a little smile.

“Yeah. I’m okay. It’s just…well, today is my birthday.” He admits, looking sheepish. Ladybug’s eyebrows raised in surprise. It’s his birthday? On September 4th? Wow, it’s the same day as Adriens. She fights to keep a goofy smile off her face from thinking about the blonde boy who stole her heart; Chat Noir would most definitely tease her for looking silly. Or maybe he’d throw a little hissy fit out of jealousy.

“Really?” Ladybug says with a big smile on her face. “Happy birthday then!” She wraps him in a hug and for a brief second he is shocked: in the next, Chat Noir relaxes and hugs her back tightly.

‘Thank you.” He says in nearly a whisper in her ear. It’s soft and initame and Ladybug doesn’t allow herself to wander down the path of wondering why a simple happy birthday meant so much to him. She only smiles and hugs him tighter in response.

“Of course.” She says, pulling away with a gracious laugh. “What kinda partner and friend would I be if I didn’t wish you a happy birthday?” She says jokingly, jabbing him in the side. He pouts at her and covers his torso in reflex.

Chat sighs with a small smile on his face. “You’re actually the first person to wish me a happy birthday.” He says.

“I would guess that.” Ladybug giggles. “Who else is around to beat me to it?” She pretends to look around and squints at the empty rooftops around them. Chat Noir watches her in amusement.

“That’s true.” He hums.

It hit her how they’ve been partners and have known each other for nearly 4 years now. However, it’s only now that she knows his birthday. It kinda makes her feel like a bad friend: she had always made a point to keep track of her friends' birthdays in her everyday life. Then again, it would have sorta been a breach in security; it’s important for them to keep as much of their real lives hidden from the other for as long as possible. Though, technically knowing each other’s birthdays wouldn’t hurt. What difference would it make? So many people are born on the same day, she could never find out who he is based on the day he was born alone.

“So how do you feel?” She grins at him. “Being a year older?” Chat tosses his shoulders back and sighs.

“Honestly, like nothing. It never hits me till months later and I’m like: woah...I’m older.” He admits.

“Oh, I’m that way too.” ladybug says.

“Yeah.” He smiles. “It’s weird. As a kid I thought you’d automatically mature; I was pretty wrong about that.” He throws his head back in laughter.

“Oh for sure.” Ladybug teases him. Chat sticks his tongue out at her which is an action she throws right back at him. “Well...it’s late and I better get home and sleep. You too, birthday boy; I’m sure you have some big party to wake up to.” She teases. Chat gives her another laugh but it sounds more hollow than before. There’s a forlorn look in his eyes that she notices. She wants to ask about it -- she can’t. The best she can do to help him is to smile back gently.

Ladybug pulls herself up and Chat follows. “I’ll see you soon?” He asks as she gets ready to leave. She sends him a look. “Right, right. You’re tired and don’t want another fight anytime soon.” He says. She smiles back at him wildly. It’s crazy how he can basically read her mind. “Goodnight to you and the moon.” He tells her with a two finger salute.

“Good night to you too.” Ladybug says with a playful eye roll at his silly action. “Cheers to being a year older but not any less of a kid.” She says before heading off.

On her way back home, Ladybug chuckles to herself. There are many things she knows about Chat: his favorite jokes, his greatest fear, he’s greatest strength, how far he can throw her through the city. Many things that would be considered weird for other friends. However she never before knew his birthday. It’s like a taste of being true friends with him, to her. It’s like one new piece of information has slipped him from work partner to friend she actually knows. Again she has to laugh at herself. She knows she’s being crazy -- how could a birthday change how a person perceives another?”

[hajimewhore]

Body Swap 👫 (Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader) ➸Rated T, fem!Reader, 3.2k words ➷Humor, slight angst, misunderstandings, mutual pining, shenanigans ofc, i missed oikawa ➷ Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, ✈Part 7

Hajime nearly chokes, wiping the ‘potion’ dribbling down his jawline, he presses the back of his hand to his mouth in an attempt to keep the disgusting concoction from exiting his gut. 

“...How was it?”

You try to pat his back sympathetically (he’s gagging now), but you’re the one that insisted he try the mystery remedy first, and you cautiously pull your hand away as he shoots you the most menacing glare he can while he’s coughing into his palm. 

“It was made with weird mushrooms and fucking plants, how do you think it tastes?”

Terrible, you guess. And the effects were supposed to be instantaneous, according to a recipe dropped in one of the posts you found… not that you expected it to work. 

“Ahh, and nothing happened.”

You rub your jaw semi-thoughtfully, before catching the look on Hajime’s face. 

“Uh, Hajime?”

His expression is glaring, not unlike someone scheming for revenge. But that’s silly, Hajime wouldn’t blame you for the potion not working, right?

“It probably didn’t work because you didn’t try it with me.”

It seems he would, realization sets in as Hajime closes in on you, and you panic,

“I think it didn’t work because it was someone bullshitting!”

“Don’t you want to swap back? Just drink it!”

“You’re just mad, get away from me!”

You trip on your feet, stumbling into the kitchen table. It scrapes the tile as your hands clutch for purchase on anything that’ll help you get you away from the madman behind you, but the tablecloth you’ve grasped at isn’t much help seeing as you swipe it off the table entirely. You’d be impressed that all the plates and the flower-filled vase stayed perfectly set on the table from your impromptu magic trick, if it weren’t for Hajime assaulting you.

You cry out as if you’re being brutally attacked (you are, technically–just with plant juice), and Hajime takes you by the jaw and tilts a cup of the swirling cocktail to your lips, sloshing rather unappetizingly in the glass. If the thing had an aura, it’d have a thick gray cloud fuming from it. 

“And why would I be mad?”

“Because I made you drink a potion I found on a weird thread even though it was totally suspicious and completely untrustworthy!”

You confess to your sins, the thread was actually some sort of troll that promised the reader would swap bodies with their favorite celebrity, and you cast it aside for the likelihood of that never happening, it was probably a scam to get some gullible teens to drink essentially dirt.

And you admit that initially you thought it would be funny to prank Hajime, jotting down the recipe and conveniently leaving out the celebrity bit, but in your excitement to scheme you forgot Hajime doesn’t take too well to pranks at his expense. 

Not without retribution at least, and you find yourself grappling at his wrists, attempting to turn your head away from the glass.

He eyes you with a too eager grin,

“You should try it, really, it might work.”

It didn’t. 

It was disgusting. 

You have learned your lesson not to trifle with Hajime, and you're no closer to finding a solution to your problem. 

You slump onto the kitchen table, feeling especially abused and violated by the plant paste you regretfully crafted. 

“That’s number one on the list, what’s next?”

Hajime rests his elbow on the table, chin in palm as he scrolls on his phone. 

“Bonk our heads together so hard we pass out and hopefully wake up in our own bodies?”

You suggest. Who knows, it could actually work.

“No thanks, I’d rather not wake up the same way but with a concussion.”

The second Hajime turns down your cartoonish suggestion, his phone lights up and buzzes, signifying a call.

You glance at his phone, “Tooru’s calling you?”

“Fuck. I’ll just ignore it,”

The moment he sets his phone aside, the kitchen door bursts open, presenting none other than Oikawa Tooru, entirely expected given the situation and the fact that Hajime’s parents are still at work. 

“Tooru?!”

You blink in surprise, and Tooru frowns at the sight of the two of you together. 

“I knew you were ignoring me!”

“What the fuck Shittykawa, who said you could come over?”

Hajime grimaces, forgetting to stay true to your personality in his surprise. Tooru’s brow ticks at the catty response to his entrance. 

“I see you’ve been spending too much time with Iwa-chan, using his terrible nicknames! I didn’t think you’d ever use it on me either, but here we are!”

He folds his arms across his chest, and Hajime covers his mouth.

Shit, he let that one slip in his initial shock. 

“Besides, this is Iwa-chan’s house, and I say I can come over! You two have been ignoring me all week and coming up with the shittiest excuses—”

“Oikawa—”

“No, let me finish!”

He huffs, looking more serious than you’ve seen him outside the court. Judging by his posture and the worry in his brows, you can tell he’s been stressing himself lately. You bite your cheek, knowing full well you and Hajime were the root of the cause.

“Both of you have to go to the dentist when the office is closed, really? Iwa-chan studying for a test that’s not for another week, please! Give me a break. Not to mention, every practice you play like shit Iwa-chan,”

It’s not shit, you’re just not Hajime’s usual, because you’re not fucking Hajime. You want to argue, defend yourself and Hajime, but you keep your lips sealed. 

“You act like a total weirdo, you hardly talk to your own teammates and friends, and you–”

He turns to Hajime, technically you, scowl ever present. 

“You always run off with him after school! And don’t even pretend like you’re not having lunch with him too, Kunimi-chan saw you eating alone together by the art building–ditching me, yeah?”

He’s fuming, and his hair is moving in every direction accompanying his wild, frantic gestures. 

The guilt starts piling, and you’re starting to regret yours and Hajime’s way of handling the situation. 

To avoid uncomfortable situations and messing up, you thought the best method was to steer clear from everyone entirely. 

Clearly that’s backfiring, but it’s too late to erase those actions now. 

“Not only have you two spent all week lying to me, you’ve been completely ignoring my calls and texts all weekend too!”

Tooru pauses, rant seemingly over, but neither you or Hajime feel inclined to speak yet, too caught off guard by the outburst, and unsure of what you can say to remedy the situation. 

Tooru drops his arms at his sides, glancing away from the two of you, biting his lip. Your shoulders tense when you feel the atmosphere around him drop significantly.

“Are you guys mad at me?”

Oh. 

Oh fuck.

You forgot he had feelings. 

“Oikawa, it’s not that, I swear.”

You speak first, and Tooru looks to you with an expression that almost breaks your heart right there. Brown eyes glossy, lips in a thin line as if he’s trying to keep them from turning down into a frown, he looks genuinely displeased.

“Are you just sick of me? Are you tired of hanging out with me? I know I’m an asshole sometimes, but if it makes you guys that upset I can stop, I’ll be better.” 

In any other context you may quip with a ‘you could stop this whole time?’, but the joke wouldn’t sit right, and Tooru looks entirely too on edge, fingers tapping at his sides restlessly. 

Tooru’s always been the type to stay true to himself, unabashedly and unapologetically. He knows he’s flawed, has learned to accept his shortcomings as a person. But here he is before you and Hajime, willing to cast aside his pride for the sake of your friendship. It only serves to guilt you more, considering it’s based upon the lies you’ve built up.

“I promise we’re not sick of you, we just… had something come up that we had to deal with. It’s been really stressful, I’m sorry.”

You don’t particularly care if it’s too out of character, it’s what Tooru needs to hear. 

Risking a glance at Hajime, you see he’s shaking his leg and biting his lip, a few of his nervous tics, he’s contemplating something heavily. 

“And you can’t tell me? You always tell me when something is wrong.”

Tooru eyes you suspiciously, and it’s true, usually you can tell Tooru anything. But this isn’t something believable, and you and Hajime both decided it’s best kept a secret. 

“We can’t, but it’s nothing you did. Don’t worry about it, we’ll start hanging out soon, like we used to, we just have to deal with this ourselves.”

And you hope you’ll be able to, it’d be nice to go back to normal. You did miss movie nights with Tooru and Hajime, and you miss having lunch together on the rooftop. 

Tooru thinks for a moment, you see the gears turning in his head, eyes focused. He glances to Hajime, who hasn’t said a word the entire time, still tense on the other side of the table. 

Tooru’s contemplative gaze flicks to you, as if he’s had some sort of revelation. 

“Did you get her pregnant?”

WHA—THAT’S HIS REVELATION?

“You asshole, shut up!”

Hajime’s choice first words. 

“What?! No, no, fuck no!”

You blush heavily at his wild accusation, and Tooru looks visibly relieved. 

“Oh, thank god. It wouldn’t have been a bad thing, necessarily, and I always kind of expected it, but this is just too soon.”

He laughs airily, as if he doesn’t feel the weight of his words like you do, heavy on your heart. Does everyone have that assumption? That you and Hajime would one day be together like that?

“We’re not even dating, idiot.”

Ouch. Hajime’s adamant refusal jabs at you, and you try to ignore the ache that claws at your chest. That may have stung a bit, but you certainly won’t admit it out loud.

“Yeah, yeah. I just couldn’t think of any other reason you’d be ignoring me like that.”

“It’s ‘cause we swapped bodies.”

You whip your head to Hajime, physically ripped from your disappointment, too shocked he’d blab the truth to Tooru and expect a reasonable outcome from it.

“Hah. Hah.”

Tooru doesn’t even entertain the explanation, arms crossed and eyes disinterested, accompanying the dry laugh well.

“It’s true.”

You hope Hajime knows what he’s doing. 

“Funny, and I didn’t think you’d be in on it Iwa-chan, looking so surprised like that.”

Tooru doesn’t even look skeptical, or remotely fazed, as if he doesn’t want to be tricked into falling for something so blatantly stupid. 

And normally, he’d be right to, but in this case, you and Hajime were unfortunately not kidding. 

“I just didn’t think Hajime would openly admit that without talking to me first.”

You shoot a glance at Hajime, as if to convey ‘I hope you know what you’re doing’, but he merely shrugs in response. 

“And you’re a real prankster today too. What’s gotten into you guys? Seriously, are you mad at me?”

Tooru is starting to look a little peeved, visibly doubting your words of encouragement from earlier. 

“We’re not mad. We switched places. We woke up last Sunday in each other’s bodies. That’s why we haven’t been ourselves, and that’s why we’ve been avoiding everyone.”

Hajime continues with his explanation, as if Tooru would be any closer to believing it.

Which he isn’t. 

“That’s not even possible, but fine, I’ll play along. You’re Iwa-chan, supposedly. What’s something that only he would know?”

Tooru crosses his arms smugly, staring at your body, who is ‘supposedly’ Hajime, as if he’s got you two in checkmate. 

This can’t be good for Tooru, but it’s definitely going to be good for you if you’re getting in on a secret. 

“Alright. You swore me to secrecy for this one,” Hajime doesn’t hesitate for one second, “that time at the volleyball banquet last year you saw a girl with a ‘nice ass’ in a ‘super mega tight dress’ and wanted to hit on her, but when you tapped her shoulder, she turned around and it was actually Y/N–”

Now this is very interesting news to you. 

“H-HEY, STOP TALKING–”  

Hajime side steps Tooru’s attempt to cover his mouth,

“And you pre-gamed before the event so you drunkenly admitted to me that you’d still tap that but she’s practically your sister and that’s gross but her ass looked so–”

“I get it okay! How do I know you’re not just fucking with me and broke the secret pact we made?!”

Tooru cuts Hajime off and glares at you, but you’re giving him the widest, shit-eating grin. 

“I knew that dress looked good.”

“Enough games already!”

“What about the time in elementary school where you and I went to a volleyball match and you had to–”

“ENOUGH, enough, I believe you, okay!”

Tooru relents, red-faced and practically sweating from his nervous panic. 

“I wanna know about the time in elementary school where you and Hajime went to a volleyball match and something happened.”

You put your hand up, wanting to know the juicy details. You thought you and Tooru told each other everything, but apparently there’s some missing gaps in that ‘everything’, and you’re very eager to learn. 

“We made a friendship promise and he swore me not to tell anyone but because of the circumstances, he had to—” 

“I said I believed you already, stop trying to out me!”

Tooru cuts Hajime off at the best part, every time. 

He taps his foot with a huff, bottom lip twitching into a frown. Hajime gives him a smug look, staring back combatively, as if Tooru will attempt to call out bullshit again (he won’t). 

You’ll have to remember to ask Hajime about the middle school incident at a later date, but right now, 

“I’m sorry we kept this from you, and sorry I kept ignoring your calls, Tooru. We didn’t know what to do.”

You interrupt their staring contest, wrapping your arms around Tooru in a tight hug. You’re the tallest you’ve ever been, and it’s weird to hug him when you aren’t yourself, but you missed your best friend. 

“Uh…”

Tooru awkwardly pats your back,

“I was kind of lying before because I thought you guys were trying to shame and humiliate me, but this is really weird and I actually might believe you now.”

“Asshole, that’s all it took?! And stop hugging him like that, it's freaking me out!”

Hajime slaps Tooru on the back, yanking you by the back of your shirt to pull you from the hug. 

He grumbles something indecipherable under his breath, contemplating whether he should even say anything, 

“I’m sorry too. I guess.”

He gives Tooru an awkward, much gentler slap on the back, before slinging his arm around Tooru in some sort of half-hug gesture.

“I-Iwa-chan! It really is you in there!”

Oikawa’s fake tears spring to life as he bends down to wrap Hajime in a hug, who struggles like a cat wanting to be released. 

“Get off me!”

Tooru pulls back, wiping a tear from his long lashes, 

“I’m still really upset right now, I really thought you guys hated me! So if you could please shower me with adoration, that’d be lovely.”

Tooru spreads out his arms, a pathetic expression on his face that Hajime doesn’t buy for one second. 

“Tooru! I love you! You’re the best Tooru, your jump serves are great! Your setting is unmatched! You’re my bestest friend!”

You cheer him on, Hajime is balking that you’d even entertain the idea of doing that in his body, let alone acting on it, but Tooru eats it up with gleaming eyes. 

“Quit feeding his ego!”

It’s your turn to be scolded by Hajime, but you just stick your tongue out at him sheepishly. 

“He deserves it?”

“He didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly! He didn’t do anything, and we were being bad friends.”

“I’m on your side,”

Tooru slings an arm around your shoulder and gazes down at Hajime, who’s more aggravated now than when he was drinking straight plant paste. 

It hadn’t bothered him too much initially, but having to crane his neck up to glare at Tooru is sparking some caveman urge deep inside Hajime to absolutely throttle him.

“Out. Get out of my house.”

“Technically, this isn’t your house–OW, Iwa-chan, that still hurts!”

“Newsflash Asshole-kawa, girls can hit too!”

They can, and you let Hajime prove his point. 

“So,”

“If it’s something about aliens, I don’t want to hear it.”

You interrupt Tooru before he can spew something definitely about aliens.

“I wasn’t going to bring up aliens–though it’s a very valid cause you definitely need to consider. I was actually going to ask if you have any idea how long you’re gonna be like this?”

You give Tooru a tired look, and Hajime just ignores him entirely, tired of glaring no doubt. 

Tooru’s been lazing around, attempting to ‘help’ you and Hajime, but you doubt he’s accomplished anything aside from scrolling through the same threads you’ve looked through. You’re willing to bet he researched for a minute or two before losing interest, abandoning the task in favor of looking through Karasuno’s and Shiratorizawa’s match history.

“If we knew, we’d tell you.”

You respond, since it seems Hajime isn’t interested in replying.

“Ooh, that reminds me,” Tooru props his elbows up on the couch, pausing whatever volleyball match he was watching to drop his phone on his chest, “I saw this foreign family comedy once where the mom and her daughter swapped places, but they had to show each other selfless love and understand what the other goes through to swap back.” 

Tooru gasps in additional realization before turning to Hajime, “Iwa-chan, are you her mom?”

The look Hajime gives Tooru is enough to put him in a grave and send secondhand chills down your spine. 

“Sorry, sorry, don’t hit me again! Your hands are pointy and jabby now, it’s hard to get used to.”

Ignoring that, 

“Hajime and I already understand each other, we have to put up with you all day.”

“True,” Tooru is completely unbothered by that comment, “I did see a romcom where the two main characters had to kiss at the end, they ended up swapping places like that.”

You don’t like that he casually suggests this with such an innocent look on his features.

“That sounds stupid, watch better movies.”

Hajime grunts out, and you’ll admit that kissing Hajime would be nice, but under normal circumstances preferably. You don’t particularly want to kiss yourself as Hajime. 

“I appreciate all your knowledge in films that have body swaps in them Tooru, but this isn’t a romcom, or a movie.”

You sigh, and Tooru hums thoughtfully. 

“Sure, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

He sits upright with ease, sliding off the couch and pocketing his phone, 

“Anyways, I’ve got more practice to do. I’ll try not to be too hard on you tomorrow, now that I know you’ve swapped with that brute over there. Ciao!”

Tooru ducks out of the living room and out the Iwaizumi household before Hajime can assault him, and good thing, he probably would’ve had some bruises from your ‘jabby’ and ‘pointy’ hands. 

With Tooru’s quick escape, you’re left contemplating whether that suggestion would actually work or not, risking glances to Hajime across the room.

A/N: not me ending a chapter on a juicy bit again afjknddm, anyways im posting this at an ungodly time but i hope everyone enjoys!

taglist: @cybergovl @babybellecheese @keijikunn @168-cm-png @sexy0android @cuddlesslut @bumbledunce​

[alittlebitgoofy]

if i had my way i would be yours - chapter six (taywhora)

here we are, the final chapter. it's time these girls get their feelings together, it's weird having finished this fic I devoted a lot of time, planning and energy to but all things come to an end, I've got another big taywhora fic in the works so enjoy!!

thanks to @goodemornting for betaing :)) ao3 link

A’whora felt a weight atop her as she awoke.

It was warm, an arm wrapped around her waist comfortably tight. Her tired brain tried to piece together the prior night as she melted under the warmth. Her brain felt like mush, the pleasure of being under another person keeping her too busy to think too hard about it.

But she hadn’t talked to any girls last night, she’d mostly spent time with Tayce. Sure, they’d gotten a bit drunk, but surely she would remember chatting someone up and getting them in her bed.

Wait. Getting drunk with tayce. Her roommate Tayce... Oh. 

Shit. Oh god. Well, It wasn’t as if she didn’t want to—

But it was so soon. She was Tayce’s first experience with a woman. She’d offered to, gleeful at the opportunity while cautious about not wanting to take advantage of her. She didn’t take advantage of her, they were two consenting adult roommates who happened to hook up. It came back to her quickly, now. How Tayce had kissed her. The way Tayce had cuddled up to her after, a warm mix of giddy and tired. Maybe this wasn’t so bad? She’d only be able to tell when Tayce woke up. A’whora finally glanced at her phone to check the time. 9 A.M. The fatigue in her body reminded her she had only gotten to sleep around 3, letting Tayce’s soft breathing lull her back to sleep. She’d deal with all this after a little more rest. It wouldn’t hurt to enjoy it for just a bit longer.  Tayce’s reaction was a lot less calm. She felt someone’s presence next to her as she stirred awake, failing to remember a thing before she opened her eyes to see A’whora with her arms wrapped around her waist. It was warm, almost suffocatingly so. The realisation that any movement would likely wake the blonde up dawned on her. Either Tayce would carefully wriggle out of her arms and risk waking her up or stew in the position and wait until A’whora woke up. Either way, they’d have to address this, and she didn’t know if she was ready to. Part of her was freaking out, how could they have gotten into this position? Would she regret it? This was her best friend, who she spent the better parts of all her days with. Tayce knew that if A’whora went cold on her again, she wouldn’t be able to cope for long.

But A’whora was next to her, asleep but still cuddled up with her. She would probably just make a dirty comment and shrug it off, right?. Though her mind screamed in what could happen the other half of her senses melted into the embrace of her companion. Her mind couldn’t help but stop racing while being engulfed in her companion’s embrace. A’whora had shown so much affection the previous night it was hard not to.  “Tayce?” A’whora’s eyes cracked open blearily, tilting her head in tired confusion. A dopey smile grew on her face as she noticed the position they were in. She looked beyond silly like that, but it still made Tayce’s heart skip a beat. “Morning to you, too.” 

Tayce shook her head at the laugh A’whora let out. She was clearly aware of everything that had happened, just plainly unaffected by it. Tayce envied the ease she took this with, her brain and heart conflicting with every action she made. “We fucked, huh?” “Yeah, we did,” Tayce spluttered at the forwardness, feeling her cheeks heat up. Of course A’whora would have no problem talking about the sex she’d had with her roommate the night prior. The blonde didn’t seem phased by her reaction, pulling her arms tighter around her body and bringing herself into Tayce’s side. “You’re warm.” Her words were followed by a content sigh, A’whora looking blissful as Tayce returned the affection, her arms looping around the smaller woman to pull her in tight as she could. “You’re such a softie.” Tayce tried to sound jokingly insulting, but any power to her words fizzled out as soon as she felt A’whora’s head on her chest. She melted into speaking loving words, holding the girl that caused her so much heartache like nothing had happened, as if it was second nature. They stayed locked together, the outside world not a concern in the embrace of one another. Though Tayce eventually shifted, her stomach roared with a ferocity that sent A’whora spiralling into a fit of hiccuping laughter. “Do you want beans on toast?” A’whora settled down enough to speak, a smirk still playing at her lips at the interruption of their moment. 

“Depends how you make them.” “Like you taught me. The ketchup, the cheese, the salt and the pepper and the butter.” The blonde laughed; Tayce was so specific about how she made her beans on toast. There was a method to it, she’d taught it to A’whora the instant they moved in together and made her come to love the breakfast almost as much as she did. “You’ve learnt well.” Tayce patted her on the back like a proud parent, before sliding herself out of the bed to follow A’whora into their kitchen. She missed the warmth of it. But the idea of food was more than enough to coax her out. --- There was something heart-warmingly domestic about making your roommate breakfast, the meaning changed dramatically with whatever was going on between her and Tayce, but A’whora tried to keep her thoughts up.Tayce was still around, she hadn’t freaked out and ran so it could be worse.

Tayce was too busy entrapped in her thoughts to spare the blonde much more than a sideways glance. Her thoughts were buzzing even as she was trying to silence them. It was a mix of things, fear for whatever this could mean or couldn’t mean but also comfort, she’d been with someone she trusted with her life and she’d not made it awkward. A’whora’s affectionate side was a welcomed addition, the way she’d cuddled up to Tayce left her feeling lighter than ever. The way her eyes crinkled as she laughed at whatever dumb comment Tayce has made was euphoric.

God damn, she was in deep. 

She somehow managed to look attractive, sat there with her hair messy in one of Tayce's baggy shirts she’d flung to attempt to cover herself, preoccupied with shoving beans in her mouth after she’d served them both breakfast. Tayce tried to focus on eating her own, though her eyes never quite left the blonde. Something about her was magnetic. She couldn’t help but look at her and feel her heart squeeze with how much she adored her. 

“You just gonna stare at me or are you gonna eat? Your food is getting cold!” A’whora pouted slightly at the lack of attention Tayce was giving her food. God, Tayce wanted to kiss that pout off her. 

“Hmm? You should be taking it as a compliment, I never normally put someone above my beans.” “Wow, she thinks I'm better than beans on toast. How romantic.”  A’whora scoffed, she knew that it was some kind of warped compliment, something Tayce didn’t want to actually say but imply through something humorous to shelter the realisation of the true meanings of her words. Though she did get it, Tayce held her highly, over most people even. It made her hopeful, maybe they stood a chance if she cared that deeply?  They ate with a few more quips, the atmosphere too easy for what they’d done the night prior. A’whora was thankful for the lack of awkwardness though her roommate was the other end of the spectrum. She had far too many thoughts and had to spill them to someone, maybe it would be good to give Bimini a call? 

God, this was a lot to deal with.

--- 

“Bim? I need help, asap.” Tayce rushed out as her friend answered the phone, more than ready to spill everything to someone. She felt like A’whora, unable to keep any secrets without telling at least one person. Oh god, A’whora was going to tell someone. “You two didn’t get into a fight again, did you?” Bimini asked cautiously, not ready to deal with that trainwreck again. At least Tayce was more likely to admit her own fault but trying to reason with her would take too much energy.  “No! The, uh, opposite actually.” The hesitation in her voice was way too obvious, the vulnerability threw Tayce through a loop. At least she knew Bimini wouldn’t bring it up to anyone. “You two fucked? Finally.” Bimini laughed down the line, it felt like inevitably they’d hook up especially after Tayce came out. The way they looked at each other? Nothing platonic about that, in Bimini’s humble opinion “Yeah, what the fuck do I do?” Tayce sighed, putting her phone to the side as she put her head in her hands. Why was this so complicated? All these feelings, it was so much to deal with. “Have you two talked about it? How’s she acting?” “She’s been pretty good, nothing odd, I guess. We haven’t talked about it really, just acknowledged it happened and then she made breakfast.” “Wait, she made you breakfast?” Bimini paused, Tayce could hear the cogs whirring in their brain. Tayce narrowed her eyes, trying and failing to figure out what she meant. 

“Does that... mean something?” She hesitated. Surely it couldn’t be that important. Making breakfast for someone wasn’t that deep. “She’s showing you how much she loves you!” “It’s not that deep, I was just hungry,” Tayce laughed, the idea was absolutely ludicrous. She’d just acted on Tayce’s stomach growling, like any sane human being would.

“It’s A’whora, her love language is gifts and acts of service, y’know. She adores you and does things for you to show it, you know she does.” Bimini followed up, knowing Tayce was silently admitting defeat when she didn’t answer. As much as she didn’t believe it, it made sense. She’d offered to buy food when she messed up, often doing things if Tayce was tired. She’d always chalked it up to A’whora being a bit dramatic, but it made a little too much sense to just be a coincidence anymore. “God, what… what the fuck do I even do in this situation?” Tayce sighed, groaning at the amount of things this could all mean and how she should approach it. Who could even make sense of these things? It was a nightmare. “I’d say talk to her but you avoided that last time.” “I can’t just tell her, what if it makes things awkward?” Tayce spoke softly, unsure of what could happen and too afraid to take a huge step. All she wanted was A’whora but she couldn’t risk losing her after what had happened last time.

Bimini paused, hearing Tayce so hesitant was strange. 

“This is why it took you 22 years to consider you were into women, isn’t it? You’re useless with girls.” Asttina chimed in, jumping out of nowhere to surprise both Tayce and Bimini. “Asttina! She’s going through a lot to cut her some slack.” “She needs to hear the truth, you need to talk to her or this is just going to become more of a mess.” Asttina sighed, Tayce didn’t want to admit she was right but she knew. They’d talked it out last time and it went smoothly, A’whora wouldn’t just turn cold on her if they were having a discussion. Her shoulders slumped in a small bit of relief, hoping that it wouldn’t be so scary, perhaps.

She could end up with the person that she wanted, the one no one could ever compare to. 

Maybe that was worth the risk? “Alright, you have a point. I’ll talk to her. What’s the worst that could happen? We’ve already fucked, there’s not more to it.” --- A’whora knew something was up with Tayce.

She was too in her head about anything to do with feelings, especially in the wake of her recent realisations and just attempting to converse with A’whora. The way they had acted last night would set her right off. She needed a second opinion, though she suspected Tayce was calling Bimini or Asttina out of panic again. The duty thus fell to Ellie, she knew how to keep her friend's mouth shut.

“Hey bitch, what’s up?” “I fucked Tayce.” A’whora got straight to the point. Ellie spluttered a laugh, her cackles crackling through the phone speaker. 

“You two shagged? Fucking finally, we’ve all been waiting.” A’whora huffed, unimpressed by the reminder of the constant jabs about sexual tension between her and her roommate. It wasn’t like she was unaware of everything, but it was mostly her profound ability to repress her feelings and Tayce being so affectionate, at least she thought it was before all of this. “Yes, but you can’t tell anyone,” She paused,  “Especially not Lawrence.” “Why not? She’ll hear about it anyway, God knows you can’t keep secrets for shit.” Ellie huffed back. The pair of them were horrible at keeping things from people, Ellie almost always ended up spilling things to Lawrence  when she had the chance. “Not the point, how did this happen?”

“We were tipsy and everyone else had partnered off, you were too busy making out with Lawrence, and Bim and Asttina were uncomfortably close to going at it. We went home and things escalated and she... ended up in my bed naked.”

“Do you make a habit of hooking up with your friends?” “No, only the tall ones. Which is exactly why you won’t tell Lawrence. She doesn’t need to know about what we did that time—“ 

“No one needs to know.” Ellie interrupted, desperately trying to steer the conversation away.She knew bringing it up would be the best way to buy Ellie’s silence. They’d never told anyone about that night and planned to keep it that way, alcohol did a lot to a person and almost shagging your friend is one of them. 

“Anyway, she’s a bit.. off now, I guess. Not bad or anything but she just seemed to be processing everything very slowly. How do you deal with that?” A’whora questioned, exasperated. Tayce was always a bit of an enigma, it made navigating everything needlessly difficult but she didn’t blame her. It was a lot to deal with realising your own sexuality and coming to terms with it, she had every reason to be shaken at anything happening between them. “You deal with it by not crushing on the most emotionally unavailable person you know.” A’whora wanted to get defensive— Tayce wasn’t emotionally unavailable, she was just.. complex. She wasn’t one to be super outward with things, she liked to keep to herself when something was bothering her and not make a big deal of it. Though it served no help to the current predicament, only to show how whipped she was for Tayce. 

“No, you torture your friends seeing you pine for years when it’s clear that you both love each other.” “I know you mean me and Loz but that’s you and Tayce, hen.” Ellie laughed, anyone with eyes could see they were a little closer than most friends. It was cute at first but neither of them acted on anything and one of them not realising her feelings until recently made it painful to watch. “She’s not in love with me!” The blonde huffed,  “I would’ve known by now if she was.”

“She’s in love with you you’re just too dumb to see it.” Even Ellie saw it, the way Tayce looked and acted around A’whora was way more loving and tender than she’d ever been with any of her friends. It was like she was the only person to exist, everything in the world that Tayce loved rolled into one person.

It would have been cute if it wasn’t so painful to watch her not realise her own feelings. “Like you were with Lawrence?” “Yes but I have a girlfriend, now go get your welsh hound.”

---

“Aurora?” Tayce poked her head round the door to her room, visibly nervous. 

Oh god. Real name, Tayce looked awkward, shit was about to hit the fan. 

“Come in, what’s bothering you.” Tayce settled next to the blonde on her bed, her nerves were clear as day from her body language. The way her eyes darted to anything other than A’whora, her finger restlessly tapping her leg. She looked uncomfortable, though there was a determination pushing her though it. The way she sat up so straight like she had something to do, no matter how much it ate her up inside.

“Nothing. I mean, it’s not bothering me, I just want to talk.”There was the usual denial, Tayce knew it wouldn’t fool A’whora, it rarely did and she couldn’t fake it at the minute, not with everything on her mind “I know what you mean but saying it like that is very unnerving” A’whora laughed nervously, she wasn’t the anxious one but the way Tayce was acting made her hesitate. “It’s okay, I'm not going to kill you.” Tayce eased the tension with a joke, delighting in how A’whora smiled at the joke, wide enough for her dimples to show.  “Alright come on talk to me then.” “I think i’m in love with you” Tayce blurted, mouth moving too fast for her mind to catch up. 

Oh.

Oh. 

That was. Sudden, Tayce felt frozen, A’whora’s eyes trained on her. What did she do? No lead up, just said it. It wasn’t that hard but she shouldn’t have said it. The shock was written all over her face, it made Tayces stomach twist, a sinking feeling engulfing her as the worst case scenario seemed to come to life. 

“You’re in love with me?” A’whora echoed, her voice soft with some emotion Tayce couldn’t catch on to, something meant to be comforting, hopefully.

She couldn’t reply, any words caught in her throat, fizzled out by the time she opened her mouth. What was she meant to say? She just said the scariest words she could’ve ever thought of saying. Her heart ached for her best friend in a way she never considered possible until a few weeks ago. 

“Tayce…” A’whora trailed off, Tayce’s stomach churning more by the second. 

She couldn’t make eye contact fearing what she might see on her face. She felt movement, A’whora coming closer to her. Was she trying to console her? Then she felt her face gently lifted up to meet A’whora’s eyes. Something shifted in her expression as she saw Tayce’s meekness, soft smile lighting up her features in a way that made Tayce’s heart flutter. She didn’t hold back, pulling her into a passionate kiss. 

Tayce regained herself, kissing back as she felt A’whora melt into her. She felt more confident, taking the lead, her hand running through the blonde hair as her roommate moved closer, taking place in her lap. 

They broke apart, a goofy grin growing on A’whora’s face as she stared at Tayce, eyes shining in wonder. 

“I’ve been in love with you for years.” she murmured, feeling euphoric after the progression of events. Tayce cocked her head in puzzlement. 

“Years?” “Years. How could I not? You’re gorgeous and the most positive energy I've ever met. Nothing is ever boring with you, there’s always something going on or that you can make interesting. There’s something magnetic about you, I can't leave you alone. We clicked so well, no one ever got me as well as you did and I think about how lucky I am we even became friends, Tayce.” “You’re such a hound.” Tayce laughed, visibly taken aback. She didn’t know how to react, that was a lot to process all at once but it made her feel on top of the world. The euphoria rushed through her, a grin growing larger on her face by the minute.

“Is that your way of saying you love me?” A’whora knew what she was trying to communicate, her face saying it all, she looked happier than she’d ever seen, apart from the time she’d bought her a personalised tin of baked beans, that was one of the few times Tayce had cried in front of her. 

“It is, you’re a hound but you’re my hound.” The brunette wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into her lap to cuddle into her back.  “Oh? Your hound? Sounds decent, I'll take it.” The wamrht in A’whora’s tone contrasted from her words, turning around to pull Tayce into another kiss. She knew this was going to be complicated, nothing was ever easy between the two of them but with enough communication it would work, they cared too much about each other to not try.  Maybe this whole mess had been worth it, cuddled in Tayce’s arms like nothing else mattered, just the two of them against the world like it always had been.

[kominum]

rewatching old sailor moon and thought of like... disgruntled tuxedo mask!corpse but with unrequited love because i’m a glutton for angst

wc: ~2.2k 

warnings: death of a minor character, implicit knowledge of sailor moon lore, modern twist, unedited

please send in ideas you might have that i could write short blurbs for! this was honestly fun to write. 

It’s a scratch he can’t itch. It’s what has him waking up in cold sweats, confused and moderately annoyed that his hard-earned sleep has been so rudely interrupted. He hates the cape, he hates the itchy suit, he abhors the top hat – and the only things he doesn’t really hate are his baton and endless supply of darkened roses.

The first time he transformed, he was half-asleep and struggling to understand why he was speeding down the highway and parking two blocks away from some random back alley. His pain was relatively dulled, which was surprising, and his body suddenly possessed a world of fighting skills that felt foreign yet familiar. All he could recognize was a slightly disheveled woman cursing and just trying her best against some odd form of demon spawn, and before he knew it, he’d thrown down a dark purple rose and engaged in combat. Once said woman found an opening, she took off her headband/tiara, performed a throw that would put professional frisbee players to shame, and the monster disintegrated into dust.

“Jesus Christ,” he panted, body hunched over and hands on his knees. “What the fuck was that?”

“More like who the fuck are you?”

“Fuck if I know,” he muttered and dusted himself off.  

“What’s with your get-up anyways?” She failed to hide her snickering. “You’re 3 decades behind.”

“Do I look like I want to fight in a suit? Plus, you’re fighting in some rendition of a schoolgirl uniform.” Her black thigh-high boots were killer, but he wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction.

“You should’ve seen what it was before, but I was able to make some changes. Good heads-up for you and—”

“Sailor Moon, are you okay?!”

Oh. So she’s got a talking cat, too. What in fresh hell was going on? Did he take something? But also—“Your name is Sailor Moon?”

“We’re working on the name change,” she grumbled, bending down to let said feline jump up her arm and settle on her shoulder. “Anyways, uh…thanks. I was kind of in a bind, but I’m usually not I swear. Good timing, I guess?”

“If that’s what you wanna call it.” But she was already in the wind, hopping from roof to roof with no inhibitions, and left him completely dumbfounded.

His silly attire dissolved back into his previous clothing as he ambled back towards his car, thought not exactly at his own will. But he shrugged, slid into the car seat, and dialed the only person he could think of who would readily pick up at this ungodly hour of…2:37AM. That was just the start, and he can’t tell if things went downhill from there.

-

He should backtrack.

He met you almost two years ago at a hospital.

You had been waiting anxiously for your boyfriend to come out of surgery after being in a bad car accident, biting your nails, occasionally pacing back and forth, smoothing your hands worriedly against your jeans, and gnawing your bottom lip to death. It was midday, sometime after lunch, and he’d come in for some routine checkup he can’t remember what for now, and sat a few seats away from you in the tiny hospital coffee shop. He’s no therapist or expert, but he highly doubted that any caffeine would alleviate your anxiety. Yet you sat there with two to-go cups and a granola bar wrapper, and something told him to stick around for now.

He’s never been one for a lot of small talk, but you looked to be about his age and no one else was with you. Tragedy tasted most bitter when alone, and some force of the universe told him to at least say something, anything. So he stuffed his hands into his hoodie and shuffled awkwardly to your table, tentatively asking a, “Hey, uh…is everything okay?”

You’d looked up at him with wild eyes on the verge of tears, heart battering against your chest, and the only intelligible thing that left your mouth was a “Huh?”

And he’d casted a gentle grin, eyes laced with a mixture of pity and concern, and asked again his first question. “My boyfriend’s in surgery. He got in a bad accident. There’s um…roughly two hours left, I think.”

“And you thought coffee would make it better?” He jutted his chin towards your large cups.

“Hot chocolate,” you chuckled. “I’m not keen on torturing myself like that, not now at least.”

“Well, I’ve got an appointment soon but I should be done before his surgery’s over…want me to come check up on you?”

Dumbfounded was the best way to describe your expression, and he was so close to retracting his offer before you gave him one of the most thankful smiles he’d seen in many years. “I’d really appreciate that.”

He nodded. “Sounds good then. Give me a sec.”

At the counter, he paid for another cup of hot chocolate and added in a chocolate chip cookie for good measure before bringing it back to you. “I hear chocolate helps.”

“Thank you, again. Go, don’t want to make you late.”

But an hour and a half later in the waiting area outside surgery, the doctor came out with a solemn expression, and you all but collapsed into the plastic chairs, tears leaking like waterfalls from your eyes. Part of him wanted to bail and go because there wasn’t much he could do, but it wouldn’t be right to leave you to drive home now. He wanted to make sure that you were calmed down, all cried out, and breathing properly so you could at least operate a vehicle safely.

The same unknown force had him offering you his number in case you needed anyone to talk to, yet the conversation sat empty for weeks until curiosity and guilt ate at him. He tapped out a message, deleting it, then another one, more deleting, before he settled on a plain, “It’s the guy from the hospital. I know it’s been a while but…how are you?”

Your reply was almost instantaneous, to which he worried if he’d accidentally woken you up at 4:13AM. First, it’s a casual, “hey, thanks for checking up on me! I’m doing okay,” but he knew better. And the other shoe dropped in the form of a simple, “I miss him.”

It’s a quiet, heartwarming friendship. You know nothing specific about him – he’s incredibly vague on any identifying information. Hell, you’d be willing to bet that the name at the hospital was a fake one. Nevertheless, he’s one of your closest friends. You know he mainly works online, has a lot of trouble sleeping, is chronically ill and has a number of medical conditions, his general disposition and feelings on things, but overall, just wonderfully easy to talk to.

Yet something just feels wrong about falling in love with him. It’s a horrid combination of guilt and disbelief. Are you rebounding? Are you subconsciously searching for your dead ex-boyfriend? Are you so desperate for romantic connections that you’ve twisted yourself into believing you love a man that you’ve seen fewer times than the number of fingers you have?

You come to peace with it when his custom ringtone chimes softly on your nightstand in the middle of the night. Rain or shine, stars or none, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him. Nothing has ever woken you up so quickly, not even alarms on interview days. “Hello?”

“Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Kind of, but it’s fine. What’s up? Wait,” you interrupt yourself and listen carefully to your speaker. “Are you…driving?”

“…yeah.”

“Should I ask from or to where?”

“I…honestly don’t know. Something felt off, felt like I had to get out of my place and just fucking do something. So uh, I drove somewhere and just started driving back home.”

You curl up under your sheets on your side and plug your earbuds into the phone. “Well, did it get rid of whatever you were feeling?”

“I think so? Honestly couldn’t fucking tell you. Still really bizarre to me.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you murmur. “Well, feel free to call me whenever you feel like that again.”

“I don’t wanna fuck up your sleep schedule though. Feel like it’ll happen more often than I’d like.”

“How about this – if I don’t pick up, it’ll just be my nice way of saying ‘fuck off, too busy sleeping right now’?”

A soft, deep chuckle warms your chest and cheeks. “Sounds good. So how’ve you been?”

“Well, you know…”

It’s the same night that you think you might have a chance at love again. You fall asleep with his voice weaving stories and tales in your ears and wake up to a message that says, “Wow, didn’t know I was so fucking boring that it made you snore so loud.” The hope that creeps through your veins is dangerous and thrums urgently whenever you get a call or message from him.

And as bright as a star, it all comes crashing down in a firey blaze.

You crash into a girl as mysterious and serenely beautiful as the moon with a talking black cat one afternoon. She exudes a gorgeous amount of confidence in her stance as she protects you from a creature that looks like it’s out of a horror video game, and you can only stare in awe. The cat from before yells instructions at you, throwing what looks like a pen with a red cap on it and you blindly follow them. Your subsequent red heels feel incredibly comfortable and you can’t remember the last time you wore a skirt – but there’s no time to ponder as you push the girl you were admiring out of harm’s way and somehow manage to direct fire at them from your fingertips.

The monster burns and screams in agony before getting hit with what looks like a glowing frisbee. Your savior wipes the dust off her outfit before extending a hand out to you, “Welcome to the club, Sailor Mars.”

Say what now?

“There’s gotta be a better name than that,” is the first thing you say as you get pulled up. She throws her head back and lets out a charmingly obnoxious laugh. “We’ll work on changing it. I can tell we’re gonna be good friends.”

“Her name ended up being a rip-off of my name,” the cat quips and receives a scowl from the supposed plagiarizer. “I’m Luna, and this is Sailor Moon, or Lunaria she says.”

“You gotta admit, that’s cutting it a little close,” you agree and Lunaria flips the bird. “How the fuck am I going to change Sailor Mars? Also, can I do anything about this outfit?”

“We can go shopping tomorrow for sure. Luna and I can fill you on everything and – oh, before I forget, there’s a guy—”

“So it looks like you don’t need my help?”

You freeze in your steps, startled by the familiar baritone approaching you two. He was involved in all this?

“I told you, I don’t need your help—”

“Is she new?”

“Yeah, which means, we really don’t need your help. She’s got actual fire power. Literal fire.”

“That’s pretty fucking cool,” he accepts. “Good to meet you.”

You spot a set of veiny fingers that appears in your peripheral and you tentatively turn in his direction, hoping that your hair will obstruct your face as much as possible. “Same,” your throat manages to squeak out as his warm hand engulfs yours in a firm handshake.

“Get out of here, Corpse,” Lunaria chides and lets go of you to push a finger to his chest.

“I’m only here because you fucking needed saving. Now you’ve got another person dragged in.”

“I told you, I’m not some fucking damsel in distress,” she hisses. The mirth in his visible eye only causes the infuriation to grow and swirl more vigorously in her gut.

You watch the exchange from the sidelines as Corpse’s teasing only increases and provokes Lunaria further, disheartened that you’ve never heard him laugh so much in one exchange before. Dread from deep within your veins begins to freeze around your heart, something so set and undeniable that causes your brain to realize that falling in love with him was a mistake. It was the kind of mistake that would strike you with pain for years and the intense foreshadowing has you spinning on your heel and bounding through an alleyway. Your outfit shifts back to what you’d been wearing before, the characteristic weight of your phone in your back pocket seeming heavier than ever.

You call him that night, holding in a deep breath when the dial tone breaks midway. A rustle, a breath, and then, “Hey what’s up?”

Oh god, you scream to yourself as your heart shatters at the bottom of your chest. His voice, again, cannot be misconstrued as anyone else’s – the inflection, the tone, the volume, everything belonged to him.

And the universe told you then and there that he, undoubtedly, belonged to her.

[liquorisce]

reading between the lines (High School Years, Ch 2)

pairing: eren x mikasa (shingeki no kyojin) // mild erehisu, yumihisu

rating: t

summary: (modern au) Junior year is difficult, especially for Mikasa, because it turns out Eren’s decided to test the dating scene. 

(banter, jealousy... and lots of feelings)

part 1 | read on ao3

A/N: this chapter has been a long time coming (5 years omg), and tbh I have a lovely anon to thank, who messaged me asking for a sequel to hsy, which made me actually want to put down my scrambled headcanons on paper. if you're reading this anon, i'm truly grateful for the push you gave me. 

NOTE: although i intended a sequel, this is a COMPANION fic to chapter 1, it is meant to fill up the gaps in the story that the previous chapter didnt tell you. i hope you enjoy :)

Today was not one of Eren’s favourite days, for 2 reasons. For one, the day started off with … an encounter. Two, today they would be getting the results of their final trig assessment, which Eren knows perfectly well he didn’t have a chance of passing.

The ‘encounter’ happens pretty much without preamble.

…

i.

“… Hey, it’s Eren, right?” He turns around from his conversation with Armin, to see the same guy from a couple of weeks ago, the one who was talking about Mikasa, and her pretty hair. (he wasn’t wrong)  

“Yeah?” He does his best not to let the subconscious irritation seep into his tone.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot the other day,” the guy with the oddly horse-shaped face says, “… My name’s Jean.”

“… Nice to meet you,” he says awkwardly delivering his dishonest words.

“… So, I wanted to be straight up with you,” Jean says, cheeks oddly pink. “About Mikasa… and you. I’ve heard some rumours, and I thought it best to address it with you directly, because I really don’t want to cause any trouble.”   Clearing his throat, he says, “Are you guys… y’know, together?”

It’s in the way Jean speaks, he thinks, or the way he talks about Mikasa (or even thinks of her?) - it makes him want to ram his fist right in the middle of his ugly face. And because he was too busy clenching his fists to actually respond, Armin says with a laugh, “… Ah, don’t worry, Mikasa is totally single.”

And then proceeds to wink at Jean.

Eren can barely believe his eyes and ears. And once Jean is out of earshot he hisses, “… what the fuck, Armin?”

Armin blinks up at him innocently. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

 “… You didn’t have to encourage him,” Eren mumbles petulantly, when he admits to himself that Armin did, in fact, say nothing wrong.

 “Erm, why not?” He sighs, “Look, I know you… worry about Mikasa,” Armin keeps his tone as neutral and veiled as possible, because worried is definitely not all Eren feels for Mikasa, “… but Jean is a good guy! And if anyone deserves attention from a good guy, it’s her.”

…

 ii.

 She finds him lurking near his locker, stuffing his crumpled papers in, probably wishing away their existence.

“That bad, huh?” She asks, hiding away her grin at his predictable reaction. Eren has always been predisposed too sulking - whether he was a 7-year-old who wasn’t the fastest on the field or 16-something and having just received his trigonometry results.

“… You look like you did just fine,” he mutters, not having to see the A+ on her paper to know that Mikasa had no problem acing the trig test (or any other test).

“You could just ask me for help, Eren. I could help you out for the retakes,” she offers softly, not for the first time.

He sighs. When he glances at her, dark eyes offering earnestly, he knows she means it without any pride or arrogance, but he isn’t able to suppress the prick of his own ego that has him mumbling, “… the mandatory remedial lessons should do just fine.”

…

iii.

When he shows up for class, he sees only a couple of others unfamiliar faces, so he curses under his breath at his own ineptitude towards mathematics for getting him in this situation and takes a spot at the back of the class.

The Support teacher - Erd, he calls himself, apparently too young to be addressed ‘Mr.’ or any of that - seems just as tired as the rest of them, sighing at the lack of answers, obviously frustrated at the complete lack of interest or gratitude of the teenagers in front of him.

So, 20 minutes into the 1-hour lesson, when the short blonde walks in, out-of-breath and apologetic, the sarcasm in his tone is biting. “You’ve already missed 1/3rd of this class, you might as well have stayed out entirely and practiced your cheer routines.”

Eren watches sympathetically at the visible cringe on Krista’s face and offers her an empathetic smile as she takes the seat next to him.

Later when they’ve been informed that the retake is just an assignment filled with proofs and average difficulty problems that they can do in pairs, he looks at Krista, the only known person in the room.

They weren’t that close, but they had quite a few mutual friends what with him playing basketball and her being part of the cheer team. So, when she says, “… see you at the library tomorrow evening?” with a pretty smile across her pretty features, he grins gratefully.

..

She doesn’t struggle with trig even half as much as he does. In fact, she seemed to be happy to do most of the work herself and explain her solutions - if he actually had the interest to understand them.

“I don’t understand,” he admits after she solves the 5th problem in a row effortlessly, “you seem to have everything down already. How come you didn’t pass the test?”

Her eyes skittered nervously away from him. “I was… sick,” she mutters. “I couldn’t really focus.”

He eyes her closely, observing the sudden change in her countenance. Usually Krista was all easy smiles, twinkle in her blue eyes. Now, she looks uneasy, unwell almost. Deciding it wasn’t his place to pry, “… Well, I guess I turned out to be the lucky one in all this,” he grins, “… I get to hang out with you and have you do my assignment.”

She rolls her eyes. To be honest, she’d enjoyed the past couple of evenings with him. Eren was easy to talk to, despite being somewhat of an airhead and being completely incapable of anything remotely math related. But regardless, he made her laugh and just about forget what happened the morning before she showed up for this test, with fresh tears choking her throat, and purpling bruises on her thighs.

“I guess you owe me then,” she quips back, smugly.

“… I definitely do,” he says smoothly, green eyes watching her in a way that makes her feel warm. “How can I make it up to you?”

Flustered, because she hadn’t expected his easy response, she mumbles, “… Dinner?” And with red cheeks hidden by her blonde bangs, she whispers, “I like pizza.”

…

iv.

She finds him at the end of the day, on one of the wooden tables outside the basketball court, chin resting in his hands, eyes glued to his laptop.

“… Hey,” she breathes, giggling when startled green eyes flash up to her, body jerking in surprise.

“Damn, you got me,” he grins, pushing his laptop away and leaning up for a brief kiss. She’s happy to return it, and she lets her fingers wind into his hair, enjoying it for a moment longer.

“Mmm,” she mumbles, “I saw you closing that browser window,” she teases, wrestling control of his laptop, “watcha lookin’ at?”

When she manages to open his browser history – much to Eren’s protest – her eyes widen. “Women’s dresses, spring collection??” She waggles her eyebrows at him.

“… It’s not for me,” he grumbles, deciding to make it painstakingly clear before Krista enthusiastically begins to tell him what dress would suit him the most – he knows his girlfriend, crossdressing would be absolutely acceptable, if not encouraged – and he watches her eyes feign disappointment.

“… Boring,” she sighs, rolling her pretty blue eyes, “I don’t see how you’re not curious about how you look in a dress,” – she gasps, hand flying over her mouth, “Wait… was that… a surprise… for me?”

“… Um,” Eren starts, intelligently, because the situation that was already awkward in his opinion, just became even more so. “Well,” he gulps, taking in the sparkle in her eyes, knowing fully well just how much she likes surprises, feeling guilty even thought he needn’t be, “itsformikasa.”

He hangs his head in apparent apology, but more so because he doesn’t want to see the disappointment flit across her features.

“… Oh.”

He chances a glance at her, and there’s no particular emotion per se, and it worries him, because she gets this faraway look in her eye sometimes, and he can’t really tell what’s going on, and they’ve only been together a few months and he’s not an expert in reading her silences –

“I see, is it for her birthday or something?” Her tone is measured, and she’s looking pointedly at the screen.

“Um… yeah.” Eren sighs, wondering what the hell was up with his own reaction. He had nothing to feel guilty about – where did that even come from anyway? – Mikasa’s his… family (or something). Shopping for her was normal. He did it every year. This isn’t something he needed to hide.

“Yeah, it’s next month,” he says, giving her a smile. There was no need for this to be awkward if he didn’t make it so. Besides, it wasn’t like he was buying her lingerie or something! (he brushed this thought aside faster than the red blush crept up his neck)

“Do you think, you could help me with it?” He blurts this out, partially in an attempt to distract the weird atmosphere, and also partially because he could really use the help.

Krista blinks. “Err, yeah. Sure.” She pulls up Mikasa’s profile on Instagram. “Let’s see,” she murmurs… Turtlenecks… Jeans… a ridiculously modest swimsuit that she wore to a pool party two years ago. The sexiest outfit on her entire profile was probably her in her tennis shorts and that had more to do with Mikasa’s undeniably ripped body than anything else.

She looks up at Eren, who’s still looking at her tentatively, green eyes unsure.

This whole thing was silly anyway, she thinks, offering him a genuine smile. He and Mikasa were close (and they lived together, which she did her best not to think about), but this wasn’t a surprise so it’s about time that it came up in some way in their relationship. In any case, she hadn’t felt any hostility from the raven-haired beauty and Eren was usually quite forthcoming about everything, so she didn’t really have anything to worry about.

“So, um, does she have a favourite colour or something?” She’s eager to kill the awkward mood and is grateful to see his shoulders visibly relax as he ponders.

“… Red, I think. Maybe, like, a darker shade. Sort of… maroon, y’know?” He thinks of the scarf he gave Mikasa when they were younger. It was a ratty, yet fluffy maroon thing which she was absolutely terrible at tying, but she wears it everywhere during the winter, even though his father had a bought her a better one at some point.

They peruse their options for a bit, and Krista picks out a deep red number, a shimmery satin one, with slinky straps and a slit that travels up an already high hemline. It wasn’t really a spring dress but more of a cocktail night outfit, and Eren is weirdly embarrassed thinking of Mikasa in it.

He eyes the screen incredulously. “… Somehow, I just can’t picture Mikasa wearing something like that.” He opens up another link, to a denim overall dress, “… now this, she would wear.”

“And that,” Krista retorts, “is why she’s still single. She has an amazing body; she should flaunt it.”

“… What would she wear it to?” Eren asks, unconvinced. (Also, what was wrong with Mikasa being single?) “… Student council meetings? Debate competitions?! I just,” –

“Parties, Eren,” she says, exasperated, “… it’s high school!”

“You know she doesn’t” –

“Drag her to some! C’mon, we’re going to be seniors soon. She’ll thank you for it!”

…

v.

Six hours later, she’s closing up her shift at her part-time job. It’s a job she’d rather keep hidden – from her friends at school and the law – because she isn’t sure what the age policy was in these kinds of establishments. It worked out because it was close enough to home, and between her and the bartender, the tips compensated the poor wages. Plus, the bartender – a slightly older girl named Ymir with a pretty fringe and a sharp tongue – was genuinely fan to hang out with. And she was surprisingly protective of the small blonde, particularly with the rougher customers, whom Ymir scared off quite effectively with her glares.

“So,” she says, as she scrubs the counter clean, “… I helped my boyfriend buy a dress today.”  

She doesn’t turn back to see her, but she can hear Ymir’s raised eyebrows as she says, cheekily, “… I didn’t realize you guys were into that stuff.”

Snorting, she replies, “Well that would be interesting. But no, it was for his, um, friend. Or something.” Or something, because sometimes Eren refers to Mikasa as his best friend, sometimes his family, and sometimes it just felt like… something else, basically.

She turns around to look at Ymir, who says nothing, continuing to rinse the rest of the glasses. “Her name’s Mikasa,” she continues, her voice getting oddly unsure, “They’ve known each other forever. They even… live together.”

“… What,” Ymir stares at her in disbelief.

“It’s not like that,” Krista finds herself sounding defensive, “Eren’s dad is her guardian… or something. Has been for some years. So, it’s not like they moved in together…”

She elects to skip the part where Eren’s dad is a doctor with Doctors without Borders and is barely home for more than a couple of months a year. She didn’t like the look Ymir was giving her anyway.

“So… they’re like brother-sister or what?”

“No,” she says, realizing that the word came out more vehement than she intended. But she knows that was definitely not the way Eren saw their relationship.

“… Krista,” Ymir starts, and the blonde can tell by the tone of her voice that she’s going to get all protective on her, “… I know you’re in high school, and… you’re dating – as you should – but you don’t have to waste your time on shady boys.”

At this she laughs because, “Eren’s not shady, he’s a nice guy,” –

“… You could get anyone you want; I mean look at you, you’re beautiful.”

The defense that was bubbling up in her throat suddenly stilled, because there’s something about the way Ymir just said that – called her beautiful – earnestly, quietly, and it made her feel funny. It took her breath away for a very brief second and replaced it with a warm flush that creeps up her neck.

It’s strange, she’s heard it before from so many boys with obvious motivations; Eren’s always calling her pretty, and complimenting her eyes or whatever… But when Ymir said it, and looked at her like that, honey brown eyes, deep with unnamed emotion, all she could do was avert her eyes.

…

vi.

It’s 7pm and the library’s home only to the nerds by now. The librarian is lax (and underpaid) enough to ignore the low buzz of two over-enthusiastic AP chemistry students that grates on Mikasa’s ears.

Ordinarily she’d just plug her earphones in and ignore the world to focus on the assignment at hand. But today she accepts anything to distract her from the scene earlier at home. And even though Armin’s sitting right next to her, supposedly doing his own thing, she doesn’t miss the worried glances he sends her every now and then, which she really doesn’t want to address.

Her feelings for Eren were a well-known secret by now, just as well-known as the fact that he clearly didn’t return those feelings, so she wasn’t particularly in the mood for Armin’s indulgent pity… regardless of how well-intentioned it was.

So, when its 8pm and the librarian is shooing them out, and she bumps into Jean, she’s grateful for the few extra minutes of conversation surrounding absolutely nothing important.

When they continue to the parking lot, their conversation having progressed from awkward conversation starters to an animated discussion on Jean’s tennis form, Armin’s well and truly realized that he has no place here.

After Armin’s said his goodbyes and Mikasa recognizes that she doesn’t mind staying away from home and possibly Eren and Krista in the middle of their 5th round, she asks Jean, “… so do you like Chinese food?”

…

When she walks in a little after 10 pm, cheeks cold from the night air, there’s a small grin on her cheeks, because she’s made a new friend today, whose company she genuinely enjoyed.

But when she enters the living room to see Eren fast asleep on the couch, she finds herself staring in the face of the reality she’d tried so hard to escape. It’s difficult to ignore the ruffled quality of his brown hair, mussed up in a way that could only have been achieved by someone (a very blonde, very beautiful someone) raking their hands through it.

She can’t help the wave of irritation that sweeps through her - so she doesn’t bother to soften her footsteps as she walks up the wooden stairs.

Minutes later, she hears his sleepy voice at her door. “Hey,” he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice, “you were out pretty late, so I left you some dinner. We made pasta, it’s not as good as yours but,” -

“… I ate already,” she says, tone clipped.

“Oh.” He’s quiet, just watching her put her things away, and there’s irrational tears pricking at her eyes, anger, and frustration that she knows she doesn’t have the right to, so she doesn’t turn to acknowledge him. “… Mikasa, are you…,” he clears his throat, “… is something wrong?”

When she says nothing, he sighs, turning, “… Well, if you want to talk about it, you know I’m always here,” -

“… Could you please go over to Krista’s house next time?”

She colours, surprised at herself for her outburst of honesty. But her blush pales in comparison to Eren’s as he processes what she’s saying. “… This is my house,” he sputters, “… I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to want to bring my girlfriend over.”

“Well, it’s not just ‘bringing her over’, is it?”

His eyes widen in disbelief. “… What I do with Krista, in my personal space, is definitely not your business, Mikasa.”

“It is when I can hear it, Eren,” she retorts, as he shuts the door forcefully behind him.

…

vii.

It’s been two weeks since that… confrontation, and Mikasa’s barely spoken to him since.

She leaves before he does, makes sure dinner’s left out on the stove for him, whether he needs it or not, and locks her door when she’s done. And although he’s found himself staring awkwardly at that shut door multiple times, he’s never had the courage to actually knock.

He simply cannot comprehend this situation because despite the numerous arguments they’ve had in the past - it was always him, whining about something like a petty child and sulking till he got his way - she’d never truly been mad at him. And she’d never, ever, gone days without talking to him. And as he stares at the locker next to his (it was Mikasa’s) with a horrible ache in his chest, he is well and truly sure that he loathes this situation.

So, when small hands reach around his waist, enveloping him in a tight embrace, his subconscious reaction is to jerk back in annoyance. “I didn’t realise it was you,” he murmurs apologetically, rubbing her hands softly.

“… Who else would it be?” Krista asks, somewhat thrown off by this mood that had been festering for days now.

“You ask some very valid questions there, babe,” he mutters, a distracted half-smile on his face.

Taking a deep breath (determined to shake him out of his pensive aura), she whispers, “… You know, I don’t have work today.” She leans against him, reaching up to murmur in his ear, “we could hang out at yours for a while, if you want?”

She makes it clear what she means by “hanging out” by the way she presses up against him, and even though he’s responded with fervent enthusiasm to a similar invitation in the past, today he just averts his gaze, awkwardly.

Swallowing the rejection with a graceful exterior, she puts an arm’s length of distance between them. “… What’s going on, Eren? Your head’s been somewhere else all week.”

And before he starts to stay that it’s nothing, just that he has some stuff going on, she says, “… does this have something to do with Mikasa?”

His green gaze jerks up at her, startled with unfortunate honesty. “… I haven’t seen you talk to her all week.”

“…I,” he starts, but his throat closes up, for some reason, unsure whether he should really tell her what happened. He doesn’t want to put her in the middle of something that was clearly between him and Mikasa.

But with every passing second, the guilty look on his face only begins to feed the fears that she had successfully kept dormant all this while. “… Did something happen between the two of you?”

And when he looks into her eyes, bright blues seeping insecurity, he says, hurriedly, “… wait, I hope you aren’t thinking that we,” - he inhales sharply, wondering how he manages so successfully to upset the women in his life - “God, no. We had a misunderstanding, that’s all. She said something, I was pretty rude to her, and I shouldn’t have been.”

“And,” he murmurs, admitting it to himself, finally, “I’ve just taken too long to apologize.”

…

She’s barely finished washing the vegetables for dinner, when she hears the thud of the front door closing loudly.

(She remembers Carla reprimanding him every time, for not being gentler)

Mikasa has managed to avoid Eren successfully these past days, because she knows his schedule, knows that despite his complete lack of organization, he’s fairly predictable. And with his recent interest in a particular cheerleader, he almost invariably never comes home before 8.30 PM. So, when she hears him enter their kitchen at little over 7, she isn’t prepared.

She isn’t prepared because she’s been quite cowardly, saying things that she had no business saying, and then being unable to own up to it, unable to apologize to him. Because she knew that when she looks at him, she’ll feel the way she feels right now - taking in the sight of him, drizzle droplets fresh in his brown hair, as he runs a hand through it, his mouth twisting into an awkward grin. She knew she’d realize that her feelings for Eren were never really much of a choice, they just were.  

“… I brought your favourite dumplings from Li’s,” he announces. “And I brought an extra serving of the spicy soy sauce so we don’t have to fight over who gets the last bit.”

…

He’s grateful for the small smile that forms on her face when she accepts the dumplings (the peace treaty as he calls it in his head), and for the small banter that she indulges him in as they eat.

After they’re stuffed with dumplings and inconsequential conversation, he clears his throat, because he remembers he came home early tonight with a certain conviction.

But as she does with most things, she beats him to it. “… Eren, about the other day,” she looks at him earnestly, “… I had no right to demand that of you. I’m sorry.”

And when he’s still quiet, she mumbles quickly, “I don’t know what got into me that day, honestly, I,” -

“Don’t apologise, Mikasa,” he says, a strange disquiet taking over him as he replays her words, “… the last thing I want, is to make you feel uncomfortable.” Or to make you feel like you can’t demand what you want from me.

This is the part that settles into him slowly, that somehow, the one person in his life that he’s always felt he could ask anything of, could demand anything of, and actually receive it without fail… she didn’t feel that she could count on the same from him. And it twisted painfully inside of him.

“I appreciate that, Eren. But honestly, I’ll get used to it… so don’t worry.” She smiles, in that genuine way of hers, small lips, curving shyly, “… and who knows, maybe someday I’ll want to ‘bring someone over’ too.”

She laughs as she does the air quotes and even though he manages a small grin in response, all he can say, without really meaning it, is –

“Yeah… Of course, yeah.”

…

 viii.

 She takes her frustration out on the cash register. “… Damn thing doesn’t open when I need it to, and doesn’t close when I want it to,” she mutters under her breath.

 “You just need to show it some love,” Ymir says, amused, promptly closing the problematic register without any difficulty. “… Go sit, I’ll close up here.”

 She does as she’s told, pouting slightly, but she’s grateful for the older girl’s help and understanding. “So… want a beer before I close the tap?” Ymir asks with a wink.

 “You need to stop offering underage girls alcohol,” Krista whispers, scanning the room hastily.

 The brunette rolls her eyes. “You need to stop with the innocent act every time. You’re a hot cheerleader for god’s sakes, everyone knows what goes on at your high school parties,”  -

 “Ok ok,” she acquiesces, suppressing the blush at Ymir’s offhanded compliment and deciding that that there was no point in panicking every time they did this, “… but only if you join me.”

 “Cheers,” Ymir says, offering her glass to Krista’s and taking a generous gulp. “So, tell me. Boy trouble, again?”

 Krista nurses her drink slowly before taking a sip.

 To Krista, Eren was a breath of fresh air. He didn’t hover, he didn’t foam at the mouth every time she spoke to another guy, didn’t hound her if she didn’t pick up his phone call.

 Does he even care? Ymir had asked her once scathingly, but she had disregarded it, grateful for the freedom she felt in his embrace. Freedom from toxic attachment, from past trauma or unresolved baggage like the one she was destined to carry. When she was around him, she had felt different. Lighter almost, as if this persona that she had created for herself could actually have a shot at happiness after all.

 But lately she’d begun to wonder if she’d just been fooling herself… again. She’d begun to question if she had just convinced herself to see the promise of something that was never there.

 “… I thought this guy was one of the good ones,” Ymir says, watching Krista closely.

 “He is…” she sighs, “He is one of the good ones. It’s just…” she trails off, unsure if she should give voice to her thoughts. “Ah fuck it, I’m just feeling a little insecure, it’ll be fine…”

 “… Is this about that sexy flatmate of his?”

 She winces, feeling exposed. It often felt that way with Ymir. Like there was no point to any of the barriers she had worked so hard in constructing.

 “She is attractive,” Krista admits, begrudgingly. “… I’m only surprised Eren hasn’t noticed that.”  

 “… But that’s what you’re worried about, aren’t you? That he has noticed that of late?” Ymir narrows her eyes at Krista. “You should just ask him about it!”

 “I did,” she states defensively, “… and he said there was nothing,” -

 “… Oh, sure there’s nothing. I can’t believe he thinks he can lie to you and get away with it,” -

 “Ymir, I trust him, he’s my boyfriend,” -

 “But that’s the problem with you. You just trust everyone, and you let them walk all over you. You did this with Reiner and now with,” -

 “Ok,” she whispers, “Stop it, Ymir.”

 “… Krista, you need to trust your gut about this sort of thing. If your gut is telling you that he’s a lying asshole, then you should just dump his ass and,” -

 “… See this is why I didn’t want to tell you about this,” she cries, her voice rising In frustration. Because this is how it’s always been with Ymir, no one she dates is ever good enough, no decision she makes is ever smart enough.

 “You’re always shitting on my boyfriends. And I know you were justified about the last one, but,” her voice cracks just a little bit, because at the end of it all, she just feels weak, “… it feels like you’re just taking a massive crap on me as well.”

 “I didn’t mean,” Ymir starts apologetically, brown eyes remorseful, “… look, that wasn’t my intention.”

 She takes her hand, slowly, lets her long fingers intertwine with Krista’s smaller, dainty ones.  The crumpled expression on Krista’s features has her regretting ever opening her big mouth. But she was tired of seeing one person after another, enter her Krista’s life, and undo the progress she was trying so desperately to make.

“… The truth is,” she takes a deep breath, ready to unleash a truth that’s been stifled for so long, she can’t even remember when it first sprouted, “I think you’re pretty fucking amazing. And I see you wasting all your time and your feelings on these stupid boys who don’t deserve you.” The words come out quickly, rushed almost. A sharp contrast to how long they’ve festered in Ymir’s chest, growing and growing until these feelings knew no reason.

 Ymir doesn’t look at her, she keeps her gaze focused on Krista’s hand, afraid of what might happen if Krista understands the depth of feeling behind her words. But more important than her feelings, there were some things she wanted Krista to see clearly.

 “Did you tell him about your father, Krista? What he does to you when his wife isn’t looking?”

 Krista tugs on her hand, a wave of unbridled panic spreading at the mention of her father. “I trusted you with that information, Ymir, you promised you’d never bring it up,” -

 “… Did you tell him your real name?”

 She can’t answer this question, even though she knows the answer, knows it’s an emphatic ‘no’ - but she cannot answer because there’s an overwhelming lump in her throat, and it’s taking everything from her to barely keep it together.

 “… Let go of me, Ymir,” she pleads, and that’s when Ymir loosens her grip.

 “… You trusted me to keep quiet about your secrets - and I’m fine with that. I’m fine with doing anything you ask of me,” her teeth grit together, because she doesn’t know, Krista doesn’t know just how much she would do.  

 “You asked me not to do anything about the fact that your father is hurting you, and it even though it kills me, I listened to you. But now I see you hurting yourself in this farcical relationship with fabricated feelings for some boy who doesn’t treat you the way you deserve, and I don’t know if I can be quiet about that anymore.”

 And because it’s grown too large, too much to keep inside of her anymore, she whispers, “I love you, Historia. And if you want me to let go of you, I will. But,” she brushes her lips gently against Krista’s cheek, “… You can trust me with your secrets, and your heart, if you’d let me, because I could take care of you.” She feels a warm tear roll down Krista’s cheek and her heart clenches, “… I could make you happy.”

 …

ix. 

 “… I really appreciate you making time for this,” she murmurs, as she watches him lay the white lilies at her parent’s grave.

 He always remembers, without her prompting, because the first time he’d come with her, she’d spent hours crying at their gravestone, telling him tear-filled anecdotes of the dishes her Mama cooked, the bedtime stories her Papa told, the flowers that they used to grow in their garden together (white lilies).

 “C’mon Mikasa,” he rolls his eyes at her, “… we do this every year. Why wouldn’t I make time for this?” And why the hell are you thanking me?

 She can’t really explain it to him, the possibly childish notion that she thought he might be too busy with his girlfriend to remember the death anniversary of her parents. She regrets doubting him, regrets that of late she’s been so clouded by petty jealousy, that she hasn’t truly appreciated how little he’s changed around her.

 “It’s ridiculous,” she confesses, softly, “… you’ve given me everything. A home… A family.” She smiles at him, somewhat blurry. “But I can’t help it, every year on this day, my mind always goes back to that… moment. I lost them… in what felt like the blink of an eye.”

 He tenses, as he always does when he sees her upset, or shedding a tear. There is a fundamental part of him that deeply despises the sadness on her features; it makes him feel helpless. So, he does the only thing he can - he wraps an arm around her, tucking her face into his shoulder as she snuggles into him.

 “I miss them every day. But you saved me, Eren,” she whispers, dark eyes looking up at him with a gratefulness that he has never known how to accept, and never felt worthy of. “… and now I have you.”

 Her voice trails off, almost wistful. “… I guess the world really can be cruel but beautiful at the same time.”

 …

 x.

 When he stops to think about it, he supposes it really is ridiculous it took them so long to get here. And by here he means - Mikasa wrapped securely in his arms, in his lap, on their couch, taking advantage of the privacy they’ve had all along.

 He feels her tongue flick against his - it makes him shiver - and he can do little more than just wrap himself around her tighter, and sigh into her kiss. Her fingers make their way into his hair, cradling his head, pressing sweet kisses on the side of his mouth, on his jaw, and on the sensitive spot beneath his ear.

 And because Mikasa’s always been a quick study (she’s learnt what he likes, what he’s weak for), he stills her exploration (very reluctantly) before she goes too far.

 “Are you okay…?” He whispers, rubbing a thumb along the dried tear stains on her cheek – a reminder of her tears, of knowing the pain that he’d caused her, bubbled quietly within him, having been quelled temporarily by the glorious feeling of having her in his arms.

 She laughs, shaking her head, “… I love you. I can’t believe I finally get to say it.” She rests her forehead against his, a happy smile forming on her lips.

 “… You could have said it ages ago; you know. No one asked you to keep it inside for this long.” Even though he teases her with his words, his lips drift back to hers, brushing softly, unable to stay away for too long.

 “… Well, you never know, I actually might have said it. If it wasn’t for, you know, you having a girlfriend.” He senses the eye roll, the teasing lilt of her voice, but he can’t help but regret the time he wasted. Because even though Krista was a dear friend, and there were no ill intentions there, now that he is here, chest to chest with the girl he loves, he only wishes he’d been here sooner.

 “You’re going to use that against me forever, aren’t you?”

 She grins in response. “… I have a question though.”

 “Shoot,” he murmurs, nibbling against her lower lip.

 “… Why’d you guys break up?”

 He groans, kissing her jaw testily. “… Do you really want to go into that right now?”

 She hesitates, torn between potentially ruining the mood and needing to know what happened. God knows, she had spent countless nights losing sleep over the details anyway. “If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay, I guess…”

 “It’s fine,” he says quickly, realising that if he wanted to set a precedent where she could ask him anything, then it‘s best he starts now, “… She’s in love with someone else. A girl, actually.”

 Her eyes widen, not having expected that turn of events. “… Please tell me you didn’t ask for a threesome.”

 “What the fuck, Mikasa, of course not!” He pulls back, offended.

 “Good,” she murmurs cheekily, “I’ve raised you well.”

 “Hmm,” he hums, “Speaking of ‘raising me’, you should probably stop saying stuff like that. Do you know that Connie asked if you were like a ’sister’ to me?”

 He grins, seeing the shocked expression on her face. That’s exactly how he had felt when he was posed that question, with a little mortification added to the mix. “… Is that really how everyone sees our… relationship?”

 His fingers drift to hers, where they rest on his chest. “We’ve been living together for a while now,” he caresses her knuckles absentmindedly, “Kids our age… they don’t really understand it, I guess. Anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

 “My turn: I have a question for you,” he murmurs. This is a question he’s long considered, stopped only by his embarrassment, fielding it from others only to put the vaguest labels on it.

 “… What am I to you, Mikasa?”

 The question throws her, because even though she’s told him candidly how she feels, that she loves him, she always has, he is asking her, right now, to define their relationship.

 The very notion, the expression that flits on her tongue, bubbles up in her heart with an exciting warmth, even though she hopes this is just temporary, that it will grow, that Eren is so many things and will be so many things to her that she cannot possibly define right now - “… My boyfriend, of course.”

- fin - 

A/N:  i've been really nervous to post em, because its just been so long, and the writer that wrote chap 1 is different from the one that wrote chap 2, and honestly i dont even know if there are inconsistencies. so my request to you, dear reader, is to please let me know if i have made any fuck ups in writing this - or if you have any ideas for pacing, or storytelling that could possibly help me improve.

also there will be a chapter 3 focusing on eremika’s sexual exploration~

[the-haven-of-fiction]

Not A Christmas Movie

Genre/Rating: Fluff and Sweetness of the holiday variety, T

Summary:  Tom and Astrid find themselves in a unique situation on Christmas Eve. 

Author’s Notes:  My first sappy romantic Christmas one shot, y’all!  Move over, Hallmark!  I tried to cover some of the best cheesy themes, I hope you enjoy it.  Thank you to Pillow Talk and Lolo for proofing.  

The sound of the wind and snow raced through the trees and whipped against the walls of the cabin, the remote mountainous location devoid of any welcoming lights from neighbors.  The two travelers dropped their luggage upon crossing the threshold and rushed to push the heavy door shut behind them.   

“When we get through this, neither you nor my sisters are ever allowed to make fun of my emergency preparedness again!  We’d be in major trouble without it!” Astrid declared, brushing snow off her jacket and holding up the lantern from the referenced emergency preparedness with her other hand as Tom attempted to lock the door.

“I think I can safely and assuredly,” he paused to run his tongue over his perpetually chapped lips in concentration, “give you my word as an Englishman that I shall never,” a grunt of effort, “allow either myself or your sisters to utter a syllable of criticism on that score.”  

She couldn’t help but giggle at his struggle with the lock.  

“Remember when you had the brilliant idea to build a set for one of our backyard holiday productions?  Was that when you played Scrooge?  Your word as an Englishman may be good as gold, but your complete lack of skill with anything slightly mechanical is something I wouldn’t swear by.”

Even in the dim light of the lantern, the slight twitch of a smile was visible on his face, the vision of the pathetic attempt so vivid in his memory.  

“No one is going to believe this,” she sighed, shivering and looking around for a light switch.

“Truth is stranger than fiction,” Tom quipped. “The best intentions of a Christmas surprise, a series of unfortunate events, a comedy of errors…”

“I blame my soon to be ex-mechanic, the weatherman, Anya and Arlyss and their crazy idea about trying to organize our families into coming out here to the wilderness to have some kind of storybook Christmas,” she huffed, fumbling along the wall, but finding the switch and flipping it to On in relief.

They both groaned when nothing happened.  No electricity, no heat.

“They must have disconnected the electricity during renovations, fantastic.”  He followed close behind her as they made their way around the cabin.  Although the snowstorm was in full force and there weren’t any outside lights on the driveway, they could see evidence of construction as they had pulled up a few minutes earlier.  

“Well, at least there’s a fireplace and I think there is actually a pile of wood next to it,” Astrid pointed as she spoke.  “How about that.  Must have been stocked by the same person who left the door unlocked. Remind me never to hire this company, whoever they are.”

“I could go outside and check for the…uhm…the…” Tom stuttered and gestured, making what she assumed was meant to be a square shape of some kind.

“The breaker box?” she asked dryly.  

“Exactly, yes,” he answered in a tone of false bravado, clearing his throat. “I was merely waiting to see if you knew the name.”

“Santa doesn’t bring presents to little boys who lie, ya know.”  She set the lantern on the mantle next to a small glass dish of matches.  “Especially little boys who grew up in a centuries-old estate and have servants who take care of locking the doors and fixing the electrical problems.”

“They are not servants, they are staff, Miss Sassy, and I doubt Father Christmas knows we are here, no one does,” he replied.  “Add the one forgotten mobile and the other with no service to the list of things that won’t be believed.”

“Well, anyways, Professor,” she went on in an exaggerated manner, “I may have a First Aid kit in my emergency supplies, but I am not equipped to perform any surgery on wounds you would most certainly incur from trying to play Electrician.”

He knew she was correct and they both smiled, cheeks rosy with cold.

“I suppose it was fortuitous that I ended up teaching Classics rather than embarking upon a career in carpentry.”

Astrid got a fire going and they were able to scope out their surroundings more thoroughly. A last-minute change of plans had allowed the visiting Tom and originally scheduled-to-work Astrid to join their families in the mountains for Christmas, but a quick succession of unforeseen events had brought them here, stranded close to midnight in a semi-livable cabin during a snowstorm on Christmas Eve.

The owners must have been undergoing some kind of renovations.  The cabin obviously had been inhabited previously, but half the interior wasn’t complete, including the kitchen.

“The toilet flushes!” she shouted from the bathroom.  “And there’s running water in the sink!”

“Unfortunately there is no sofa or chairs of any sort and only one bedroom,” he reported when she came back into the main room, “No fireplace, but it does have a bed with linens.”

“Well, my kit has extra batteries so we should be okay with the lantern in there,” she assured him, completely missing his point about the issue of a single bed.

He noticed that her shivering wasn’t decreasing as much as it should, looking her up and down in concern.  She was wearing an ankle-length corduroy skirt in a shade that matched her eyes, with a long-sleeved but thin sweater.  

“I think we should go through our luggage and put on a couple of more layers.  That centuries-old estate was a bit drafty, so I am accustomed to an indoor chill,” he informed her with a tinge of that irritating blend of both humility and privilege.

She rolled her eyes, but went over to her suitcase and started sifting through her clothes.  

“You and the twins have always been bossy. It’s a wonder how I have managed to get through life as an adult without the three of you hovering over me like you did when I was a kid.”

He pulled on another shirt and grinned at her.

“I still remember the day you were born.  I was visiting Dad and Roberta that year for Christmas,” referring to the alternating schedule their families had of who went to which country for the holidays. “And your sisters and I were old enough to be excited rather than jealous of a new child coming.”

Astrid turned away from him, hoping he wouldn’t see her reaction.  Why did it please her so much to hear him speak of her birth with such affection?  It must be this ridiculous situation.  And the holiday.  And her birthday.  And this sparkling blue-eyed man whose place in her life she had never been quite able to define.  Not a blood relation, but as close as a family member, certainly more than a friend.  But more than a friend, in that sense?  College and adulthood had made the unanswered question less important, as the shared summers and holidays of their childhood had grown fewer and fewer.  She didn’t let herself ponder why he hadn’t married and had a dozen children to help him keep up that manor. Any woman would be elated at the prospect of sharing her life with him; she knew he had a string of casual relationships, just as she had, but their age difference had made her sure years ago that he would be a distant memory by this time.  

“Born on Christmas Day to parents named Joseph and Mary, merely the beginning of my life’s trajectory of ‘You won’t believe this!’ events, continuing to this bizarre night that has practically every plot point needed for a cheesy holiday movie except that we aren’t secretly pining for each other.”  She zipped up the windbreaker over the thicker sweater before reaching for her parka, not seeing the brief flicker in his eyes.

“Did you know that Arliss wanted to call you Snowflake and Anya’s choice was Mistletoe?” Tom picked up her scarf and hat that he had placed on the hearth so they would be toasty and walked back to her.

“I hear that story every year, along with all the suggestions from everyone to aunts and uncles to the postman.  Thank God my parents went with something on theme, but not silly.”  She pulled on her boots after a second pair of socks and looked up at him.

His expression changed and he drew in a short breath.

“Do you like your name?”

The inquiry was brimming with something that sounded like hope to her.

“Oh, yes, I’ve always loved it.  In fact, I love it as much as I’ve disliked having a birthday on Christmas because it is beautiful and unique and it made me feel beautiful and unique.”

A wave of pure delight lit up his face and something clicked in her mind.  Her parents’ version of where her name came from was always that someone had mentioned it to them and they couldn’t remember who it had been.

“It was you, wasn’t it,” Astrid said.  And it wasn’t a question. “It was your suggestion.”

He worried at his lower lip, a tic she’d come to know years ago that was a sure indication of him being both pleased and embarrassed.

“Yes,” the soft affirmation punctuated by the crackles and pops from the fire. “And your description is precisely how I thought of it then, thanks to having just started Latin in school, and,” a heartbeat of silence, “it is how I think of you now.”

He was standing directly in front of her and paused to survey her face for a few seconds before tapping lightly under her chin.  

Without even thinking about it, it seemed, she looked up at the ceiling so he could wrap the heated scarf around her neck.  The warmth felt wonderful, although the feeling caused by this stunning revelation about her name and the look on his face was already warming her up in a way she tried to herself wasn’t happening.

He tucked her hair behind her ears and pulled the hat down while she argued with herself that he was simply being affectionate in the manner of a friend.

“Well,” she said, a little too loudly, stepping back from him, “That down comforter is calling to me, I guess we should be getting to bed.”

Good heavens, the bed, she thought.  As in one bed.  

As in here, as in they were stuck with a snowstorm swirling around them.  

In a cabin that was being renovated.  With no power or heat.  

On Christmas Eve.  

This couldn’t be real, it was not a Christmas movie.

“I suppose we should,” still in that soft voice.  

A distraction.  She needed a distraction.

“Oh!  I just remembered!  I have my favorite Christmas movie downloaded on my phone, we can watch it before we go to sleep.”

Less than two hours later, David Niven was giving his sermon and Loretta Young was gazing up at him while Cary Grant walked away in the snow.  Tom was propped up a bit against the headboard and had insisted on holding the phone so she could stay under the blankets.  Somehow she had ended up almost pasted to his side as the story progressed and his arm was around her.  About halfway through, they’d had a little tussle about whether or not he should leave the warm cocoon of the bed and get them another candy cane from her Snack Pack.  He argued that they had already brushed their teeth, but a sincere plea from her with an affectionate “Be naughty with me, Professor!” addition was something he simply couldn’t resist.  

She sighed and closed her eyes, contented and drowsy and finally no longer cold, too tired and confused to attempt to figure out what was happening, how years of ignoring what was just below the surface had nearly bubbled over.  It was impossible.  He wasn’t interested.  He was just being Tom.  Typical Tom.  Caring, attentive, making you feel like you were the only person in the room.  She wouldn’t think about this anymore right now.  Maybe tomorrow.  Or not.  

Tom closed the app on her phone and noticed the time.

“Hey there, it’s 12:01.”

“Mmhhmm,” she murmured, feeling herself about to drift off.  He was so familiar, so comforting, so exactly like Christmas itself should be.  She wanted to enjoy this moment before she went back to being the little kid and he the older…the older what?

“Happy Birthday,” he said and dipped his head to kiss her forehead, his breath sweet from the earlier candy cane.

She turned upwards toward him without opening her eyes to give him a peck on the cheek, almost without knowing what she was doing in her sleepy state, but she miscalculated and missed his cheek, her mouth landing on his.

He didn’t jerk back in shock.  Or horror.

It’s now or never, she thought, suddenly wide awake and ready to throw caution out the window that was probably frozen shut by now.

Ten seconds later, ten minutes later, she wasn’t sure which, he pulled back breathlessly and she opened her eyes. 

“What are you doing?” he asked in bewilderment, in surprise, but not in accusation.

“I’m kissing you, do you mind?” she responded, quickly pulling off her mittens and his beanie so she could sink her fingers into his curls.

“I, uhm…”

“Have no fear for your virtue, Thomas,” she teased in a low voice, tugging on a fistful of those ginger locks and causing a sharp gasp from him that thrilled her and gave her courage. “We are wrapped up like a couple of stuffed sausages in this icebox and there is a foot of clothing between us.”  

His gaze narrowed and focused on her lips.

Another kiss, sweet and shy, but sure.

“I thought we weren’t secretly pining for each other,” he quoted her words back to her.

“I lied,” Astrid admitted while placing a string of kisses down his nose and nipping the tip. 

The gasp changed to a growl, his grip on her upper arms tightening.

“Santa doesn’t bring presents to little girls who lie,” using her words against her, again.

She kissed him, again.  Longer, lingering.

They were side by side now, the blankets becoming tangled.

“Did you lie?” she whispered, not knowing what to do next if he denied it, but also feeling like she couldn’t let another minute pass without settling the matter.

He propped himself up on an elbow and raised an eyebrow at her.

“I don’t recall either confirming or denying your assertion at the time,” wanting to tease her in return.

“But,” he rushed to continue upon seeing her immediately crestfallen, “I will make it absolutely clear now,” each word followed by a brush of his lips across her jaw and down her neck, “that you,” lifting his head to smile at her, “are the one I desire.”

Tears of happiness welled up and slipped down her cheeks.  

“Happy Christmas, my starshine,” he whispered against her lips.

[mermaidssonshipss]

best friends brother

this was like.. kind of a request but not? just an anon and i being silly and suddenly everyone was yelling at me to write it. so i did. yeehaw. i’m sorry if it sucks idk don’t yell at me.

warnings: cussing! really just lots of fluff.

pairings: rudy pankow x reader

word count: 2,639

You were currently sprawled out on Henning’s bed, your eyes glued to your phones screen as you aimlessly scrolled through instagram. Rudy, your best friends older brother, was set to return home from shooting season 2 of Outer Banks tonight, and Henning had asked you to come over and help decorate the house. As per usual though, Henning wasn’t there. He’d ditched you to go hang out with Sarah, the girl he was currently seeing, and you and his mom had done the bulk of the decorating. 

“I like you much better than Sarah.” their mom had commented randomly in the midst of you setting out chips, and you let out a laugh. 

“Sorry, but I’m definitely never gonna be into Henning like that.” And it was the truth, you 100% were not into Henning Pankow... Rudy Pankow was a different story, though. While you’d grown up around the Pankow’s, you were 2 years younger than Rudy, so your friendship with Henning had just naturally blossomed faster as you tended to share a lot of the same classes. Through becoming close to Henning though, you’d also grown a tiny crush on Rudy, the older brother who you always seemed to run into whenever you came over to visit Henning. He’d always given you shit about being best friends with Henning, claiming he was the better brother and you should totally ditch him to hang out with the cooler, older version, but you would always giggle and scurry away quickly, your cheeks turning red. By the time you had turned 18, Rudy was out in LA acting and finishing up college, which had given your school-girl crush time to settle. Whenever Rudy visited though, your crush always seemed to come crashing back in worse than you’d remembered it. 

Once the clock read 5pm and Henning still wasn’t home, you decided it was time for you to leave. Rudy would be showing up soon, and while you loved the older Pankow, staying away from him made it easier to avoid your growing feelings. You’d spent the last hour on his instagram, stalking his newest pictures and all of his cast mates pictures, and your stomach was in knots: he looked good, he always looked good, but every time he came back from filming Outer Banks he was always so gorgeously tan, his blonde locks usually dyed even blonder, and you found it hard to stop yourself from staring. 

You skipped down the stairs, your bubblegum pink toes tapping against the hardwood floor as you grabbed your purse.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Momma Pankow was quick to call out before you could slide your sandals on, throwing the towel she was holding down as she raced over to you.

“Home. I know Rudy will be here soon, don’t wanna interrupt your sweet little welcome home.” You smiled, and the older woman before you shook her head, her blue-eyes narrowing into a glare.

“Rudy would kill me if I let you leave. He’s been asking about you all summer, dear. He’s in the car now headed this way, and I’ve already texted him letting him know his doofus brother isn’t home, but you’re here. We wouldn’t wanna disappoint the boy, now would we?” She had a knowing smile on her face, and it made you feel slightly uneasy: there was no way she knew about your crush, there couldn’t be... right?

“Fine.” You sighed after a moment of her pouting, and she clapped happily before snatching your purse from your hands and hanging it back up before her arm was wrapped around your shoulders and pushing you into the kitchen. 

About 30 minutes later, the front door burst open, Rudy’s presence immediately lighting up the comfortable home as he dragged his suitcase in behind him. He abandoned it in the middle of the hallway, heading to the kitchen where he could hear his mom laughing. His indigo orbs fell upon his mom first, his smile bright as she raced over to him, throwing her arms around him and squeezing him tightly. 

“Is that a fake tan like last time, Pankow?” Your voice hit his ears and his gaze immediately fell upon your figure, which was currently perched upon the counter, a shy smile on your lips as you looked at the older boy.

“Let’s head to the shower and find out.” He shot back, winking at you as his mom gasped and slapped his arm, scolding the boy for his crude comment. You let out a loud laugh in response, jumping down onto the floor as he made his way around his mom and over to you, his arms wrapping around your small figure and pulling you into a hug. 

You held onto him tightly for a moment, breathing in the scent of his cologne that you’d missed so much, before forcing yourself to pull away.

“Did you dye your hair?” He asked after a moment of looking down at you, his hand reaching up as he grabbed a strand of the now silvery blonde hair in-between his fingers, tugging on it lightly and watching as the curl bounced back into place.

“Yup. Like a month ago. Henning still hasn’t even noticed.” You snorted, rolling your eyes at the thought of the oblivious younger boy you called your best friend. Rudy didn’t respond, just let out a quiet hum in response before dropping the strand of hair he was holding onto. 

3 hours had come and go, the 3 of you all now comfortable on the large couch in the living room as Rudy told stories from his time on set. You’d completely forgotten about Henning’s existence until Rudy finally brought him up, honestly. 

“Dude, where the hell is Henning?”

“Out with the girl he’s dating.” His mom responded as she pushed herself off the couch. “It’s late, I’m gonna head to bed, this old lady can’t stay up much longer. You two have fun.” She quipped, moving out of the room before Rudy could respond, so he looked at you, his face contorted in confusion. 

“Wait but... you’re.. right here?” His voice held a questioning tone, and you raised an eyebrow. 

“I am indeed..?” You responded back, your voice also questioning. 

“I thought... I mean I don’t know I just figured when Henning mentioned he was dating someone it was you.” He mumbled, his eyebrows furrowing. At the words, you pretended to gag, shaking your head and laughing at the thought.

“Absolutely not. Love the kid to death, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve seen things, Rudy. Heard things I can never un-hear. Henning and I aren’t, and never will be, a thing. He’s with some girl named Sarah.” You shrugged, watching as Rudy leant back into the couch more, his expression unreadable. Before you could further question the older Pankow, Henning was bursting through the front door and racing over to Rudy, jumping on him and causing the two of them to fall to the floor as they rolled around on the carpet, wrestling with one another.

“And with that, I am leaving!” You announced, shaking your head at the boys who simply waved goodbye, though Rudy tried to pop up and actually give you a hug, Henning was quick to pull him back down. 

Once you were gone and the two boys were alone, Rudy pushed Henning off of him and launched right into it.

“Who is Sarah? Why aren’t you dating y/n?” Henning gave him a look as he shrugged his shoulders, throwing himself down onto the couch now.

“Y/N? She’s my best friend dude. I’m not into her like that. She’s also definitely not into me like that, either. She likes older dudes.” He responded simply, grabbing his phone out of his pocket to read a text he’d gotten from Sarah. 

“How the fuck can you not be into her? Have you seen her? She’s like.. I don’t know.. perfect.” Rudy huffed, collapsing down next to Henning, who was now raising an eyebrow at his older brother.

“Then you date her.” He replied simply, and Rudy was quiet in response, looking away from his younger brother. “Dude... you fucking like her! Why didn’t you say anything!” His hand was now slapping at Rudy’s shoulder, causing him to scoot away as he shoved Henning’s hand away from him. 

“I figured you two were a sure thing! Also the bro code is taken very seriously in the Pankow household!”

“Well this is me giving you permission. I don’t care, dude. It’s always been clear there was something between you two, anyway. Mom always teases y/n about dating me, but I know deep down she wants her to end up with you.” He chuckled, and Rudy just blinked at the boy before shaking his head in response.

***

It had been two weeks since Rudy returned home, and for some reason, you’d seen the older Pankow more in that time than you think you’d seen him in the past year. Henning would invite you over, but within 10 minutes of you arriving, he’d claim Sarah was asking for him. The first few times, you’d been annoyed, cursing the boy for dragging you out of the comfort of your own home just to ditch you, but each time, Rudy had appeared, asking if you wanted to hang out instead, and you’d quickly forgiven Henning. Now, it seemed to be a routine. Henning would invite you over, you’d show up, 10 minutes later he’d dip, and then Rudy would come and save the day. 

You two had migrated to Rudy’s bedroom tonight, the two of you propped against his headboard as you watched the first season of Outer Banks together. Upon the discovery that you still hadn’t seen it (you really just didn’t think you could look at Rudy on your tv screen looking that good for 10 episodes without wanting to explode, so you’d avoided it) he had given you shit until you agreed to watch it, and you had agreed on one condition: he had to watch it with you. 

A pout was on your lips as you gripped onto Rudy’s blanket that was currently wrapped around your cold body. The scene on the screen was one where Luke and JJ were getting into an altercation after he had been picked up from jail, and you glared at the TV as he struck JJ. 

“I don’t like him.” You mumbled, your nose scrunched up in anger. Rudy was watching you, a soft smile on his lips at the expression you were currently wearing, and he almost leaned over and pressed a kiss to the tip of your freckled nose.

As the episode continued your pout only grew, and Rudy was truly having the hardest time holding himself back.

“You’re a very good actor and it’s making me sad.” you huffed after the hot tub scene, and Rudy let out a small chuckle. “Don’t like seeing you sad.” you mumbled, curling further into his blankets as you slid down the bed slightly.

“Well, I can assure you I am not sad right now.” He responded, sending you a warm smile as he also slid down the bed so he was at the same height as you, his shoulder knocking into yours lightly. 

“Good.” You sent him a small smile in response, and without second guessing it, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side.

For the next few episodes, you two remained like that, your arm draped lazily across his waist as your head rested on his chest, still tilted towards the screen. His fingers were running through your hair slowly, tugging on the strands every now and then on accident, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin. 

Suddenly, Rudy’s door was being slammed open, both of their heads shooting to the doorway, their eyes falling on a smirking Henning. 

“You two finally dating?” He asked, and Rudy grabbed one of his pillows, throwing it at the now chuckling boy as he dodged it and left the room, closing the door behind him. Your cheeks were red as you pulled away from Rudy and he shot you a confused glance, his hands quickly reaching out and pulling you back into him.

“He’s an idiot, ignore him.” He rushed out, and you let out a quiet laugh, nodding your head in agreement before settling back into Rudy’s hold. 

Rudy’s heart was racing, and he felt like a 16 year old boy who was about to have sex for the first time. In reality, he was literally just holding the girl he’d secretly harbored feelings for since he was 12. He’d always pushed his feelings aside, refusing to go after you because he’d always thought you were his brothers, but now that he knew he could have you, he felt like a love-sick puppy. He was 22 years old, for Gods sake, yet he was terrified to tell you he was into you.

Finally, you’d finished the show, and after ranting to Rudy for 20 minutes about your issues with John B’s character, the two of you were now lying down silently. You were currently resting on his chest, your fingers playing with the gold ring that adorned his pointer finger, twisting it around slowly. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” He spoke after a moment, his voice low, and you could feel the way his chest rumbled underneath you as he spoke.

“Of course.”

“I really want to kiss you right now.” He whispered, and your eyes snapped to his in surprise. He was watching you closely, and you could feel his heart hammering against his chest under your hand. 

“Then kiss me.” Your whisper was even quieter than his had been, and within seconds he was pushing you back onto the bed so he was hovering over you now, his lips attaching to yours. 

Your arms immediately wound around his neck, pulling him into you as he deepened the kiss, your lips moving together perfectly. One of his arms was holding his body up above you so he wasn’t resting his entire body weight on your small body, the other trailing down to rest on the side of your thigh as your leg wrapped around his hip.

The two of you were completely lost in one another, the feelings you’d both been hiding for one another for what felt like forever pouring out onto each others lips. It’d been a long time since a kiss made you dizzy and caused your stomach to erupt in thousands of butterflies, and you decided in that moment you only ever wanted to kiss Rudy. 

Rudy was losing his mind as his lips worked against yours, his fingertips digging into the flesh of your thigh. Your lips were the softest he’d ever felt against his own, and he never wanted to feel anyone else’s. 

Eventually, the two of you were forced apart so you could breathe, his forehead resting on yours, and you could feel his soft breaths against your lips as your own mingled with his. 

“God I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He muttered, placing a soft kiss on your bottom lip, his teeth nipping at the now swollen skin. 

“Well why the hell did you wait?” You responded breathlessly, your fingers now running through his hair, something you’d always wished you could do.

“Because I’m an idiot.” He responded simply, and you let out a soft giggle.

“Do you wanna be my idiot?” You were never this forward, but something about the way Rudy was looking at you right now made you feel comfortable enough to say the words you were thinking, rather than holding them back. His lips were ghosting over yours, and you could feel him smiling.

“More than anything.”