#granted nothing happened to me (thank god) but knowing that it could’ve been going on with my teammates

[coldhands-sunkeneyes]

WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK

[bronx-bomber87]

Hello my wonderful fandom family :) Thanks for being so patient with me. I know I have till January but I am moving/slash road tripping at the end of Sept to a new state. Which is a HUGE change. Going two time zones ahead and everything. So wanting to get it out there before I move and have even less time LOL Also thank you for wanting to take this journey with me. S6 was hard on all of us.

Haven't had a show rock me this hard in a very long time. So I'm forever grateful for the love and comments these in depth reviews get. Never want to take that for granted. This was a ROUGH season to say the least. But I’m excited to dissect it with decompressed eyes and somewhat healed shipper heart. Be lying if I was saying it was fully healed. But was a much needed break for me. Let us begin shall we?

6x01 Strike Back.

Premiere starts off with a literal bang. They’re all trying to figure what is actually happening. The mastermind clearly not the man they just took down in Luke Moran. Also loving how scruffy Tim is in this first shot of the premiere. The stubble all over that gorgeous jawline of his. Mmm. Delicious dusting. Love to break me off a piece. Wouldn't be a review if Feral Caitlin didn't make an appearance would it? ha God he's beautiful I can't help myself. This is his fault really.

Anyway back to matter at hand.... Lucy points out Luke may have been a patsy for the real crime. Diverting all their resources to this this one spot instead of their real target. Our girl always being the brains and Tim being impressed by it. They go hand in hand. You know that man loves her brain. Her intelligence is just one of many reason's he fell in love with her. Fun to watch her flex it I have to say.

There’s so much to love about these shots in the shop with them. The Metro call sign being one of them. It does things to me. It’s just sexy. Also the automatic way she’s paired with him in this moment. Like anyone else would be in that car with him but still. Ever the packaged deal. Just the little things I always love so very much. They don’t share shops anymore. So this is a treat. Riding together, brainstorming, and just being the bad ass team they always are in the field. Makes my shipper heart happy to see it.

After the Federal Reserve mayhem we skip 6 weeks into the future. I always wondered what happened in those six weeks with our ship. Probably nothing massive tbh. But be fun to know what shippy goodness could’ve occurred. I imagine they had some time off after that. Spent it together and decompressed from the madness. Just a nice thought to think about is all. *cough fic writers cough.*

We start off our cuteness with Lucy in Tim’s office studying. There’s so much to love about this scene it’s unreal. Let’s start with Lucy taking residency in his office like it’s hers. Knowing it’s a quiet place for her to retreat to. Also I’m sure Tim offered it up long ago for her. Which makes me giddy to no end. He’s not the least shocked that she’s using it. Only that she’s not out on patrol. Married status continues to level up in this moment.

Lucy explains she’s fallen way behind in her studies. OT is killing her atm. I can’t imagine how stressed she feels. Lucy is our resident academic. Not having the time to nerd out on her studies has to be killing her. It’s why she reaches out to her man for help. To pivot this in a different direction. Something that worked for Tim when he needed studying time. Asking if she could ride with him today? Could quiz her between calls.

Getting flashbacks to 2x02 when she helped him study between calls for his exam. I always love the callbacks they do for them. Continuity is ship crack for me. I eat it up. He accepts and Lucy is beaming. Their smiles in this scene are so adorable. Couldn’t be more in love if they tried tbh. I remember thinking how much I missed our idiots in love so much. I'll be this way for S7 too. I miss them.

Tim looks excited for this challenge. You can see it in his face above. But he is also letting her know how hard it’s going to be if she wants him to do this. That it’s probably not going to solve her problem. But he’s willing to expand her knowledge base on wildcards. This way she can take any curve balls Primm has to throw. Lucy’s smile is everything when she thanks him. Relieved her man is gonna help her her out. I mean of course he would. Nothing he wouldn't do for her and she knows it.

I remember seeing the funniest post for this moment before it aired. How it was her basically asking ‘Babe, please be mean to me.’ LOL Lord knows this woman is well aware he wasn’t gonna take it easy on her. Just like the old days. It's where she learned the most. So it makes sense she would wanna dip her toe back in that pool.

Tim is ready to roll. Starting his ‘boot’ engines back up. Don’t tell me it's not a little bit of a kink for Tim. That man is too damn excited to be able to boss her around again. That being said says she learns best when she’s pissed off. I mean he’s not wrong…No one knows how to teach her better than he does. Lucy counters by saying does she? Or is this is just giving him permission to be an ass?

Tim letting her know if that’s really how she feels she doesn’t actually want his help. Lucy backtracks and is desperate for him to guide her with this. Saying she needs it. Tim is lighting up like a Christmas tree. You know that man LOVES her needing him professionally. It’s been awhile since she has. He’s excited. Lucy has been a self sufficient cop for long time now. Hasn’t needed his guidance for quite some time. So for her to come to him with this he is a happy camper.

Tim is thrilled to put his T.O. hat back on for her. They have such married energy through out this scene. Lucy telling him she doesn’t like his excited smile. Tim deflecting saying it's just his smile haha The absolute wifey look she gives him is hilarious. They just be flirting freely in the hallways. Like they aren’t completely married at this point. Even though he’s driving her insane she follows him out with an 'in love' smile. She loves her ass of a boyfriend haha

They hit the road and Lucy is still questioning her decision. Oh my girl. Saying maybe should’ve chosen Harper or Lopez instead…Tim makes a joke how Angela just got back. Her cop brain is just booting up. Which earns a smile out of Lucy. She loves this man sitting next to her so very much. Written all over her face. Doesn’t take long before Tim triggers a Lucy rant though.

Poor man is just trying to help the woman he loves get through this. Wasn't expecting the time bomb he received. He sets her off by saying no matter who teaches her they all have the same database. That there’s only a 8 percent difference between ranks. This is what ignites the Lucy meltdown above. That Primm is going to use that eight percent to trip her up. His face above when she starts is priceless. Tim is just bracing for impact at this point LMAO Ain't no stopping what's coming his way.

The flood gates have opened and phew lord what a meltdown it is LOL Holy hell. She is the queen of them. I adore how Melissa can shoot off so much dialogue in one breath. It’s impressive af if you ask me. Also makes me cackle so much cause I’ve been her. So many times when I’m under immense stress I do the same. You prattle on until you run out of steam. I can’t believe there isn’t a gif set of this rant so I made one. It’s too good not to have in this review.

It’s the look on Tim’s face that has me ROLLING. It’s been awhile since he’s had an epic Lucy rant thrown at him and it shows. Eric the King of facial expressions is at it again. I’m laughing so damn hard. I remember having to pause cause I was laughing so much at his expression. He most definitely wasn't expecting the rant that he got. If you can look at him above and not laugh you're made of stone. Hang in there Tim lmao Your girl Is worth this intense stress/anxiety vomit she just spewed all over you. It's like he doesn't even know where to begin after she's done. So he just doesn't....

The married energy continues once Lucy has wrapped up her meltdown. Tim being the smart man he is doesn’t say a word. He’s learned a thing or two from this relationship. Lucy though takes his silence as saying everything for him. With her ‘Please don’t.’ Tim trying not to start anything telling her he’s said nothing. He truly wasn’t expecting the explosion he got. Was happy to be a passenger princess today, while he quizzed her through out the day. And instead got an epic freak out right out the gate.

Tim can’t win for losing in this scene. (or this episode really) Lucy telling him she hear him thinking it. I remember there being a Chenford Bingo of some sort before the premiere. And exasperated husband was on there. This delivered that in spades. His reaction after her saying this is gold. Haha This is the woman you’ve chosen to love Timothy. LMAO You know he loves her to death neuroses and all but good lord ha.

Their banter never fails to hit and the marriage vibes on top of this is top tier. I am here for it all damn day. One of those 'When did they get married again?' moments. His look at the end is like he’s chanting to himself . ‘You love this woman…you love this woman...’ Lucy tops it off saying she just won’t sleep till the exam. Leaving Tim to shake his head more and not say a word. Only look out the window as he rolls his eyes. Primo banter and chemistry here. *chef kiss*

They roll up to their first wildcard. I adore the Metro call sign as they do. Tim assigning the crime scene to Lucy as he does. *fans self* I can’t explain why the call sign so sexy. Just is. Also them sharing it on the scene also gets me all in my feels. Tim is telling her that he is there as a resource for her. But she is the one in charge. Asking her what’s her first move?

The Plain Clothes Day vibes are all over this scene and it's fantastic. Another callback I am so happy they touched on. Lucy confidently strides onto the scene and explains her move. Tim tells her to call it in. Love the way she looks at him the entire time she does. Tim asks her what else? This is where Lucy’s confidence starts to wain sadly.

Where that panicked rookie from all those years ago begins to resurface. The way she is talking at Tim trying to figure it out oh my lord. The PCD vibes are so strong. Only this time Tim is helping her out a lot more. Unlike back in S1 he was there to watch her flop around, second guess herself and drown. It’s much different this time around. He truly wants her to succeed and let's her know as much in his responses. Lucy doesn’t see that in this moment though unfortunately.

Tim telling her the obvious boxes are checked but what’s her wildcard? The spiraling is so real for her in this moment. It hurts to watch the anxiety build in Lucy. Tim testing her knowing she can do this but her confidence is eroding in this moment rapidly. He is trying to get her there faster by saying she doesn’t have a minute. Which she really doesn’t when we know how this scene ends…

One of my fav parts of this scene is the line above. The kindness and gentleness Tim has. Because he wasn’t in love with her during PCD like he is now. Here he is trying to be supportive and gently guide her to the answer. Even give her an out for it. S1 Tim never would’ve said there’s no shame in not knowing the answer. Not this directly anyways. Doing his damn best to support her through this. But also help her get to the answer so she learns. Lucy takes it the wrong way though.

Reason being it has nothing to do with the man next to her. That man would die first before not supporting her. Level headed Lucy would know that. Sadly she is not here with us at this crime scene. Who she really is mad at is herself at this point. Because she should know the answer and her brain is stalling out in this moment. Tim told her he wasn’t gonna take it easy on her. But breaks a little with his kind reply. Giving her an out if she wants it. Lucy can’t handle it though...Because she is being far harder on herself for this than Tim could ever be. I can relate so hard to this it's unreal.

I do love the way she says ‘Sergeant Bradford, please.’ Lucy feels like she’s suffocating in her own thoughts. The panicked rush to get this right and hitting a wall. The anger building towards Tim at the same time. The confidence she has built since S3 just melting away the more she stresses. All the while taking it out on Tim. Why you ask? Because in this moment she is projecting that anxiety and stress onto him with her reply. Defense mechanism thy name is Lucy Chen.

Doesn’t take long after that line for the sprinklers to come on….The wildcard revealing itself on its own. We watch as the evidence literally gets washed away and the bullet down the drain….Lucy rushes to chase it and watches as it goes down a storm drain. A reflection for how she feels about her hopes of passing this test…It’s a rough scene to watch unfold for her. The devastation on her face when she realizes that bullet is gone is very rough.

They return to the station and Lucy is as defeated as she can be. Hoping no one knows about it as as she rubs her tattoo. They start to play clown music as she enters. SMH. Tim trying not to laugh. Aaron doesn’t help when he also laughs at her misfortune. Not a good day for our girl….Lucy gets distracted by Wesley being there with the baby.

We get a small sweet departure from her anxiety in this moment. While she has him she wants his legal opinion on her crime scene. He too laughs. These men in her life are the worst right now. Not helping her building anxiety and loss of confidence. Wes telling her she fatally ruined that scene. That she’s gonna need a straight up confession to convict someone. And that’s only if she finds the killer…oof.

We rejoin our beautiful duo staking out the crime scene. Lucy grasping at straws to fix what she so royally screwed up. Her heightened state of spiraling continues on in this scene. Lucy admits she wants to skip the exam. Her face breaks my damn heart. Killing me here Melissa. I do love the way he says her first name in response. Still gets me he can. After years of Officer Chen and ‘boot.’ Just hits differently and makes my shipper soul happy.

Tim tells her she is ready. That man would not tell her she was ready if she wasn’t. Relationship or not that man doesn’t hold back. Wouldn't send her head long into failure. If Lucy was in a better place emotionally she would’ve heard him. Heard the confidence in his tone. Seen the empathy he was exuding for her. This man has changed so much in his time with her.

It sky rocketed when they got together. Tim couldn’t have been more supportive if he tried in this scene. Hell this entire episode. But she is so very stuck in her head. A place Tim could normally shake her loose from. A specialty of his really. He can’t gain an inch of ground in this scenario. Lucy has dug her heels in so to speak that she’s gonna fail. Nothing he says is getting through.

Our girl is experiencing massive amounts of anxiety and self doubt. The panic attack is real. The fact that the one person she would’ve sold her soul for, in order to get his support back in the day, isn’t getting through is a problem. Lucy goes on to say she knows herself. That if she takes this test right now she will fail. Her confidence will die along with it. That it’s better to wait. Tim steps from one minefield to the next with this convo.

When he once again is just trying to be supportive and says ‘Then wait.’ Not only is he being in her corner he gives her something she can do in meantime. Something he hates the idea of. Her going UC while she waits this anxiety/doubt out. If that isn’t him supporting her idk what is. He is also still learning how to be there for her emotionally and she isn't giving him the grace for that. Sadly Lucy isn't in the right mind to see that though. She is just stuck in the mode she's been trapped in all ep.

I get it I really do and empathize with her. I’m the same way when my emotions are in a heightened state. Nothing gets through. I'm frozen in place emotionalIy. I get very doom and gloom as well. Lash out at anyone who isn’t going to be positive and reassuring. Which Tim is doing his best to be. But Lucy is in such a dark state of mind she doesn’t see it. All she sees right now is he doesn’t believe in her and is kicking her while she is down. She needs reassurances right now. To her he isn't delivering that the way she is wanting at this point. Him agreeing with her that she should wait is only making matters worse.

Anxiety is a cruel cruel master. It makes you believe things that aren’t true. Amplifies them to the point that you’re so wound up you’re lashing out at everyone. Even your person. Which is exactly what’s happening with Lucy in this moment. Her accusing him of making it worse with how bad she already feels. When Tim is professing words of encouragement all she hears is him saying she can’t do it.

Tim is desperate for her to know he’s in her corner after this display. Asking her if she heard him? Lucy is distracted by someone showing up to the crime scene. Tim asks her what? Lucy replying that woman was looking at the crime scene while crying. Tim is so sassy in his reply I’m proud of him. ‘Or maybe she just had a frustrating fight with her girlfriend’ heh love this. Calling her his GF always gives me the feels.

Lucy gets a last minute win with this case. Catching this lady trying to get her bracelet back after tossing the gun. Her cop gut serving her well. Sadly Lucy doesn’t see this win as such and it bleeds into this final scene unfortunately. Once again the music is absolute perfection. I’ll post some of my fav lyrics at the end of my analysis of this fight. But first let us witness the incredible chemistry that is Eric and Melissa in this final portion. You know your ship is amazing when even their angst is lightning in a bottle goodness.

This fight I will say when I watched it originally excited me. Because it just showed they’re human. Real. The both of them. They make mistakes and aren’t perfect. How healthy this was for them to get off their chest. Because honestly the UC/detective tension has been building for a long while. This was the boiling point for it IMO. This scene hurt so good to watch. I rewound it a few times before I could process it the first time.

Tim starts off with congratulating her on her 4th quarter win. He’s genuinely so proud of her for bouncing back. Felt like she NEEDED this win. So he makes sure she knows. But like I said earlier Lucy isn’t viewing it that way. Her perception is more than a little skewed atm. Her building anger at Tim has reached it's peak. She is cold to him and brisk as hell. Tim immediately picking up on her clipped ‘Thanks.’ Like she was going to be able to hide her anger and frustration from him. Girl no. Tim asks her what? Lucy shrugging him off once again.

Tim pulls on her arm gently and parrots her own damn words back at her from 5x21. That they’re not gonna work if she’s going to lie to him. Lucy conceding immediately to that. I mean they have a lot to work on communication wise, but they’ve also come really far in this aspect too. Don’t wanna disregard that. Look at Tim confronting this right away and communicating effectively. There are causes for excitement with that growth. That being said they have a ways to go. This fight is proof of that.

Lucy pulls zero punches when she asks if he undermined her today so she wouldn’t make detective? The absolute look of hurt painted across his beautiful face kills me. As you all know I relate with Tim so very much. He is so deeply loyal and loving. That any of his motives are to help those he loves around him. He truly thought he was helping her out today. Being supportive and helpful. So for her to come at him like this is leaving him stunned and extremely hurt.

His person the one person who knows him better than anyone, accusing him of something he would never even fathom doing. I was hurt for him watching this. Last thing he would ever do would be to hinder her intentionally. Loyalty to a fault is having someone else hurt you first before you’d ever do the same. That’s Tim. It’s why he is so defensive the rest of this scene. And rightfully so. I'm proud of him telling her it upset him she would even think that of him. Because IMO he did not undermine her. That man did what was asked of him.

All of Lucy’s pent up anxiety, anger, and frustration comes out full force at Tim in this scene. And my boy didn't deserve it. I was on his side the first time I watched it and I am now. I didn’t see that changing though lol. Do I understand what Lucy is going through? Yes. Good god yes. I've been her. I feel so much for what she's going though. I want to make that very clear. But Tim didn't deserve this barrage against him. Wanna also note i’m so proud of the writers for tackling mental health from the jump with this season. Both our babies got issues and this was the precursor to the season really. We just had no idea at the time....

Lucy assumed all day he was undermining her. Instead of just confronting that fact she sat in it. Stewed in it really. ALL. DAMN. DAY. Which isn’t like her. She is the type to face it right away and voice that to Tim. But didn’t this time. Giving us a little taste of their communication problems early on this season. There’s that saying. 'When you assume you make an ass out of you and me.’ And by the end of this convo Lucy is feeling like an ass. I guarantee you that .

Lucy continues to dig herself a hole when she bring up that maybe it was "unconscious". Not deliberate but also that he couldn’t help it. Which doesn’t make Tim feel any better. Nor would it make me feel any better either tbh….Basically saying he has no control over things he does. Which just insult to injury at this point for him. Then Lucy goes for her next punch below. One I still feel was unfairly delivered.

Does Tim still carry those issues? Of course he does. 100% that is still a weight on him. It’s reflected in the next ep when the subject of UC comes up. But does it belong in this fight with him? No. It has zero place in it. But like I said before she is feeling a loss of control and confidence in herself. So she is projecting her insecurities and feelings onto Tim. By bringing up his and using them to stabilize hers. It's a low blow she is dispatching to him.

She is running from her own feelings about this. She is also protecting herself by making it about Tim and his problems. (Which he has for sure) Because she isn’t ready to face the fact that she’s afraid of UC and all that will come with it. How being a detective on top of it is going to pull her from him even more.

She voiced these concerns in 5x19 when she was originally studying for her exam. It’s easier for her right now to hide in and blame Tim for his problems, than deal with her own right now. Tim’s reaction is so valid in this moment. Because to him all he did was have her back from the jump. He is feels sucker punched by this explosion and it's written all over his reaction.

Lucy asked him to help her. He did. Even told her it wouldn’t be easy and he wouldn’t be soft on her. She accepted the terms of this situation willingly. Tim supported her best he could through her meltdown. Did his damndest to not comment on it. He knows it’s her process to spiral a bit then right herself. Because he knows her so well. He had her back in trying to help figure out her wildcard. She rejected it and drowned.

Tim was calm and kind even if she didn’t recognize it about the exam. When she was doubting herself he built her up letting her know she can do it. Did his best to be in her corner if she truly felt she wasn’t ready. Then congratulated her when she got her case win. To Tim all that was him having her back.

It’s why he’s so blindsided and hurt by her words. Lucy is basically kicking him while he down in this moment and it hurt to watch. Because her anxiety and immense stress has blinded her. Making her act so very not like herself. She came at him with a one-two punch. First punch accusing him of undermining her and second being an unfair Isabel punch.

The K.O. punch really is him reading her face above. The way she looks at him when he says ‘But if you can’t see that then…’ Doesn’t even finish his sentence. He can read her just as well as she can read him. Lucy cannot see that right now. Too clouded by her extreme anxiety and stress to see him and his intentions clearly. So he ejects out of the convo. She has knocked him down for the count.

Tim can’t take the way she is looking at him right now. The way she is making him feel. Tim has always held how she viewed him in high regard. Nothing means more to him than what she thinks of him. So for her to level him with this is heartbreaking for him. So he reverts back to old Tim and clams up. Tells her he’s tired and for them to take the night off. Then walks away from her with no way for her to retort.

Lucy is a block of ice until this line of his. She was fully expecting him to apologize and go home with her. And he did not. He ejected out of the conversation to go lick his wounds. The look of shock on her face is everything. She wasn’t expecting that at all. You can see the panic on her face. That raw panic of her being left behind by him. Of Tim leaving her. The tears building in her eyes as he does this. Oh the painful foreshadowing that is this moment…..

The lyrics for this scene are so poignant and perfect. As is the entire musical lineup for this season. Perfectly encompasses Lucy in this episode and especially this scene. Here are some of my favs.

‘I think I’m losing my mind. I see you’re losing your light. Drowning out the decibels. Do you wanna find the antidote? Trying to watch my obstacles, see how fully I’ve been broke.’ Lucy is so broken in this episode and doesn’t reach out to the one person, her person to help fix her. She was drowning and went to him for the antidote and then refused it the entire time. Then gets consumed by it all.

Just a glaring look into how they both deal with being emotionally overwhelmed and vulnerable. And it’s not a good look for either of them this season tbh. But we start out with Lucy’s where I side with Tim before we go head long into Tim’s and I side with Lucy it's balanced at least lol. Damn good premiere though. I was buzzing with excitement after it.

As always thank you to anyone who read this. To all the likes, comments and or reblogs I may receive you are the best. I shall see you all in 6x02 :)

Side notes-Non Chenford

~~~~

Scruffy Tim in this ep has my ovaries in overdrive. Mmm just wanna nom on his jawline like corn on the cob.

Nyla Harper being a bad ass in a tense situation is primo. Can always count on her. The aftermath sucks for her though.

Angela being more excited to see a burrito than her husband is hilarious and so on brand haha

Main baddie gets eliminated at the end of the ep. Not sure I remember why tbh haha Things got hazy at the end of the season for me with the SL.

[ahtsumu]

long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu​! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: m.osamu@hqu.edu

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: m.osamu@hqu.edu

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

OM

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: m.osamu@hqu.edu

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: m.osamu@hqu.edu

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

OM

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving. 

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

[arvinsescape]

Maybe tom being a huge jerk to reader, maybe fwb, so when they are fighting, he is saying some shit like: you need to get over this teenage crush of yours, like he's treating like an obsessive fan, and you talk back like: you know what? I feel so bad for your fans out there who have no idea how big of an asshole you are OMG YOU COULD CALL HIM A MOVIE STAR but like mocking you know?

A/N: This was the angst turned to fluff I didn't know I wanted!! Thank you so much for the request!! I hope you enjoy 💕💕

Warnings: Mentions of sex, Language.

It had become almost routine, he'd come back from filming, call you, fuck you and then be gone by the morning and you were tired, you truly were. It felt like an endless cycle, one you were growing tired of.

You'd been friends with benefits for a while, almost a year. You'd met him at a bar, you knew who he was, who didn't but that hadn't been what had attracted you to him. In fact, he pursued more than you did, but it never turned into anything more than a friends with benefits relationship.

"Tom?" You said, bodies both sweating as he rolled off you, discarding of the condom. He hummed for you to continue. "Do you ever get, I don't know, tired of doing this?" You asked as you twiddled your thumbs, staring at the ceiling.

"What? Having sex?" He asked.

"No, not the sex. Just, all it being is sex?" You asked timidly as he stood and pulled his boxers and jeans back on. He studied you for a second.

"I don't know what you want." He said, almost snapped. You grabbed your dressing gown that was at the side of the bed, standing as you watched Tom search for his t shirt. Pulling your dressing gown on you looked at him.

Of course over the year you'd developed feelings for him, fallen in love with him but now your heart needed to know if he felt anything for you, at all.

"Like, I don't know Tom. A relationship." You squeaked out the last part and he looked at you like you'd grown two heads.

"You knew what this was when we started." He said harshly, far more harshly than you'd expected. You were taken aback.

"No, I know but we've been doing this for ages now Tom. I was just asking." You tried to shrug off as you watched him pull his shirt over his head.

"Ah, I see what this is. You've got a bit of a crush?" He asked and you laughed lightly, trying to push down the hurt.

"Don't flatter yourself." You laughed as best you could and you watched as he approached you, placing a kiss to your cheek.

"Sorry love, I've gotta go." He said and before you knew it you heard your front door open and close.

It hurt, he wasn't like this usually, usually he'd stay, cuddle but in the month he's been home from filming it's like he's lost himself. He isn't as attentive, every fuck is rough and although you love it, you miss when he'd be gentle with you.

There was one occasion a couple of months back when you thought he might have felt the same, you were both a bit tipsy and he took it slow, it was passionate. It felt like something was there, unspoken emotions.

It was two days later when he turned up again. You were straddling him, kissing him as you took his top off and then you saw it and it brought everything into reality for you, into perspective. There was a love bite, on his chest that you didn't leave.

You moved off him as you ran your hands through your hair and huffed. You knew you weren't exclusive, you weren't that dim but it didn't make it hurt any less. You'd not slept with anyone in the last year and the stupid part of you thought he hadn't either. Idiot.

"Hey," he said as he kissed at your shoulder and you instantly shrugged him off. "What's wrong?" He asked and yo sighed.

"Nothing Tom, I just don't feel like it." You said and he kissed your shoulder again.

"Okay." He didn't fight you on why, you never needed to give a reason to him, no meant no. "Are you okay?" He asked as he watched you angrily wipe a tear away.

"I'm fine." You snapped and he thought for a second, you turned to look at him, he'd been quiet. You watched as he put two and two together.

"You're upset about the other day." He stated and you huffed.

"Can we just drop it?" You sighed, hanging your head.

"Y/N, you know we're not exclusive right?" He said and you felt tears again. "We can see other people?" He said and you sniffled, wiping at your tears before looking at him.

"Yeah, I know."

"You need to get over this crush you have on me." He stated and you didn't appreciate his tone, it felt condescending.

"You know what Tom, that's not exactly easy to do when I'm underneath you ninety-nine per cent of the time I see you." You snapped and Tom raised his brows.

"Y/N," he huffed. "I'm not yours okay, I told you what this was. If you caught feelings that's your problem." He snapped and you gasped.

"What has gotten into you?" You said in disbelief.

"Nothing. I'm not taking the blame because your feelings are hurt that I've seen other people." He said.

"You've never been this cruel." You said, sadness lacing your tone.

"You know what I think it is? I think you're one of those fans that obsesses over me. Next thing you're going to tell me is that you read fanfiction written about me." He mocked and your anger rose.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You shouted. "Get over yourself Tom, I knew who you were when we met, yes. But do not mistake me as some crazed fan." You snapped.

"Well stop acting like one." He shouted back at you.

"You know what? I feel bad for your fans out there that have no idea how much of a dick you are. How much of a, fucking." You stopped for a second as you thought. "How much of a fucking movie star you are." You watched as anger flashed in his eyes, you'd upset him. Good.

"You don't know what you're talking about, yes, we fuck but don't think for a second I can't find someone else to fill your spot." He shouted and you tried to hold onto your anger but you couldn't, nothing but sadness had set in.

"What happened to you Tom?" You asked, sadness lacing every word.

"Nothing, what are you harping on about?" He snapped and you couldn't help the tears, couldn't help the next words that fell from your lips.

"You've changed, you're not the Tom that left a month ago. You're not the Tom I fell in love with." You said into the quiet air and you could've heard a pin drop.

"You're, you, what?" He stumbled out as he approached you.

"Get out." You said, it was weak but you meant it, your heart was shattered, your emotions tired.

"Y/N/N." He said softly as he tried to take your hand in his but you snatched it away.

"Just get out, find someone to take my place because honestly? I don't want it." You whispered out as your tears fell faster, a sob racking through you. You needed to end this.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, I was angry. I didn't know." He said and you wiped your nose, looking up at him, you saw something flash behind his eyes, something you couldn't read.

"Just please go home Tom." You said. "I just want to be on my own."

"I don't, it doesn't feel right to leave you." He said.

"Why?" You said, utterly defeated as you made your way into the bathroom, turning to look at him before you spoke. "You've been pretty good at it." You said before you shut the door.

**

Tom waited around for a good twenty minutes before you heard him sigh and leave. You'd not seen him for a month, no contact, he'd tried to call, multiple times actually and you'd declined every single one. Your heart still hurt but it held onto a hope that maybe he'd come back, but back as the Tom you fell for.

It wasn't so bad being in love with him then, he broke your heart but mended it all in one and if he did see other women in that time he never let it slip, never let you know.

After two more weeks of hearing nothing from him, you gave up. You heard frantic knocking at your door, it made you jump as you hastily went to answer it. What you were not expecting to see was a dishevelled Tom on your doorstep. It was almost mid night.

"I'm sorry." Was the first thing he said as he engulfed you in a hug, knocking you backwards into your flat. You'd missed him, missed having his arms around you.

"Tom?" You asked as he kicked the door shut. "What are you doing here? It's so late." You said, you were just about to go to bed yourself.

"I fucked up, I'm so sorry." He said, pulling back to take your face into his hands. "You were right, I was being a dick, I don't know what was going on with me. I've missed you, god, fuck I've missed you and I didn't mean what I said, I didn't mean any of it."

"Tom, it's okay." You smiled. "I shouldn't have let it carry on. I knew what you wanted from it. I know you don't feel the same and it's okay." You said as you placed your hands over his and you watched as he shook his head.

"I thought, I don't know. I took you for granted, that last month, after I got back, I took you for granted." He rambled and you furrowed your brows. "I never slept with anyone else, fuck I got drunk that once and let someone give me a mark but I never slept with her, everything she did felt off and I couldn't understand it." He was spiralling, rambling.

"Tom, slow down. What are you trying to say?" You said softly, trying to ground him as you squeezed his hands and brought them down to your sides.

"I'm trying to say, fuck, I'm trying to tell you that I love you too, I think I have for a long time, I just didn't want to admit it. But being away from you? I never want that again." He said and your heart burst in your chest.

"You keep me grounded, you always have. You're not afraid to call me out. You treat me like a normal human being, not a celebrity and fuck, I treated you so badly." He concluded and you smiled.

"You did." You said as you moved some hair out of his face.

"I'm sorry." He said in defeat. "I love you, I hope you haven't changed the way you feel about me?" He said, hope clear in his beautiful face.

"My feelings for you haven't changed but you have a lot of making up to do." You said and he smiled.

"I know. Anything, baby, whatever you want." He said and you kissed him, he pulled you against him, squeezing your waist as he kissed you like you'd disappear. You pulled back after a moment and looked at him.

"You could start by coming to bed," you said and you watched as he smiled. "I want a cuddle." You said, you didn't want to have sex with him, you wanted him to hold you and you had a feeling he felt the same.

"Yes miss." He said with a smile before picking you up, holding you close to him as he made his way into your bedroom and for the first time since he'd been in there, it wasn't to have sex. It was to hold you and he did, you had your Tom back and he wanted to stay.

[ynscrazylife]

Hey !! i love ur writing style <3 i wanted to ask you if you could write a loki x reader where the reader and loki have been best friends for a long time now and after he faked his death in tdw he knocks on their door and the reader and loki have an argument and then they kiss?? maybe like the scene in crimson peak “you lied to me” “i did” “you told me you loved me” “i do” smth similar? :)

The Greatest Deception | loki angst fluff fic

Summary: After Loki reveals himself to be alive, Y/N has some choice words to say. Loki has a question.

Authors Note: Thanks for requesting! Also, I want to say that I fully support and acknowledge that Loki is genderfluid. Seeing as this fic was requested with Loki having he/him pronouns, I will use those pronouns. (Also, I didn’t know which pronouns you wanted me to write since you mentioned they for the reader but typically I use she/her, so lemme know if you want that edited)

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 |  Main Masterlist 

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/someiconsx

“Lady Y/N?”

The voice was muffled through the door and the one in question rolled from her side and onto her stomach as she laid in her bed. A low groan emitted from the creature whose limbs were tangled in the blanket and sheets.

. . .

“Lady Y/N?”

A short knock-knock accompanied the repeating words, and Y/N had a feeling of that the lovely woman who she’d love to talk to at any other time wouldn’t stop until she replied.

She pulled herself into a sitting position, smoothed over her unruly hair, and finally pulled the covers up so her pajamas wouldn’t be seen and called out, “Come in!”

The woman opened the door and sent her a sheepish smile. “The All-Father has requested your present, ma’am,” she informed her.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Do you know the reason as to why?” She quizzed.

The woman spared a quick, darting glance at Y/N’s window. “Well, the All-Father has requested all of the palace’s royals and higher-ups to gather in the courtyard. He is gathering local citizens for a, ah, play, and more would like, in this words, his ‘most esteemed confidants to enjoy,’,” she answered, subtly bouncing her weight from one foot to the other.

Y/N thought for a moment. This was the first time she was hearing that the King was holding a play — not to mention, the fact that the last play (if you could even call it that, because by Heimdall’s recounting it was horrific) was held before any of the children of Odin were born.

Just thinking about that caused a twinge to hit her stomach and for it to twist up. Loki. Odin’s youngest child and the one that had most recently left her, as he sacrificed herself to save his vaillant brother, Prince Thor. It had been weeks, maybe even a month, since Y/N had heard the news and had been resorted to a lonely, saddened version of herself. Loki was her best friend, the person she trusted more than anything and—no, no, who was she kidding? He’s more than that, and he deserves to be remembered as more than that by her.

He’s also the one that she loves, and has loved for at least the past year when she realized it.

Nonetheless, she had taken many steps to get through the grief of Loki’s dead — as had his father — and she wasn’t going to let all her hard work crumble down on one, singular thought.

“Very well, then. Please inform the All-Father that I will be there shortly, thank you,” she said.

The woman nodded and bowed her head before exiting.

Once the door had been fully shut and she could hear footsteps no more, Y/N crossed over to her window and drew back the curtains, not having missed the look at said window.

The sunlight poured into her room but the stage was indeed sent. Rows of fine chairs sat with rows of fine people in them. In front, Odin stood with a red curtain drawn closed behind him. His arms were gesturing wildly and he had a big grin on his face as he gave his speech.

Despite the curiosity that itched into Y/N’s face, she pushed it aside. She had never seen the King conduct himself in such ways, but alas, everyone grieved differently. So, she closed the curtains and got dressed for the day ahead.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

The moment Y/N stepped outside, she could’ve sworn that there was already long beads of sweat trailing down her skin. She let out a huff but journeyed on towards the courtyard, as this formal royal wear was necessary and she had no intention of pissing off Sir Snotty-Dickhead — as she called him (he had some fancy and long name she couldn’t remember, in her defense) — who was Odin’s right hand man.

By the time she got there, Odin was still rambling on with his speech, but his sudden notice of Y/N saved the guests from boredom.

“Aha, the guest of honor! Lady Y/N, herself,” Odin announced, bringing his hands together in a clap and gesturing for her to come toward him.

She betrayed herself and her cheeks involuntarily reddened as all eyes laid on her. She approached Odin and curtsied out of respect, but her mind was full of wonderings of why she, of all, would be singled out.

“I’m sure you all know who Lady Y/N is, yes?” He began, briefly pausing before continuing. “If you sadly do not, let me tell you. Lady Y/N had been a friend of the royal family, specifically my child, Loki’s—” the name caused her to suck in a sharp breath, “—and she was granted the title of Lady to uphold the image of the palace and to complete very important Asgardian duties.”

Once he stopped talking and the crowd clapped politely, Y/N took the opportunity she was presented before it’s door could close and quickly went and sat in her seat, the only seat not occupied yet, in the front row.

Odin then began speaking against whilst he walked to the side, “Speaking of my dear child Loki, this play that has been put together is one designed to honor him and his heroic sacrifice. Without further ado . . . ” He let his words trail off, and the red curtain pulled open.

Y/N’s face contorted into surprise at the words, not expecting this to take place. Again, she reminded herself, everyone grieved differently, so she decided to give it a chance. However, as the play went on, she was quick to realize that honoring Loki wasn’t the intention here. The horrid acting could be excused but Odin himself allowing this mockery of how Loki died? Of how he sacrificed himself? Well, with every second that passed, her face heated more and more — and not due to the sweat — and she grit her teeth, just barely refraining from yelling.

The worst part for her came though when the actor who played Loki did a dramatic reenactment of his sacrificed and the actor who played Thor did the worst fake crying ever. Y/N turned to the others, expecting them to be just as enraged as she was, but was floored to find that no—they were laughing. And not just that, but Odin was having himself a chuckle as well!

Her fingers tightly gripped the edges of her chair and she forced herself to look straight ahead, just about able to hold in her tears until the play was over and the actors bowed.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

Afterwards, while everyone was standing and giving Odin rounds and rounds of praises, Y/N stayed rooted in her seat. She couldn’t just let this go by as if it were nothing, but she was struggling to compose herself to confront him.

After a couple minutes of going back-and-forth, she decided, screw composure. She didn’t have to be composed. She was allowed to be angry.

So, she stood up and marched straight for him.

“All-Father,” Y/N said through grit teeth, forcing herself to curtesy, “I request your company in private, if I may.”

It took Odin a moment to tear himself away from accepting his latest comment, but the way he quickly glanced over at Y/N, she knew that he had not noticed — or perhaps he did not care — the state she was in.

“My apologies, Lady Y/N, but should I depart now, I fear I shall upset my comrades!” Odin said, ending his comment in a boastful joy, which resulted in laughter and cheers.

He didn’t wait for her response before engaging in another conversation, and Y/N’s lips remained tightly shut until she decided to just go forth and let her stuffed-up emotions out.

“Fine. I will say it in front of everyone, then!” She said, firmly and loudly, gaining everyone’s attention. “That was a pathetic excuse to remember Loki . . . It was an insult! You mocked him, your own child! How could you even— I . . . I just don’t understand . . . He sacrificed himself for your son and for Asgard and this is how you repay him? God. I expected much, much more from you for him because I . . . Let’s just say that we both love Loki, in our own ways, and I-I . . . I am very disappointed.”

Wanting to flee from the tears that were now streaming down her face and from the silence that was pounding, she turned around and she walked away, the realization that she had just confessed her love in front of everyone hitting her.

“Lady Y/N!”

Odin’s words stopped her in her tracks, but she did not turn around. Just stood. Waited.

“He told Thor, before he passed, that he, uh . . . He loved you, too.”

Y/N stared straight ahead, her hand jutting out to grab the pillar next to her to steady herself.

Loki loved her?

She didn’t stop the tears from coming this time. She let them, and the sobs, overwhelm her.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

“Lady Y/N?”

The voice and the knock were much more stiff than they were this morning.

“Come in.”

Her response was devoid of emotion, much more curt than it was this morning.

The same woman turned the door’s knob and opened it, sending Y/N, who was curled up on her bed, head nestled into her knees, a wary look. “The All-Father has requested your presence at his quarters,” she said.

Y/N let out a small huff, in no mood to talk to the King after what had happened. She forced her head up and gazed boredom at the woman. “Is it an emergency?” She deadpanned.

The woman looked around the room and by her lack of response, Y/N knew that either she didn’t know or didn’t want to say.

She sighed. “I will be there shortly,” she said.

The woman nodded and wordlessly left.

After she did, Y/N stood up and went in front of her mirror, taking in her appearance. Her once brushed hair was now frizzy and in knots and her eyes were puffy and red. Angrily, she practically tore the hairbrush through her hair and dabbed at her eyes with makeup until the red could be seen no more. She had no intention of letting him see her this way.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

Screw formalities, Y/N thought, as she walked straight into Odin’s quarters which composed of a small living room, a bedroom down the hall, an office, and a bathroom. She didn’t bother to curtsy or announce her presence.

When he finally and gradually turned around from whatever he was doing, a slight look of shock crossed his features, before he replaced it with a warm smile. “Y/N!” He said, but quickly corrected himself, “Lady Y/N.”

Y/N frowned and crossed her arms. “I hope that you have called me here to apologize,” she said, an icy edge to her voice.

Odin nonetheless looked at her kindly. “In a way, yes,” he vaguely said, before a magical transformation underwent before her.

His wrinkles disappeared, his beard disappeared, his grey hair turned jet black, and his clothes transformed into his usual wear.

No longer was the All-Father standing in front of her, but her best friend. The one she loved.

Taken by utter shock, Y/N instinctively stumbled back, her jaw dropping and her eyes widening. “What the hell is this?” She gasped out, not wanting to believe it at first. It was a cruel trick — it must be! There was no way.

“It’s me,” the mischievous deity said, a rare softness to his voice and in his eyes. He took a step forward, but then stopped himself. “I never died, I only impersonated my father.”

Y/N stared at him, angry tears coming to her eyes once more. “How?” She forced out, thinking that maybe she was dreaming. “Why?”

Loki looked around, slightly dumbfounded, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to question him. “I wanted the throne,” he answered, as if it were obvious and a perfectly acceptable reason.

Y/N stared at him as if he had grown two heads. To her, he might as well have.

“Oh, really? So you take over your father, trick everyone - me, your brother - into believing that you’re dead, you banish Sif . . . All because you wanted the goddamn throne?” She cried.

The cluelessness left his eyes and replaced itself with guilt, regret pooling inside him. He looked down, shoulders falling with a sigh.

“I’ve felt guilty tricking you ever since it had all went down. I wanted to tell you but, honestly, a part of me didn’t think you’d be that upset over my death. But you were really, so upset and I . . . I was lost. I didn’t know what to do. All I wanted to do was hug you and tell you that it was fine, that I was here, but I thought I’d screw up your emotions and hurt you even more,” he admitted.

Y/N just looked at him, her frown growing deeper. “That’s an awful excuse,” she hissed out, words laced with venom.

Loki immediately snapped his head up to look at her and his gaze held desperateness. “It’s not an excuse,” he said quickly. “It shouldn’t be. I’m . . . I’m so sorry. The last thing I ever wanted to was to trick you, and . . . I did. But today was the final straw. I couldn’t continue like that.”

Y/N took a step forward, having an inner battle in herself on whether or not to forgive him. “You lied to me,” she reiterated bluntly.

Loki nodded guiltily. “I did,” he agreed in a small voice.

She took a pause, taking in a deep breath. “You told me you loved me,” she added.

There was a brief moment of silence before Loki said, in the same small way but a little more firm now, “I do.”

Y/N kept walking, not even fully sure or convinced of what she was doing, but knowing that she needed to do it, until she was standing just inches away from him. They looked at each other for a couple moments, neither saying anything, until Y/N wrapped her arms around Loki. He returned the embrace.

“Never do that to me again!” She yelled through the tears that were now coming. God, was she tired of crying. Especially today.

Loki hugged her tighter, his own tears falling. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, and repeated that over, and over, and over again. “I’m an idiot.”

Y/N leaned back and cupped his face with her hands. The love she had for him overwhelmed her pain, and more than anything she needed him now. Besides, she could see his guilt. She could see the truth shining in his eyes. He wouldn’t do anything like this again, because he loved her. And she loved him.

“At least you’re self-aware,” she whispered through a sniff, taking a page out of his book with her joking remark. Before he could quip back (and she was sure he’d have an excellent one), she leaned forward and captured his lips in his a kiss. Loki smiled against her lips and wrapped his arms around her waist.

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[beewithknee]

weight does not equal beauty

asher hurt/comfort

You sat on the edge of your couch, frowning as your thighs splayed out underneath you. Today people have been especially rude, offering you diet tips and an assortment of other things. You didn’t think you looked too bad but you had gained a little weight. Sure, bringing chubby wasn't a bad thing but… if random strangers had noticed then surely Asher had too.

Was he just staying silent so he didn’t hurt your feelings? What if he hated the way you looked?

Self deprecating thoughts crashed over each other, blending into a toxic mess of self doubt and insecurity. Standing up, you sighed at the way your thighs touched.

Fuck.

Walking into the bedroom, you stood in front of your full length mirror, scanning your body for imperfections. Too many, was what you decided. As you stood there, heart twisting painfully and eyes glistening, you wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

‘You’d look so much better if you lost some weight’

‘Surely your partner can’t be happy with all this chub’

‘Don’t you wanna please your man?’

Chuckled sentences like that broke your heart, they pierced the ironclad walls you’d built up and completely shattered your self esteem. “Babe! I’m home, where are you?” Asher’s cheerful voice called out through the apartment. You desperately wished you could’ve put on a pair of his sweatpants, but life hated you so that was a no-go. “Hey Ash, how was work?” You smiled, hiding your watery eyes. Laughing he ran full speed and wrapped you up in the tightest hug known to man. “Eh, but my day is better now that i’ve got the most beautiful thing in this world in my arms” He smirked, he’d never get sick of complimenting you and watching the way your cheeks would light up. “I am not the most beautiful thing but I missed you too.” You denied, trying to hide the insecurity in a laugh. After knowing you for 3 years, Asher could instantly see through your bullshit. Concern flooded his face and he scanned you up and down, making sure you weren’t hurt physically. “What happened, babe?” Asher sighed, leading you over to the couch. You hesitated to sit down, but did it anyway knowing it’d be more suspicious if you didn’t. “Nothing, I'm just tired.” You lied through your teeth. Granted, you hated lying to your lover but if it saved him having to deal with your bullshit, you’d do it. “Mhm right. I thought we agreed we wouldn’t lie to each other, even if it didn’t seem like a big deal.” He backed you into a metaphorical corner, his words trapped you and you knew he was right but you couldn’t let me see the plague that rested just behind your eyes, he couldn’t see the ache that kept a grasp on your entire body. “Babe, please talk to me. Y’know I’ll never judge you.” He admitted honestly, crouching in front of you. Averting your eyes, you caught a glimpse of your thighs and the way they bulged out beside you. Catching a pathetic sob in your throat, you breathed in deeply. “You don’t have to pretend you don’t see it y’know. It’s fucking obvious” You barked out, voice rough and words venomous. you weren’t angry at Asher, no, he hadn’t done anything wrong. You were mad at yourself for letting it get this far. Furrowing his eyebrows, he replied “See what? What are you talking about?“ The beta was genuinely confused. You looked fine, the house was fine. Nothing had changed, or so he thought. “ME! The weight I’ve gained, the way my stomach sticks out and… and how my thighs are fucking huge.” You choked out, tears getting caught in your throat as you slightly yelled. Asher’s entire body went slightly slack, thank god it wasn’t anything serious. “Baby. Hey, look at me.” He requested, voice soft and tone gentle, he just wanted to see those beautiful eyes he fell for. Complying reluctantly, you met his brown ones, his face was a simple smile but his eyes showed as though he’d just seen his favourite statue at a museum. “Your weight will fluctuate, it’s not a constant thing. It’s okay if you don’t like what weight you’re at right now, but please don’t ever think that I will ever think you’re ugly. Weight is a tricky thing. We can see if we can lose weight in a healthy way. But if you like how you are, don’t change it. I adore how you look, you are so fucking hot, you make me wanna ravish you 24/7” He stated blankly before bursting out with laughed at your flushed face. “But if others can see then surely you’ve noticed too. I mean… it’s kinda obvious” You sighed, slapping your skin. Asher caught your hands, bringing them into his own. He leaned down and kissed each of your thighs, letting his eyes meet as he did. Breath hitching in your throat you smiled slightly. “I adore you. How you look does not matter as much as you think it does. I am so hopelessly in love with you that you have no idea. I’m going to marry you. I promise, not today but someday. And other people's opinions on their own, it is not fact, it's their conceited, sad little way of making them feel better, okay?” Nodding, you leaned down and kissed his forehead. He did always know how to make you feel better. “Good, now… let me lay between those thighs?” He asked shyly. Laughing, you

spread your legs and let him climb between them. Asher let out a content hum, turning his head and kissing one of your thighs. He passed you the remote and smiled as you kissed him softly.

“I love you babe. All of you.” He smiled.

“I love you too.”

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x reader (part 7)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.  

word count: 2.5k

warnings: um just implied smut and fluff and a reference to bdsm I guess?? but it's pretty chill overall

Liked by starkcosmetics and others

y/n.y/l/n okay first of all, it takes an act of god to get a picture of this guy smiling, but it’s always worth it.  he really changed everything for me and I can’t thank him enough for that.  so happy ❤️ 

View all 9,208 comments

caroldanvers 😍😍😍

flowercrowny/n oh my god this is so sweet i’m gonna cry

1 HOUR AGO

He smiled as he stared down at the post you’d made, remembering how much effort you’d put into finding the perfect picture (in your opinion; he thought he looked kinda dopey in it) as well as writing and re-writing your caption.

The speed at which your post gained likes and comments was inconceivable to him; even more impressive was the speed at which gossip rags were picking up the story.  Sure enough, his phone’s alerts to new headlines about you were not only going off like crazy, but had started to include news about himself as well.  

Y/N Y/L/N Shocks With Romantic Instagram Post, Confirms Dating Rumors

You’ll Never Guess Which Hollywood Starlet Is Dating Her Driver

Who is James Barnes?  Everything We Know About Y/N Y/L/N’s New Beau

Skimming one of the articles, he was impressed at how much information they’d managed to get without actually getting anything from you or him.  Born in Brooklyn, disabled Army veteran, worked a list of odd jobs before becoming your driver and bodyguard.  ‘No social media presence, prefers to keep a low profile’ one of them said; you can say that again, Bucky chuckled to himself when he read it.

He found another from People and didn’t particularly appreciate that it spent half the time going through all your past exes and rumored partners (turned out ‘rumored’ is a fancy word for ‘a bunch of fans deluded themselves so hard that it somehow turned into news without any proof necessary’).  But he still smiled when he got to the part that was actually about you and him.

‘The relationship is pretty new but they’re so happy together,’  a source close to the couple reported.  

Close indeed; that statement came from your publicist, who he’d never even meet.  

‘He’s a very private guy and she’s got this huge following, so they’re sort of an odd couple in that way, but she knows her fans are respectful and will let them have their own life outside of the spotlight.’ 

Bucky wasn’t sure that the respectfulness of fans was such a given here, but he hoped you were right.  To be fair, they’d been very sweet on your original post insofar. 

However, when he scrolled to the bottom of the celebrity magazine articles and realized they had their own comments section, he discovered that they were a little less forgiving than the ones on your Instagram.  

Is this the best she thinks she can do?  So sad tbh :(

a military guy…. yikes, she could get any guy she wants and she goes for a murderer. 

He looks like a hobo that found a coupon for a free haircut lol

I don’t buy it, I know she’ll always love Pietro!

Pietro being your former co-star that so many of your fans were convinced was actually your soulmate.  From what he’d heard from you, those speculations had made things so uncomfortable between the two of you that it killed your friendship.  Those were nothing, though, compared to the comments about someone you actually had dated.

she’s obviously not over sam… they were so good together

He’d better watch out for her ex, he still likes tweets about her and they have so much chemistry

Wait, she’s not still with Sam Wilson??  I could’ve sworn they’d been dating for, like, five years.

You were scrolling through your phone with a smile as you walked past where he was sitting on the couch, and he just couldn’t help himself from asking even though he knew it wasn’t the best idea.  “Do I need to worry about this Sam thing?” he blurted out, trying to play it cool and not sound too anxious.  “People are really obsessed with you two…”

“Sam and I…” you sighed, staring off into space for a second.  He made himself anxious imagining what you were thinking about in that moment.  “I haven’t talked to him in… years?  I think it’s just because our relationship was so public that people are still talking about it.  And it had a lot of gossip material��� we did a movie together, people thought it was sweet that we got together during production, it was great promotion for the picture… and from the outside, we made a lot of sense for each other.  But he has his own problems.  I loved him, but… he wasn’t ever going to be a one-girl kinda guy.”

“But you’re not just any one girl.  You’re… you know, you,” he emphasized.

“You’ve been reading too many headlines,” you shook your head as you sat down beside him.  “Please don’t turn into one of those guys who thinks of me as a celebrity first.  Before that—” you pointed to your own name where it was bolded on his screen in the trending topics page of Twitter— “was popping up on movie posters and in gossip magazines, it was just my name.  And I’m not perfect.  Not even close.”

Bucky sighed and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him and holding you tightly.  “And before I knew you were famous, or rich, or incredibly talented, I was totally obsessed with you just for who you are.”

“You’re too fucking amazing,” you sighed as you held his face and gave him a gentle kiss— the kind of kiss that instantly melted his heart and banished his worries.  When you pulled back and looked up at him with a smile, it was like everything else just… faded away.  “Don’t read the comments, okay?  None of them matter.”

He smiled and brushed his thumb over your cheek, overwhelmed by not only the softness of your skin but of your spirit as well.  In all his life he’d never been handled so… gently, with so much care.  “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he mumbled, not even really realizing he’d said it aloud until you gave him a beaming smile.

“I can’t believe you’re my boyfriend,” you giggled pridefully.

“Seriously?  I can… very easily believe it,” he scoffed.

“I just mean… you’re so…” you searched for the words.  “You’re actually good to me, that’s the thing.  I’m not used to that.”

“You deserve the world,” he assured.  “I’m just gonna keep trying to give you as much of it as I can find.”

He watched his hand trail over your face, down your neck and to your chest where he played with the hem of your t-shirt.

"It's odd to know there are millions of people who are jealous of me,” he admitted quietly, remembering some aggressive comments from some very angry dudes who had apparently also watched your nude scene a few too many times.

"Do you like it?  Do you like how it feels to know you're making them angry every time you touch me?"

"Couldn't care less," he refuted.  "Nobody else matters when I'm touchin' you."

“Do you maybe wanna… touch me a little more about it?” you smirked, opening your legs slightly in invitation.

“Always.”

//

Bucky had, thankfully, not let the newfound fame get to his head.  In fact, he had demanded that the two of you hunker down in the house, since he feared that going out would lead to being recognized.  What he apparently hadn’t anticipated was that that might not be enough.

“Will you get that?” you requested when the gate buzzed, too wrapped up in the book you were reading to answer the intercom.

He hopped up and held down the button to communicate with the gate speaker.  “Who is it?” he asked.

“I’ve got a delivery from Anjappar Chettinad on 23rd?”

Bucky didn’t even reply before hitting the green button and granting access to the driveway.  BEEP BEEP BEEP! you heard the gate signal its opening, and the car pulling around up to the door.  Bucky didn’t open it until there was a knock, greeting the delivery guy with a smile and the necessary cash.

“I’ve got a lamb korma, hyderabadi mutton dum biryani and an order of— woah,” the man suddenly stopped, staring at Bucky’s face.  “Are you—?’

“Hungry?  Yes,” he frowned.

“You’re the guy dating— holy shit, congrats man,” he beamed, smacking Bucky on the shoulder pridefully before leaning in with a mischievous smirk.  “Say, is she a freak or what?”

“She is,” you piped up from the couch, making both men turn their heads; but one was chuckling while the other looked mortified.  “You better not have forgotten my paneer pakora or I’m gonna chain you up and whip you.”

“Uh, I— no, I got it right here,” he promised weakly, handing the bag over to Bucky and starting to dash away before Bucky grabbed his arm, making the smaller man whimper fearfully.

“You forgot the money,” Bucky reminded him gruffly, stuffing the bills into the driver’s front pocket.

Finally, he let go, and the delivery man instantly pulled away, rubbing his arm and looking a bit like a kicked puppy as he went back to his car and drove away.

“You didn’t need to scare him that bad,” Bucky chuckled.

“I could say the same to you!  Grabbing somebody with the metal arm like that will put the fear of God into them pretty fast.”

“I didn’t mean to grab him that hard,” he admitted, examining the prosthetic hand as he came back to the couch with the bag of food, handing it to you while he focused on watching his motorized fingers curl and uncurl.  “I think I need to get this thing recalibrated… it’s been bugging out lately.”

“I dunno, it was working just fine last night,” you smiled, remembering how delightfully cool those fingers felt inside you.

Bucky seemed to miss it entirely, though, as he stared off into space.  “I can’t believe I got… recognized.”

“You’re a star,” you winked.  “And not just with random delivery drivers.  I’ve had a lot of press requests, everybody wants to be the first one to get nice pictures of us together— we’ve had a dozen event invites as a couple.”

“Seriously?!” he scoffed, snapping back to reality slightly enough 

“Yeah, and look what came in same-day mail this morning!”  You leaned over to shuffle through the mail on the side table before finding and handing him a letter in a gold-embossed envelope, watching him read what you knew was inside.

The Hollywood Foreign Press Association extends an invitation to Y/N Y/L/N and James Barnes to the annual Grant Banquet in support of the Young Artists Fund.

“It seems like a good first event for us,” you explained.  “Relatively small and low stakes, it’s for a good cause…”

“Are you sure I’m ready to be, you know… seen?  By people?” 

You scoffed, hardly believing how insecure he could be sometimes.  “You look great, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Will I have to talk to anybody other than you?” he asked, grimacing as if that were a form of brutal torture.

“Probably,” you admitted.

His frown deepened.  “What if I say the wrong thing?”

“I’m not that worried about you,” you smirked.  “You’re a lot better at this stuff than you think you are.”

“I don’t have anything to wear…”

You smirked, a little too proud of yourself, when you remembered the email your publicist had forwarded to you just this morning.  “Hugo Boss will pay you $1500 to wear one of their suits on the carpet.”

“They’ll pay me to wear free clothes?” he repeated with wide eyes.

“Yeah, that’s one of the cooler things about fame,” you laughed.  “I make a grand every time I wear this watch outside!”

“I guess I should send them my measurements then…” he trailed off.  “Any chance I can get in on that watch deal?”

“No, but you can make $50 by getting papped at Jamba Juice.”

He paused for a moment, scratching the back of his neck as he thought.  “Is the smoothie comped?”

“I don’t know.  Do you want me to ask?”

“...kinda…” he admitted with a shy smile.  

“Well, I will, and I’ll RSVP to this invite saying we’ll be there next week,” you decided as you started to open up the food, but Bucky stopped you by reaching for your hands.

“Are we really doing this?” he asked.

“If you want to,” you mitigated.

“Of course I do.  I guess I have to accept that you’re actually willing to be seen with me,” he chuckled.  “It’s just sort of hard to believe.”

You leaned in and kissed him; it was meant to be a casual, reassuring peck but he held you closer and you melted into him, moaning softly at his touch as you started to climb into his lap.

“The food’s gonna get cold,” he reminded you with a mumble against your lips.

Unfortunately, your literal hunger was a bit too strong to ignore, even with the growing intensity of a metaphorical hunger for Bucky.  “Alright,” you relented, getting off of him and returning your attention to the meal on the table.  “Just know that I really, really want to be seen together, in public, just in case anybody missed the news about us already.  I’m not embarrassed by you or afraid you’re going to do something dumb.  I…”

One of those words that can’t be unsaid started to bubble up in your throat and you coughed, banishing the thought.

“I really like you.  I think we have something special.”

He smiled gently, giving you one more kiss on the cheek.  “I think so, too.”

//

Since this was slightly less of a big deal than a premiere or press tour, you had managed to convince your styling team to let you dress yourself, which was why he was laying on the bed and talking to you through the bathroom door while you put on your gown.

“Do you want me to hire a new driver?” you prompted him, voice muffled slightly as he imagined your head covered in the fabric, trying to navigate through the dress.  “I don’t want you to feel… I don’t know, like a servant?”

“A servant?  You’re still paying me,” he reminded you.  “You are still paying me, right?”

“Yes,” you laughed, “but still, I would hate it if you felt like staff.  You’re my boyfriend!”

(His heart still fluttered every time you said it.)

“No new driver,” he decided.  “I can drive just fine, and considering how things went between us… let’s not open the door for anybody else,” he smirked, making you laugh in that way you did when he made a stupid joke but you still liked it somehow.

“Okay, sure, but what about being my bodyguard?  Is that too weird?” you continued.

“God no,” he scoffed, “if anything I’m gonna be better at my job than ever.  As your boyfriend, keeping you safe is my job, but since keeping you safe was already my job… it’s, like, doubled-up now.”

He lost his train of thought when you opened the door.

“How do I look?” you asked as you stepped in and gave him a spin in your new dress.  Your whole body was draped in red silk, with the exception of your back which was almost entirely exposed, as if it were begging him to run his fingers down your spine.

“Like everything I ever wanted,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

And it was so odd that you questioned his desire to drive you, because those moments where he could steer with one hand and rest the other on your thigh, when he could catch a glimpse of you looking out the window at the city rolling by, when he got to listen to you ramble about something to kill the time during a drive; those were his favorite moments, and he wouldn’t trade them for anything.

After a relatively brief trip, you arrived at the venue, and all of a sudden he was doing what he’d fantasized about more than he’d like to admit: escorting you down a red carpet.  It was almost overwhelming— yelling, chattering, reporters speaking into camera, flashes going off in every direction—

“Hey,” you whispered, bringing your hand up to his cheek and instantly taking all his attention.

“Hey,” he returned.

“Just follow my lead,” you instructed.

“That was the plan.”

[no-pucks-given]

TYSON JOST | LIGHT MY WAY HOME

A/N: More than 12.000 words later, more than a month after the initial request from Taylor popped up in my notifications. What a freaking ride. My longest fic I've ever written, and maybe even my favourite one. Thank you, to everyone who hyped me up, send me inspo and send me sweet asks. I couldn't have done this without all of you. Special thanks to @dumb-and-dunner, @chicagoblackhawkslover96, @heybarzy and Chrissy (who doesn't have Tumblr unfortunately).

Warnings: Angst, ‘can I strangle him yet?’ Tyson, swearwords, some major character development and (how could I not?!) a happy ending.

Also: Gabe and Melissa Landeskog play a big part in this fic, so if you aren't comfortable with them, you might want to skip this one.

Word Count: 12.1K

Requested: Yes.

The NHL lifestyle, or the ‘popular’ lifestyle was attractive to all young, hormonal boys. You’d known that for a long time. You stood by Tyson’s side when he got drafted into the wicked world of the NHL. Parties, drinking, sex, training until you can barely move, fights, games, wins and losses. It all had it’s charms, but it also had its dangers. Just like any other guy Tyson wanted to experience it all, the whole package,

You assumed you fell under that ‘whole package’, you were his girlfriend for a reason, right? And you did, for a while. You partied together, came home together, did everything together. But the moment Tyson became older and ‘known’ outside the regular hockey fans, that title didn’t mean much anymore. He became more and more the type of guy you didn’t fall in love with, the type to take you for granted, the type to enjoy the attention of other people, other women in particular. You weren’t the jealous type, you didn’t want to claw out the eyes of every woman that looked at him, but you were at a breaking point. Maybe you were jealous, you weren’t jealous of those other women, you were jealous of the attention Tyson gave them. Attention he should’ve been giving to you, his freaking girlfriend.

You were however the loyal type, the type to come home after a long night. And that’s exactly where things went wrong with Tyson. While you were waiting for him at home with a meal, a warm bed or just simply anything else, he was out. You had no idea where he was exactly, he was simply ‘out’, whatever that might mean. You tried to talk to him, you tried to make him see that this wouldn’t end well for either of you, but he simply waved off your concerns, shrugged his shoulders and moved on.

How do you talk to someone who rediscovered himself? How do you talk to someone who thinks he’s on top of the world? How do you save someone from the downfall of success when they don’t want to be saved? You knew one day he’ll come down from this high, one day he’ll realize that he screwed up. One day he’ll come to the conclusion he let something special slip through his fingers, and for what? Fame? Drinks? A rush of adrenaline? One day. But you knew that it wouldn’t be today.

However today is the day that you’re done. Absolutely fed up with all the bullshit excuses Tyson has been feeding you, all the coming home late or not even coming home at all. You have no idea what he’s been up to these last months, he’s barely home. Even when he’s home it’s like he isn’t really there. You can’t even remember the last time the two of you slept together or the last time you actually went to bed at the same time. Breakfast together? A lifetime ago. A lazy day together? Can’t remember. Date night? Months, months ago. Even thinking about it pisses you off to no end, the pain and hurt slowly making place for a new emotion: anger.

It’s frustrating to say the least. You love and take care of him like he means the world to you, and he does. Tyson on the other hand seems to take you for granted, or forgets you’re here at all. It seems like you’re talking to a brick wall instead of your boyfriend. No matter how hard you try, your words have no impact, your tears don’t make him feel anything. It’s like he’s a totally different person. You barely recognize him anymore these days, he feels like a stranger inside the body of the man you love. It feels like you’re both living your life, besides each other instead of with each other. It hurts, that’s for sure.

Like any other day you’ve prepared dinner, put it on the table and sat down on one of the chairs. All you can do now is wait, wait and pray he’ll show up this time. You even texted him, begged him to come home and simply eat dinner with you for a change. Of course you didn’t get a response, of course it’s complete radio silence from his side. God, you were desperate at this point, you don’t even try to deny it.

With every passing minute your hope disappears little by little. You stare at the food on the table until it’s completely dark outside, no sign of Tyson. Hours passed and you barely noticed it, it isn’t until you try to stand up and your muscles ache from sitting in the same position for a long time that you realize how much time actually has passed. “Fuck this, why am I even trying anymore?” you mutter to yourself, shaking your head. This isn’t worth it, it hasn’t been for a long time. Maybe, just maybe you’re finally ready to admit it to yourself.

Deciding to choose yourself over Tyson is a major decision, one you probably should’ve made sooner. It doesn’t matter, what does matter is that you’re choosing you now. You make the split second decision to just grab your stuff, just the necessary stuff. You remember Gabe’s offer, at the time you waved it off with a smile, pretending it wasn’t as bad as it might look to the outside world, but now? You want nothing more than to take him up on his offer. So what’s stopping you?

Even though you were excruciating calm this whole time, the moment you step into your bedroom, or Tyson’s bedroom, you break. This is real, this is really happening. You grab your bags, filling them with some of your stuff. Some clothes, some toiletries, your makeup, everything you might need. It’s a tough job, it’s even harder when you almost can’t see past the tears. At some point you lose track of things you did and didn’t grab, just shoving random items into your bag.

You let out a frustrated sigh, your body sinking down on the floor. In your hands the box containing all your high school love letters, all the small gifts you made each other. Tyson was quite handy, who would’ve thought that? You smile at the memories, sorting through the box. You frown at the feeling surging through your body, is this how heartbreak feels? Looking down at the contents of the box you sigh, wiping away the tears streaming down your face. Why couldn’t life be as simple as it used to be? It shouldn’t be this hard, right? You grab your prom picture between your fingers, smiling sadly at the two people in the picture, both smiling like they just won the lottery, both utterly in love with the other. How time can change..

You throw the box on the bed, maybe it will remind Tyson what the two of you had was special, maybe he’ll realize what he’s about to lose. If it doesn’t, well, it’s his loss. Hauling your bags downstairs is a full workout, you intended to bring ‘just the essentials’ but you have way more important stuff than you originally thought. You aren’t planning on returning to this house any time soon.

Shutting the car door after you loaded in your stuff gives you some form of relief. You let out the breath you’ve been holding in. You made your decision, it’s time to follow through now. You make your way back inside, and into the kitchen. Cleaning up all leftovers from dinner, which obviously is a lot more than you expected. Although.. did you really think he would show up? You shake your head again, putting the leftovers into the fridge. After you finish the dishes you retreat back to the living room, falling down on the couch with a loud sigh. All you can do now is wait.

You could’ve just left and never look back, but that isn’t your style. If you’re going to leave, you’ll do it the right way. You won’t leave without giving him a piece of mind, letting him know he fucked this up for good. You try to focus on the movie playing on the screen, but your heart keeps beating harder and harder, at this point you wish you would’ve just left instead of waiting for Tyson to show up. God, why did you have to do it the right way? Because you know, deep down, you would’ve wanted him to do it the same way. It’s the humane thing to do, it’s only right after spending such a long time together.

The front door opening brings you out of your thoughts. Honestly you don’t even know what time it is, but frankly you don’t care. All you want right now is to get this off your chest and leave. Tyson’s eyes widen when he comes face-to-face with you, surprisingly he doesn’t seem that intoxicated. You suspected he went out, but at this point he could’ve been anywhere.

“You’re still up,” Tyson says, walking past you and flopping down on the couch.

“Yep, and you missed dinner,” you counter, crossing your arms. Tyson simply shrugs his shoulder, clearly not caring enough to explain his absence. “I texted you to make sure you would be here,” you say, even though you know it doesn’t make a difference.

“Yeah, I was busy,” Tyson answers, looking down at his phone.

You almost feel the need to chuckle, to start laughing at his stupid behavior, but this is anything but funny to you, it fucking hurts. “I’m done, Tyson. I’m fucking done,” you say, shaking your head, trying so hard to keep the tears away.

Tyson looks at you with dull eyes, no emotion visible on his face. “Then go to fucking bed, I really can’t deal with your problems right now,” he sighs, turning his head back to the phone in his hand.

Right now, at this moment you know you made the right decision. This isn’t behavior of someone who’s in love, this isn’t even behavior of someone who loves. “You don��t have to deal with me anymore, because I’m leaving. I’m done, we’re done,” you tell him, emphasizing the last part. Tyson’s eyes shoot to yours, the panic clearly written all over his face now.

“No, we’re not. You can’t break up with me, y/n!” he almost shouts at you, standing up from the couch.

“Yes, I can and I will. You don’t get to act like you care all of the sudden, Tyson. You haven’t acted like a boyfriend in months. You haven’t given me any reason to stay, so I won’t. I’m done with whatever this is,” you say, waving between the two of you. Tyson grabs your wrist, tears starting to pool in his eyes. He opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off. “No. No. You don’t get to do this. It’s over. You put on quite a show, but I can’t say it was very entertaining. This curtain fucking closes right now, show is over. You can act like you care, but I know by now that you don’t,” you tell him, ripping your arm out of his grip.

You walk over to the front door, keeping your head high. Now is not the time to break down, your time will come. You hear Tyson behind you, muttering how sorry he is, excuse after excuse leave his mouth. You open the door, turning around one last time to look at Tyson. “Don’t tell me you’re sorry, ‘cause you’re not,” you say while shaking your head. You close the door behind you, not looking back at what you’ve left behind, only looking forward to what’s yet to come.

It’s when you’re in your car mindlessly driving around when you realize you have nowhere to go. You forgot to call Gabe, and it’s probably way too late now. You quickly check the time, 2am, shit that’s late. You doubt he’s still awake, you feel bad for even thinking about waking him up. Two young children, both of them under the age of 2, and being a professional hockey player probably cost him enough energy already, you don’t need to add to that. “He did say I could always call him when I made my decision,” you say out loud, more to convince yourself that it’s okay than anything else.

You easily find Gabe’s contact, immediately pressing the dial button before you change your mind again. The line only rings twice before Gabe picks up. “I’m guessing you either finally broke up with him or there’s a fire somewhere,” Gabe says from the other side of the line. You chuckle, shaking your head. “And since you’re calling me and not the fire department, my guess is on the first one,” Gabe continues, trying to make you smile some more.

“I did it, I broke up with him, couldn’t stand to be there any second longer,” you sigh, brushing your fingers through your hair.

You hear Gabe’s sigh of relief. “I’m proud of you, y/n. I know this isn’t what you had in mind, but it’s better like this, I promise.”

Gabe turned into one of your best friends over time, Melissa is the older sister you never had and you love their children like they’re your own. Gabe and Melissa welcomed you into their family immediately after meeting you. You hadn’t expected to make friends and you definitely didn’t expect to make friends with the captain and his wife, but you’re so grateful you did. The support you receive from them is overwhelming, you couldn’t wish for better friends. So when Gabe first made you this offer, you were thankful he did, although you were still convinced at that point that Tyson would change.

“Uhm, you know.. that offer you made me? Is that still on the table?” you ask, praying he’ll say ‘yes’, praying you don’t have to sleep in some random hotel tonight.

“Of course, the guestroom is already prepared. Melissa expects you to be here as soon as possible, apparently she ‘really needs to cuddle her little sister’,” Gabe chuckles, you can almost hear him rolling his eyes at his wife.

“Thank you, Gabe. I owe you,” you say softly.

“You don’t. You’re family, y/n,” Gabe says, and you know he means every word he just said. Family. “Now get your ass over here, before Melissa starts a search party,” Gabe chuckles, making you laugh some more, because you know she would. You quickly say your goodbyes, promising you’ll be there in a few minutes. It’s just a short drive from your apartment, or Tyson’s apartment now, to Gabe and Mel’s place.

You kept up your appearance, keeping the tears at bay, but the moment you step out of your car and into Gabe’s arms you’re done. “Come here, I’m so sorry,” Gabe says softly, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back.

You stand there for a few minutes, simply crying on your best friend’s shoulder, until Melissa squeezes herself between the two of you. “Hush, I need some sister time. Why don’t you grab her stuff?” she says, smiling sweetly at her husband.

Gabe sighs dramatically, sending a wink your way. “Whatever you say, wife.”

Melissa pulls you close to her, an arm around your waist, her head resting on your shoulder. “Come on, I’ll show you your room,” she softly says, leading you into the house. You’ve been here so many times already, but never like this. You’ve never been in a situation like this before, you’re not sure how to handle this. “I can hear the wheels turning in your head. It will be okay,” Melissa says, rubbing your arm soothingly. You sigh, shrugging your shoulders, not sure what to say.

Melissa leads you to your room, pushing you down on the bed, while she takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “I know you’re probably exhausted, but do you want to talk?” Melissa asks softly, her face showing nothing but compassion.

You lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about all that has happened. “I don’t even know what to say, Mel. I don’t even know how I feel right now. I’m just so...” you trail off, not knowing the right words to describe everything that you feel and think right now.

“Confused, relieved, mad?”

You sit back up, looking back at Melissa. “All of the above, I guess? It hurts, but I’m glad I did it. But I also regret it, because I love him, you know? I’m mad he didn’t try harder for me, for us,” you say, trying hard to keep the rush of tears away.

Melissa wraps her arms around you, pulling you close to her. “I know, sweetheart. It will take time, but you’re going to be okay.”

You sigh, knowing she’s right, even though it probably will take more time than just ‘some time’. You did just end a long relationship, it will take a lot of patience and time to work through that. “Thank you, Mel. For letting me stay here,” you mumble against Melissa’s shoulder.

“No need for that. You’re my sister, remember?” Melissa smiles at you.

Gabe softly knocks on the door before opening the door. “Brought your bags, thought you might need them before you go to sleep,” he says, smiling at the sight before him. Your friendship might be unconventional, but he couldn’t care less what other people think about it. Gabe absolutely adores the sister bond you and Mel share, he hoped the two of you would get along, so this? Picture perfect.

“Thanks, Gabe,” you smile at him.

“Do you mind if I steal my wife from you?” Gabe asks, making you and Melissa laugh out loud.

“Nope, she’s all yours,” you chuckle, waving at their retreating backs when they walk out of the room.

You strip out of your clothes, pulling on a sweater. You sigh, realizing you packed some of Tyson’s sweaters out of habit. His smell infiltrates your senses, making it damn hard to keep your emotions under control. It’s right this moment you know exactly how you feel. Heartbroken. The realization that your relationship with Tyson is really over doesn’t give you the satisfaction you hoped for, it doesn’t give you peace, it just fucking hurts. You simply feel hollow, even though deep down you know this was the right choice, this was what needed to happen. You know damn well why you feel so empty, you gave your heart to Tyson a long, long time ago, never expecting to be in a situation you might get it back. You don’t want it back, but you might need it back.

You realize it’s morning when the light softly shines into your room. You sigh, knowing damn well you’re lucky if you slept more than an hour this night. Rolling over you look at the clock on the wall, 9 am, perfect. Deciding it won’t do you any good if you stay in bed any longer, you force yourself out of bed and into the shower. The hot water warms your cold skin, soothing your sore muscles. All the twisting and turning you did all night surely didn’t help the way you feel right now. Why couldn’t life be a bit easier by simply letting the shower wash away all of your hurt, all of your pain? A fresh start, a clean slate.

You slip on some skinny jeans and a soft sweater, not in the mood to even think about doing your makeup. You dry your hair, before making a quick ponytail out of it. You walk down stairs, the chatter and laughter greeting you as soon as you walk into the kitchen. “Morning, guys,” you say, smiling at all the happy faces before you. A round of greetings sound throughout the room.

“How’d you sleep?” Gabe asks you as soon as you sit down next to him with a bowl of cereal.

“Can’t even tell you, suddenly it was 9 am,” you chuckle, shrugging your shoulders at Gabe’s raised eyebrow. “Do you have any idea where my phone is?” you ask Gabe, knowing he grabbed all your stuff out of your car.

“Uhh, I do, but I don’t know if you really want to look at it,” Gabe says, scratching the back of his head before pointing towards the kitchen counter. It’s your turn to raise your eyebrows, walking over to where Gabe’s pointing at.

You unlock your phone, quickly checking your notifications. “Oh damn,” you mutter, looking at the absurd amount of missed calls and messages left by none other than Tyson himself.

You sit back down next to Gabe, dropping your head on your arms. “What do I do now, Gabe?” you groan. “Why does he care all of the sudden?”

Gabe rubs his hand over your back before answering your question. “Because he lost you, y/n. He never thought he would.” You turn your head towards Gabe letting his words sink in.

Gabe gets ready to leave for practice shortly after you settle on the couch with Lucas in your arms. The little man has a fascination with your hair, maybe it’s all babies who have that, but you like to think that you’re special. “Don’t pull out all y/n’s hair, baby boy,” Gabe chuckles, giving his boy a soft kiss on his head. He gives you a kiss on your cheek, softly squeezing your shoulder. You open your mouth to say something, but Gabe cuts you off. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t worry about it, I’m his captain, but I’m your friend, okay? Just relax, make sure Lucas doesn’t puke on you and go do whatever it is that you women do all day,” Gabe chuckles, knowing you better than you know yourself. You mouth a quick ‘thank you’ to him, wishing him good luck with practice before he runs through the house trying to find his girls to kiss them goodbye.

“Your daddy is a good guy, you know that, Lucas?” you smile at the baby on your lap. Lucas coos, his hands grabbing onto the strands of your hair. “Your daddy and mommy make me feel so loved, even though their children like to see me in pain,” you joke, trying to free your hair from Lucas’s small hands. “Buddy, you’re way stronger than you look,” you mumble, when Lucas pulls on your hair again.

Melissa laughs out loud the moment she walks into the living room. “How many times did I tell you that you need to keep your hair away from him and his grabby hands?” she says, expertly freeing your hair from her son’s fists.

“Apparently not enough times,” you chuckle at her. Melissa joins you on the couch, while Linnea Rae plays on the ground with some of her toys, happily showing you what she got every now and then. It’s times like this that you’re extra grateful for Melissa and Gabe, the way they welcomed you into their family has been nothing but perfect.

“So, what’s going through that pretty head of yours?” Melissa asks, while scrolling through series to watch on Netflix.

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know, I’m kind of worried about practice, I think? I don’t want to put Gabe in this position,” you say, keeping your eyes on Lucas.

“You know Gabe would do anything for you, huh? You don’t know how many times he came home utterly frustrated by the way Tyson treated you. He never said anything, because you were still with him, I can’t promise you he will stay quiet this time,” Melissa says, squeezing your shoulder. “He’ll be fine, this isn’t Gabe’s first rodeo.”

You look at Melissa, who simply gives you a wink. “I know, I know. I just don’t want him to get in trouble or anything,” you say, smiling back at her. You trust and know Gabe, so hopefully there won’t be a lot of trouble today.

“If he does though, he probably deserves it.”

Gabe surprises you all with some takeaway when he gets home from practice. It’s been nice eating with other people for change, it’s been way too long. The amount of lonely dinners has been through the roof lately. Gabe nudges you with his elbow, causing you to look up at him. “No frowning at the table.”

Melissa rolls her eyes at her husband while you just stick out your tongue at him. “Sure, dad,” you say, causing Melissa to almost choke on her bite of food before she lets out a loud laugh.

“Yeah, dad. Leave us alone,” Melissa laughs, winking at her husband. Gabe shakes his head at you and Melissa, a grin plastered on his face.

It’s during dessert you find the courage to ask about Tyson. You weren’t sure if you needed to ask Gabe, you weren’t even sure if you wanted to know anything, but now you know you do. “So, did anything happen during practice?” you ask him, playing around with your spoon.

Gabe shakes his head, giving you a small smile. “Not much, just some chirping. Told him I’m his captain and he needs to fucking focus on practice. That seemed to do the trick,” Gabe says, shrugging his shoulders, continuing to eat his dessert.

You look across the table at Melissa who has the same expression on her face as you. Not convincing at all. ‘Sure,’ Melissa mouths at you from across the table. You shake your head at her, furrowing your eyebrows at Gabe’s statement. ‘Nope,’ you mouth back at her, finishing your dessert. You decide to let it go, you don’t even know why you care so much. You shouldn’t, right? You broke things off with Tyson, so why do you care so much what he does and thinks? The answer to that question is pretty simple the longer you think about it. Because you still love him, that’s why.

You thank everyone for dinner and dessert, promising to cook something from them later this week. Right now all you can think about is your bed and a decent night of sleep. God, that sounds like a true dream right now. You strip out of your clothes, crawling into the soft and cozy bed. It doesn’t take long before you fall asleep, showing just how exhausted you truly are.

The weeks that follow are filled with all kinds of activities, the 5 of you falling back into a comfortable rhythm, surprising you considering the situation you’re in. It isn’t every day you take in the ex-girlfriend of one of your teammates, or your best friend, whatever way you want to see things. When you aren’t working you spend a lot of time with the kids, trying to make things easier for Melissa and Gabe whenever they are busy or simply need some time for the two of them. You happily take on some of their care, even if it’s as simple as making sure they get their food in time. Honestly they are two of the sweetest children you’ve ever come across, they always find ways to make you laugh, even though most of the time it isn’t on purpose.

It’s been quiet around the house tonight, Melissa went out with a few of her friends, while she left Gabe and the kids with you. Apparently she needed some ‘alone time’ which didn’t include kids, and definitely didn’t include Gabe after he mentioned he wanted some ‘alone time’ with her as well. You love their friendly bickering, the love they have for each other visible in everything they do. So when Melissa gave her husband a dirty look and flipped him the bird the only logical thing to do was to start laughing at their exchange. “Have fun with them, sweetheart!” Melissa had yelled at you when she walked through the door, leaving the four of you behind.

Together you decide to just have a movie night. It’s late enough for both children to be asleep already, yet early enough to squeeze in a full size movie marathon. “Gladiatorrrrr!” Gabe exclaims excitedly while scrolling through the movie selection on Netflix, pausing on his all-time favorite movie.

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “Please no, have mercy, Gabe,” you laugh, knowing damn well you’re going to sit through this movie again. How many times has it been already? 12? You wouldn’t even be surprised. This dude really loves his movie. You look at Gabe from between your fingers, seeing the look on his face which makes you groan even more. “Fineeee, one more time, Gabe. One more time,” you whine at him, secretly enjoying his taste in movies, something you don’t plan on telling him ever.

It’s a little after 10pm when the doorbell rings. You look at Gabe, who looks just as surprised as you are. “It’s a bit early for Mel, don’t you think?” Gabe asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Definitely, unless she drank the whole bottle of champagne again,” you chuckle, thinking back at one of the craziest parties you’ve ever been to with Mel and Gabe.

“Oh God, please don’t remind me of that,” Gabe shudders at the memory of that night, standing up to see who’s on the other side of the door.

Gabe hates to say that he isn’t surprised to see Tyson’s face as soon as he opens the door. Honestly he had expected him at his door days, maybe even weeks ago. The moment Tyson found out you were staying with Gabe he broke, Gabe expected him to fight, to yell, to scream, he expected him to do anything except cry. Which is exactly what Tyson did, breaking down in the middle of practice. For a moment the whole place went quiet, only Tyson’s cries echoing throughout the building. No one knew how to act, no one knew what to do, until Gabe realized he’s the captain for a reason. On and off the ice. It was a weird experience, one Gabe still feels extremely conflicted about. He comforted his teammate, his friend, while his other friend was at his home, utterly heartbroken, trying to get over the guy who was bawling his eyes out on the ice.

After Tyson got over the initial shock the anger took over, just as Gabe expected. It made him almost drop the gloves, something he tried to avoid, not wanting to hurt Tyson. He let him say his things, things that absolutely didn’t make any sense, until he got everything out of his system. “Now can we continue this fucking practice, Jost?” Gabe told him after everything calmed down. Gabe tried to avoid the Tyson/y/n topic as much as possible after that, not wanting to get in the middle of things more than he already was. Until tonight apparently.

Gabe raises an eyebrow at the boy before him. “Why are you here, Tyson?” Gabe sighs, already knowing the answer to that question.

Tyson looks around, eyes flickering from left to right, clearly uncomfortable being here. “I, uh, can I talk to y/n? I know she’s here,” Tyson asks, scratching the back of his head before putting them back in his pockets.

Gabe shakes his head at him. “You can’t, if she wants to talk to you she will find a way to contact you. As long as you don’t get your shit together and prove to me, but most of all to her, that you’ve changed, I won’t let you anywhere near her,” Gabe declares, starting to get annoyed with the way Tyson acts. There’s no way he lets him close to you until you feel like you’re ready to see him again, no way.

Tyson opens his mouth, but Gabe gives him a look that immediately shuts him up again. “I’m saying this as your captain, and definitely not as your friend right now. Go home and leave her the fuck alone. You had your chance, you fucked up and now you have to deal with the consequences. How you deal with those said consequences is up to you, but I suggest you leave now and think about everything you did and didn’t do, okay?” Tyson nods his head, turning around to walk back to his car.

When he’s a few steps away from his car he turns around, smiling sadly at Gabe. “She’s my home, Gabe. Home doesn’t feel the same without her. You out of all people should understand that.”

Gabe chuckles low, shaking his head at his clueless teammate. “I do. I do know what home feels like, but I never, never choose anyone or anything over my ‘home’. Never. You sure as hell did, time after time,” Gabe says frustratedly, before shutting the door, leaving behind an even more frustrated Tyson.

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you caught the sound of Tyson’s voice when you walked to the kitchen, grabbing some more popcorn. You didn’t mean to listen to their conversation, but it felt like you were glued to your place, unable to take another step, unable to do anything but listen.

Gabe walks back into the room, the look on your face immediately letting him know you know. “How much did you hear?” he asks softly, approaching you slowly.

“Enough,” you whisper, before breaking down, no longer able to keep the tears locked away, no longer able to keep your emotions to yourself.

With two steps Gabe is in front of you, grabbing the bowl of popcorn you held onto between your trembling fingers. He guides you back to the couch, urging you to sit down, which is a true challenge for someone who can barely feel the ground they walk on. Gabe wraps his arms around you the moment you sit down, allowing you to cry onto his shoulder as much as you want and need. He whispers sweet nothings while softly brushing your hair out of your face, making sure you have room to breath. Time after time Gabe proves what kind of friend he is, always making sure to be there for you when he’s needed, always doing things with the best intentions. Even if it’s just holding you until you calm down, even if it’s just speaking the truth against Tyson, even if it’s just simply being there for one another.

“Sooner or later he would’ve realized what he lost, what he gave up for an evening of clubbing or God knows what. Apparently it’s sooner rather than later, however make sure you make him work for it, if you ever decide you want to give the two of you another chance,” Gabe softly advises you, when you finally calmed down a bit.

“I will, you know I love him, Gabe. But I don’t know if I should?” you mumble, not sure if it’s a question Gabe has the answer to.

“Sometimes the heart wants what it wants. If he’s serious about you, he will work his ass off to earn back your love and trust, I promise you,” Gabe comforts you, after knowing Tyson for so long he’s positive he knows that Tyson goes above and beyond to get what he wants in life.

Maybe it’s Gabe’s comforting words, maybe it’s knowing deep down Tyson still cares, maybe it’s your own strength, but for the first time in a while you feel a tiny flicker of hope, a little bit of light at the end of the dark tunnel. Maybe, just maybe this was all worth it, maybe this is what needed to happen to get better and move forward. Maybe this is how it was supposed to go.

It’s a weird feeling, knowing your ex still cares about you, but also knowing you aren’t ready to let him back into your life like that. You don’t feel like you’re capable of seeing him yet, let alone talk to him. The need to know how he’s doing, how he’s holding up grows, but also confuses you. It’s simply a weird and confusing situation to be in. Choosing between two, maybe even more ways to handle this, while also waiting for Tyson to make a move, which he obviously can’t since you don’t want to see him or speak to him, is a hard task. A task that will require a lot of thinking. You just need a bit more time to gather your thoughts, give all of your confusing feelings a place, while making sure you put yourself first, you need to put yourself first this time.

So when Gabe invites you to one of his home games a few weeks later you say ‘yes’ right away. It seems like the perfect time and place to see Tyson from a distance again, without putting too much stress on yourself, you can just watch and enjoy the game, you don’t have to force anything. Of course your seats turned out to be way closer to the ice than you expected them to be, although... what did you exactly expect with Gabe? You know he’s been talking to both of you, kind of acting like some sort of messenger. He tried to keep it casual, just slipping in some information during a conversation, but you noticed what he was trying to do. Frankly you’re thankful for his meddling.

Steadily your heart starts to beat faster and faster the more players appear on the ice to warm up. When Gabe appears you aren’t surprised to see Tyson close to him, knowing Gabe they probably had a little chat before they went on the ice. Tyson’s eyes shoot to yours the moment he’s close by, completely forgetting the ability to skate. You gasp when he lands on his ass on the ice, earning himself a round of laughter from the people around him, including Melissa and you. Gabe skates over to him, extending his hand and helping him upright again, but not before clearly telling him he’s ‘a dumbass’. Now that’s something you can agree on.

You know Tyson has something up his sleeve when he skates off to the bench, clearly busying himself with something you can’t see. After a few more stolen glances at each other Tyson skates closer and closer to you, until he’s right in front of the glass. His left hand catches your attention, until he gives you a small and almost shy smile. “Look at him, he’s blushing!” Melissa whispers next to you. You shoot her a quick ‘shut up’ look, before you focus your attention back on Tyson.

Tyson shows you the puck in his gloved hand, mouthing to you to catch it. It takes him two tries before the puck lands on the other side of the glass, safely in your hands. Tyson gives you one last quick smile before he skates off to get ready for the game. Melissa nudges you softly, bringing you back from your thoughts. “So, what’s on there?” she asks, knowing damn well you haven’t even checked.

“I don’t know if I want to look, Mel,” you tell her honestly. Melissa gives you a sad smile, throwing her arm around your shoulders.

“Let’s look together?” she suggests. You don’t know why you’re so nervous, how much can you actually write on a puck? He seemed happy to see you, so there’s no need to be nervous that it’s a bad thing. You look at the puck, turning it around in your hands so you can read the whole thing. ‘Talk after the game?’ is written on the puck, you immediately recognize Tyson’s handwriting and his little smiley face, or.. something that should resemble a smiley face.

“That wasn’t that bad, right?” Melissa asks softly, squeezing your shoulder.

“What if I’m not ready?” you ask her, a question that has been on your mind a lot lately.

“Then you take a step back, you don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, you don’t have any obligations. But he’s trying, y/n. You’ve heard all of Gabe’s stories, you’ve seen it yourself just now. It can’t hurt to at least talk to him.” You think about Melissa’s words, she does have a point there. Talking is something you should’ve done ages ago, or at least Tyson should’ve done that. So this is progress, he’s at least trying this time, that’s more than he used to do.

It’s hard to keep the smile off your face, you can’t even pinpoint why exactly you’re smiling. Whatever the reason is, it’s a good feeling to smile again. The game sure as hell plays a big part in it, the guys are on fire, scoring goal after goal, never giving the puck away for long. There’s barely any time for you to give Tyson a thumbs up, indicating you’re up for a talk after the game. Whenever you look at Tyson when he’s off the ice he’s smiling, whether it is to himself or to one of his teammates, that smile won’t leave his face.

You follow Melissa down to the locker room after the game is over. You’ve done this so many times, but this time it couldn’t be more different. You greet all the girls who are patiently waiting on their man, getting enough comforting words from them to last you a lifetime. When the door to the locker room opens you come face-to-face with Mikko, someone you haven’t seen in a while. Mikko’s face lights up when he spots you outside the locker room. “y/n! I haven’t seen you in so long,” he says, while hugging you tightly.

“I missed you too, goof. It’s great to see you,” you smile at him, wiggling out of his iron grip. Dude’s definitely stronger than he looks.

“Between you and me, Tyson’s a good kid, he just needed to grow up a bit,” Mikko whispers against your ear, before leaving you alone again.

You raise your eyebrow at Melissa, who just shrugs her shoulders. Weird. After a few more minutes Gabe and Tyson appear in front of you, both of them joking around. Tyson nervously looks around, not sure if he should come any closer. Gabe hugs you swiftly before throwing his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Make sure you bring her home safely, Jost,” Gabe warns him, before quickly saying goodbye to both of you.

You watch them leave, your mouth agape by the way they just left you here. Rude. “Did they just really do that?” you ask no one in particular, still shocked by their actions.

You turn around, looking back at Tyson, who still appears to be nervous. Is he nervous to talk to you? Why would he be nervous? It’s just you. “Hi there,” you smile, looking up at the man in front of you.

“Hi beautiful, it was nice seeing you tonight,” Tyson softly says, giving you a small smile.

Your insides flutter with his use of words, it’s nice hearing them even though you’re not completely sure if he means them the way you hope he does. “It was. You played great, I had a lot of fun,” you say, smiling at the proud look that crosses Tyson’s face for a moment.

Tyson leads you back to the rink, which is now completely deserted, thinking it would be a nice place to chat. For a while the two of you fall back into small talk, ‘how’s life?’, ‘how’s work?’, all that bullshit. You know Tyson and you are avoiding the actual topic that needs to be discussed, or topics? Whatever it is, there’s a lot to talk about. “I missed it here, I forgot how much I loved being here,” you tell Tyson, looking at the lights that lighten up the place, thinking back at the memories full of fun and happiness you both created here.

“I missed you, baby,” Tyson blurts out, completely catching you off guard.

Your eyes shoot back to his, you feel the panic rising inside your body. “Tyson...,” you start, warning him he’s walking on thin ice here.

Tyson’s face falls a bit, seeing the anxious look on your face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” Tyson groans, rubbing his face harshly, utterly frustrated with himself and the situation.

It’s quiet for a minute, both of you completely lost in thoughts. “Why is this so hard? We used to be able to talk about anything and everything. What changed, y/n?” Tyson wonders out loud.

You feel a painful pang in your heart, because you know damn well what changed. “You did, Tyson. You changed,” you almost whisper, the truth behind those words more clear than ever before.

You watch as Tyson’s whole composure changes in the blink of an eye, in just a split second he goes from the ‘happy’ guy to the guy who’s just as heartbroken as you are. “I did, didn’t I?” Tyson whispers, the tears pooling in his eyes. “I fucked this up, how could I be so stupid?” he mumbles, burying in face in his hands. “I’m so sorry, I regret this more than I could ever admit to you. I’m so sorry, baby,” Tyson cries, trying to keep his eyes focused on you. It’s hard to keep your own tears at bay when the guy you love so much has a breakdown in front of you, so you don’t. You just let them fall.

You don’t make a move to comfort him, you do give him room to let it all out, give him time to gather his composure again. “I looked through the box, the one you left on our bed?” Tyson says, his voice still broken, still thick with emotion. You nod your head, it was something you hoped he would do. “I had no idea you kept all of that throughout the years,” Tyson smiles weakly at you. “It made me realize what a moron I have been these past few months, maybe even longer,” he continues, shaking his head in disappointment. You listen intently at him, this, this is what you hoped for all this time: realization.

“I’m not telling you that you weren’t a moron, because you absolutely were. But I’m glad you came to the same conclusion.”

Tyson chuckles at your statement, giving you half a smile. “I know, I’m a dumbass. I’m a dumbass for acting this way and a dumbass for letting you go. Any guy would be on top of the world with you by his side, and I just let you slip through my fingers,” Tyson tells you, finally showing he knows he’s been a fool all this time, he knows he let something special go.

“Is it too late for us? Can you give us another chance?” Tysons asks you, his eyes flickering between you and the ground.

You sigh softly, knowing this question would come. It’s something you gave a lot of thought, something that crossed your mind daily. “I don’t know, Tyson. I really don’t know. You really fucking hurt me, you know? I can’t just look past that, I need to heal from that,” you tell him. Tyson nods his head, a guilty expression on his face. “You made me feel worthless every single day. You didn’t even give me a second of your time day after day. All you cared about was being away. Being away from me?”

It’s right that moment Tyson interrupts you by grabbing your hands. “No. No. That’s not true, you need to believe me,” he tells you as fast as he can.

“But how can I believe you when you never gave me a reason to? Your actions showed me exactly that, Tyson. I need answers, I need to know why,” you exclaim, starting to panic again, your anxiety taking over.

“Easy, baby. I’ll tell you everything you want to know, everything you want, but right now I need you to breath. Breathe, baby,” Tyson says softly, trying to calm your shallow breathing back down to normal. “Listen to my breathing, try to follow the way I breathe.” You do as he says, following the rise and fall of his chest, gaining back control of your own breathing.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, while Tyson just shakes his head at you, letting you know it’s okay. “Can you take me home, Ty? We can talk later, okay?” you ask him, suddenly feeling the need to crawl underneath the covers of your bed and just simply sleep for a while.

“Anything you want, y/n,” Tyson says, leading you out of the room and back to his car. You’re pretty sure he mumbled something under his breath, something very closely resembling ‘your home isn’t there, it’s with me’.

The drive to Gabe takes longer than expected, giving you more time to think about Tyson’s earlier question. You still need and want to know how he spent his nights, where he spent his nights, and why he acted like you didn’t exist. That conversation might need to wait until another day, you aren’t up for any more information, any more realizations, you still need to process everything you heard, saw and felt today.

Tyson stops the car in front of Gabe’s house, looking back at you with hopeful eyes. You know he still hopes he gets an answer to his earlier question, and you want to give him at least that. “You need to show me you changed, Tyson. Show me you changed for real and I’ll try to get past everything that happened. I can’t promise you anything,” you tell him softly, meaning everything you just said.

Tyson nods his head, a smile of relief on his lips. “I will, I promise you I will show you I changed and that you’re everything to me. I promise, baby.”

So that’s exactly what Tyson does the next few weeks, every free moment he tries to show you just how much you mean to him, without smothering you. Whether it’s taking you out for dinner, although you’re still waiting for Tyson to actually make you dinner by himself one day, to small coffee dates and fresh flowers at work. It’s been a lot to process, a lot of adjusting to this ‘new’ Tyson, or rather seeing the ‘old’ Tyson again. And you missed him, God you missed him so much.

Tyson seems happier, more at peace with himself these days, it’s a pleasant change. Often you wondered what was really going on inside his head, but you stopped trying after he waved it off again, and again, and again. The late night phone calls, or facetiming during road trips have become a habit again, something you didn’t think you would ever experience again with him. You still take things slow with Tyson, deciding to rather allow yourself to slowly start trusting him again than diving head first into a relationship again. Maybe it will never come that far again, you don’t know how the future will look like for the two of you, but for now it’s enough.

You come face-to-face with a smirking Melissa when you get home from yet another ‘iced coffee and donut’ date, even though you’re pretty sure Tyson isn’t allowed to eat any donuts. “Oh no,” you groan at Melissa’s expression.

“It’s time we have a little sister-sister conversation, don’t you think?” she asks you, ushering you into the living room.

“Do we?” you groan again, not in the mood to handle whatever Melissa wants to talk about now, because you already know it’s either about you, Tyson or you and Tyson.

Melissa flops down on the couch, patting the place next to her, indicating for you to sit your ass down. “Did you already talk to him about it?” she asks, straight to point in pure Melissa-style.

You let your head fall back against the cushions, sighing loudly. “I didn’t. We’re doing great, we’re having fun. I’m going to ruin it if I start asking questions again.”

Melissa stays quiet for a minute, trying to figure out the right way to approach this sensitive topic. “You know you deserve the truth, right? You can’t rebuild a relationship when not everything’s on the table, sweetheart,” Melissa says softly, knowing you’re struggling with this.

“I promise I’ll talk to him after the road trip, I don’t want to create any unnecessary negative energy before,” you promise Melissa, although she gives you a ‘who are you trying to fool here’ look before switching topics.

A few days later you find yourself back at Tyson’s place. It’s weird being here, knowing you don’t live here anymore. Nothing changed, absolutely nothing, Tyson kept everything the way you did, whether it’s out of laziness or out of hope you’ll come back on day. Either way it’s weird coming back to a place that’s no longer your home. You came here to talk, nothing more nothing less. You promised Mel you would, and if you’re being honest with yourself it’s time to know the truth, time to reopen old wounds and finally get some answers. You’ve grown closer and closer to Tyson, without knowing everything, without knowing you’d be able to forgive him if he ever made a misstep. It’s time.

Tyson has been a nervous wreck ever since you called him last night after he returned from the road trip to St. Louis. He knew this was coming, but he prayed you would simply forget, even though he knows that’s not fair at all. He can’t excuse his behavior, and he won’t, not anymore. You deserve nothing but the truth, the full truth. He’s not proud of it, but you leaving him opened his eyes, showed him he really needed to change. Tyson feels like that’s something he truly did, he changed for the better, he can only hope you’ll feel the same way. He can only hope you’re still on the same path after tonight.

“You did great these last games, Ty,” you smile at him. You’re proud of the way he’s been performing these last couple of games, he really stepped up his game.

“I know you didn’t come here to talk about my performances on the ice, so can we please skip the pleasantries?” Tyson sighs, catching you completely off guard with his rather harsh approach. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way, I’ve just been so fucking nervous since you called me,” Tyson curses, frustratedly brushing his fingers through his curls.

“You’re right though, I did come to talk. I think it’s time we lay all our cards on the table,” you tell him, nodding at your own answer.

You nervously bite on your lip, playing with the cup of water in your hand. It isn’t every day you ask your ex these questions. Questions you want the answers to, question you maybe don’t even want to hear the answers of. “I need to know if you cheated on me, Ty,” you blurt out, keeping your eyes on the ground, not wanting to see the look on Tyson’s face.

“Look at me, baby,” Tyson says, urging you to look up at him. “I never cheated on you, I wouldn’t do that to you. I promise.”

You shake your head at him, not knowing what to do with these emotions surging through your body. “It doesn’t make sense, Ty. Where were you all those nights? Where were you every time I lay in bed alone waiting for my boyfriend to come home? Waiting if he actually comes home this time or stays out all night again? Where were you?” At this point you’re past the civil conversations, past the friendly banter, you need answers, you need to know why he did what he did. The reason doesn’t even matter at this point, you need to know why. Why did he leave you alone so many nights, worrying about his well being, worrying about if he would come home at some point?

“Fuck, y/n! I know I fucked up, I know I did. But I swear on everything, I swear on my career, I swear on you that I never, never, touched another woman. I never kissed another woman, I never even danced with another woman, I did not cheat on you,” Tyson exclaims, hoping, praying you hear what he’s saying, that you’ll believe him. He didn’t do anything with another person, it was always you, it still is only you and he’ll do everything in his power to prove that to you every damn day.

“Then where were you, Ty? If you weren’t with another woman, then where the fuck were you every night you didn’t came home? Please enlighten me, because I’m so lost, so fucking lost,” you say, feeling utterly frustrated with yourself, with Tyson, with this shitty situation.

Tyson takes a deep breath, placing his cup back on the table. “Shitfaced drunk to the point I couldn’t even remember my own name, or so stoned I saw freaking elephants running all around town. Spending my money on unnecessary shit at clubs and bars, all to forget, trying to forget the fact that I had a perfect girlfriend waiting for me at home, while I did stupid shit. Fuck, this sounds even worse out loud than in my head,” Tyson groans, burying his face in his hands.

“But...,” you start, before Tyson cuts you off.

“I felt ashamed and guilty, y/n. Ashamed I let it get that far every time, guilty I didn’t tell you, guilty I didn’t come home again. One of the guys would just take me back to their place out of sympathy, letting me crash on their couch, trying to sleep off my haze.”

You try to come up with words to say, with anything but nothing comes out, you just feel.. empty? “I don’t understand, Tyson,” you say, at this point not even sure what you don’t understand.

“I tried, y/n. I tried to just come clean, but I couldn’t when you were so nice all the time, I couldn’t when I knew you would hate it, hate me. You know I’m a fucking lightweight, that makes it even worse. But those are no excuses, there aren’t any. I fucked up,” Tyson sighs, giving you a sad smile, “I couldn’t face you, I didn’t know how to show you my vulnerable side without letting it change the way you saw me. I didn’t want you to see me any different, but I didn’t notice I changed until you packed your bags and left me standing in the doorway.”

You’re absolutely speechless, there are so many things you want to say but you can’t form any sentences, any words. You just stare at him, your mind racing with an unlimited amount of thoughts. “Are you okay, baby?” Tyson asks softly, reaching out to put his hand on your arm.

You shake your head from side to side, wiping away the tears that spilled out. “I’m not okay, I’m definitely not okay,” you tell him. “I feel terrible knowing you didn’t feel like you could come to me, like you couldn’t talk to me. I’ve always been your biggest supporter, nothing would’ve changed that, Ty.”

Tyson gently wipes the tears away from underneath your eyes, scooting closer to where you’re seated. “Come here, baby,” he softly says, opening his arms for you. You hesitate for a second, not knowing if this is the right thing to do. Fuck the right thing, you definitely need a hug right now, and judging by Tyson’s facial expression he needs one as well. You lean forward, putting your arms around his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his body. How long has it been since you hugged each other? You can’t even remember, way too long. Tyson closes his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible to his own body.

“I missed this, Ty. I missed you,” you confess, the feeling of his arms around you, the feeling of Tyson, bringing back so many memories, so many happier times.

“I know we still have a long way to go, but I hope we’ll do this together. I can’t even tell you how great it feels to have my arms around you again, even if it’s just for a moment,” Tyson says, after you both let go of each other.

“We do, but I’m in if you’re in, Ty,” you agree, wanting nothing more than to work through the issues you still have. It’s time to forgive, time to let go, time to change and time to move on.

“I’m all in.”

The talk you had with Tyson that Wednesday evening did wonders for the both of you. You still had a long way to go before you were even remotely close to where you used to be with Tyson, but the most important thing was that you were working on things. Slowly, but steadily the two of you worked on trusting each other again, telling each other important things again, just simply working on being in a healthy relationship again. Although the word never came up, you were nowhere near ready for that commitment, so you settled on something less intimidating. Friends.

It was supposed to be a regular, normal Friday evening with just Melissa and the kids. Gabe and Tyson were playing one of their most important games this season, both of them begged you to come, but it was too late to find a babysitter. Not wanting to be by yourself there and leaving Mel alone, you decided to sit this one out as well, promising to cheer them on in front of the tv. It’s the least you could do. So there you are, seated on the couch wearing your Jost jersey for the very first time again, just as you promised. Weird, like nothing ever changed, even though the exact opposite is true.

You’re bouncing a giggling Linnea Rae on your knee, looking down at her adorable mini jersey. “Look it’s your daddy!” you exclaim excitedly, pointing at the closeup shot of Gabe.

“Daddy!” Linnea Rae giggles just as excited.

You catch Mel softly smiling at your little interaction with her daughter, enjoying the love you share for each other. It’s been a blessing to have you around here, the way you care for her children, but also for her and her husband has been phenomenal. Mel couldn’t wish for a better friend, for a better sister than you.

“Oh no,” you whisper when Tyson gets slammed hard into the glass. Melissa grabs your hand, squeezing softly.

“He’s going to be fine, he’s a tough guy,” she says, trying her best to comfort you. And he is, like the tough guy Tyson is, he gets up again, shaking off the hard hit. The game continues and you’re glad Tyson is fine, skating like he didn’t just get squeezed between a glass wall and a 200 pound hockey player.

All goes well until Gabe decides the best place to smack his stick is directly against Tyson’s face, again. “Not his face, Gabe! Not his fucking face again!” you yell at the screen, thanking Mel for already putting the kids to sleep.

“Shit, that looks bad,” Melissa almost whispers, squeezing your hand again.

You don’t know many things for sure in life, but you sure as hell know Tyson will be spotting a black eye for weeks. But like the tough guy he already proved to be, he just goes on with the game, trying his absolute best to work as hard as he can, giving himself completely to the game, anything to get his team the victory.

“That’s the second time you gave my man a black eye, Gabe. Why do you keep hurting him?” you whine the second Gabe walks into the living room. For a moment the room stays awfully quiet, until you realize what you just said. “I really said that, huh?” you ask, fighting to keep the smile off your face.

“You sure did. But I’m sorry, it was an accident. Again,” Gabe chuckles, shrugging his shoulders.

“Uhu, again,” you say, rolling your eyes at your best friend.

Gabe grins at you, flopping down on the couch next to Mel. “I’ll try not to hurt his pretty face again, okay?” Gabe laughs, shaking his head at you in a playful way.

“Is it weird if I, you know.. went over to check up on him?” you ask your friends, suddenly insecure about the thought of just showing up at his door.

Gabe gives you a soft smile. “I’m absolutely convinced he’d love that, y/n,” Gabe says, pulling Melissa closer to him.

“I know he would, sis,” Melissa agrees with her husband.

“Fine, okay. I’ll be back in a few. Don’t enjoy yourself too much,” you tell the two lovebirds before finding your stuff and almost running out of the front door.

You’re giddy the entire drive to Tyson’s apartment. This could go two ways, either it goes extremely well or this backfires completely. You’re hoping for the first one. Seeing Tyson get hurt gave you some realizations. One of them is that you absolutely hate to see him hurt, and you want nothing more than to be there for him, care for him, to tell him everything will be alright. Which brings you to your second discovery of the evening: you still love him, you’re still completely and utterly in love with Tyson. You can’t, really can’t imagine your life without Tyson in it. It’s your turn to tell him you need him, tell him you don’t want to do anything without him, tell him you still see a future together.

You pick up his favorite comfort food on the way over, cake. You know his nutritionist will hate you for this, but he deserves a treat after taking a stick to the face. You chuckle to yourself when you think of the small cake you bought, it’s stupid and childish, but you love it. The fun you already had makes it absolutely worth it. You park in front of the building, hopping out of the car and quickly making your way over to the floor Tyson occupies.

You rummage around in your coat pocket for the lighter you bought alongside the cake. Quickly placing the cover back into the bag, and lighting up the ‘2’ shaped candle. You snicker to yourself, enjoying this way too much. You knock on the door and patiently wait for Tyson to open up. You hear Tyson approaching, making it harder and harder to keep your composure.

The moment he opens the door his face shifts from slight annoyance, to confused, to happy, and back to confused again. “y/n?” he asks softly, looking between you and the cake, confusion clearly written all over his face.

“Happy second black eye!” you yell, before bursting out in laughter.

Tyson can’t help but join you in your laughter, if there’s one thing he loves about you, it’s your wicked sense of humor. “You really are something special, aren’t you?” Tyson chuckles, shaking his head softly at you, a smile playing on his lips.

“You tell me, Jost,” you say, giving him a wink before walking past him and inside his apartment.

“So you bought me a cake?” Tyson asks you, looking over your shoulder to the cake on his kitchen counter.

“I sure did, thought you’d deserved a treat after what Gabe did to you, again,” you laugh.

“He sure likes to hit me in the face with things. But thank you, this really means a lot to me, baby,” Tyson softly says, squeezing your hip with one of his hands, before grabbing two plates. While Tyson cuts the cake you look for something to drink, deciding water will do for the night.

You flop down on the couch next to Tyson, immediately bringing the fork with a piece of cake to your mouth. “Oh God, that’s so good,” you moan out, you picked some killer cake.

“Don’t make those noises, please,” Tyson groans, stuffing his face with cake.

“I’m sorry I picked such a good freaking cake, mister,” you laugh, nudging him with your foot. Tyson rolls his eyes playfully at you, grabbing your foot with his free hand before you can nudge him again and again.

“Movie?” Tyson asks after you both finished your plates, although Tyson finished the last few bites of your piece. Like he said he’s a needy and hungry man.

“Sure, but just something light and funny, Ty. Nothing dark,” you tell him, knowing he’d love to scare you throughout some horror movie.

While Tyson scrolls through the movies, you make yourself more comfortable on the couch, laying back against the cushions with your feet against Tyson. He looks at you, scanning your body, clearly thinking about something since his eyebrows keep furrowing and relaxing.

“Come here, Tyson,” you softly say when he finally picks a movie to watch, opening your arms for him. His eyes shoot to yours, like he can’t actually believe you just told him that. He gives you a quick smile, before moving towards you, laying down beside you.

He rests his head against your chest, just like he used to do so long ago, his arm wrapped around your waist. “Is this okay?” he asks you, making sure you aren’t uncomfortable, even though you’re the one who suggested this.

“It’s perfect, Ty,” you reassure him.

Halfway through the movie you can’t resist the temptation to run your fingers through his curls any longer. Tyson groans softly when your nails rake over his scalp, sending chill through your body. “That’s so good, please never stop doing that,” he groans out, pulling you tighter against him.

“I wasn’t planning on it, Ty,” you tell him, smiling at the way his eyes shoot to yours.

“You aren’t? Are you serious?” he asks you quietly, eyes still locked on yours.

“I am, love. I came to the conclusion that you’re worth all the risks in life. You’re my light, my guiding light in darkness, my light at the end of the tunnel,” you say, leaving a soft kiss on his forehead. You try to express your emotions towards Tyson, trying to make him feel what you felt when you came to the sudden realization he’s worth taking a risk.

“What does that mean, baby?” Tyson asks you softly, an uncertain smile on his lips.

“It means I’m willing to give us another shot, another go. I want to try again, Ty.”

You can’t help the smile that forms on your lips when you look at Tyson’s face, the realization setting in, the happiness and the gratefulness spreading all over his face, the relief flooding through his body.

“How does that work?” Tyson asks again, clearly trying to rid himself of any insecurities, any questions he has. You gladly take those insecurities away from him.

“A clean slate, completely starting over again to give us both a fresh start. How does that sound?” you ask him.

Tyson nods at you, the happiness radiation off him. “A fresh start, I like the sound of that,” Tyson muses. The changes on his face fascinates you, it seems like he goes through a whole range of emotions in just a few minutes. Until he reaches one you know all too well, mischief. He looks at you, the familiar glimmer in his eyes tells you he’s definitely up to something. He sends you a soft and sweet smile, that almost melts you into a puddle right there and then. “Hi, I’m Tyson,” he says, extending his hand to you. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you, this is exactly how Tyson is. Funny, charming, an absolute dream.

���You’re a goof, you know that?” you tell him, softly shaking your head at him, but the big grin on your face tells him you loved that. Tyson intertwined his fingers with yours, squeezing softly. When he doesn’t make any other moves you take matters into your own hand, slowly leaning in and softly pressing your lips on his. The familiarity, the rush of emotion flooding through your body hits you like a ton of bricks. The feeling of his lips against yours light something deep inside of you, and just like that you finally feel complete again.

[sunmoonandeddie]

feelings are fatal (17/24)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, past steve rogers x reader

word count: 3,346

summary: After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

chapter warnings: swearing, violence, creepy men

masterlist

a/n: HEYYYYY HAPPY TWO YEAR BLOG BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!!!

Bucky’s heart was pounding as he finally shook the last of the Hydra goons that had been chasing him, glancing every which way just to double check.

He didn’t feel good about this.

It hadn’t even been ten minutes since the two of you had gotten separated, and he hated it. Granted, he always hated being away from you, had since you were fifteen.

Back then it was because he didn’t trust the Red Room instructors. Now it was because he was in love with you and being away from you made him feel like a part of his heart was missing.

Speed walking towards the entrance of Coney Island, he dug his phone out of his pocket and dialed Pepper’s number.

“Oh, my god, thank god. What the hell is wrong with you?” Pepper demanded angrily of him. “Do neither of you know how to answer your phones? Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” he said. He could hear his blood pumping in his ears. “We had to separate so I could try to lead the bad guys away, but they just… disappeared. I’m heading for our meeting spot now.”

Morgan and a few other kids were babbling in the background about how their day had gotten cut short, but he knew that the littlest Stark would understand better than anyone else once they explained to her.

Pepper was suspiciously quiet for… a long time. A long, long time.

“Pepper?” Bucky whispered, his voice cracking.

There was an unspoken question between them.

What if he’d fucked up?

Should he have stayed with her?

What if they’d gotten to her?

And one that was looming over his head, heavier than ever.

What if he never got to tell you how he felt?

“I’m here,” she said reassuringly.

“What if…” Bucky’s heart cracked inside of his chest. His throat was closing up with each passing second, his flesh palm sweaty. Keeping his grip on his cell phone was becoming a challenge. “What if I n-never g-get to tell her h-how I feel?”

“Don’t think like that.”

“God, I’m so fucking stupid,” he cursed as he made his way to the aquarium. His eyes flickered around the crowd, almost hoping he’d see the two women from earlier. They would’ve recognized you and might’ve seen you.

But there was no sign of them.

“Those fucking special skills or whatever would really come in fucking handy right now,” he cursed. With the way people were parting like the Red Sea in front of him, he knew he probably had his less-than-friendly expression on.

His Murder Face, as you called it.

Or his Resting Bitch Face, according to Sam.

Bucky ran his vibranium hand over his face as he tried not to panic. For one, he hadn’t even gotten to the meeting spot yet. Most likely, you were there waiting for him and he was worrying over nothing. “Tony and Natasha will haunt me forever if I let something happen to her.”

A sigh resounded over the phone. “You didn’t let something happen to her, Bucky. Hell, we don’t even know if something is wrong with her yet. But they both know that you have… you have literally devoted your entire being to taking care of her, protecting her. You did what you thought was the best option in the moment. And maybe… Maybe there was no getting out of that ambush without something happening to one of you.”

Rounding the corner to the tunnel, his heart stopped inside his chest.

You weren’t there.

“Bucky? Bucky? What’s going on? You there? What’s happening?”

It was like the world around him had gone fuzzy, and all he could hear was a ringing in his ears.

You weren’t there.

You weren’t there, and it was all his fault.

He told you to go to the tunnel.

How fucking stupid was he? The tunnel was possibly the worst place he could’ve told you to go to. It’s closed off, a literal tube with water all around you except two very small exits that were easily blocked.

What had he done?

Slumber had come easy for you for once. You were so exhausted, even your bones weary, from dancing all day. And by all day, that meant for over twelve hours because of your sadistic new instructor.

The last one had been… disposed of.

You’d woken at sunrise as usual and gone straight to ballet, only for the instructor to not let you go after the normal three hour class.

The rest of the girls filed out of the dance studio, some glancing back at you in curiosity.

There was no worry in their eyes. It was every girl for themselves these days.

If you thought real hard, you could remember a time when you all looked out for each other. You would braid each other’s hair, give a warning if any of the instructors or Madame B were near. If someone didn’t wake up when they were supposed to, the girls would shake her awake and help her get ready on time.

But that time was no more.

Those that ran the infamous Red Room didn’t like when their… students banded together. Things were better for them when you all hated each other and sought ways to sabotage the others.

It made you more likely to kill during a sparring session, and they only wanted girls who were willing to go all the way.

“Is there something you needed from me, madam?” You asked, your hands folded behind your back, spine straight, your chin high.

Good posture had been beaten into you within a week of arrival.

You didn’t forget a lesson like that anytime soon.

The instructor was new to you girls, though you had been told she wasn’t new to the Red Room. She’d been one of you, once upon a time.

One of the few who had survived to graduation, and then lived long enough after to be brought back as an instructor.

“I’m told you’re a prodigy,” she drawled as she slowly walked towards you, her platinum blonde hair pulled into a tight ballerina bun much like your own. While all of you girls wore black leotards, hers was a pale lilac, a shimmering rehearsal skirt tied around her waist that swished around her thighs. “That you are Madame B’s new pride and joy… Though, just based on your dancing, there is absolutely nothing to be prideful of. It is a surprise to me that you haven’t been… taken care of.”

The implication was clear.

Just based on that morning’s class, she thought you were bad enough at ballet to be killed.

Was it possible she just wanted you executed now? Was she about to do so?

Even though Madame B would be pissed, there were more girls that they could train. She’d only be upset for so long before she’d have a new prodigy, a new pride and joy.

Before the Soldat would have a new trainee.

Before your Soldat would have a new trainee. All the other Soldats could have all the trainees they wanted, but your Soldat, your Seven… The thought of him training another girl made bile rise up in your throat.

“Do you have pointers for things I could work on, madame?” You asked, shoulders tensing as she circled you. Like a vulture ready to scavenge a dying animal.

“I simply thought I could lend you some extra practice time,” she said, a sickly sweet smile spreading over her lips as she looked you up and down. “And don’t worry about Madame B and your other instructors. I already let them know that I wanted extra time with you today.”

The way she was speaking was setting off alarms in your mind.

“Perfect,” you said clearly, not letting your fear show. The instructors could smell fear and would use it against you until your heart stopped beating.

“Do you know the role of Aurora in the Sleeping Beauty ballet?” She asked, eyes cold. When you nodded, she chuckled. “Good. You’ll be dancing it on pointe, start to finish. Now.”

You were shocked when she then turned and started the music, but you did as she said.

Now, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s Sleeping Beauty is his longest ballet ever, at almost four hours long.

And you danced all of it.

“Below average,” the instructor said, glaring daggers at you. “Again.”

You needed water desperately, your lungs fighting for air as you pretended to be unbothered by having done that by taking slow, even breaths.

But you had to do it again.

And again.

Every time you finished, she gave some comment about how your dancing was shit, how you’d never be good enough.

At this point, you wished she would simply kill you and get it over with. You were exhausted and your muscles felt like they were going to give out at any moment.

“MALEN’KAYA!”

You fell out of your pirouette in your shock, gasping as your ankle twisted and you fell to the ground. “Fuck!”

Your Soldat stormed into the dance studio as you looked up, eyes wide.

When had he gotten back? He’d been on a mission for the past few days, and fuck, you’d missed him something fierce.

“Soldat,” the instructor breathed out as she stopped moving, staring up at him with blue eyes. “Remember me?”

“Yes,” he said, glaring at her like she was a pile of dog shit he’d stepped in.

She moved towards him, her hand coming to rest on his chest. “I was hoping to see—” She was cut off as he raised his hands to hold her face. The harsh woman looked so… soft for him. “I missed you. Did you miss me?”

“No,” he snarled, his voice dropping almost an octave. “You should’ve thought twice before touching my malen’kaya.”

The light that had been in her eyes when she first saw him quickly disappeared as she realized she was totally, and utterly, fucked.

Your heart caught in your throat as he so easily twisted her head, a loud snap ringing through the air. He let her limp, lifeless body fall to the ground with a thump before turning and rushing to you. The darkness that had been in his face was long gone as he pulled you close, his hands running over you to try to find sources of injuries.

It took you a moment to realize he was speaking, your ears ringing as you stared at the dead woman on the ground.

“—you okay? What the hell happened? Who allowed this?” He asked, talking a mile a minute as he checked over you. Once he finally got to your pointe shoes, he took in a shaky breath. “I have to check,” he said as he reached for the pink ribbons tied around your ankles.

In the two years since you’d known him, you’d never seen his hands shake like they were.

Your eyes locked in on his face, his brows furrowed and his cheeks flushed, as he tentatively untied one of your pointe shoes. He slowly slipped it off, his breath catching in his throat as he looked at your foot. It was only when the second one came off that you finally looked at the damage.

Well… You were sure your feet could have looked much worse after dancing for over twelve hours, but… It still wasn’t pretty.

“I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt that bad,” you lied, trying to soothe him.

He was usually much more composed than this, his face harder.

Even when he was feeling a bit nicer, a bit softer, it was nothing like this.

The Soldat shook his head, looking absolutely pissed. “You don’t have to lie. Never lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” you insisted. “But that might be because right now, they’re numb, so I can’t feel anything at all from about my ankles down. But that does mean I didn’t lie.”

You were attempting to joke with him, lighten up the mood a bit. However, he definitely didn’t seem to be taking the bait.

When you glanced over at the windows, for some reason you were surprised to see how late it was. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he drawled as he scooped you up, leaving your pointe shoes behind as he carried you to the locker room. The man was somehow almost completely silent as he set you on a bench and grabbed a first aid kit out of what seemed to be thin air, before gently cleaning away the blood.

Water was dripping somewhere in the locker room, the droplets hitting the tiled floor with soft clinks.

“You were gone,” you whispered, eyes trained on his face. He was still so handsome, even with the frown lines that were starting to appear. Not that you could blame him, everything he’d been through would more than warrant a few wrinkles. “You were gone so long…”

The Soldat’s eyes were soft, despite being the color of the ice that coated the windows. “I know… I can’t stand being away from you, but if I didn’t go… They’d find some way to punish me.” His rough flesh hand cupped your cheek. “And I think they’re starting to catch on that the best way to punish me would be through you, malen’kaya.”

For a second, you thought he was gonna kiss you. From the way his eyes flicked down to your lips and back up again, you could’ve sworn on your life.

But then he took in a deep breath.

And his hand left your cheek.

You tried to push down the disappointment that welled up in your throat, biting your lip.

“Come on, malen’kaya,” he said as he finished wrapping up your poor feet. “Let’s get you to bed.”

The other girls were already sleeping when he carried you into your room, each one of them with a single wrist handcuffed to the bed frame.

“Hate knowing that you’re locked here all night,” Soldat said, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he approached the only empty bed in the room. “It’s like… putting a lark in a cage. I don’t like it.”

“I know,” you said. “But… It’s just how it is.” You looked up at him with bright eyes as he laid you down and tucked the blanket in around you, making sure you were nice and cozy before he took your left wrist and cuffed it to the metal frame.

“Get some sleep,” he murmured, brushing his metal fingers along your cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Oh, God…

Everything hurt…

Why did everything hurt?

It was like your head had been shoved under water, but your eyes were too heavy to open.

“—gotta take the video and send it.”

“How do we know he’ll come?”

“Oh, he’ll come. He’ll always come for her.”

Who was that? The voices sounded vaguely familiar, but not quite.

“His precious malen’kaya.”

You slipped back into unconsciousness even as you fought the darkness coming over you, slumping down again.

The clock ticked obnoxiously loud as you sat in the diner booth, your knee pulled up to your chest. A cold cup of half-drank coffee was sitting on the table in front of you.

You’d been waiting over an hour for him to show.

The lunch rush had come and gone, and the waitresses—in their rockabilly uniforms and roller skates—were shooting you pitying looks.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” you huffed as you got to your feet and slammed a crisp twenty dollar bill on the vinyl table top. “He asks me on a fucking date and then doesn’t fucking show. How fucking typical.”

It had only been two days since the mission where he’d asked you out on a date. Your ankle was wrapped, and you were under strict orders to rest.

So, of course, you’d dragged yourself out to this diner that he insisted on taking you to.

Well, meeting you at since you really, really didn’t want to deal with the awkwardness of riding in the same car.

If you were being honest, it hurt. A lot. You’d gotten your hopes up over the past two days, tossing and turning at night as you dreamed of what would happen on your date. Would it go anywhere? Would he end up being the love of your life?

You hadn’t had a crush on anyone since…

Well… Since your Soldat.

You missed him so fucking much.

And he wouldn’t have stood you up.

“Fuck Steve Rogers.”

Your face was flushed as you headed home, storming through the streets of Manhattan to the Avengers Tower. You needed time to stew, and the subway would be too fast.

“I should’ve just stayed home and taken that fucking bubble bath,” you huffed as you got in the elevator and rode up to the residential floors. Even if it had been meant to be a casual first date, you’d done your hair and stressed over your makeup, wearing your nicest pair of leggings and sneakers that didn’t have mud on the bottoms.

And even if the plan had been for it to be casual, you’d been looking forward to flowers and a kiss on the cheek, stealing a fry from his plate and maybe playing footsie under the table.

Just a little.

Like other girls got to do.

The elevator music was getting into your head, and there was no doubt it’d be haunting your dreams. But when the doors opened onto the common area floor, you were just about ready to burst into tears.

Because Steven Grant Rogers was sitting at the kitchen island and eating a sandwich as he laughed at some joke Rhodey made.

You couldn’t believe him. Was this his plan all along?

Steeling yourself, you straightened your spine and walked with purpose, planning on walking right by without even acknowledging him.

But of course, that wouldn’t be your luck.

As soon as Steve caught sight of you, he froze, his blue eyes going wide. Breathing out your name, he quickly scrambled to his feet. “Wait! Wait! Please! I’m so fucking sorry, I completely forgot!”

“It’s fucking fine, Rogers. It’s clearly a sign that this is was a bad idea in the first place,” you said, your voice cold enough to freeze him again.

“What?! No! Please, I’m just…” He groaned as he followed you onto the elevator that would take you up to the other residential floors. “I just had three meetings before noon and completely forgot! That doesn’t mean I don’t want this date with you!”

Taking a breath, you turned on him, glaring at him like he was a piece of dog shit on your shoe. “You know what the cherry on top of this is?” You asked with a laugh. “My first fucking date of my entire fucking life, and I get stood up. Fuck you, Rogers. Fuck. You.”

You’d successfully shocked him, and left him looking like a guppy, his mouth hanging open as he watched you leave him standing there.

When you came to again, you actually found the strength to open your eyes.

The room around you was like every stereotypical hostage room you’d ever seen in real life, and in movies.

Almost like the one Olivia Pope had been in on Scandal.

Though, you had a feeling that this one was real and wasn’t just a fancy set in a warehouse.

“Where am I?” You asked yourself, trying to take stock of everything. “Okay. Head hurts. Expected that. Don’t feel any sharp pains… so he probably shot me with a tranquilizer and not a bullet… Which is probably better for my chances of escape.” It was so fucking cold, your entire body was trembling. “No phone, so no way for the others to track me. Same clothing I was in… so at least there’s that.”

Your voice died as you heard movement beyond the black steel door in front of you, watching as it slowly opened. Your heart sank as you realized who was standing in front of you.

“It’s been too long, malen’kaya.”

[moronic-validity]

First Date (Kinda)- Billy Lenz

Note: Okay so like I patterned Billy’s speech after my own when I’m manic. I know it isn’t perfect to the character, but I wasn’t sure how else to do it...

There are also a lot of time jumps...

Warnings: uhhh interesting parenting choices, interesting life choices, threats of murder....accidental nearly 2k fic. 

The sorority moved out in a hurry after the murders and the school would not allow any students live there. The chances it would happen again were low, but not zero. Putting students back in that house would look bad.

The house went on the market fully furnished and your family got it for a steal, for cheaper than international tuition and four years of on campus housing. Their only rule for the house was that you paid the utilities and for any repairs, other than that, good luck in Canada.

Everything was fine for the first few months, classes went well enough. November came and went, and suddenly it was December. You knew the history of the house so you were a bit gun-shy to put up decorations.

Then the phone calls started.

Pretty piggy this, Billy that, something about your cunt mixed in. You rolled your eyes.

“Hey dude, I know the transcripts are like public info now or whatever, but please get some original content,” and with that, you hung up on him.

The next call was heavy breathing. Your eyes hit the back of your skull and you decided to pant into the phone as a reply before hanging up.

Call three was the one that got your attention. The caller was silent and you were near certain the line went dead.

“I’m going to kill you.”

You blinked a few times, processing the information. It wasn’t the fact he told you he was going to kill you with a level of certainty reserved for phrases like ‘2+2=4’. It was the fact that despite the phone damn near back on the receiver, you heard him loud and clear.

He was in the house.

You cursed yourself up and down for moving into the stupid house. You cursed yourself twice over for not checking all the locks.

You could’ve run, but you had drawn the conclusion that he was close enough to nix that. You also knew he was close enough to hear it if you tried calling the police, and you knew they wouldn’t make it in time anyway.  Instead you calmly picked up the phone and clicked redial then call.

A phone rang upstairs.

Billy wasn’t expecting his phone to ring. He stared at the Nokia in his hand. He called people; people didn’t call him.

Then it stopped ringing.

“Billy?” You asked cautiously, remembering his name from the earlier, expletive filled rant. You took his silence as confirmation, “Billy, I know you’re upstairs.”

Billy shuffled in place. He wasn’t used to this, not at all.

“Hey,” you said, snapping him back to the one-sided confirmation, “it’s colder than a witch’s tit in a brass bra, I have plenty of blankets down here. I’m going to put some of them on the stairs, then I’m going to make myself some adult hot chocolate. If you’re going to kill me, could you wait until I’m drunk?” You hung up the phone and, as you told Billy you would, placed a few thicker blankets on the stairs. You walked into the kitchen and filled a mug with water and popped it in the microwave.

You pulled out your phone and sent a few texts to your parents, wishing them a merry Christmas and letting them know that you regret not spending the money for a plane ticket home. You felt the tears well up. God, these were going to be your final words. Nothing overly profound, just a wish to be back in your childhood home.

The microwave beeped and you wiped the tears out of your eyes. You added the powdered hot chocolate mix and turned around to grab your bottle of vanilla vodka. You were met with a fairly lanky man standing a bit too close for comfort.

The only thing in the situation that brought you peace was that he couldn’t hurt you while his hands were occupied, focused on keeping your grey blanket wrapped around his shoulders.  

You two stared at each other for a moment or two before he broke the silence.

“Want some,” he nodded at the hot chocolate in your hands.

You stared at him a second longer before nodding.

“Want vodka in yours?” You asked. He shook his head no, like a dog trying to dry itself.

You filled a second mug with water and heated it up the same way you did yours. The second you had it in the microwave, you turned back to face the stranger at your table.

“So..” you started, watching him tap his foot, twiddle his thumbs, and periodically twitch, “are you still planning on killing me?”

“No no no, Bibibilly,” he took a deep breath and started over, “No, Billy isn’t goigoing to kill you.” He went back to paying attention to his thumbs.

You nodded slowly, unsure if you believed him or not. The microwave beeped and you took his mug out, quickly mixing him a normal hot chocolate. You pulled some whipped cream from the fridge and sprayed a generous amount onto his drink then placed it on the counter in front of him. You thought about it, decided to forgo the alcohol, and grant yourself a generous amount of whipped cream as well.

You turned back to him after fixing your drink, only to find him gone with your mug.

You knew you probably wouldn’t be sleeping, but for some reason, you also couldn’t bring yourself to call the cops. Your therapist was going to be thera-pissed when/if you told her.

Billy was perched at the top of the stairs, sipping the drink you made him. He wasn’t sure when he decided he wouldn’t kill you, but he wasn’t going to. He adjusted the blanket, your blanket, around his shoulders. He flipped open his phone and called you.

“Yes Billy?” you answered the phone.

He was breathing heavily into the phone, then mumbled a single word. Stairs. Then he hung up the phone.

You walked to the bottom of the stairs and saw where he had set down the now empty mug. You smiled to yourself.

Billy lived in your house for weeks. You only knew he was there when he would call you with single word requests. They ranged from requests for blankets to trying to bargain with you for hot chocolate.

Late January, you decided to set up a bedroom for your ‘roommate’. There were plenty of rooms and you didn’t want him getting sick in the attic and then giving it to you when you two did see each other.

Billy’s phone rang once before he picked it up.

“Come on downstairs,” you told him, not waiting for a response before hanging up.

He padded down the stairs, wearing one of your sweatshirts that you thought went missing out of the wash. He rounded the corner, down one of the hallways filled with rooms. That’s where he saw you, shifting foot to foot, clearly excited about something.

He looked into the room and saw the bed was made, a mug on the dresser, and a pillow -one he recognized from your own bed- laying at the head of this other one.

“It’s for you,” you explained, doing another grand sweeping motion. “I don’t want you sleeping in the attic anymore, it’s too cold up there, you’ll catch your death and give it to me.”  

Billy was frozen in place. He wasn’t sure how to process this one. He looked from the bed to you, then back to the bed, then locked his eyes on you again, trying to read your mind.

You tried to read the look on Billy’s face. He was squinting at you like he was trying to work all of this out. Then he latched onto you, hugging you tighter than was comfortable. You accepted his affection and wrapped your arms around him.

Once he let go, he started rambling through different expletives and went to explore his new room. You leaned against his door frame and watched.  

The rest of January went, Billy proved to actually be a solid roommate, often doing the dishes or sweeping when you were in class.

You came home in a horrible mood February 13th, it wasn’t like you had a partner to celebrate Valentine’s Day with, but it didn’t stop you from being pissed that you would be spending it alone with Netflix.

Whatever, it’s some commercial bullshit holiday to convince people to spend money for no good fucking reason.

As pissed as you were, you were careful not to slam and doors, well aware that it had a tendency to throw Billy into a spiral.

Billy watched you come in and he could feel the frustration radiating off of you.

You flashed him an unconvincing smile, then walked into your room and shut the door.

Billy did not like that one bit. He went into the kitchen and mirrored your motions from the night you two met, making hot chocolate with plenty of whipped cream. He carried the two mugs to your room and knocked on the door with his foot.

You opened the door and the first thing he noticed was that your eyes were red. You had been crying. Billy was always more used to loud and violent anger, but yours was quiet and you did your best to keep it to yourself. You turned around and sat cross-legged at the head of your bed, clutching a pillow.

He set the drinks down on the dresser and sat across from you on your bed, mirroring your position.

“is [y/n] okay?” he asked, probably louder than he meant to.

You sat silently before bursting into tears and rambling all of your problems to him. He sat and listened, fidgeting every few seconds, but that was more than normal for him.

He did his best to pay attention and he understood that it was less about being lonely and more about feeling alone.

He got up off the bed and brought you the drink he made and put the mug into your hands. You stopped talking and took a long drink of the now lukewarm hot chocolate.

He watched you drink intently, tapping the sides of his own mug.

“Thank you” you set the drink down on the cluttered table next to your bed and you leaned against him, resting your head on his hunched shoulder.

[mintugiyuu]

> here’s the final part of your request @kyojoroo ! I’m so sorry it’s in two different parts, but I learned for the first time that these text boxes have a limit lmao, again I hope you enjoy and have a great day/night! <3

༄ we have to stop meeting like this - continued

sfw one-shot

➥ pairing || rengoku kyojurou x reader

➥ au || modern day; college

➥ warnings || cheesy, tooth-rotting fluff with extra cheese

➥ synopsis || the reader keeps bumping into the one and only rengoku kyojurou; only instead of just casually seeing him over and over again, they quite literally bump into him in the most inconvenient ways possible. (cont.)

➥ part one || click here!

༄ the mediterranean sea collection - masterlist

Today had to be one of the worst days in your life. Freezing, drenched, and newly homeless, you tucked yourself onto the bus stop bench. Lucky you, this one didn't even have an awning to protect you from the elements.

The rain had no pity for your predicament as it pelted your body, the light clothing doing close to nothing for you. Summer had just come, yet the night rainfall seemed to have brought an unexpected chill.

Not to mention the suitcase and duffle bag you had with you were now also getting soaked.

You could only hope nothing was too waterlogged.

Your hand did little to protect your dying phone from getting wet as you tried to search for the nearest place to stay. Motel, hotel, air B'N'B; anything in range to get you off the streets for the night.

You had a feeling this would happen, and boy were kicking yourself for not seeing the red flags and preparing sooner.

Not having enough savings for a dorm, you had signed a contract with the residents of an apartment to rent out one of the rooms for cheap.

The agreement only lasted for two semesters, but they had promised that you'd be able to renew it once summer rolled around.

"Promise my ass." You grumbled, remembering how the original owner had gotten a partner. In return, they refused to let you sign another contract so they would have space for the "love of their life".

You saw the signs; you saw how their stuff slowly moved into the apartment and all the time they were spending there.

You just didn't think they'd be shitty enough people to kick you out the moment your contract ended.

A gust of icy wind rolled through, causing another shudder to rack your body. The closest place wasn't in walking distance, and it was far to late for the buses to be running. Sighing, you shut off your phone and closed your eyes.

You had resigned yourself to walk the several blocks to the nearest 24/7 fast food place to at least get out of the rain.

That was until the rain fall suddenly stopped beating down on you. The rain couldn't have stopped though, you could still hear it. You blinked your eyes open and looked up, surprised to what - or more accurately, who - you saw.

"...Kyojurou?"

Standing there in all his warmth and glory, Kyojurou looked down at you with concern, holding a bright red umbrella over your soaked form.

He couldn't seem to help the small smile that graced his lips at the sound of his first name.

"I'd be happier that you finally used my name if you didn't look so sad and drenched."

A humorless snort escaped your lips as you hugged yourself, shivering slightly. "Timing always has my side doesn't it? I'm just about to head to the closest food place to get out of the rain, so don't worry about it."

"Why?"

"I got kicked out," you shrugged, looking to the ground.

"This late at night?"

"It surprised me too. They found a new roommate and wouldn't let me renew my contract for the next school year, and it just so happens it ended tonight." There was a hint of bitterness in your tone, one that was completely understandable.

Kyojurou's brows furrowed. "They didn't give you a heads up? A two week notice?"

"I'm just lucky they let me pack all of my stuff before I had to leave." You continued to look down at the ground, not seeing the way Kyojurou's face contorted ever so slightly.

He didn't get mad often, but whoever your old roommates are were now on his shit list

"Well that's a shitty thing to do," he stated bluntly, causing you to sputter and blink dumbly at him.

It's been almost a year since you've met the blonde, and in all that time you never once heard him say a single bad word.

"Did you just curse??"

He pretended not to hear, pulling out his own phone to see the time as you mulled over the fact that this sweet ray of sunshine just called someone shitty.

Expression neutralizing as he schemed, he turned back to you. "You don't have to stay in a fast food place for the night."

"Huh?? Are you suggesting I sleep in a box?"

The man smiled, resting a reassuring hand on top of your shoulder, frustration forgotten for now. "You can stay with me!"

"What now?"

Chuckling, he passed the umbrella off to you to hold, beginning to slip his arms out of the jacket he wore. "You can stay with me for the time being until you get back on your feet! Well, us. If you wanted to of course! Sanemi just moved out, so we're looking for a new one regardless."

Baffled at the sudden offer, you started to shake your head, forming the words to decline him. It was too big of a favor, how could you accept that?

He was one step ahead of you, as he always is.

"Before you say anything, no, it would not be any trouble, you're a joy to have around! We can settle the nitty gritty later, let's just get you out of the cold."

"Wait, Kyojurou," you were silenced by a heavy warmth that suddenly engulfed your upper body, including your sight. Moving the fabric from your eyes, you realized it was his jacket.

His once dry clothes was slowly becoming just as soaked as you were as he took back the umbrella, insistently keeping it solely above you.

The gentle way he smiled in combination with the light post that shined behind his head had you convinced he was your guardian angel in disguise.

You hesitantly pulled the jacket closer to your body, not being able to deny how relieving the warmth felt. "But, won't you be cold?"

"My insides are practically pocket heaters, it takes a lot for me to be cold. A little wind and rain won't do anything to me, I promise! Now come on, before you get sick," he insisted as he grabbed your bag, throwing them over his shoulder.

"Little" was an understatement, but you didn't have the energy to argue. It was the middle of the night and you could feel your eyes starting to droop.

Grabbing your luggage to role behind, you let the other wrap his free arm around your form, hand resting on your arm. "Thank you, truly I don't know where to start showing how grateful I am. I owe you big time."

"Never refer to me as Rengoku-san again and I'll call it even!"

A wobbly smile tugged at your lips as you leaned into his side, letting him guide you down the route to his apartment. "You have a deal then, Kyojurou."

The weather broadcasters warned everyone about heavy snowfall, but you couldn’t help but think they could’ve prepared everyone a bit more as you stared out your window and could only see the shadow of snow.

Thank the gods above it was winter break or they’d have to cancel classes, which would just be tuition money flushed down the shitter.

Your train of thought was interrupted by a knock at the door of the bedroom you were in, which was odd because the door was open.

Low and behold, it was your sweetheart of a boyfriend, holding two mugs and using his foot to knock. “I brought hot coco!”

"You don't have to knock, this is your room you dork."

"Our room technically, my dear." He responded smoothly, shutting the door with his foot behind him as he made his way to you.

"Careful not to spill it," he winked, laughing slightly as he handed you your mug.

"Just for that I should," you scoffed playfully, sticking your tongue out at him as you took the drink. The smile on his face was nothing but adoring, finding you to be adorable. You had to look away to dismiss the butterflies that swarmed in your tummy. “Looks like we’re snowed in for a bit. The snow is above the windows.”

Kyojurou hummed in agreement. “I still don’t understand how tiny snowflakes can become so damaging so fast!”

“You’re funny,” you chuckled, taking a sip of the hot beverage. Kyojurou always made the best hot chocolate.

“... UME! I’m glad I can be amusing!” You couldn't hold down the snort at the realization that he wasn't joking, swallowing and shaking your head. You granted him mercy and switched the subject.

“What are the others up to?”

Kyojurou leaned against the sill next to you, shoulder bumping yours affectionately. “Tengen is in the living room playing video games with his girlfriends, Mitsuri is watching a movie in her room and Obanai is watching with her. I think she's also painting his nails from the conversation I overheard while passing by."

“I see.”

The both of you were leaning against the window sill, basking in the comfortable silence. It wasn't common in an apartment full of unique roommates.

Even now you both could hear the loud victory cheer of Suma as Tengen groaned in defeat.

Taking another sip of your drink, you hummed, lifting your head to face Kyojurou. You were going to say something, but that was forgotten as you covered your mouth with your fingers as to not laugh suddenly.

"Hm? Is something wrong?" Your poor oblivious lover had a whipped cream mustache. He tilted his head at you - not unlike an owl - seemingly confused to your sudden shift in expression. You swallowed your laughter down as you placed your drink onto the sill, stepping closer to the blonde.

"No, nothing's wrong. You just have a little something rigghtt..." you reached out to grip his chin gently, swiping your thumb across his top lip to collect the whipped cream. "-there, all gone!"

A pretty, bright red color spread across Kyojurou’s face, wide eyes blinking owlishly at you with his mouth slightly agape. Laughing quietly at his reaction, you licked the cream off your thumb, patting the side of his cheek teasingly.

"You'll catch flies, hun." A click of teeth could be heard as he closed his mouth.

"RIGHT!" He stopped himself to clear his throat, turning to face the window as his usual smile reappeared, though a bit wobbly. "Thank you!"

All you did was hum, a slight mischievous smirk settling onto your face. You were set to happily go back to your drink when you shivered, the chill of the room finally reaching you through your clothes.

Kyojurou caught it from the corner of his eye, turning back to you. “Are you cold?”

You waved him off, shaking your head. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence, you'll just get another sweatshirt.

“I’ll be ok. The hot coco will warm me up in- WOAH!” That plan was thrown out the window when he suddenly scooped you up into his broad arms, smiling determinedly.

"You're not allowed to just continue on being cold, not if I can help it!" The firey man plopped you down onto your shared bed, quickly gathering the collection of fluffy blankets you have accumulated over time.

In the blink of an eye, you were neatly swaddled in said blankets and being held gently to your boyfriend's warm chest. He settled underneath the main blanket, wrapping his strong arms around your body.

“Is that better?” He beamed at you, looking oh so proud of himself.

What did you do to deserve him?

"Much," you all but groaned, snuggling your face into the warmth of his chest. It was like cuddling a big warm marshmallow. “I still can’t understand how you’re so warm.”

“I’m a living-breathing heater, my dear. I’ve explained this before, I’m sure of it.”

You snorted, leaning into his hand as he began to run his fingers through your hair. “I’m not complaining, you’re good to keep around for whenever my hands freeze.”

“I wouldn’t mind one bit," his voice came out softly, planting a warm kiss to onto your forehead. This in turn caused you to melt even further into him, burying your face into his shirt.

Kyojurou laughed with amusement as he turned on the television, looking for something for the two of you to watch for the rest of the evening. You eventually peaked your head out to look at him, wrapping your arms around his middle.

“Hey, Kyojurou?”

“Yes?”

All of his attention was on you. Even in these small moments he looks at you as though you're the most precious human being in the world. And to him, you were.

You hummed, placing a kiss onto his chin. “I’m happy I spilled my drink all over you.”

The small peck had similar effects from the whipped cream incident earlier, though he seemed to snap out of it quicker this time. He smiled brighter, cupping your cheek with his large, warm hand.

“That's an odd way of saying I love you."

This made you pause, the 'L-word' not being used between the two of you yet. “Wait, what?"

He gave you no time to question further as he placed a kiss onto your lips in return, his other hand finding the small of your back to pull you closer.

The initial shock of being kissed faded quickly, your arms finding their way around his neck as you pulled yourself closer. The kiss was short and sweet, yet the passion that Kyojurou lived by was always present.

The kiss came to a pause with you laying on top of his chest, remote forgotten and blankets wrapped around you as you steadied your breathing.

Kyojurou's eyes crinkled slightly with his smile, brushing the back of his hand across your cheek.

"I love you too."

[kiki-shortsnout]

You know, people say that IronStrange is a sad ship because they're clearly "right person, wrong time". But I think our ship is sailing on tears because Tony and Stephen are "right person, not enough time".

Can you use this as a prompt? If you're not busy? Or if you feel like it? Thank you 🥺

Of course I can use it as a prompt! What I came up with is a little but sad though!

Warnings: Mention of a terminal illness. (Nothing specific)

***

Smoothing out the collar of his shirt, Stephen checked his reflection in the mirror, picking up the bouquet of flowers he’d placed down on his desk. Taking a deep breath and checking his reflection once again, he practiced his smile before he left his bedroom.

He’d done this walk thousands of times without thinking about it too much. The Sanctum corridors were part of the background of his life, the setting blending into all the other memories he had of it. Today was different though, today he took his time to look at everything as he walked.

One of the cabinets was missing a ceramic incense burner that Stephen had always secretly hated. It was meant to ward off evil spirits and the like, but it had always given Stephen the eerie feeling of being watched. Tony had bumped into the cabinet by accident, leaving an indent in the wall that Stephen now brushed his fingers over. The accident had destroyed the gruesome thing, and Tony had replaced it with a sculpture of his own, a miniature Iron Man figurine.

‘That will stop the evil spirits dead in their tracks.’

His clutch on his flowers faltered as he looked down at the figurine, a few petals fluttering down to the floor.

Stephen could feel his resolve wavering, and he bowed his head, gritting his teeth against the burning in his eyes. The onslaught of his emotions raged in the confines of his mind, scratching and biting at his barely held together resolve. Why was this happening?

No, this wasn’t about him, this was about Tony, and he wasn’t going to let his arrogance invade now, not today. Clearing his throat, he refused to allow himself to feel anything else but this cheerful façade he’d constructed for the day.

Tony was sat in his armchair among the artifacts, talking to the Cloak about something inane. The Cloak’s collar twitched up, indicating it had realized Stephen was nearby, but it didn’t move from beside Tony, still giving him its full attention.

He was having a good day, which was why he’d suggested to Stephen they do this. A simple date, just the two of them. Stephen allowed himself to watch Tony for a moment, just listening to the sound of his voice and not the meaning of his words.

There were things he took for granted in his life, things that were constant, never faltering, his reality built upon them. Perched in his chair and talking to the Cloak, that was a fundamental part of Stephen’s life, not just a person he spent time with. He was as integral to Stephen as the air he breathed, the halls he walked down, the tea he drank.

There wasn’t a Stephen Strange without Tony Stark.

He couldn’t fathom a reality where Tony wasn’t in it.

Who else could he call douchebag and mean it as a form of endearment? Who would understand behind the snark and the sarcasm was genuine concern when Stephen spoke? No one else spoke the language they used with each other, their lexicon developed from their love and time spent together.

Shoving the feelings down, he ignored them, imagining stamping them into submission. He wasn’t going to do this now, not now, later, he would break later, now he would be there for Tony, give him the day he wanted.

‘Afternoon sweetheart, sorry I couldn’t get here sooner, but Wong would just not shut up about some trivial illness he thinks he has now,’ Stephen said as he strode over to Tony, offering him the flowers.

‘I thought it was common knowledge that if you have a friend who used to be a doctor, you’re supposed to ask them to look at everything,’ Tony answered, leaning up to accept Stephen’s kiss.

‘I brought you some lilies-’

‘Hot rod red, just the way I like them!’ Tony burst out, reaching with grabby hands. Making sure his touch was delicate, Stephen helped guide his hands to the bouquet, ignoring how skeletal they were, the paper thinness of skin and how he could see the spiderweb of indigo veins beneath.

One of the strongest men in the universe, Earth’s defender was now reduced to this.

‘Peter told me they symbolize passion and romantic love, but I looked it up and they can also symbolize hard work.’

‘You trying to imply I’m not working hard enough or something, asshole?’ Tony mock growled, inhaling the scent of the flowers.

This was one of life’s crueler twists of fate, a final screw you to Stephen.

You still think there will be no consequences, Strange? No price to pay? We broke our rules. Just like her. The bill comes due. Always! The words ricocheted around his brain, plastering themselves over and over inside his skull, branding themselves on the back of Stephen’s eyelids, motes of red against the darkness.

He’d thought by saving Tony when he defeated Thanos he’d been doing the right thing. He’d forced his magic to comply, warping the very fabric of space and time to save Tony, to heal his charred body, his damaged brain. At the time he told himself that he was doing it not because he himself had fallen for the man in the millions of lifetimes he’d glimpsed of Tony, but because of Pepper and Morgan, the family he deserved to have.

Stephen had tried to stay away from Tony after that, hadn’t wanted to destroy a happy family, but Tony had been drawn to him, just as he had been to Tony. His relationship with Pepper had come to an end, an amicable end, there was too much love and memories between them for it not to be. Even then, Stephen had waited months, held Tony at arm’s length to make sure he was ready for this relationship.

Months they could’ve had together.

As a doctor, he knew what Tony’s diagnosis meant, knew that no matter what miracles the hospital performed that this was always going to be terminal. He wanted to fix this, dear God how he wanted to fix it. He didn’t want Morgan growing up without a father, didn’t…couldn’t imagine life without Tony, how he was meant to go on without him.

This had been the price of his arrogance. He had saved Tony’s life by breaking the natural law, and this was how it had demanded payment.

He brought Tony’s hand to his mouth, brushing a kiss against the delicate skin.

Love stories were not always about the everlasting love, the stretching of years before you. Sometimes it was as short as finding the right person and not having enough time.

‘I know, Stephen, I feel it too,’ Tony said, leaning his forehead against Stephen’s. ‘You promised me one day. One day without treatments, hospital appointments, being prodded.’

‘I did, and I meant it, sweetheart. What did you have in mind? We’ll do anything you want to do. I could portal us to the beach? Or another country?’ Stephen asked, offering his arm to help Tony up, and passing the flowers over to the Cloak.

‘Let’s go for a walk in Central Park, take an aimless meander,’ Tony told him.

‘An aimless meander? Since when don’t you have a plan in mind? A thousand different things that you want to do?’ Stephen teased as they walked down the Sanctum stairs, the Cloak waiting at the bottom for them both, attaching itself to Tony’s shoulders to help carry some of his weight.

‘Maybe I just want to spend time with you without any of life’s complications getting in the way,’ Tony countered.

Opening the front door for him, Stephen bowed at his waist, extending his hand in an exaggerated gesture. ‘Your wish is my command, douchebag.’ He hesitated for a moment, looking at the sky, the brilliance of the blue, the cotton candy spun clouds.

A perfect day for meandering.

[hops-hunny]

Pride Lost, Feelings Found

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: They/Them

Word Count: 2.2k

Request: @summerstardust  “Could you do a Neville with a gender neutral reader. It can fluff/smut/bit of both 🤷, whatever you want. With the prompts: 4. "You think she looks at me? Am I invisible?”, 12. "I’ve always liked you, you’ve just never noticed.” and 17. "Make me fall in love with you.”

Maybe where Neville is secretly crushing on the reader from afar and the reader is told, in some way, about this and he just runs away from the scene. Then the reader follows and finds him and tells him that they want to get to know him.

Don’t feel pressured to use this idea, though. I am just feeling a bit angsty at the moment. Thank you! :)”

Summary: It all crumbles down before Neville’s eyes, but it’s replaced with something he’d never expect.

Warnings: angst but it turns to fluff!!

A/N: Ok ok, if you want a part 2 with what happens after reader says that? Lmk and I’ll probably write it! I’m so sorry this took so long esp for one of my favorite readers. I hope you enjoy <3

4. "You think she looks at me? Am I invisible?” 

12. "I’ve always liked you, you’ve just never noticed.” 

17. "Make me fall in love with you.”

Sometimes Neville wish he had never noticed (Y/n). But when you shine as bright as they did, how couldn't you notice? They bewitching, enchanting everyone around them with a simple smile, him included. However when miracles as amazing as (Y/n) come to be, so does a lot of attention. He adored everything about them, the way they always smeared their ink on their scroll when they wrote, how they’d walk into class every morning with that same sleepy expression, even down to the way they’d always have to pull their socks up because they got the wrong size and they’d fall down. They was his dream partner. But sadly, that’s the thing about dream lovers, they’re meant to stay dreams.

From as long as Neville could remember, he had been on the bottom of the social ladder. Hell, when your familiar (who is also a toad) causes a wild goose chase during your first years at a new school, it’s really not hard to understand why. If it had been someone else instead of him, he would've made fun of them too. He was a loser and no one would ever let him forget. Not his friends, not Malfoy, not anyone. But they did. In all his years at Hogwarts, (Y/n) had never made him feel like a loser. Every interaction the two of them had made him feel normal, like himself.

Granted every interaction they had was small. Accidentally bumping into them in the halls, a tight lip smile when eye contact was made. One time he thought (Y/n) was waving to him but was in fact waving to their friend behind him but luckily they hadn't seen (Malfoy definitely did..). Out of all the people who could have noticed the way he looked at them or the way his cheeks would turn red when they'd pass him it had to be Malloy. That was awful for a multitude of reasons. One being that for some reason, (L/n) and Malfoy were the best of friends. Everyday he wished that it was him who got sat next to them in potions instead of that weasel of a boy. The second reason being that despite knowing how Neville felt for them, he still had yet to do anything with the information. To most people, they’d be relieved if Malfoy found out one of their most personal pieces of information and had yet to do anything but, Neville knew better. Draco was a vile creature and if he hadn’t teased him about it yet, that surely meant something even greater was coming. Something truly awful and devastating. 

The first week after Malfoy found out had Neville staying up to the break of dawn, stirring around restlessly at the thought of what he’d do. Would he spill something on him when he was set to have a class with them, tape a note to the back of his shirt with the information on it, or worse...no, no. Not even Malfoy was cruel enough to do that! If anything, if he was going to tell (Y/n) he’d probably do it when Neville wasn’t around so they could come up to him and reject him at random. Although it was sad, what got Neville to sleep at night was imagining that they already knew. That (Y/n) was more than aware and it was only a matter of time till they’d reject him and his life would go back to normal without any pesky thoughts of how beautiful he found them to be.

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

Seamus’s words went in one of Neville’s ears and right back out of the other, sounding like white noise to the boy. He couldn’t listen to whatever idiotic thing he was going on about. How could he when (Y/n) was a few feet away, looking just as gorgeous as they usually did? It was hard not to focus on them, the way their pretty lips would curl into a smile, giggling at something one of their friends had said. He felt a smile grace his own lips at the sight, letting out a noise of protest as Ron chucked a cushion at his head.

“Are you even, listening Longbottom?” he heard him ask, still not ripping his eyes away from the (y/h/h) across the hall.

“You think they look at me? Am I invisible?” he asked in a hushed tone, as if he was to speak any louder, they would somehow hear them despite them being so far away. Seamus let out a loud snort, beginning to cackle as he slapped the boy on the back a bit too hard.

“Fat chance, Longbottom! You think (L/n) would notice you? They wouldn’t even notice me, and that’s saying something!” Seamus wheezed out. Neville shot him a pointed glare, fuming from the boy’s words. He shoved him off the couch, rolling his eyes.

“It’s not that people don’t notice you Seamus….it’s that they do for all the wrong reasons.” Dean pointed out, causing the other 3 to laugh, growing louder as Seamus failed to push himself off the ground. 

“Oh don’t worry, Longbottom. (L/n) will be sure to notice you soon enough.” he froze at the sound of the cold voice, turning around to look at the platinum blonde prince himself. Draco stood their, smirking. Crabbe and Goyle tried to nod along when in reality, they had no idea what their leader was going on about. Neville gulped, standing up to face him completely.

“W-what do you mean?” he asked him, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. Draco simply shrugged, beginning to walk in the opposite direction. He turned around briefly looking the boy up and down.

“Means exactly what I said. Nothing more, nothing less. Well as much as I’d love to stay around and lose brain cells with you idiots, I’ve got better things to attend to.” and with that he left.

“Don’t worry, Nev. Draco is always just talk, I’m sure nothing will come of it.” Harry said, offering the boy a reassuring smile. Although Neville knew he meant well, he couldn’t stop the sinking, tight feeling in his chest. Draco had yet to do something so he had no reason to feel this way, but it was just a hunch that the worst was yet to come.

Even hours later, as Neville lay in his bed that night, all he could think about were the words that echoed throughout his head over and over.

“Oh don’t worry, Longbottom. (L/n) will be sure to notice you soon enough.”

He didn’t know if he was grateful for how vague that was or if it was the bane of his days. Draco could’ve meant anything by that, all he knew is whatever it meant the intent behind his words were less than kind. He turned again, sighing as he looked out the window. There was a full moon tonight, a beautiful silver halo of light dancing its way around it. 

“Merlin, save me please.” he pleaded quietly, to no one in particular. Every bit of hope, every positive thought laced in his words. Although he prepared for the worse to happen, he had a sliver of hope that it wouldn’t. That tomorrow he’d wake up and his day would be as mundane as usual, just the way he’d like it. And if he was lucky (Y/n) would give him a small smile in the hall.

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

Neville’s small sliver of hope had grown into an entire cake. Looking back on earlier in the week, he was worried for absolutely nothing! Malfoy once again was all bark and no bite which for once, he was glad for! He let out a sigh of content as he made his way from the library, heading in the direction of the main corridor. He saw Seamus give him an uncharacteristically serious look from the small crowd that was gathered around something. As he grew closer, in the middle of the circle he saw Draco stood on a crate as (Y/n) sat next to him, listening as he read something from a paper. 

“Nev, you might wanna...might wanna leave.” Seamus whispered to him. However, he looked as people stared at him, some giggling while some look sympathetic.

“Why? What’s going o-”

“Here’s another one I found in his bin! ‘Dear (Y/n), although I’ll never give you this letter, I can’t help but write about how amazing you are! When I saw you help that injured bird the other day, I wanted nothing more than to help you tend to it. I find it funny how even when you’re sad, you manage to brighten up my day.’ God how dorky is this loser? I can’t believe he fancies you so much (Y/n)!” Draco howled in laughter, a few others joining him. Neville found himself at the forefront of the circle, frozen in his spot. That was his letter! He had started writing them as a way of coping with his feelings, knowing that the person he fancied would always be out of reach of him. “Anything to say for yourself, Longbottom?”

Neville felt tears well in his eyes, the warmth of them mixing with the heat of his red flushed face. “I...I..” he looked at (Y/n) who look like they had something to say however, he didn’t wanna stick around to hear it. Without another word, he ran off, tears streaming down his face as soon as he was far enough from anyone. In his time of despair, he ran to his only place of comfort. The one place that he wasn’t Neville, the loser who just had his feelings ripped from safe keeping in front of half the students in his year. The place where he was just Neville.

He took in a deep breath of the familiar muggy air of the greenhouse, relaxing slightly as he took a seat on the ground. “God I’m so stupid!” he wailed, tears flowing down his face. His crying grew harder, harsh hiccups shaking and jolting his body as he screamed into his knees. He knew there was a matter of time before (Y/n) was to find out, he just didn’t know it’d be like this. If this was just the pain from them learning about his feelings, he didn’t wanna know how bad he’d be wounded when they came to reject him. Neville’s head jolted up at the sound of soft footsteps making their way over to him. He noticed the familiar pair of black shoes, turning his head as they kneeled down in front of him.

“I thought you may be here! You always seemed so passionate about plants during herbology so I thought it wouldn’t hurt to check here first.” (Y/n) said, placing a hand on the boy’s knee. He looked down at where they connected, feeling his face flush slightly from the contact. “You know, your friends care about you a lot. After you ran off, Ginny came up and socked Draco straight in the face. It was quite a sight really.” they let out a soft giggle at the memory. “Hermione went in to drag her off but when she saw how smug Draco looked, she couldn’t help but to join in. While they did that, your other friends set off looking for you and I did too.”

“Why?” he asked, catching their attention. The (y/h/h) gave him a confused look, tilting their head to the side. “Why did you come looking for me? Don’t you hate me now? Gross, stupid Longbottom having a crush on Hogwart’s sweetheart. How pathetic, huh?” he sniffled, ripping his eyes away from them. He knew if he was to continue to look, a completely new set of tears would be triggered.

“Why wouldn’t I? I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t! Although I don’t know much about you, I do know you’re a kind individual and you didn’t deserve what Draco did to you.” they said in a soft tone, moving into the spot next to Neville. They sat in silence for a moment before (Y/n) cleared their throat, looking over at him once more. “How long?”

“Pardon?”

“I mean, how long have you liked me for? I wasn’t even aware until today.” they queried curiously.

“I’ve always liked you, you’ve just never noticed. I don’t blame you for not noticing though, we’re from two different worlds. You’ve got everyone in hogwarts begging for a moment of your time and you hang out with some of the most elite and prestigious people in the castle.” he sniffled some, wiping his nose on his sleeve as he set his hand down on the cold cement ground. “It was stupid of me to let my feelings last for so long.”

“Why was it stupid?” they asked, scooting closer to him. Neville turned to look at them, losing his breath at their closeness.

“Because you don’t feel the same..not that I expected you to. You didn’t even know I existed until today.” he let out a huff of air. (Y/n) bit the inside of their cheek before placing their hand on top of Neville’s, tangling their fingers together.

“You’re right, I don’t feel the same,” they started, tightening their grip as the boy began to get up. “But that doesn’t mean I never will. Let’s get to know each other a bit more.” they leaned in closer, the feeling of both of their breath being exchanged like whispers amongst their lips. 

“Make me fall in love with you.”

TAGSLIST:@vayeya11 @pink-hufflepuff  @clancyscookies @beewitchedlou​ 

@nevillelongbottomsgirlfriend​ @redpanda-poetry​ @vibingaesthetically​

[yoonpobs]

to the touch | pjm

pairing: park jimin x oc (ft. brother yoongi)

genre: mutual pining, fluff, cute crushes, brothers best friend

warnings: JIMIN that's it

words: 5, 216

summary: he's back

“You’re … you’re here?” You squeak and it’s not one of your best moments even if you were sure Yoongi would argue otherwise and that you rarely had average moments, to begin with. But there was something about spontaneity and surprise that threw you off in the worst way possible and made your brain short-circuit to the point where you’re unable to throw coherent thoughts together. And this was definitely a surprise, one that you’d never expected to happen because—

“I am,” Jimin says curtly, tossing you a firm nod of his head when he pushes you aside and steps into your apartment like he’s been year a thousand times. But in reality, it’s his first time standing at your doorstep, first time knocking on your door, and definitely the first step he’s ever had the chance to get a glimpse of how your living room looks like.

You’re still gaping at the entrance with the door open and you’re sure if any of your neighbors were to step out of their homes, they’d just see a lone girl outside that looked a little too unnerved to bother. When you snap out of it and turn your body to face your visitor, he’s already made himself comfortable on your couch and it’s hard to piece together the fact that Jimin was quite in fact in your living room, and lounging on your couch, staring at your television like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“W-What—how?” You croak because there are about ten million different thoughts running through your head but the most pressing one is how Jimin looked … different.

A good difference, for sure. He’s always been handsome and unreasonably so. Especially with the way that he’s dyed his hair back to black and the gentle fluff of how it lays atop his head. You note that he still kept his style despite him going MIA for three years and wore slacks that shaped his legs (and butt) beautifully with a casual shirt tucked into the waistband of his pants. It was unfair how effortlessly good-looking he was on a spontaneous occasion while you looked anything but, especially with your sweats and old tank top.

But Jimin had always been a little hard to read. Terrifying and brassy all at once but never obstructive—although you’d argue that his presence was the obstruction as it is of how distracted you feel whenever he was around you years ago. It’s like you never learned how to accommodate his presence because he happened to fill every space with just his body even if he wasn’t that tall.

“I thought I’d pay a visit. Your brother gave me your address.” He says, finally turning his head to face you, and its still blank like every expression you remember made towards you. You expected nothing more or nothing less than the way he stares you over and makes you feel like the outsider in your own home.

“Yoongi …” You grit, cursing your brother mentally and hoping he’d make use of that stupid sibling telepathy power he claims he has to receive your gripe.

You clear your throat as you awkwardly shuffle closer towards the couch and hover awkwardly by the arm of the sofa to keep your distance. It’s been years and it’s still a little unfamiliar to see Jimin right in front of you, and not someone you kept at the back of your mind.

“You could’ve called …” You say softly while fiddling with your thumbs. Jimin just raises an eyebrow at you and you feel stupid for saying that already.

Some things don’t change and it’s proven when your heart still beats the same when he’s around you. You cursed at yourself for being weak-willed because you thought time would help you get over your silly crush on Jimin but you also long acknowledged the fact that it wasn’t just a crush. It was more.

You hated falling for the cliches of crushing on your brother’s best friend, especially one that was just emotionally reserved and detached ninety percent of the time. The only conversations you remember having with Jimin were the ones that you were blushing at him when he looked at you a little longer than usual, or when he drove you to and from school when Yoongi left for university.

But then he disappeared, without saying goodbye and you only found out from his parents that he got into a dance program abroad and packed his things and left. Obviously, twenty-year-old you was devastated because you somehow convinced yourself that he enjoyed your presence even if he was huffing and puffing every five minutes when you’d fall into a ramble of your own.

He changed his number and he wasn’t a social media person so you had no idea what he was doing or how he was, besides the occasional mention of his name in conversations you had with your brother. It sucked. Majorly. Because you really liked him even if he was cold because you knew that Jimin was a good person. A cold and shitty person wouldn’t pat you on your head before your wisdom teeth extraction and mumble it’s okay if he wasn’t kind.

“The place is nice.” He ignores your statement and glances around your apartment and you feel smaller. You do feel a little relieved that he approved of the place, and you did spend hours browsing through catalogues and going through roommates until you decided that this was perfect. Granted, it was a little pricey but you valued comfort and a decent workplace to really get you motivated.

“Thank you.” You mumble, still shifting on the balls of your feet and Jimin just raises an eyebrow at your impersonal stance. You know he wouldn’t point it out because he wasn’t that kind of guy, but his face often spoke for him so you swallowed all the concerns you had and took a seat at the edge of the sofa, as far away from him as possible.

“Do you live alone?” He asks. You’re about to respond but he doesn’t let you.

“It’s dangerous if you do. Do you really just answer the door for anyone without checking who it is? You’ll get yourself into some serious trouble if you aren’t careful.” He chides you.

You want to scoff at him because you were an adult and you’ve learnt a few things along the road to adulthood. Jimin was always a little on edge most of the time and you knew he was just bad at expressing his emotions so you never faulted him for it. But now, you were a little older and not as naive—but unfortunately still very much into him.

“God Jimin, it’s fine—”

The door opens and both your heads immediately turn to the source, and Jimin is sharp with his movements and you try to not allow your heart to flutter when he tugs you closer to him and hides your body with his own as if he thought it was an intruder. But you knew better, so you knew it was—

“Tae. You’re back early.” You greet your roommate who only eyes the man on the couch who has you situated behind him like he was your personal shield. His bag is tugged over his shoulder and you see a few of his art supplies threatening to fall out so you hop off the couch to help him with his belongings, and Jimin’s gaze just burns harder onto the back of your skull.

When you’re close enough, Taehyung leans in and gives a brief glance over at Jimin who is still piercing him with a fierce gaze.

“Why is your booty call staring at me like I’ve murdered ten kittens?” Taehyung whisper yells and you glare at him, pinching his hip because just because he thought he was being quiet didn’t mean that he could easily get rid of his naturally loud voice.

“That is not my booty call!” You respond equally as agitated, “That’s … Jimin.”

Taehyung’s eyes bulge out of his socket when he looks over your shoulder once more to still see Jimin glaring at the two of you.

“Why is he so fucking scary? You said he was nice!” Taehyung hisses.

“He is nice!” You weakly defend, “He’s just … scary looking?”

You know it doesn’t convince Taehyung because he’s sighing and dropping his belongings to the floor, offering Jimin as sincere of a smile as he can muster even though you’re fully aware that he’s terrified of the man on your living room couch.

“Hi! I didn’t know _____ was having guests over. I’m Taehyung.” He smiles brightly at said guest but Jimin just blinks at his cordiality and then looks over to you.

“Is he your boyfriend?” The question throws you off guard and you can tell that Taehyung even more terrified when Jimin completely ignores his presence even though he was the tallest person in the room.

You splutter for a response even if the answer to that was obvious. But Jimin had a shitty way of interrogating people, even if it probably would work in legal settings because he was just terrifying enough for you to stumble over your words and make you look guiltier than you were.

“Unfortunately not.” Taehyung thinks he’s saving you when he lightly jokes with Jimin. And you want to facepalm because Jimin was aloof and impartial to everything, and had horrible skills of reading the room because you were sure that Jimin thought that Taehyung wanted to get in your pants.

“Tae, would you excuse us for a second?” You smile stiffly at Taehyung who is quick to oblige as he darts into his room.

Jimin now has his arms folded across his chest in a manner that makes him look more hostile, but you knew him well enough that you suppose he just had a lot of questions.

“Did you really have to be like that?” You ask irritably as Jimin scoffs at you.

“Please, do enlighten me. All I did was ask you a simple question, which you couldn’t even answer. What was that about?” Jimin responds equally as displeased but you had so many questions and you didn’t need to deal with his mini tantrum right now, especially between the walls of your own home.

“Don’t turn this on me! You turned up to my house unannounced after three years of no contact and you expect me to bend at your will? What do you take me for? A puppet?” You retaliate with petulancy and you can tell Jimin is slowly getting more annoyed by the second but won’t blow up just yet. Or probably because you had another person in the house.

“Am I not allowed to visit?” Jimin raises an eyebrow.

You scoff at his audacity because Jimin was seriously so bad at reading emotions. You weren’t even sure why you liked him but your heart never made reasonable decisions for you.

“We haven’t spoken in years, Jimin!” You throw your hands in the air, “I didn’t even know where you were or what you were doing because you disappeared like you were running away from a crime!”

“Did I need to update you on my whereabouts?” You know his question is genuine even though it was posed a little rough and you want to pull at your hair because obviously, you wanted to know! Jimin was the person you spent the most time with, outside of school, and one day he wasn’t anymore.

“Of course! I thought we were—I thought … why did you just disappear?” For some reason, it was hard to say that you and Jimin were friends either because the only reason why he’d ever tolerate you in the first place was that he was a good friend to Yoongi and you were just someone that came with it by association. He never outwardly said that he hated spending time with you but he never said he enjoyed it either.

Jimin raises an eyebrow and stands up, and you notice that he still towers over you. He walks towards you slowly, and you feel all the hotter under his intense scrutiny that you just want to retreat to your bedroom and forget this ever happened.

“You don’t need to know.” He says and you feel yourself deflate, “I wanted to visit because your brother’s worried about you.”

The confession just annoys you because you knew to a certain extent that Jimin wouldn’t be here from … wherever he was … if it was only for your brother. He had to give a shit somewhere deep down in him enough to make an effort to get your address from your brother, then turn up on your doorstep unannounced with his usual impassioned stare.

“Oh fuck off, will you? I’m not a little girl anymore. I can take care of myself.” You bite back.

Jimin shoots you an unimpressed stare at your snappishness and he won't lie and say that he was pleasantly surprised to see you after a long time. You were always pretty, in an unconventional way, he supposes. You never made an effort to look nice but just did with the way you approached life, even when you were younger. But now that you were standing in front of him with a bite that you didn't have when he left, he's intrigued.

"You weren't so rude before I left." He smirks at you.

His gaze also makes you burn and you avoid his eyes when it searches for yours. You hate that his tone makes you feel funny and that you wanted him to be a little mean.

"Yeah, well—that's what happens when you don't see someone after three years with no contact or notice. They change. They get a little annoyed because someone is just too emotionally constipated to ever make any effort to keep in touch." You narrow your eyes at him.

"Why are you throwing a hissy fit? Needed me to keep you company?" He prompts.

You flush but still glare at him.

"Whatever, Jimin. I just would've appreciated it if you called. Or at least have done something to let me know that you were alive." You mutter.

Somehow, he's managed to cage you in with his body against the back of the sofa, and your breath hitches when you feel his broad chest pressed on yours. You didn't realise it happened until he places his arms by your side, effectively leaving you with no room to leave. You gulp because this is the closest you've ever been to Jimin and you feel dizzy. He smells fresh like laundry and flowers. It's a huge juxtaposition to his demeanour, but he smells good and you want to nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck.

"Why would I? You're Yoongi's sister. Not my girlfriend." He smirks.

You huff and roll your eyes. The reminder stings a little and you know he's baiting you.

"So? Were we not at least friends?" You snap.

He wants to laugh because you're obviously annoyed at the casual way he referred to you as Yoongi's little sister. You're frowning but attempting to pretend that it didn't bother you.

Jimin would be lying if he said he was never interested. Because he was, undoubtedly so. But back then when you were still navigating your way at the beginning of adulthood with Yoongi constantly breathing down his neck, he would have never done anything to compromise his friendship with your brother; or lead you on. But now you were standing in front of him, soft and sweet with a little edge to you that draws him in.

"Do you usually have crushes on your friends?" He pushes.

Your eyes widen and snap up to look at his teasing expression. His smirk is apparent against the rest of his face and you feel absolutely mortified that he's so close to you when he called you out.

"W-What? A crush? I didn't have a crush on you!" You rebuff him with a stuttery voice and you weakly try to push him away.

But he locks you in position with his hands around your wrist as he leans down and crowds you further with his presence.

"You didn't?" He feigns hurt, then he pulls away abruptly and you're immediately chasing his warmth, "Shame. I would've liked that a lot."

You gape at him when he shuffles away, putting some distance between the two of you as he dusts his hands on his slacks, giving you a curt smile; one that never reached his eyes but that was still Jimin being friendly.

"Y-You what ...?" You squeak.

Jimin shrugs and walks towards your door and you're half-terrified and half-relieved at the prospect of him leaving. But you're more terrified because you don't know if you'll ever see him again and with your current interaction you don't think you'll ever get over him.

"Usually a cute girl crushing on me would be a huge ego boost ... but you didn't, so ..." He trails off.

You bite your lips as you play with your hands. You know he's teasing you and you didn't know when he's gotten so forward, or good at this game. But you suppose Jimin has always been charming too, even if he was bad at emotions. He was good at playing them. And the way he rakes his eyes over your body only to bite his lip makes you burn in want.

He's about to turn the knob of your door but you reach out to grab his wrist before your mind can tell you it's a bad idea.

"W-What if I ... what if I ..." You mumble, hands wrapped loosely around his wrist as he turns around, leaning against the door the way boys do that was super hot for no reason.

"Speak up, bunny."

The nickname only makes you blush harder because it reminded you of all the times he's ever called you that stupid childhood nickname that somehow followed you up until adulthood. But you had to admit the way that Jimin uses it makes you feel ...warm. Like you want him to call you bunny for whatever reason he does so.

"WhatifIdid ...?" You mutter quickly and softly that Jimin leans in to get a better listen, also prompting you to speak louder.

"Couldn't hear you." He sing-songs.

You grit your teeth and swallow your pride because even after three years, you were soft and pliant for Park Jimin even if he was hot to the touch. You just wanted to please him.

"What if I did?" You say a little louder, braver, with determined eyes, "What if I did have a crush on you?"

He grins at you in Jimin fashion that was still a little reserved but warm because you knew him. You knew that was what he wanted to hear. So, he rests his body against the door and gestures his finger in a come-hither motion to get you to step closer, which you oblige. It should've been offensive that he could summon you so easily, but Jimin was a lot of things but he would never take advantage of your passiveness.

"I don't know. What would you have done if I hadn't left? Play friends? Family maybe?" He teases.

You scrunch your nose at the prospect of playing family with him because you've heard that phrase way too many times. Your parents at one point kept on saying how you had two older brothers instead of one because Jimin was always there, but they were blissfully unaware of your crush and the way you'd frown at the suggestion.

"We would've hung out more ..." You mumble.

Jimin snorts but cocks his head for you to continue.

"What's the point of this?" You huff, shutting your eyes when you can feel his gaze on you.

"You tell me. You were the one with the crush."

You want to correct him and say am the one with the crush, but you bite your tongue.

"You're the one who wants to know." You respond with indignation.

He chuckles, low and deep before he tilts your chin upwards with his index finger.

"You're still a little girl, aren't you ______?" You think it's the first time Jimin has called your name the entire time he's been here and you almost whine with the sultry look he's giving you.

Jimin applauds his self-control because you were a sight to behold. Even if you were in sweats and a tank, with your glasses drooping slightly down your nose and tangled hair, you still were so appealing even if you didn't know. You looked comfortable, homey and it did make Jimin burn with an ugly monster to know that 'Tae' could see you like this daily.

"Am not." You growl, but he only thinks you look like an angry bunny.

"You are. You don't know how to ask for things, hm?" He hums, tracing a finger up your jaw to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I so do know how to ask for things that I want. I do it all the time." You retort petulantly like you had a point to prove but Jimin only chuckles darkly.

"Then what do you want right now?"

Jimin's question is expected but it also throws you off-guard.

"R-Right n-now?" You stutter.

He tuts as if he expected your bewildered and shocked expression.

"When else but now, bunny?" He whispers as his gaze has you locked in a trance when your eyes dart to his lips when he drags his tongue over it. You're entrapped in him because his mouth suddenly looked really inviting.

"I really wanna ..." You mumble, ears flushing a pretty shade of red and you lean into Jimin's hand when he cradles your cheek gently.

Jimin was capable of being gentle, even though he chose not to. But he never was, though there was something about you that made his territorial, made him want to fight. He didn't know when he started feeling this way but he supposed it was a flurry of emotions and the accumulation of the times he's spent with you throughout the years. Three years didn't do him justice and only made him think of you more. He knew he was hard to read, and frankly even harder to understand. Jimin also knew that you were fully aware of this fact. But that didn't deter you in trying to get to know him, to prick yourself against all his edges that were harder to accept.

You were sweet and naive, a type of person that Jimin would usually scoff at. But your one-dimensional and idealistic view of the world was fresh to him, even if that meant you were living in your head most of the time. It never took away from the fact that you were kind and understanding. The type of person that cracked all of Jimin's harshness made him want to try.

But it didn't mean he wasn't going to have his fun. He liked seeing you like this, gentle and warm, close to him as you look at him with a hazy expression.

"Wanna do what?" He prods, reaching his hand to the back of your hair to tug your face closer to his, but maintaining enough distance to prompt you to make the first move.

Jimin would do it. But he wanted to be sure that you wanted this, and not the idea of him. Sure, he was giving you hints and nudging you, but he also was aware of the fact that you'd never say or do anything that you didn't want. You were always clear-cut about this type of thing.

"You know ... that ... thing ..." You mumble, shifting on your feet as he glances down to your face.

You still looked unsure, but you leaned into his hold regardless, and Jimin took that as a good sign. You just need a little push.

"You know I'm not that bright. You need to tell me, bunny." He says gently.

You can't stop the small whimper in the back of your throat at the nickname and it's taking everything in Jimin's willpower to not take you against this wall. He would, but you deserved sweet things and he wanted to try be that for you.

"I ... I wanna ..." You whisper, "Wanna ... kiss you."

You clutch his t-shirt in his hands and when you glance up he's grinning widely as if he's won the lottery.

He nods his head ever so softly, and you take that as a cue to lean in.

When you do kiss him, you already feel your knees buckling because it's like everything you dreamed and more. Jimin was the right amount of assertive and gentle that makes you chase his mouth even if you were pressed up against him. He takes the lead eventually when his hand cups your jaw to angle your mouth deeper into his, and your body flush against his.

You feel like a teenager again having your first kiss, but it may as well be because you've always wondered what it was like to share your first kiss with Jimin back in high school.

"Is that all?" He whispers against your lips, but before you can respond—

"Oh fuck, I'm sorry!" You hear Taehyung squeak and that makes you pull away from Jimin, highly embarrassed to be caught making out with him against your door like a horny teenager.

You want to curse at Taehyung but he's already ducking into the kitchen before you can get any words out.

Jimin doesn't look affected, if anything, he looks pleased. The moment you shared a clear testament of who you belonged to and Jimin loved the fact of people knowing it was him.

When you look at Jimin, you're equally parts flushed from the kiss but giddy too. You give him a shy smile, and Jimin just chuckles lowly at your bashfulness.

"I'll see you around, ______," Jimin smirks at you when he reaches for the doorknob to leave. You follow him out, wanting a little more privacy even if it was in the hallway of your apartment complex.

When Jimin steps out and with you behind him, you swing on your feet as he observes your next actions. You clear your throat, even though you were confused and glad—because that was the closest thing you could get from Jimin that was affection so you'd take it.

"So ... what does this ..." You mumble, before shaking your head.

Jimin raises an eyebrow.

"What did I say about asking for what you want?" He berates you as if he was speaking to a child, but his tone is still curt and a little detached, but very like Jimin. You know that it's him and you like that anyways.

"Don't make me say it ... it's already embarrassing as it is ..." You whine, burying your head into his t-shirt.

Jimin welcomes the sudden closeness and pats you softly on the head. It's a little stiff because he still isn't used to physical affection that wasn't 'intimate', but he did say he would try for you.

"Again: I'm not that bright." He teases.

You roll your eyes, but then bite your lips when you see he's waiting for a response.

"... what does this mean for us?" You ask softly.

Jimin smiles at you and decides to grant you a gentle kiss to your forehead. A kiss that was so domestic and soft that you feel your heart soar.

"Check your phone." Is all he says when he waves you goodbye, as you stare at him dumbly, heart still fluttering and cheeks burning.

When you return back into your home, you lean against your door as you press a hand to your chest to feel the way your heart beats rapidly against it. You feel weak in the knees but so blissful that you let out a squeal into the palm of your hands.

Once you've calmed down, and offered Taehyung a look that said you'll explain later—you rush to check your phone, only to smile at what lies on the screen.

Unknown Number [17:21]: hi bunny

Unknown Number [17:21]: save my contact

Unknown Number [17:21]: make sure that when people see it they'll know you're mine

Unknown Number [17:22]: see you soon

Unknown Number [17:22]: if you're still a little slow ... it's jimin

Unknown Number [17:25]: ❤️

You notice the heart emoji was sent a few minutes after the rest of his texts, which showed you that he may have contemplated whether or not to send it. You feel your heart flutter, as you plop back onto your bed, a wide grin splaying on your face.

extra scene

"I'm sorry ... what?" Yoongi chokes on the piece of meat he just shoved into his mouth as he stares at his best friend in the face as if he'd grown another head. But as usual, he seemed to only attract people that were vastly similar to him, and Jimin's face is unreadable as ever. But Yoongi knows he's serious and not fucking around because he's looking intently at the older boy for a response.

"So?" Jimin says casually, leaning into his seat and Yoongi needs to chug down a glass of water to ensure that the food goes down all the way before he can say anything to the question Jimin just posed him with.

"You want my sister's address ... to ... I'm sorry, correct me if I'm wrong but I had a fall and I may have a concussion so I don't know if I'm hearing things right," Yoongi deadpans but Jimin just rolls his eyes at the older one's dramatics before nodding his head for him to continue.

"You want her address to ... confess to her?" Yoongi says hesitantly and Jimin nods his head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

But it wasn't. Because as long as Yoongi's known Jimin, he's been all detached and broody, uninterested in everything and everyone. He's never shown the slightest interest in anyone and usually opted for casual hookups than actual relationships so clearly, Yoongi is a little skeptical.

"Are you okay?" Yoongi asks baffled.

Jimin nods, folding his arms across his chest.

"Yes. I went for a medical check-up that day and my doctor said he's never seen results as impeccable as mine." Jimin says blandly.

Yoongi scoffs.

"You're just not ... the dating type, you know? Much less ... with my sister?" It sounds weird to even Yoongi's ears. He grew out of his childish mindset and had no problem with Jimin dating you, but it was still weird to see his best friend showing interest in you.

"I like her. And I respect you. Which is why I came to you before I did anything."

Yoongi gapes at his best friend, who looks much softer than he usually does.

"Wow ... I just ..." Yoongi exhales, "Damn."

Jimin offers a small smile before gesturing to their food.

"At least we can really be brothers now." Yoongi jokes, sliding a piece of paper with your address on it to Jimin.

Jimin smiles fondly at the paper before tucking it into his shirt jacket.

The image of you in white, smiling and looking only at him drives him to see you the next day.

[bastillewolf]

Kinda Sketchy (II)

Pairing: Corpse Husband / Reader

Request: “Can you do a part two of kinda sketchy where they slowly fall in love?”

Notes: Sorry this took me so long, but I had zero inspiration as the request left a lot of questions hahaha. Still fun to write, I hope you like it!

Tag list closed.

Chapter II

You’d fallen into a routine for a while. You’d do groceries, he’d do the dishes. You switched cooking, though it was also fine if neither of you felt like it, which is when you’d just order takeout or eat leftovers. But what seemed like the normal thing for two roommates to do on a spoken terms of agreement, it actually appeared you did those things for each other because you wanted to. You’d find some left over dishes in his room which you’d clean, and the next morning you’d find the forgotten tea on your nightstand already back in the cupboard. If you fell asleep working, reading, or watching something on TV, you’d somehow always end up in your bed even though you couldn’t remember getting up to get there yourself.

It had grown into this wonderful friendship between two people who had found it convenient to live together. You knew he could just as well live on his own now, knowing how big his YouTube channel had gotten within the time you’d first seen it up until now- in only a few months, at that. You’d asked him about it, but he’d simply brushed it off, saying it was easier for him this way. He wasn’t sure if he would ever do a face reveal, and having you go outside so he didn’t have to was a great bonus to the shared rent and company. It had hurt you slightly to hear him talk about it so plainly when you had already realized you were starting to feel more for him than you were supposed to.

It had started gradually, to be honest. You hadn’t noticed it at first. You simply took for granted all the times he jokingly bumped his shoulder into yours, or when he hugged you tight when he saw you needed it, or when he even kissed you on the cheek while having a debate with you on what a ‘chef’s kiss’ meant when you’d cooked a – if you may say so yourself – sublime meal.

But now, you had to miss all of those things. It seemed, when you agreed to his basic explanation of how easy it was for him with you living here in order to hide your disappointment, he’d seen it as a sign to stop doing all of those things for granted.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, please. But it’s just easier. I’ve gotten recognized before in a drive-through and I don’t want to go through that ever again,” he said.

You shook your head, even though your heart was plummeting down a set of stairs. “No, I completely get it. We’re roommates and it’s what we agreed upon. That’s it.”

“That’s it,” he repeated.

And that was it. The cups of leftover tea on your nightstand had started to form a fort, and you suddenly found yourself waking up on the couch in the middle of the night, feeling cold and grouchy as you realized you had to walk back to your bed. If you did sleep there until morning, you’d wake up from the sound of the coffee machine with a mumbled ‘sorry’ from your roommate, but other than that, he never said anything about it.

You’d wondered if he was angry with you. You’d even made a peace offering by cleaning up the mess in his room. Even that he didn’t mention.

So, one night while you were waiting on him at the table to show up for dinner, he didn’t come. He wasn’t in the apartment, he hadn’t texted you, he hadn’t left a note. He was nowhere to be found. Of course, you’d think something happened to him. You called Sykkuno first, and luckily you’d chosen exactly the right person.

“Oh, yeah! We’re playing Mario Kart, and he’s staying over. I thought he’d told you?” he said.

“Eh, no, he didn’t,” you replied, rubbing your eyes. “It’s fine. You guys have fun.”

“Thanks! You should come next time too, if you’re not too busy. Corpse told me how much work keeps you up.”

“He did?” you ask, sounding as monotone as could be.

“Yeah, but I think it’s just because he doesn’t want you to meet us yet. We kinda make a crazy first impression on everyone, and I’m pretty sure he wants us to be on our best behaviour when you come over… He- He does talk about you, a lot.”

“He… what?”

“Rae started teasing him about it, but then he brushed it off saying he’d never cheat on me, which is kind of weird considering we aren’t-“

“What did he say about me?” For a moment you felt guilty cutting him off, but your curiosity and heart got the better of you and Thomas didn’t really seem to mind.

“Oh, you know, how you’ve been taking care of him more than he’s ever taken care of himself. I thought it was kind of sad, but he talked about it pretty fondly. Rae caught a hint of that and started asking very personal questions, like what’s going on between the two of you, and then he stopped. I think he just doesn’t want to throw things out there, you know? I think he- Oh, here he is now! Do you want to me to hand you over?”

“No. Thanks, Thomas.” You’d quickly ended the call, but it seemed to late when you’d still heard him ask with that raspy voice of his, “Who are you talking to?”.

So, you ended up eating your dinner alone. He didn’t come home until after midnight, when you were still sitting at the same table, this time with your laptop in front of you doing some last bits of work so you wouldn’t end up falling asleep on the couch again.

You didn’t even turn around when you heard him walk in. He seemed to even hesitate for a moment, judging by his footsteps, before he said ‘hey’. You muttered it back, pretending to be engrossed in your work.

He grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water, before leaning back against the counter, his face turned to you. “You know, maybe you should just work in bed. I highly doubt falling asleep with your face smashed against the keyboard is very comfortable.”

You suddenly stopped typing, leaned your elbows against the table and linked your fingers together, looking him dead in the eye. “Maybe I want to feel the pain in my back as a punishment knowing I fell asleep like this again.”

“Fair enough,” he sighed.

You let a silence linger just a bit longer, before you continued typing and said, “You could’ve told me where you were.”

He was probably staring at you, but you still pointedly ignored him. “I didn’t know that was in our arrangement.”

“Well, I didn’t know our arrangement was that unpersonal to you. Seems like all I am is someone who just gets your groceries for you.” It was a low blow. But you just needed to make him feel the stabbing, the way he stabbed you.

“Jesus, I told you not to take that personally. That’s not what I meant at all,” he said.

“I didn’t take it personally until you thought that conversation was enough to start ignoring me,” you lied.

“I think you know just as well as I do why I’m keeping my distance.”

You met his eyes. Nothing you could see in there, besides the frustration, gave you any answers. You couldn’t help it, you were glaring back at him just as hard even though all you could feel right now was confusion. He shook his head and sighed.

“Maybe it’s time this agreement ends.”

The thought had crossed both your minds, but he was the one who had said it out loud. And probably stung harder for you than it would have for him if you’d cut the cord. He left you sitting there, with tears now blurring your vision, slamming the door behind him for good measure.

***

He wasn’t home again. It gave you the perfect opportunity to quickly pack the rest of your shit up and leave, quietly. A cowardly move, perhaps, but you knew you didn’t have it in you to face him for this. You still hadn’t found a new place yet, since everything in Cali was way too fucking expensive and most ads looking for a roommate even sketchier than the one from Corpse you’d replied to. One of your friends had come to your aid, however, so you had at least a temporary place to say without having to suffer in this tension any longer.

You were just shoving the last of your books in a cardboard box when your phone rang. It was Thomas.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Uh… well, I was wondering if you could tell us that…” Sykkuno hesitantly asked.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh- give me the phone-“ “Hey!” there was an evident struggle, before Rae was suddenly talking to you, clearly having ripped the device from Thomas’ hands.

“Corpse is acting all weird! We know something happened between the two of you, but he doesn’t wanna talk about it! It’s like he’s gone back to his brooding old self and I’m worried! So you better start talking!”

“Unless it wasn’t your fault-“ you heard Thomas call out. He was quickly shushed by Rae.

“There’s nothing to say. He made it very clear that our living arrangement was just that; an arrangement, and he stopped talking to me. I confronted him about it, he started saying vague shit and asked me to move out.”

“Wait, what did he say?! I need specifics!” “Rae talks Corpse language, apparently,” you heard Toast mumble in the background.

“He said ‘I think you know just as well as I do why I’m keeping my distance’,” you imitated, your voice not nearly going as low as his.

“Wait, what?”

“I think he just figured out I have feelings for him. I understand how he wouldn’t want to be friends anymore.”

“Oh my god, you’re both such idio-!“

The call ended before you could hear the rest of Rae’s frustration. You shrugged it off, understanding why she would be mad at you by upsetting Corpse. He was her friend first and foremost, after all.

You stuffed your clothes in garbage bags, tied them up and pushed all of it into the living room. You’d dusted, vacuumed, and taken the bedsheets off. While balling all of the laundry up in your arms, you heard the door open. You immediately froze.

Footsteps were coming closer. Maybe if you didn’t move he would think you weren’t here. You didn’t want to do this. You didn’t want to see that he didn’t care. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your hands were wringing the fabric of the bedsheets. God, you should’ve packed quicker. You shouldn’t have been so organized, you should’ve just shoved everything in a few boxes altogether and made a break for it. You should’ve.

He was at your door opening. The footsteps had stopped. You still had your back turned to him.

Just keep walking. Please, just keep walking, you pleaded, closing your eyes. Waiting for the final blow.

However, it didn’t seem to land. Not anywhere near you, at least.

You simply heard his breathing, which seemed more erratic than usual, but perhaps you were just imagining things. Please, just keep walking. Please, I can’t-

“Please don’t go,” he rasped.

Your brows furrowed. If anything, your eyes squeezed shut even tighter. He had to be joking with you.

But then he said your name, pleadingly. He stepped behind you, and you could feel his warm breath against your neck. “Please don’t go. I don’t want you to go.”

“I think you do,” you tried to convince him, as well as yourself.

His hands found his way around your waist and across your stomach until his chest was flush against your back. “No, I don’t.”

Your hands felt numb, so numb you barely noticed them dropping the bedsheets. He turned you around slowly, and you opened your eyes.

“I… heard what you said to Rae.”

“Oh.”

You watched as he leaned in, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. You didn’t stop him- of course you didn’t want him to. His lips pressed against yours gently, in a question, which you responded to. It was still laced with a certain hesitance, but not one strong enough to make either of you want to pull back. It was tingly, warm, and comfortable as the stress of the past few days came washing over you.

He smiled shyly as he pulled back. “I’m sorry. I thought you knew about how I felt.”

“I’m sorry too. I think we need to set up some things in our agreement about communication.”

“Please, no more fucking agreements. I think Rae would definitely kill us.” You both laughed.

TAG LIST CLOSED!

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[rowyn-writes]

Star Struck (Castiel x Angel!Reader)

Warnings: Language, a splash of angst, a little bit of fluff, make out scene

Pairings: Castiel x Angel!Reader

Characters: Cas, Sam, Dean, Gabriel, Jack (mentioned only) Mary (mentioned only)

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: When the Winchester's and Cas call on you for your help, Cas can't help but be star struck by your presence.

Requested by: @danitisx

You roamed the streets Dublin, Ireland. Fascinated by the beautiful scenery and amazing culture.

"It's wonderful, isn't it?" A handsome man beside you asked.

"Indeed." You agreed. "Do you live around here?"

"Yeah, just up the road a couple of blocks. I've lived here my entire life. What about you? Where are you from?"

"Uh," You laughed as you scratched the back of your head. "I'm from the States. New York." You decided. It's not exactly like you could tell him you were an Archangel from Heaven.

"I'm Charlie, by the way." He gave you a cheeky grin.

"Y/N." You introduced yourself.

"Would you like to go out for a drink?"

"I would l-" You broke off as you felt a strange tug on your body. "Damn."

You were surrounded by a circle if Holy fire. You took in your surroundings. You seemed to be in some sort of emergency bunker. "What in Dad's name." You mumbled. "Alright, whoever summoned me here, if you don't show yourself, I'll smite you!" You growled, trying your best to be intimidating.

"Y/N." A soft voice said.

You whirled around to see a familiar angel. "Castiel." You breathed. "You're the one who summoned me here? Why?" You tilted your head to the side, similar to how Castiel would do whenever he was confused.

Two other familiar men emerged from around the corner. "Winchester's. Hello."

"Y/N. Good to see you again." Sam nodded.

"Ya know, if you wanted me here so badly, you could've called instead of summoning me here with a ring of holy fire. Which, by the way, is extremely uncomfortable."

"Sorry," Dean shrugged, throwing a glass of water, extinguishing the fire. "Precautionary measure."

"Fair enough." You slid off your black over coat and set it on the back of a chair. "So, what can I do for you boys? Do you need an elixir of some sort? An herb, perhaps? A spell?"

"They need some of your grace."

Your eyes darted from Castiel's over to him. You thought he was dead, long dead. This didn't make sense.

"You."

"Me." Gabriel smirked. "Hello, little sister. Long time no see."

"Yeah," You scoffed, raising your voice. "Long time no see because you dumbass got yourself killed by our brother! Or so I thought. Because to me, you look perfectly fine."

You trembled with anger. You had thought your brother was dead. You mourned him for so long. You cried for him, and there he was, alive and healthy. For now.

"Y/N-" He sighed.

"No! You don't get to talk, asshat!" You growled. "You let me believe you were dead for years! I cried for you, I prayed to you, to Dad! And there you are, fine and dandy."

Sam, Dean and Cas stepped back a little, giving you and your brother some space. Out of everyone, they understood family problems.

"You son of a bitch!" You screamed, using your powers to slam Gabriel into a wall. He gave out a small grunt as his back hit the cold brick wall. "You let me think you were dead! How could you?!" You clenched your fist, making it harder for Gabriel to breathe. "You were my best friend! My brother! And you heard how much pain I was in and decided to let me keep suffering! You insufferable dick!" Your eyes were glowing a bright blue.

"Y/N!" Castiel called your name, trying to calm you down. "Y/N! Stop." He rested a hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly. "You need to calm down. Let Gabriel explain."

"You guys have ten minutes to explain everything that's going on before I get my ass out of here and never come back."

The men sat you down and explained everything that happened in your absence. Including your nephew.

"You're telling me Lucifer has a son?" You questioned. "Someone actually wanted to have sex with my brother?"

"Uh, well, Kelly thought that Lucifer was the President." Sam coughed.

"The Presid-" You cut yourself off. "Okay. . . Clearly I've missed a lot. So, you want me to give you some of my grace in order to get Jack and your mother back?"

"Yes." Dean nodded. "You're our only option left. Gabriel tried to help, but most of his grace was drained by Asmodeus and it'll take time to replenish."

"Fine. I'll help."

"Really?" Cas said hopefully. "You'll help us?"

"Of course." You gave him a gentle smile. "Jack is my nephew after all. He needs a female figure in his life. And I refuse to let him be corrupted by Lucifer. My brother won't have any contact with Jack if I can help it."

"Why do you care so much about Jack?" Dean asked, his eyebrows furrowed. "You've never met him."

"Doesn't mean I love him any less. He's family. And until recently, I thought everyone I loved was dead. So I can deal with the fatigue and snappiness that comes with losing some of my grace."

"Thank you." Cas said gratefully. "Thank you so much."

"Okay." You took a deep breath. "Could I get some help with extracting my grace? I'd do it myself, but I can be a bit squeamish." You looked over at the beautiful blue eyed man in a trench coat. "Would you help me?"

"Oh," Cas seemed to be flustered. "O-of course." 

You grabbed the tool and headed into an empty bedroom. "Okay, let's get this over with." You said, pushing your hair to one side of you shoulder to let Castiel extract your grace. "Just. . . Be gentle, okay?"

Cas nodded, still seeming unnerved. "You're scared. Why?"

"Well. . . You're one of the most powerful angels to ever walk the earth. You were one of God's favorites and most trusted. You led an entire army of angels into battle with demons. You banished the Princes of Hell back into Hell. You're amazing!"

You gave Cas a soft smile. "That's very sweet of you, Castiel. But I'm not the same angel anymore. I'm certainly not Father's favorite anymore. He was the one that cast me out of Heaven after he found out I had relations with a human. I'm not amazing. I'm ordinary."

"Well, you're extraordinary to me. You're helping us get Jack and Mary back. Even though you don't have to."

"It's the least I can do." You dismissed him with a wave of your hand. "You and the Winchester's have saved the world more than once. Granted, you almost ended it as well, but at least you fixed it. Plus, I can tell these people mean a lot to you."

"They do. They're my family."

"And I'm very happy that you've found your family, Castiel." You cupped his face in both of your hands. "You were a wonderful servant to Heaven, and an even better leader when the time came. You deserve to be happy after all the havoc that's happened to you." You pulled away, resting your hands in you lap.

"You would have been far better than I was. You are a good angel, and an amazing leader."

"I'm no better than Lucifer."

"Y/N," Castiel said in astonishment. "You are nothing compared to Lucifer. You are compassionate and kind. You care about people."

"But when the world was ending, I was off galavanting around the world. And when people were in danger and dying, I turned a blind eye and let it all happened!" You cried, tears rolling down your cheeks. "If I don't help, then I'm part of the problem, Castiel. I yelled at Gabriel for disappearing, but I did the exact same thing. I left, I left Heaven, my brother's, all of the other angels, I left them. For a jackass human that never really loved me. So you ask me why I'm doing this for you? I'm doing it because I've never done anything good in my existence. Ending that war with the demons, sure, it saved humans in the long run, but I never cared about that. I was just following Dad's orders. Like a good little soldier."

"Y/N," Cas began.

"Just. . . Take my grace. . . Please?"

Castiel frowned as he gingerly brushed your hair aside. "This might sting." He warned as he plunged the extractor into your neck. You winced, gripping your leg in order to cope with the pain. Cas ended up getting five vials filled with your grace.

"It should replenish eventually, but it might take some time."

You went to stand up, but immediately felt lightheaded. Cas came behind you, holding you up. You inhibitions were lowered when you lost grace, and this time was no exception.

"Has anyone ever told you you have the most beautiful eyes?" You smiled. "They're like the ocean."

Castiel's face tinted pink and he gave a sheepish grin. "Thank you, Y/N. You have very beautiful eyes as well."

"Is that the only thing you find attractive about me, Castiel?" You ran a finger along the length of his arm.

"I- Um. . ." The angel was flustered once again. "Well, o-of course there are other things attractive about you. You're gorgeous. Your lips are perfect, t-they look very soft."

"Why don't you find that out yourself." You smirked. You pulled Cas down by his tie, his lips meeting yours.

Castiel was hesitant at first, and you knew he never really understood kissing. You moved your lips against his, and he finally understood. You didn't even know you had been moving until your back hit the brick wall.

You hands got tangled in his dark hair, while his wrapped around your waist.

There was a loud bang at the door, making Cas pull away from you. "If you're done making out with my sister, we kind of need this show on the road." Gabriel called from the other side of the door.

"Cockblocker." You grumbled. "That was one hell of a kiss, Cas. We should do it again sometime." You gave him a wink as you headed back to the library.

"I need a cold shower."