#i have the same username there as here so it's easy to spot me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

silkendandelion · 2 years ago

Text

Mirage In The Desert - Chapter 12

Summary: Trapped in a cage, the Strawhat’s plan to confront Crocodile at Raindinners proceeds more poorly than they expected, and River is the nearest ally on the outside.

Rated Mature for language, graphic violence. Cross-posted to Ao3, same username. Send me a DM: yell at me, send flowers. Cheers.

~*~

The most comfort River had found at Raindinners was the saltwater swims.

And so, Crocodile stood on the shore, bored eyes watching him cling to the rocks with trembling, bleeding fingers. The Oasin’s breath came in labored, frightened puffs as he struggled to free himself from wani-infested waters.

“I knew I would find you here.”

But Crocodile wasn’t the cause of his distress, and River hauls himself to safety with one more good pull.

Water runs off him in sheets, down unsteady legs until he finds his footing. “I don’t try to hide, you know.”

“Oh, you do. But I can hardly blame you,” Crocodile said, stopping to study where River nursed his wounded hands, the scratches across his knuckles that colored the water dripping down his arms pink.

“Did the wani do that?”

“It was my fault. I was careless and fell in… I can hardly blame them.”

“Would you like me to administer first aid?”

River snorted, even as Crocodile watched him consider it, with a wet sheen over his tired eyes. Must be the saltwater. “I’ll be fine. Thank you. Though, I don’t recall asking you to join me,” he said with less bite than he hoped.

Although they were doomed to pretend to be business partners, Crocodile found himself wandering to stand by the water’s edge almost every day. To watch if he could get away with it, be close to him, even when his natural habitat kept them apart. With all the ease that the Oasin played the “shiny jewel of the desert”, charming and mild-mannered, buttoned-up in diamonds and finery, it was easy to forget that he belonged to the sea. Now, with salt on his eyelashes and sun beams in the width of his shoulders, the great lake felt too much like a bottomless ocean between them.

“Hm.” Crocodile contemplated the verbal rejection, and reached into his coat pocket for a plain, ribbon-bound box.

“I’ll leave your present here then. Don’t let the wani eat it.”

He made no move to accept, and waited until the door to the casino firmly latched shut to swim over, only his eyes out of the water to glare at the offending gift.

The blue box and white ribbon mocked him in it’s simplicity, a perfect copy of the box that cradled his surrendered earrings all those months ago. The first peace offering between them. And here was another.

He pulled the ribbon free by one of it’s tails, careful not to let it slip into the water, and removed the lid. ____ ___ __ _

11:30 AM, Operation Day.

For four of the Strawhats, bad luck could only take so much credit for their swift defeat in their front-door assault on Raindinners, having been bested by a hastily written “Pirates this way” sign and gravity. Consequently, Smoker’s foiled pursuit down to the same seastone cage was just bad timing and worse luck.

Imprisonment usually breeds allies, but apparently no amount of cohabitation could keep them from hissing at each other, and when Crocodile and River come to see what sprung their trap, Smoker has the pirate captain pinned by pressing his jute to his back.

“Since you’re going to die together, you can at least attempt to get along,” Crocodile says while taking a seat at the long table in the center of the room.

”Crocodile! I’ll kick your ass when I get out of—here.” Luffy’s threat dies on a breath, and he slips to the floor when he’s unable to hold onto the cage.

“Stop touching the bars! Weren’t you paying attention?!” Usopp yells at him.

“Spirited, aren’t they? The most powerful little pirate gang in the East Blue,” River takes his spot at Crocodile’s side.

Smoker adjusted his grip on his jute and pointed it through the bars. “Crocodile. You look every bit as despicable as I imagined… But your associate—”

He points the tip at River. “I don’t recognize you.”

“You wouldn’t,” River said, simply, and leaned down to light his cigarette from Crocodile’s outstretched hand. “Mr. Marine.”

“My favorite weapon: a well-kept secret to all of your people’s supposed intelligence, Smoker. Isn’t he magnificent?” Crocodile brushed a finger through his hanging earrings, and River blew smoke from his nose as he stepped away to approach the cage.

The sight of the young pirates locked up like animals twisted his stomach, it never more apparent that these were just kids. Frightened, only strong enough to refuse to cower. As dangerous as they supposedly were, whatever battles or villains they boasted, he couldn’t let them die here, so far from home, for the ambitions of a cruel man who saw them as little more than obstacles to be broken.

“This is who the Princess hired to help her? She would have been better off hiring the marine.” He took another drag and met Luffy’s eyes from where he sat on the ground.

You’ll only get one chance, Monkey D. Luffy.

“And they couldn’t even protect her. She and Miss All Sunday should already be on their way.” Crocodile said and gestured for River to sit beside him. No sense letting lunch grow cold while they waited.

“I knew it was a mistake to trust him,” Usopp whispered to them all.

‘No’, Luffy and Smoker were surprised they both spoke at once.

“He has a plan.” Zoro said.

They only had to wait a few minutes, long enough for River and Crocodile to both have a glass of wine when the Princess announced her presence.

“Crocodile!” She yelled, not wasting a moment to fly down the steps to try to catch the warlord off guard.

But River vaulted over the table faster than she could take aim, and her peacock blade shattered in his fist, sending fragments of metal and turquoise all over the floor.

“Your rage leaves little room for critical thinking, Princess.” Crocodile sipped his wine while River made easy work of tying her to one of the carved chairs with his own scarf.

“Too tight?” He asked her, but only risked getting a headbutt in response as she thrashed.

“I wish you had never come to this country at all! But I’ll amend that today, and finally kill you.” The chair scraped and tapped the floor with her struggling.

“Not like that, you won’t. Relax, the party is just beginning. Yes?” Crocodile looked to River and Miss All Sunday, who had appeared behind the furious Vivi.

She looked at her watch. “Yes, Sir. It’s noon, and Operation Utopia has officially begun.”

“What is—,” Crocodile held up his hand to hush the frightened murmurs and questions of the prisoners while they reeled.

“Perpetually late and always wrong, Princess. I never wanted to conquer this country—I wanted to wipe it from the face of the earth. And over a decade in the making, it won’t even be me. You’ll destroy yourselves, won’t you? Precious rebels and a worthless king are more volatile than gunpowder in this heat.”

“… You’re going to kill my father? What point does that serve?!” Vivi screeched and continued to yank at her bonds.

“You’re still. Not. Thinking.” He tapped his cigar in the ash tray. Tap. Tap. “Why would I kill him? He’ll suffer a fate worse than death. The king is going to fire the first shot.” ____ ___ __ _

Across the country in Nanohana, Koza and his black horse raced through the streets towards the center of the city.

Why now? Why would the king choose now, of all days, to speak to the people?

When his men brought him news that the king and a number of his troops were requesting an audience, he hadn’t known what to expect. Would it be a declaration of war? After all these months? Or a public claim of his innocence?

And he wanted to believe it didn’t matter. That it wouldn’t heal some part of him for the king to admit his wrongdoing and pledge to fix it. To say he still cared for his people, the way Koza remembered him.

Regarding unfinished business, Aurelio had arrived to the rebel camp before dawn, as planned, though he found there was little to do to sway the leader’s mind after the news that Cobra marched on Nanohana.

“You came all the way from the New World for little to nothing,” Koza had said as he yanked the straps tight on his saddle.

“Your letter came late, nearly illegible. If Dragon was any less of a suspicious man, he would have sent no one at all,” Aurelio said.

“So he sends a SINGLE scout, weeks late, and when we no longer have time to wait for reinforcements?” He gets into the older man’s space, nose to nose, close enough to realize he had stepped inside an imperceptible barrier. Too close, suffocating, now unable to back out—trapped until the other man said his peace.

“Do not let the fact that I am alone make you believe I cannot help you.” He said each word slowly, measured by syllable as proof of restraint, and Koza finally took a step back to breathe.

He looked to the sky to check the time, and an owl’s silhouette broke the sun. “Fine. Wait for my orders. We don’t have enough weapons, you can start by helping to arm the rest.”

Aurelio nodded.

The moment Koza’s dark horse disappeared down the road, the dissent among the troops was clear. “So why were the Oasins armed before us? They’ve only been here a few months.”

“Yeah, we’ve been here for almost a year and were never given a weapon.”

“Will that stop you from protecting yourself?” Aurelio said, beside them. “When you are afraid for your life, the safety of your families, even your bare hands will serve you. But if you insist on a crutch—”

He reached to the building that housed their troops and ripped a board from its wall with a swift yank, tossing the splintered wood at the soldier’s feet. “There. A weapon.”

By the time Koza made it to the center of the city, the king had already begun to speak. A man he hardly recognized stood before the crowd, no longer a king, but a tyrant that declared this city was the last piece of evidence to his deception against the rest of the country. And that they could no longer pretend to be useful to him.

So when he felt the bullet pierce his body, the air gone from his lungs and taking his spirited shout, he believed it to be justified. That the man he remembered was gone, and the rest of his home would soon follow. Should follow? They had little choice.

“Let’s finally destroy this country.” He said to the rebel that held him.

“Sir? What are you saying? Leader! Wake up!” They shook him but no response. His order’s were clear.

Aurelio arrived with the rest of their troops to carry out his wishes, though the borrowed revolutionary held no motives to obey, except to minimize civilian causalities. For all his sympathies, he had little patience to allow the rage of a betrayed nation, except to protect them from each other.

Smoke rose to the sky with the popping of gunshots, and the cracking of heat-weakened walls as rebels and the king’s men clashed in the streets.

“Watch out! Get away!” He heard clearer than the rest of the frightened howling, and looked to the sky to see a ship breaching the shore, skipping the harbor to fly towards the populated city center.

“Shit—” He ripped away from the civilians in his arms, shoved them towards the nearest intact building before taking off for the ship in a series of staccato blinks.

“Where is he going?!”

“Not that way!” They yelled after him.

On the deck, Miss Double-finger and Mr. 1 saw a tiny dot charge into their path.

“Impossible.”

“Is that—”

CRACK. The bang of the ship colliding with what felt like an invisible wall knocked the agents off their feet, deafening to the civilians that watched horrified as they saw the bow met by a—by—

“A man?!” They shouted, unable to look away.

His palms extended, he braced himself between the bow and the sandy street, his teeth gnashed and wide back ready to burst under the force of the ship pushing him back, burying his steel legs into the ground to carve their path. But he wouldn’t go down.

He didn’t stop the ship, no more than slow it down, but just one life spared was enough.

And he never went down.

The civilians that found him, buried under the shredded bow of the ship, ripped open under his reinforced hands like an eviscerated beast, found him alive. They pulled him from the splintered wood and broken ground, letting their tears patter on his face when they couldn’t wait for him to open his eyes to tell him he saved them.

And Koza, as he watched Aurelio awake with a gasp, coughing up powdered stone, wanted to tell him he was sorry.

“They really did send help.” ____ ___ __ _

Down in the bunker and forced to listen, Vivi found no more strength to struggle. “You’re a monster. Worse than that, pure evil.”

Luffy, despite the effort being moot, continued to gnaw at the bars of the cage, spurred on by hearing the warlord’s plan laid out in it’s meticulous and cruel entirety.

“Is he stupid?” River said with a raised eyebrow and another drag off his cigarette.

“Yeah. Yeah, he is,” Zoro said, smiling.

“And what about Oasis?” Vivi shouted when her fight returned, spitefully pleased when River turned to scowl at her.

“Why are you doing this, Mr. i? Oasis will fall without Alabasta. What do you hope to gain?”

“Never—,” he said, firmly, as he stubbed out his cigarette. “Presume to know anything about my motivations. Oasis existed when this island was nothing but warring states, and when it nearly killed itself to produce a king, WE survived. My island will go on with or without you, and I will do anything to ensure they survive.”

And it wasn’t a lie. He would do anything to protect his people. Oasis would go on with or without Alabasta. But he left unsaid that Oasis gave up their favorite son all those centuries ago, and would continue to give. Seth, the Hunter of the Ennead’s first General, left behind his family and father to fight beside the mainlanders to unite the island and help them find their peace.

He wouldn’t survive to see the monarchy that rose, or watch his children grow tall. It would be the duty of his descendants, on the eve of another war, to remind Oasis of their duty to the mainland, and that their “survival”, a hollow, fragmented existence, was the only guarantee as long as they continued to pretend Alabasta and Oasis were ever enemies.

Beside River, Miss All Sunday answered her snail phone. “Mr. 0, the Billions are ready to move on to Alubarna.”

“And we will follow. Princess, you have one more choice to make. Come with us, try to save your country and your father. Or stay, and save four pirates.”

He held up a golden key to twinkle in the lights, and all eyes in the cage leaned forward to watch it wave back and forth.

On queue, River cut the Princess free of her bonds, and her anger turned to momentum, lunging for the key, chasing it out of Crocodile’s grip and down to the floor. Never let it be said that Crocodile didn’t use every advantage at his disposal, and the key was out of her grip with just a tap of his heel to open a single floor tile. Down it went, to another room.

“You can still get it. Better hurry,” Crocodile watched her contemplate jumping until Bananawani began to fill the hole, believing the chute brought food. They hissed, searching and irritated to find none, and River heard the mechanical whirl of the lift winding itself up.

Not part of the plan.

“You said you would flood the basement, drown them,” River said, gesturing to the cage of pirates.

“And I didn’t lie. The princess needs a little motivation to decide quickly. And besides, once the water flooded in, pushed these stone walls to the point of breaking, what did you think would happen?”

From where Crocodile and Miss All Sunday walked to evacuate at their leisure, he waited only a short minute before calling over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”

“I—” River looked to Vivi as she crouched beside the chute, hot tears on her face. The Strawhats clamored for height as the water rose to their ankles and climbed. They looked back at him.

Didn’t you promise to help us?

“I’ll be right behind you. I... haven’t seen Coco in days, I want to make sure he eats.”

“You’re unbelievable. Don’t take too long.” Crocodile rolled his eyes and left River with a wave.

When he was sure they had walked out of earshot, the sound of the secondary lift confirming they had gone, he ran back to the hostages.

Vivi screamed into the mouth of the wani that arrived on the lift, and River’s boot came down hard on the sensitive skin of their snout. Their head whipped back, too far not to hurt, and the massive animal flopped over to retreat. On land, the wani were easy with the right amount of power, but when the chamber finally flooded, they would all be lucky to drown first.

“You took too long!” Vivi cried at him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll let you do it next time!” River snapped at her, wading through the water to the cage.

“But what are we going to do? He threw the key in with the wani!” Nami said.

“There is no key! Don’t you get it? That key wouldn’t free you… It’s not fun for him unless you have hope.” River said, and Nami’s cheeks colored, embarrassed, as she watched him examine the lock.

Well, he decided, to just smash it was easier and quicker. He reinforced his fist and brought it down on both the lock and the hinge.

“Come on, faster, the bananas are getting—closerr.” Luffy scrabbled at the bars before melting into the water at his feet.

“Stop touching the cage!” Usopp yelled.

“So this was your plan all along,” came Crocodile’s low voice as it raked up all their spines like the tip of a sharp, poisoned hook.

River looked to him, fist primed to finish breaking the lock. “Not all along. Just after I knew I had found someone who could defeat you.”

“Does your partner know?”

“No. I mean, they must have some idea that I was planning something but I’ve never shared my intentions with them. They have never helped me.”

“And you wouldn’t lie about that. Not so well, at least.”

The damaged lock rattled in his shaking hands. “These kids are leaving here, Crocodile. I will free them.”

There’s a heavy beat of silence as the flooding chamber roars. Long enough for both of them to pick fight or flight, live or die, and decide if they could shoulder the consequences: the reality that only one of them would leave here.

“Fine. You are free to betray me. Just as I am free to be rid of you.”

River pounded his fist against the lock one more time and it snapped inward, letting the door fall open on it’s bent hinge.

“Get rid of me then!” He shook out one arm to grab his swords. “You have to kill me… But I only have to slow you down.”

“You—”

“Sorry I’m late! Vivi, my sweet! Nami, my world!”

Crocodile looked to the familiar voice to see a blonde in a suit, the same man who had called as he made ground and informed him of the second (successful) siege on the casino. He had entered the basement believing to find him, not his River.

“Get them out of here! Go!” River yelled to him, and Crocodile found it hard to comprehend any thought beyond the absurdity of Mr. Prince kicking back the Bananawani to further aid the hostages—on his River’s order.

CLANG. His hook rattled with the strike of a silver sword, and sand twisted up around them as they bared their teeth at each other.

“Don’t look away from me,” River ground out, demanded as he let loose swipe after swipe that Crocodile was forced to parry and dodge, or be cut by the blades that shone with a lapis blue coating.

A single arc of his sand, sharp and stinging, was enough to switch their roles as River stumbled back and back again. Though he was nimble, he was unused to fighting logia users that moved even quicker than he did. Crocodile quickly overpowered him, his body so much more than his human form as it whipped around them in millions of tiny granules that stung in microscopic wounds.

“He’s going to kill him, we have to go back!” Vivi yelled to her friends, but the collapsing walls of the bunker overpowered her voice with rushing water and crumbling stone.

A whip of sand shot out to drag River back into his striking range but was blocked by two crossed swords. Crocodile wanted to scream at him, berate him, demand he act like he was ready to kill him too.

But if River was going to see those kids get free, he just needed to survive a little longer.

“You don’t have to die here.” Crocodile’s growl rattles his chest, begging him—a threat that he hadn’t heard himself make in at least a decade. To want something so badly, that he would forgive almost anything.

“If living means I stand by your side as a prince to a savaged country, I have no other choice.”

Crocodile fist aches, he thinks his fingers might break as he stands under a wave of memories, of the crushing weight of never again, and the goodbye they weren’t strong enough to say out loud.

“No… You would have been a king.”

The air crackles, too thick to swallow, and River knows something has changed with the sudden dizzying force of Crocodile’s blows, one after another, uncaring of how River’s swords sting and bruise.

He holds up his arms to defend himself, all of his haki loaded to his front to prevent from being run clean through, and the connecting wave of sand that hits him slams his brain against his skull as it throws him across the room.

The floor passes his vision but he never lands, still falling, too far down, and into the feeding pit.

Water floods the room as the last wall gives, breaking the cage into pieces and forcing the Strawhats to flee, whether by water or up the stairs. The fight is over for now, and Crocodile is already leaving the way he came.

“No… NO!” Vivi screamed as Sanji put his arm around her waist to drag her away, harder than he meant to, and with apologies neither could really hear beyond her cries and the roar of the water rushing in to drown the bunker entirely.

From where Miss All Sunday watched the destruction from the safety of the street, the answer to her question came in the absolutely lost gaze of the warlord when he materialized on the city side of the bridge.

He swayed when his legs took his weight, his eyes unseeing while they stared fixed at… somewhere else. If he had orders, he didn’t say them out loud, and was back to sand before she could ask, off to Alubarna to turn his grief into results.

Robin looked to the lake, the commotion all but gone from her ears.

So you did it. The princess and the pirates are off to finish this.

Thank you, River. For all your hard work. ____ ___ __ _

“I don’t recall asking you to join me,” River said.

“Hm.” Crocodile contemplated the verbal rejection, and reached into his coat pocket for a plain, ribbon-bound box.

“I’ll leave your present here then. Don’t let the wani eat it.”

River pulled the ribbon free by one of it’s tails, careful not to let it slip into the water, and removed the lid.

It only took seconds for him to rush inside, passed the startled staff, down to Crocodile’s suite, uncaring of the water he trekked inside on bare feet and his soaked clothes, onto everything he touched from the dripping ends of his hair.

The thump of a book closing, leather-soled loafers suddenly on the floor, lead him down the hall to the parlor where they first danced together.

“River?” He called to him, perfectly still as he watched him stand in the doorway, soaked with a wild, aching stare.

River had never crossed the room in so few steps, leaping into ready arms that welcomed him to take, to soak his clothes through while he spoke his woes into his cheek.

“Why would you give me that? Why can’t you just...” He smothered his wet eyes in Crocodile’s shirt collar. The cool nose against his hair, paired with a gentle kiss, shushed him and stilled his shakes.

“4 days, River.”

Until the curtain falls.

“4… days,” he repeated, slowly.

He gripped his shirt until his nails ached, and Crocodile’s hand came up to cup his chin. But rather than ask for a kiss, he pressed his lips to his forehead. At least River wouldn’t see the way agony twisted his frown.

“Don’t kiss me. I can’t bear it,” River said into the warm air between their faces, though his arms were steel, unwilling to let go.

“Because you hate me?”

Crocodile met his wilting gaze, counting the seawater drops on his lashes and admiring the drip of his wet bangs onto his cheeks. It was as close to the ocean as he would ever know again, to swim in the eyes of his last love, the one that never refused to kiss him, even when he was outed as a weak man.

“Because I can never hate you.”

He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until River kisses him, and his good hand aches as he threads his fingers into wet hair. They both give easily under the weight of weeks without so much as a brush of their hands. River tastes the sorrow on his tongue, coffee on his breath, and wondered if to Crocodile, he tasted like “thank you”.

He knows Crocodile must feel it between them, safe in his pocket: his gift.

A single feather from a kingfisher bird, it’s silk hairs split between lapis blue and the orange-pink of a well-worn sunset.

A promise that in 4 days, he was free.

Whether they stood together or on opposite sides of the battlefield at Alubarna, even if their feelings were the only piece of them that survived the ravage of an ailing, prostrated nation. And in the embrace of one another, so close to goodbye, River could admit he mourned them, and Crocodile could admit he mourned himself.

That he wasn’t the kind of man anymore to change for something soft like love. Or for anyone.

That they weren’t lovers from a storybook, who might abandon everything and run off to an island where no one knew their names.

“Thank you, River,” he said against warm lips.

“For what?”

For reminding me I’m capable of love. Even if it wasn’t enough.

“For letting me touch the ocean again.”

River’s tears run silently down his cheeks to his lips, kissed away in gentle presses. A taste of the ocean.

“Thank you, Crocodile.” His breath stuttered, caught on tobacco and golden eyes. “For being kind to me.”

It was as close to goodbye as they could be. Not when they would see each other tomorrow, and the next day. Whether they died or lived to become enemies, they would never be strangers again, and River knew he would never be able to meet him, months later, years later, without remembering fennel toothpaste and a warm arm around his waist, swaying them to the beat of a band. ____ ___ __ _

Above ground, the fighting subsided at Raindinners, and Smoker found himself hauled from the saltwater lake by the second of the Strawhats, to the chagrin of his pride and the gratitude of his pounding heart. Zoro tensed beside him when he opened his stinging eyes, wondering if they would have a fight after all.

“… Go,” Smoker commanded with a rasp of his weak throat. “Before I change my mind.”

But Zoro just stared at him, too disbelieving to move until Nami called to him.

“Zoro, we need to go!”

He watched the kids retreat, and the surface of the water rippled with the stirring of the wani. A geyser of saltwater shot up towards the sky, soaking the marine again as he snatched his jute from his back.

But the wani that reared itself from the lake, gigantic body breaking the midday sun into streaks, made no move to attack him. It clung to the concrete edge, claws dug in like rail spikes, merely hissed at him.

Beside the wani’s enormous paw lay a body splayed on their back, long black hair tossed around them like seaweed and deadly still except a dribble of foam that slipped down his cheek from his lips.

“Mr. i—” SHIK. His movement towards River was cut off by a swipe of the wani’s vitiligo-white paw, and a roar from their speckled mouth.

“Stop that,” he snapped. “If no one helps him, he’s going to die. You big, banana—”

“Captain Smoker!” Tashigi’s shout interrupted him. She ran to his side with her own blade sheathed, hands reaching for his jute.

“Captain, put your weapon away! Please, Bananawani are highly territorial. You risk them taking the man back under the water if they’re frightened enough.”

She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a pamphlet to show him. “I picked this up when we made land, it seemed important to brush up on all potential threats.”

Smoke puffed from his mouth as he read. “A Wayfarers Guide to Safety Protocol for A. Bananawani, by River Faustina. It’s for tourists.”

“It says their noses are sensitive, and that they like coconuts.”

“I don’t have any coconuts,” Smoker said with a growl, and gripped his jute again.

“Will you put that thing down?! I mean, sir!” Tashigi snatched the pamphlet back and held her hands up to the beast.

“That man needs medical attention, mister—misses—wani… I’m going to take him. There’s a coconut in it for you. Two coconuts if you’re lucky.”

“Why do you have coconuts?” Smoker grumbled, feeling a headache coming on.

“Potential threats, sir. How about it, wani? A crunchy coco—” She flinched when the wani hissed, all of it’s white teeth on display.

“HIYA!” She gave a war cry and rocketed the coconuts into the wani’s open mouth, hard enough to bounce off their uvula and knock them back into the lake.

Smoker dashed forward on white plumes, scooping up River’s limp body to carry him a safe distance from the water’s edge. He pressed a glove hand to his neck, worried when such a hard jostle didn’t wake him.

“Tashigi! Find a doctor!” ____ ___ __ _

He had always been a talented swimmer.

But when River found himself airborne, sent flying by a wall of compacted sand that bruised his arms and scratched his face, the crack of the water against his back sent all the air in his lungs rushing out in violent bubbles. Foam made for pitiful last words.

Hungry wani blacked out the light that shone down the shoot, and his body whipped around, back and forth with the water that was churned up from the wani biting at one another to lay claim over their unexpected snack. Stray claws nicked his skin, and a white muzzle clamping down on the neck of another wani left him blind in the suddenly red water.

But beneath the impossible pressure of the water in his ears, his lungs trading air for bloody bubbles, he heard that voice.

You are free to betray me. Just as I am free to be rid of you.

He pawed at the water, continuing struggle even as he tasted salty copper and only found stars behind his eyelids. His own voice responded.

For months, I prepared myself to die. I found danger, told my friends everything would be fine, and thought of nothing but you. That if I left only one person free of you, it was enough.

But to leave Claudia with nothing to bury, that I will not forgive.

Despite his efforts, his spilled blood and broken heart, River would be gone before he could feel the giant tooth that hooked onto his belt loop, lifting him to the surface and dropping him on the ground from a deceptively gentle, albeit hissing mouth.

He never felt the marine captain compressing his chest for long minutes, from the time he sent the lieutenant away to the moment she returned. He never felt his chest lurch to spew the water from his lungs in foam onto the street.

And when his eyes finally peeled open, he was staring up at the gilded, peeling ceiling of a hotel suite with overly-starched linens beneath his aching, naked back.

“You’re finally awake,” came a rumble of a voice beside his bed. The white-haired marine from the cage sat in a chair as fashionable but old as the rest of the room with official looking documents in his hands, carefully folded to prevent any peeking.

“What—” River’s voice came out a croak, weak and stinging from his near-drowning.

“Where are the kids?” He managed after a few swallows.

One of Smoker’s eyebrows shot up, surely the marine expected his first question to be different. He took in the hollows under his striking eyes, hair still damp and tangled around his shoulders, desperate hands gripped tight in the patched sheets.

“I’ll ask the questions, Mr. i.”

“No,” he ground out, his voice threatening to break under such sudden demands.

“No, where are those kids? Are they alive? Where is—,” a wet cough cut him off, “Where is that bastard Crocodile?”

“Are you going to fight him in your condition? The Strawhats are fine, they’ve gone to fight him in Alubarna. And I’m here with questions for one of his officers.”

River laid back, and the air slipped easily from his lungs with the knowledge of their safe escape. “Thank goodness… What’s your name, Mr. Marine?”

He felt a blush come to his face unbidden at the relaxed and patient gaze of the wounded man that was pillowed among his hair. “You can call me Captain Smoker. Your full name?”

“My name is River Joel Faustina, Mr. Smoker.”

“Captain—”

“Captain.” He smiled, wetting his cracked lips with his tongue to ensure his next words didn’t stutter.

“In my room, suite 309, there’s a suitcase under the bed. Please take it.”

“What’s in it?” Smoker regarded him with his usual hard-boiled suspicion.

“Evidence. There’s shipment manifests, financial statements, transcribed conversations and audio tapes.”

“Most people think to bargain with their evidence beforehand. What do you want for it?”

He wets his lips again, refusing to look away. “Nothing.”

“Everyone wants something. And while I’m not above sending you to Impel Down for your crimes alone…”

He smoked quietly for a moment, pondering the man who seemed downright gentle while he lay wounded, despite all he was accused. Who breathed a sigh of relief that the young pirates were not only safe but well enough to continue the fight. It knotted his stomach, the possibility that he was arresting a—not innocent—but coerced man, who would be killed in Impel Down if things went forward as they were. And yet, River refused to speak.

“… You have my ear, Mr. Faustina. Make a case for yourself right now, and we can propose a lesser sentence—”

Putter, putter, putter. The ringing of a snail phone interrupted him. Far away, presumably left in the pocket of his soaked coat when he hung it up in the other room.

“Don’t move,” he pointed a stern finger, and stood to answer the call.

“Where am I going to go, Mr. Smoker?” River gave a tired smile, a wet cough.

He left only long enough to fetch the snail, still ringing when he came back to find the bed empty and hear the shouts of his marines outside.

He yelled out the window. “Don’t kill him! That’s my witness!”

River outran them, no great feat with the statistically measured aim of the average marine, but it was enough to flee. The regrouping marines were still too scattered to catch him, and he was too desperate to care that he fled unarmed, half-dressed and barefooted.

He had to get to Alubarna. Crocodile was going to be defeated.

And he needed to see it.

#one piece #sir crocodile #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile x oc #mirage in the desert #male reader #ao3 fanfic #oc fanfiction #writing #x reader #x oc

7 notes · View notes

moonchildstyles · 3 years ago

Text

blush

y/n is a makeup artist and she doesn't think she's ever had a better halloween

wordcount: 26.5k+

—————

Harry Lambert wants to message you!

The notification pinged at the top of (Y/N)'s phone, the familiar Instagram icon shining in a rainbow gradient. It wasn't too odd that someone was requesting to DM her professional page, but it was the name that caught her eye. She knew she recognized it, whether it be through the chatter in the beauty world or simply someone she used to know, she couldn't put her finger on it. That's what made her open this request amid the couple of dozen from strangers that still went unanswered.

Hello! I'm a personal stylist and I have a client with a couple of important events scheduled on October 30th and 31st and we were looking for a makeup artist for the looks we had planned. I came across your work and from what I've seen, I think you'd be perfect for what we're looking for! If you're interested, let me know and we can talk about details!

If not for the familiar name (and shining blue checkmark), (Y/N) would have written off the message completely. The lack of details made her suspicious, but it was easy enough to swipe to his profile and snoop on the legitimacy of his claim. A quick scroll of his feed showcased editorial-like photographs, some in subdued filters while others were vivid and surreal, but each one showcased bold makeup looks accompanying Gucci-esque, avant-garde style choices made by the man himself. While the pictures were beautiful, she didn't spot anything recognizable that would explain why she knew his name.

Until she found a photo of Harry Styles draped in a Gucci suit at the Brits.

That's how she knew him.

Scrolling further, she found the now iconic leather suit Harry Styles wore to the Grammy's, green feather boa and all posted to the feed. Now that she knew what to look for, the further and further down she looked at Harry Lambert's posts, more and more of Mr. Styles could be found on his page. It all made sense now, how she had heard this name before.

His name had been printed in Vogue, GQ, Cosmo, Allure literally anywhere that paid any attention to fashion and how Harry Styles was setting trends and shifting the view of what clothing represented in terms of individuality and self-expression. Each one mentioned Harry Lambert, the same person that was in her DM's currently, and his eccentric styling choices.

And he wanted her to be a part of 'upcoming events' for a client of his.

Swiping away from the profile, (Y/N) opened up the awaiting message. Underneath Mr. Lambert's username, a small green dot resided, indicating he was online.

Thank you so much for reaching out! I'm definitely interested!! What type of event is this for?

—————

It was raining when (Y/N) stepped out of LaGuardia airport, the holding area for waiting Ubers crowded with both tourists and true New Yorkers ready to hit the road. The difference was easy to spot in the way she and her assistant, Vera, fit in much better with the brightly dressed tourists that held wonder in their eyes over what the city less than ten miles away held, while the people returning home looked ready to scream if one more tourist said anything about the Statue of Liberty.

New York was a definite change to the L.A. area that typically drove (Y/N)'s portfolio.

Nonetheless, she couldn't be more excited to be here. After getting more details from Mr. Lambert about what kind of event he was wanting her assistance on, she had an out of body experience when he revealed it was for a pair of Harry Styles concerts scheduled for the Halloween weekend, affectionately dubbed 'Harryween'. But, (Y/N) remained as professional as she could while asking for more information and eventually passing along her professional number so they could speak over the phone.

Since the event was so far out at the time, there were only so many details to be shared concerning what kind of costumes Mr. Styles was going to wear along with the preferred makeup that he wanted to go along with the looks. It was then she learned that not only was she being called in to serve Mr. Styles, but the rest of his band of six other musicians, making it a two person job with Vera needing to tag along. Most of the remaining information given was time and place with a few mockups of what the costumes were to look like when they were finally finished (the Dorothy plan was her personal favorite). But that had been months ago, just before Harry Styles embarked on his Love On Tour run around America.

Today, Mr. Styles and his team were to be in New York for a few days, readying for a pair of shows at Madison Square Garden before going on the road again (only to return a week later for another show at the same venue, then return again at the end of the month for Harryween). When corresponding with Mr. Lambert, they decided this would be a good time for her to come out, meet with them, and get an idea of what she was getting herself into. The costumes had been finalized only days prior to their scheduled meeting, the garments being shipped out from Alessandro Michele himself, Gucci labels stitched inside every custom piece, making it much easier to get a clear idea of how Mr. Styles wanted his face painted.

She had been floored when they offered to fly her out—not only once, but twice for both the meeting and the shows themselves!—and put her up in a hotel for the time being, especially when she mentioned she would be needing another person's help, but it was as if the extra cost didn't even register. Mr. Lambert had only sent back a 'Perfect!!' accompanied by a grinning emoji, the idea of another body being added to the mix never swaying him.

That was how she found herself with shaky hands wrapped around the handle of her suitcase, with native Californian Vera beside her shivering from the chilled drizzle raining from the sky.

"This is why I never wanted to come to New York—even for fashion week," Vera chattered next to her, huddled close as if layers of clothing she put between herself and the forty degree weather weren't enough.

"You'll be fine," (Y/N) laughed, stepping out of the way as a man who looked too preoccupied with the phone in his hand to be courteous of those around him raced towards his waiting Uber, "We'll be inside most of the time anyway, then we'll be home again by Friday, where it'll be seventy-five degrees and sunny for you."

Vera grumbled something about it not being soon enough under her breath, something (Y/N) ignored in favor of checking on her phone for the status of her ride. After finding they still had another five minutes of waiting (and Vera's complaining) before their driver would be here, another text from Mr. Lambert came through.

I hope you had a good flight and welcome to love on tour! Let me know when you and Vera are settled and Harry and I will come by and meet you both! x

The fact he welcomed her as if she were a real part of this production drew a glowing smile on (Y/N)'s features. Since being asked to be apart of the project, (Y/N) went out of her way to learn more about what she was now playing a small role in. She kept up with each show, noting the evolving uniform Mr. Styles wore on stage and the absolute showmanship that went into every, single concert. It was an honor to be a part of something that was so clearly impactful for everyone involved, especially Mr. Styles himself and the thousands of adoring fans that flooded the venues every night.

Sending him back a quick message, (Y/N) suddenly felt light on her feet again as if the six hour flight didn't happen and she wasn't completely thrown off by the new timezone they entered. She was about to meet two of her newest idols and officially join a production that had wiggled its way into her heart the more she learned about it. There was no room for low energy when her brain was already racing with what kind of looks she was going to have the privilege of painting onto Mr. Styles' face.

"I think that's us," (Y/N) peeped through her smile, spotting what looked like it could be the 2009 Nissan Altima that was tasked with picking them up (she had to Google what those even looked like when she received what make and model to be looking out for).

Vera jumped at the opportunity to sit in a warm car as if she'd been in the rain for longer than the seven minutes they spent on the corner. She all but dragged (Y/N) to the car, popping her head through the rolled down window and double checking their driver's name before stashing their luggage in the trunk.

"Finally," she sighed, sinking into the faux leather seat, warm air pulsing right in her face.

"Are you not even a little excited to be here?" (Y/N) questioned, tone light and teasing despite the fact she was now getting a little worried Vera wasn't as happy as she was.

"You know I am," she said, rolling her head on the rest behind it, "this is an insane opportunity, and we get to work with Harry fucking Styles. Of course, I'm excited, I just don't like the cold and I'm always heavily reminded of that the second I step out of California."

"Well, just pretend like you don't know its cold out when you meet them. I don't want either of them to think we don't want to be here," (Y/N) directed, grabbing for her phone to double check the room reservation for their hotel.

Vera agreed with a sigh, keening like a cat under the warm air blowing through the cab, leaving (Y/N) to look out in wonder at the slowly approaching city.

—————

"Is that them right there?"

(Y/N)'s followed the discreet point of Vera's finger, finding a pair of men huddled in a corner of the hotel lobby. One was clearly Mr. Lambert with his head of bleach blonde cropped hair, beaded necklaces around his neck and nails a brightly colored pink as he gesticulated around his words. The other was much more quietly dressed, only a pair of black athletic shorts (in this kind of weather, she had to assume there was something a little insane about that choice) and a heavy, baggy hoodie with the word Pleasing scrawled over it in white ink. A faded blue hat concealed what she was sure was a wave of iconic brown curls underneath, the blue of the cap matching the checkerboard pattern on his dirty Vans.

That was Harry Styles.

A folder full of blank face charts as well as a few marked with her ideas began to shake against her chest, her hands a little unsteady now that he was right in front of her. For the brief moment she had left before Vera would undoubtedly tug her towards them, (Y/N) allowed herself to feel all the nerves and anticipation she wanted now that she was going to meet someone she had become enamored with in the last months. She'd never met anyone as important as him—as widely known and loved as Harry Styles himself—while working in California, despite the promises that had been made that L.A. was the land of stars that were just aching for a so-called 'glam squad'. And, she definitely never met anyone who just seeing photos of made her heart bubble.

But, once those seconds passed, that reprieve she was offered just before Vera's grip tightened on her elbow, she reminded herself that this was her client.

Until the moment the curtains dropped on October thirty-first, and his show was over, he was going to be her client. He wasn't going to be Harry Styles, the man who's Instagram she shamelessly stalked since the day she was offered the job, the man who's tour she was more than up to date with, and who's discography was no doubt going to be in the top slots of her year end streaming stats. He was going to be Mr. Styles, a kind and well-paying client who wanted the best of her services for two very important events in his career.

Though the smallest part of her brain continued to rattle as she heard Vera whisper I think it is before resolutely tugging (Y/N) to the concealed corner of their hotel lobby, she took in a deep breath and boxed away all of her nerves and excitement as best she could. That box was then shoved to the furthest corner of her mind, only to be unpacked when she was safely by herself and could properly freak out.

Mr. Lambert noticed them first, falling silent as he whipped his head in their direction. A bright smile and a wave greeted them, clearly recognizing (Y/N). Mr. Styles was quick to find who his colleague was distracted by, his own tanned face breaking into a soft-lipped smile, dimples in his cheeks, once she caught sight of the two girls approaching.

"(Y/N), love," Mr. Lambert beamed when they drew close enough, reaching out towards her as if they were old friends, "How was the flight?"

Vera's hand on her arm slipped away as Mr. Lambert drew (Y/N) in for a friendly hug, careful of the folder tucked into her chest. Some of the tension glittering in her spine dwindled at the warm welcome, a quick reminder that as much as she admired them, in that moment, she was a colleague to them.

"It was really good—long, but we made it," she smiled, drawing away to allow him to see the matching smile on her face, "Thank you for asking, Mr. Lambert."

His features pinched at her words, brows drawing together in displeasure, "Don't have to call me that—I'd prefer if you didn't actually. Making me sound old. Harry is just fine, darling."

She resisted the urge to apologize, reminding herself she was a colleague and not someone she trying to impress into being her friend. Instead, she nodded her head and said, "Okay, Harry."

At the sound of her words, the man beside them perked up. "Hm?" he hummed, responding to the call of his name.

"She was talking to me, Sue—not everything's about you, you know," Harry (Lambert, that is. She realized this was going to be hard to keep straight) teased, eyes narrowed towards Harry (Styles).

"You're so mean to me," he grumbled in response, a sly smile coloring his features as he bumped Harry L. with his shoulder. Directing his attention to (Y/N), Mr. Styles stuck his hand out for her to shake, "(Y/N), right?"

"That's me," she beamed, resisting the urge to rock on the balls of her feet like a schoolgirl in puppy love, "It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Styles."

All the stories about him and the relentless eye contact he favored, (Y/N) found to be true in that moment. None of the photographs or videos did the color of his eyes justice, the green of his iris floating like a lilypad in his sclera. It was grounding, anchoring her to the moment, at the same time his attention took her somewhere else entirely.

"Th-This," she stuttered, gesturing to her left where Vera was patiently waiting, though (Y/N) was sure there were thousands of teasing remarks in her head waiting to bubble up the second they were alone, "is Vera. She's going to be helping out with the rest of the band and everything else for the shows."

Mr. Styles was the first to greet her with a warm smile on his face, reaching a tan hand out to shake. (Y/N) listened to his muttered greeting, the words a quiet rumble in their concealed corner before Mr. Lambert offered a brief hug as a welcome gesture. She took a step back as Vera bubbled her thanks for the opportunities and excitement for being here, completely disregarding the sour mood she had landed in New York with.

"There's a little cafe here at the hotel," Mr. Lambert said, addressing the group of them, "and I was thinking we could sit down and discuss ideas there. H has to get to soundcheck in a couple of hours, but I think that should be enough time to get some plans made, right?"

Mr. Styles—H—nodded his head, his eyes flitting over to (Y/N), "Need to be out of here by two-thirty at the latest, I think. Is that enough time for you?"

(Y/N) perked up at his attention, clutching her face charts tighter to her chest, "Yeah, that's fine! I brought a couple of ideas already, so we'll have somewhere to start, hopefully."

Mr. Lambert chattered off a perky Perfect! before peering down the lobby, searching for the directions for the so-called cafe. He herded them in the right direction, Mr. Styles falling in step beside his stylist, asking him something about the final touches on the night's outfit. Vera was quick to grab for (Y/N)'s elbow, her eyes wide with a sly smile curling on her lips.

"What was that back there?" she whispered, grip pulsing on (Y/N)'s arm as if that would extract more information from her, "I've never seen you get all stuttery like that around clients."

"I was just—I mean... He was—"

"Oh my god, do you like him?"

(Y/N)'s feet stuttered, her toe catching on the expensive marble printed tile under her feet, "Vera, be quiet! I was just really looking forward to this and it took me off guard that he was right there, you know?"

Vera let out a disbelieving hum as the entrance to the cafe came into view. "Sure," she smiled with a shake of her head.

The cafe was cute, (Y/N) decided when they stepped into the Parisian-esque set up that went with the French vibed hotel. The hostess came in the form of a barista behind a pastry counter, machines for any kind of coffee to be dreamt up gleaming behind the set up. Others dressed in the same cranberry hues of the uniform scuttled around the almost-empty cafe, the only occupied tables coming in the form of one clearly hungover woman nursing a black coffee, and the other housing someone talking loudly on a Zoom call with the volume all the way up. Apparently, they were planning a family reunion, but Aunt Beatrice was still pissed that Gwenyth didn't ask her to cater her wedding.

Interesting.

A sign by the entrance instructed guest to seat themselves and order at the counter when ready. Mr. Lambert walked in like he knew the place well, picking one of the tables in the corner of the set up, furthest from the entrance and from the Zoom call as they could be. (And, (Y/N) figured, away from prying eyes that might notice that this was literally Harry Styles and possibly leak his location as well as ask for photographs).

"This alright?" he asked, turning to Mr. Styles.

Tugging on his hat as if to lower it over his features, Harry nodded, sinking into one of the seats tucked into the corner of the boothed side of the table. He offered a small smile with raised brows as (Y/N) approached with Vera on her arm, a silent question of if they were alright with the placement as well.

"This is perfect! (Y/N), you first," Vera chirped, cutting (Y/N) off before she could even fathom responding.

Though it was gentle, Vera still shoved her towards the seat across from Mr. Styles, making it clear what she thought of (Y/N)'s excuse of being nothing more than excited at the business opportunity of working with him. He only gave her a soft smile as she settled in across from him, (Y/N) taking in a breath before dropping her eyes to the folder she laid on the table in front of her.

"I'm going to go up and order really quick, did anyone want anything?" Mr. Lambert asked as he stood at the end of the table, his bag tucked under his arm as he gestured behind him with a jerk of his thumb.

Vera didn't even finish dropping into her seat beside (Y/N) when she heard the words. She immediately popped up, offering to go along with him to order for both she and (Y/N).

"Croissant and chai latte, right?" she smiled at (Y/N). All that was missing was the sly wink she knew she would have given if not for the man sitting on the other side of the table. (Y/N) gave a still nod, feeling her blood pressure rise knowing that she was about to be alone with Harry Styles.

She distantly heard Mr. Lambert verify Harry's order—a plain black coffee—before their companions left to the front counter. (Y/N) had always prided herself on how easy she was able to pick up small talk and form a true conversation out of the topics; the beauty industry forced a lot of close contact with clients right up in her face, it would be odd and uncomfortable if she didn't find any minuscule topic to blabber about while blending eyeshadow. But in that moment, she'd never been more blank-minded, no matter the goldmine of topics carved into her brain that pertained to Harry Styles himself and all of the wonderful things she had learned about him in her research process.

But, only a beat passed before she heard the same rumbling voice from earlier pipe up from right across from her, drawing (Y/N)'s eyes away from the pastry counter their friends were browsing.

"Thank y'for coming out, by the way. I jus' realized I never properly thanked you," Harry smiled, dimples deep in his cheeks.

"Of course," she beamed, hiding her restless fingers under the table where she fiddled with her polished nails, "This is really an amazing opportunity to work with you and be a part of your tour, so thank you, Mr. Styles."

He waved off her formality, "Don't need to call me that. Jus' call me H, please."

(Y/N) remembered reading that most of his friends called him by that moniker. Though she was sure she was getting way too ahead of herself, her heart still skipped a beat at the implication.

"He and I had been looking for someone to come do the makeup for tonight for a few weeks before I found your page," he continued, having no idea how her nervous system was buzzing under her skin. The eye contact she was sure she was going to have to train herself to get used to, especially when he was in her makeup chair, returned. Lillypad green bright against his dark, curling lashes. "I love your work, especially the editorial things I've seen on your website. I was so happy to hear that y'were interested in helping us out and willing to travel cross-country for this. 'M really excited to work with you, so, really, thank y'for being here, (Y/N)."

So, it had been him that had found her page and liked it so much that he passed it along to his stylist to message her. Now, if she was concerned about her heartrate before, she worried she was going to have to have Vera call 911 after this.

There was something about the idea of him searching through his Instagram and passing on much more established and well-known artists before finding her page. He took the time to pursue her feed before clicking the link in her bio to see more examples of her art. And he liked what he found. Though she was sure they were not at all on the same level, the fact that there could be even a small amount of admiration on his end for the things she put into the world the same way she admired everything about his decade-long career was enough to make her want to scream into her pillow in her suite upstairs.

"Of course, H. There's no where else I'd rather be."

His grin widened at the emphasis on his nickname, a beat passing as his eyes dropped to his phone he had laying face down on the table. "Has Lambert shown y'any pictures of the costumes yet? We jus' got them in a couple days ago."

She perked up at the mention of the outfits she'd been eager to see the final product of since she was shown those mock-ups so long ago. "No, he hasn't. I didn't know you got them in already," she bubbled off, "Do you love them?"

"I do, yeah," he responded, reaching for his phone before unlocking it with a swipe, "They're everything I pictured when I talked to Alessandro about them."

At the casual mention of the creative director of Gucci, (Y/N)'s smile widened. How cool must it be to be friends with people like him.

Harry swiveled his phone around to show her the photo displayed on the screen. A yellow, velour covered mannequin was set in the center of the picture with a blue gingham dress draped over the form. This was the Dorothy outfit they had proposed, she realized. The idea had come a long way from the mockup she had seen.

The details were extraordinary, adding to the overall look with things she wouldn't have even thought to add. From what she could decipher through the pixels, it looked like there were glittering strawberries printed over the fabric, breaking up the baby blue pattern of the gingham that was quintessential to Dorothy glam. White detailing was placed all throughout the costume to the white, puffy, bloomers under the dress and the open collar at the top. Crystalline buttons were placed down the front, stopping at the high waist of the dress where a bow was stationed to be right under Harry's chest when he put it on.

"That's so cute," she praised, jaw dropped and eyes wide as she directed her attention to him behind his phone, "The little strawberries are everything."

"Yeah?" Harry smiled proudly, angling the phone just enough for the both of them to see as he leant across the table, "Those were m'idea." He swiped his finger across the screen, pulling up a photo of a pair of boots with red crystal detailing. "I've got these shoes to go with it, and a pair of red tights 'm going to wear under it all. I don't have a picture of the bow, but I got one made from the extra fabric to put in m'hair and then I think Lambert is having one of his assistants put together a basic for me to carry m'Toto dog in, too."

(Y/N) pictured all the details as best she could, finding the entire look come together. Now that she had more information, all she wanted to do was break out her face charts and improve upon the ideas she'd had prior to coming out to New York.

They were going to need more blush, that was for sure.

Just as more praises were to fall from her lips, Vera and Mr. Lambert returned to their table with careful hands full of pastries and coffee. "Are you showing her the costumes, H?" he asked, setting a vegan spinach quiche and black coffee in front of H.

"Yeah," Harry smiled, angling the phone to show Mr. Lambert, "Was jus' telling her about the bag you and the girls are putting together for m'Toto puppy."

"Oh!" he sounded as he fell into his chair across from Vera, "Don't let me forget to ask Claudia how that's coming along before we get to the venue."

H only nodded his head before mumbling that he would set a reminder right then. Vera slid a croissant and the latte in front of (Y/N) in the silence, a heart having been created in the foam of her chai latte.

"Toto?" she asked, settling in at (Y/N)'s side, "Like the Wizard of Oz?"

"Exactly!" Mr. Lambert smiled over the rim of his coffee cup, "Night one is going to be Wizard of Oz themed with H being Dorothy and the rest of the band dressed as the other characters. Night two we're doing an Italian, glamorous take on clowns, right?"

"Mhm," H nodded, showing the other side of the table another set of photographs from his camera roll, "'S not scary or anything like that. We're going for more ruffles than murderous tendencies, I'd say."

Vera lent in close to (Y/N)'s side in search of a view of Harry's phone. On the screen was the same velour mannequin from the Dorothy pictures, now donned in a white, fluffy mass of lace and organza with tulle accents. It was a suit this time, full paints and a blouse with a black moon and stars stitched across the chest. At the neck there was a full collar piece, lace and sparkles and more ruffles tying the look together with a pair of flat lace up sneakers that matched the cream of the costume.

During the same conversation Mr. Lambert had introduced the Dorothy idea to her, he had mentioned they still had the other set of costumes in the works, nothing too concrete other than Harry wanted something completely different than what people were expecting (she remembers a Rocky Horror Picture Show set up being tossed out there before never hearing of it again). This was definitely not what she was expecting would have come together, but she loved it. It was different, but still so delicate that it seemed perfectly Harry and perfect for the Love on Tour she'd been an avid follower of.

"Is the whole thing lace?" (Y/N) asked, flicking her gaze to Harry.

"Most of the top is, yeah," he explained, nodding his head as he took his phone back, "But the pants are made of more satin than anything else. Figured that half needed to be a little less see-through."

(Y/N) had to make a choice not to think so hard about that comment. Not when it was already hard enough to remember he was a client.

A lopsided smile curled his lips, only a single dimple denting his cheek as he locked his phone and set it to the side. Tracing his eyes between the two women before him, Harry reached for the fork beside his slice of quiche, "Do y'have a favorite between the two?"

Though the mannequin had nothing on Harry's physique (there was no way the shoulders were as broad as the man before her), just the idea of the Dorothy dress stretching across the width of his body was enough to earn it first place in her eyes. And the strawberries were adorable.

"I think the Wizard of Oz set is perfect," (Y/N) shared, absently reaching for her latte to warm her fidgeting palms, "There's so much we can do with that. I have a few face charts already made up, but now seeing the costume, I feel like we could do a little more."

"You've got face charts already done up?" Mr. Lambert questioned, picking at the flaky layers of his own croissant, "What do you have?"

Though she was nervous to share her ideas with people she admired, (Y/N) had never been more excited to pull out these face charts. She just wanted to make everything perfect for these shows and for Harry.

Especially for H. She wasn't going to let him down.

—————

The soft sound of a the default iPhone alarm interrupted (Y/N) as she explained the diffused blush shape she wanted to go with for the clown costuming. The table fell silent as all eyes were directed to H's orange cased phone, the alarm he had set to not only remind Mr. Lambert to contact his assistant, but to act as a warning for the last five minutes of time they had left before he needed to head to the venue, started going off in the cafe.

"Don't forget to text Claudia," H absently muttered to his stylist as he reached for his phone, snoozing the alarm before giving his attention back to (Y/N) and the notes she had scribbled on the face chart. He gave her an apologetic smile, "Sorry to cut this short, I've got to get back soon."

"It's okay, I totally understand," she smiled, reaching for the completed face charts scattered over their table, "We still got a lot done."

Not only was both of Harry's looks in the final stages (Mr. Lambert wanted a breakdown of the exact wear time of the shades she was thinking before giving full approval) but Vera and Mr. Lambert had finished up more than half of the band's looks with (Y/N) popping in every now and then with her own expertise or suggestion. If Vera's plan had been to have (Y/N) work almost completely alone with H, she had succeeded, and (Y/N) was in no position to lie and say she was mad about it.

The entire meeting had gone like a dream once (Y/N) settled, falling into the work that fulfilled her. Nothing was more exciting than having a client add their own twists and flare to the look (within reason, of course, something that Beverly Hills housewives trying to look thirty years younger didn't realize). Harry was excited about each of the things she offered, and even pushed it further with a request for more of the bright red blush to be applied to the apples of his cheeks when dressed as Dorothy, and his band to have dramatic swipes of color applied to their faces for the jester costumes.

She was sad that it was cut short just as they were working on his own paint for the second Harryween show.

"Are y'coming to the show tonight?" Harry asked, handing her one of the face charts that had drifted to his side of the table. His multi-colored nails shown in the low lights of the cafe, but (Y/N) couldn't even try to decipher what shades he had used when their fingertips brushed as she took the page from him.

His skin was undeniably warm against her's, fingertips soft though tough enough to be strumming his guitar every night. The contact lasted for something of a second, but felt as if she had chugged down another chai latte, this one infused with a shot of espresso and the same red glitter that accented his Dorothy costume.

(Y/N) hadn't even been aware that her response was lagging until Vera elbowed her, "Are we?"

"Going to the show? I-I don't think so," (Y/N) stuttered, occupying her hands with the shuffling of her face charts.

"Do y'want to?

Eyes widening at his words, (Y/N) drew her attention from the folder to match the unfailing eye contact she was slowly getting used to. "Hm?"

"Did y'want to come to the show tonight? I know the guy playing, so I think I could pull some strings," he smiled, a lopsided curve with an amused glimmer in his green eyes.

"Harry, that's so—Thank you," (Y/N) sputtered, her heart rising to her throat at idea of getting to go to one of the shows she'd only seen videos of before. The ass speech only got funnier the more she heard it. "Vera can come with me, right?"

"Of course, yeah," Harry nodded, his smile wide on his raspberry lips. With another glance at his phone, his grin shrunk the smallest bits at the edges, "We've really got to go, but I'll see you tonight, right? If 'm not able to, I'll have Lambert send y'the details on where to go and everything, yeah?"

(Y/N) didn't even attempt to hold back her smile as they rose to their feet in the now empty cafe (the family reunion guy left about an hour earlier, thank goodness). "Yeah, that's perfect," she breathed, nudging Vera gently with the point of her elbow.

"Yeah, thank you, H," Vera bubbled off, heeding (Y/N)'s cue.

With the smile that H gave them before being herded to the lobby with the help of Mr. Lambert, (Y/N) felt like she was floating as she followed after them. Short goodbyes were shared at the entrance of the hotel, Mr. Lambert doling out hugs to the girls while H kept quiet with a shake of their hands though his hold lingered on (Y/N)'s.

As she watched them leave through the glass doors out to the New York sidewalk, all (Y/N) could think about was what she was going to wear tonight.

—————

With the lights down and fans screaming all around her, (Y/N) almost completely missed the sound of the Bukowski poem being recited through the loud speakers.

The band she would be working with closely at the end of the month filtered on stage, taking their respective spots before the beginning of Golden ticked through the arena.

It was then that a panel in the middle of the round opened up and revealed Harry dressed in an all black suit, chest left bare with the sleeves of his jacket decked out in feathers. A dimpled grin morphed his features into something almost god-like in the stage lighting, a guitar in his hands as he sauntered to one of the four microphones set up.

He was more than what she had seen in videos, completely transfixing before he even opened his mouth and even more enchanting when he finally did. Confidence radiated from each of his movements. He knew what he was doing and he was going to give this entire arena the show of their lives.

God, (Y/N) couldn't wait for October thirtieth.

—————

(Y/N) could only laugh at Vera's complaining as they stepped out of the Uber, rounding to the trunk where their kits were housed.

"How did it only get colder from the last time we were here?!" Vera whined, making a show of tugging out her case as if it weighed one thousand pounds and not ten.

"Because its almost winter, maybe?" (Y/N) quipped, aware of the string of fans dressed to the nines walking past them with prying gazes.

Despite Vera's complaints about the weather, it seemed she was the only one put off by the chill in the air. In honor of the 'fancy dress' code for the event, fans were decked out in costumes with no other purpose than to look as glamorous or spooky as possible for Harryween.

Many renditions of Harry Styles himself passed by, people dressed in high-waisted trousers and billowing blouses, leather suits with feather boas, or simply something seventies inspired with leathers and glitter draped over their forms. Others had taken cues from his music and videos, dressing as some of the girls from the Watermelon Sugar video, or even the fish from the Adore You shoot. More than one flower-powered hippie and glamorous zombie crossed their paths, trails of flowers and feathers were left on the sidewalk of the arena where everyone was lining out front for their pit tickets (Y/N) was sure they fought hard for.

Looking at the professional, all black outfit that adorned her form, (Y/N) wished she had followed her instinct and just worn the costume she brought along. Everyone looked so wonderful and she was sad she wasn't a part of the vision for the night.

Following the same directions given the first time they were at this venue, (Y/N) and Vera were escorted through a back entrance through the arena to where Harry and the band were awaiting their call time to get ready.

The Garden was celebrating the occasion with Halloween decorations posted through out the halls, more than one sign decreeing to "Trick or Treat People with Kindness" catching her attention.

"Have you talked to him at all since we left?" Vera whispered, her voice concealed from the sound of her heels clacking against the concrete floor.

"Who?" (Y/N) peeped, keeping her eyes trained on the security guard guiding them through the twisting hallways.

"Harry," Vera said, her inflection practically saying duh.

(Y/N) shrugged, "A little, yeah. Mostly right after we'd left he just asked how the show was and how the flight home went, but I haven't heard much from him since. Why?"

Vera only hummed in response, the same sly smile on her features that she always got now when Harry was brought up. (Y/N) hadn't been able to live down the moment when Vera caught her going through his photographer's Instagram in search of photos from the tour she hadn't seen yet.

Though it felt like they had walked miles in circles, the security guard finally led them to the main stage area. The last time she had seen this place, it was packed with people yelling, screaming, and singing at the top of their lungs while Harry Styles' presence filled in every inch of the limited free space left between patrons. Now, it was completely empty, a traditionally styled stage positioned on the other end of the arena replacing the trailing catwalks and the round he spent his time on the last time she was here.

In the middle of it all were three people, one that she recognized easily in a navy blue baby-tee with a smiley face printed on the chest, while the other two were still a mystery so far away. After thanking the security guard, he made his quick exit, a crackling coming from the handheld radio hooked into one of his belt loops before he disappeared down the stretch of hallways.

The static sound drew the attention of the three others, a bright smile gleaming on a familiar face once he realized who was here.

"(Y/N)!"

It took everything in her not to melt at the excitement he displayed at seeing her again. It was hard not to get infatuated with someone like Harry, and to have even a fraction of that reciprocated made her want to scream until her lungs were sore and she had no voice left.

"Harry!" she shouted back, closing the distance between them with her kit banging into her side from her hurried steps.

Once she drew closer, there were actually three others stood by instead of the two (Y/N) had previously counted. Cuddled in the arms of the woman she now recognized to be Harry's drummer was a baby boy with slippers in the shape of fish on his little feet, his attention placed on the man standing behind her that (Y/N) knew was Mitch, the guitarist she'd familiarized herself with through countless videos.

"I've been waiting for you," Harry smiled, pulling her in for a gentle hug now that she was close enough. He was careful of the makeup kit tucked into her side, his arms a loose band around her shoulders as (Y/N) wrapped hers around his waist.

In her research, she had found so many frantic and yearning tweets from fans saying they wish they could receive a Harry hug, swearing they knew he was the best and warmest hugger. She could adamantly confirm all of their suspicions now.

Though the contact was short, Harry moving to give Vera her own greeting, (Y/N) swore she could still feel the ghost of his hold around her form.

"(Y/N)," Harry started, giving her a smile before gesturing to the woman with the baby cuddled to her chest, "This is Sarah, she's the drummer in m'band."

Now that she had a name for the face, (Y/N) knew exactly who this was. It took everything in her not to make a joke about Harry actually being a part of Sarah's band. Instead, she reached a hand out for Sarah to shake, a bright smile on her face.

"Nice to meet you," she greeted, eyes falling to the baby boy on her chest that had his mom's nose. She remembered her being pregnant at the Grammy's—and what a warrior she was in a leather outfit while heavily pregnant playing the drums.

"You're the makeup artist for the next couple days, right?" Sarah smiled, bouncing her baby boy higher on her chest before reaching out a free hand to shake (Y/N)'s offered one.

"Yeah, that's me. My friend, Vera,"—(Y/N) pointed to her left, where Vera was being the ever polite character that she presented in front of clients—"is also going to be helping me with everything. Its the Wizard of Oz tonight, right?"

Sarah hummed, absently fixing one of the fish-shaped slippers on her son's feet, "Mhm, and I wonder who decided I was going to be the Wicked Witch." A pointed glance was shot in Harry's direction, playful anger laced over her features.

"That wasn't even m'idea, why are y'mad at me!?" Harry whined, dimples in his cheeks at her teasing.

"You're just upset that people come to these shows to see me, not you," Sarah pushed, shaking her head, ponytail bouncing behind her.

"Anyway," Harry sighed, rolling his eyes though his expression only softened when they landed on the baby boy falling asleep in his mother's arms, "That's Mitch, standing behind Sarah and not helping defend his best friend when he knows the truth."

The quiet man with the long dark hair practically hiding behind Sarah, quirked a short smile. Moving his eyes away from the dark hair sprouting from the baby's head, he gave a shrug in Harry's direction. "She's holding my baby, that takes priority."

Before Harry could whine some more, (Y/N) took it upon herself to reach around Sarah and properly introduce herself. "Nice to meet you, Mitch. You're the cowardly lion tonight, right?"

"Yeah," Mitch sighed, his shoulders deflating as he no doubt remembered the full fur suit he was expected to wear on stage tonight. If it were her, (Y/N) was halfway certain she would have dropped out of the band when she found out that detail; stage lights were not kind to layers.

Before much else could be said, a voice shouted out Harry's name coming from one of the tunnels flanking the stage. Once his attention was caught, the man shouting for Harry continued, "Doors open in an hour—everyone needs to clear out!"

Harry shouted back his agreement, a thumbs up tossed in the direction of the tunnel before he moved his attention back to (Y/N). "Are y'ready for me?" he asked, eyes dropping to the makeup kit at her side.

"Not yet," she said, now worrying about the time despite the fact she had more than enough time to get everything done, "I still need to set up and get everything ready." Looking to Vera over her shoulder, she found her giving a quiet nod in agreement. They didn't even know where the dressing rooms were.

"I can show y'where to go," Harry offered, eyes bright with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Her heart stuttered at his proposal, already feeling her mouth go dry having the full of his attention and the beacon of his eyes directed on her. "If you're busy, I don't want t—"

"'M not busy."

Harry's words popped the bubble holding the butterflies in her tummy at bay, their wings now fluttering up towards her heart. From the corner of her eye, she swore she saw Mitch give Harry a look with raised brows and a flickering smile.

"I—Okay," (Y/N) agreed, her voice quiet.

A large smile bloomed over Harry's face, stealing the full of her attention before Mitch's voice piped up in the quiet of the empty arena. "Vera, right?" he called over (Y/N)'s shoulder. She figured he received a nod from her assistant as he continued, "Sarah and I can show you where the band is getting ready, if you want."

"Perfect! Thank you," Vera bubbled, sounding a little too happy to abandon (Y/N).

With their baby boy in tow, Mitch and Sarah tossed (Y/N) a short wave and a cordial It was nice to meet you! before leading Vera towards one of the winding tunnels. Looking to Harry, he met her eyes with his own hopeful green pair, a soft smile curled into his raspberry colored lips.

"C'mon," he murmured to her, beckoning her with a wave of his hand as he started down one of the winding halls in the opposite of where Vera was led.

(Y/N) practically tripped over herself to get in line with him, her kit banging against her side as they walked. Their steps echoed over the concrete flooring, her boots substantially louder than the soft padding of Harry's Vans.

"How was the flight?" he asked, his voice breaking up the sound go their feet and the beating of (Y/N)'s erratic heart in her chest.

As simple as the question was, one she would typically assume was a half-assed attempt at small talk by one of her clients, it took one look at his face to know he truly wanted to know her answer. After being away from him for so long, the impact of his eye contact was like new.

Harry listened intently to each of her answers as they walked, actually seeming to care about the bland, wilted salad she splurged on during the flight and the book she had brought along that she was still iffy on whether she liked it or not. If not for the fact he had to ensure they didn't walk into any walls or take a wrong turn, she knew he would have stitched his gaze to her.

"After you," he mumbled, opening the door to his dressing room for her.

A shy smile took (Y/N)'s features as she stepped over the threshold. The set up of the room was simple: a large vanity spanned one wall, soft focus lighting lining the top of the mirror, with a single couch lining the back wall facing the mirror. A plain white garment bag hung from a single rack off to the side, an index card taped to the front spelling out in bold, black letters HARRYWEEN NIGHT 1. If not for the small personal touches dotting the room, (Y/N) would have assumed there wasn't a show to be had in only a few hours.

A warm scented candle was placed in the middle of the vanity space, a peach colored lighter set up beside it in wait. The loose knit of a chunky blanket hung over the back of the couch, bright colors making up the patches of yarn knotted together. The things most notably Harry came in the form of a bottle of cologne on the vanity, a stack of books, two tall on the nondescript side table by the couch with a journal tucked under it all. (Y/N) even spotted a clear plastic case with a tube of toothpaste and a pink toothbrush tucked away.

"Do you mind if I...?"

The sound of Harry's question stole her attention. Whipping her head in his direction, (Y/N) found him with his raised brows, the door shut behind him as he reached for the peach tinted lighter beside the candle.

"No, no, go for it," she bubbled off once she realized what he was asking.

A soft smile touched the corners of his mouth as he grabbed for the black votive that housed the candle described as Autumn Mist. "Y'can set up wherever y'want, don't have to wait for me," Harry said, flicking his eyes from her as the lighter in his hand sparked up.

"Right," she breathed through a smile as if just remembering what exactly she was here to do.

She was aware of Harry settling the candle in his home at the back center of the tabletop before he sat down in the single chair propped in front of the mirrors. Willing her eyes to keep to her hands instead of drifting to the mirror where she knew she would find Harry was one of the hardest things (Y/N) thinks she'd ever done. The heat of his eyes on her hands, his gaze tracing over her profile only made it that much more tricky.

"Can I help with anything?" Harry asked, breaking through the quiet of the room.

The brush cup in (Y/N)'s hand rattled as she jumped, the click of her nails pinging against the iridescent plastic. "Oh, um," she stuttered, eyes trailing over the spread of her kit, "You could sort these brushes if you want? The small ones to the empty side of the cup with the bigger ones being left for later."

He practically bounced in his seat at the opportunity to help, reaching for the brush cup in her hand. His eyes dropped to her hands as she passed the two halves off, gaze brightening even further at what he saw.

"Our nails match!" he bubbled, setting down the empty half of his project to show her the gleaming red paint on his fingernails.

The nerves that had tainted (Y/N) the second they were set to be alone began to dissipate at the innocent excitement on Harry's face. Fanning out her own fingers she placed them by Harry's, the matching candy apple color sparkling under the vanity lights. "They do, yeah," she smiled, "What color did you use?"

Harry's smile turned secretive as he gave a final wiggle of his fingers before returning to his task, "'M not allowed to say; 's not out yet."

"Oh?"

(Y/N) didn't want to come off as the wild fan she knew she turned into during those months of research before today, but if it had anything to do with the Pleasing brand she had read rumors about she might scream a little.

"'S for something 'm announcing in a few weeks," he explained further, his red painted nails plucking eyeshadow brushes from the bundle in the cup, "I've already got in trouble for telling a few people because I got too excited, so 'm really not allowed to say anything. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," (Y/N) assured, buzzing at the fact she knew something would be happening in a month, even if she didn't have any details, "Whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be really good."

"Thank you," he beamed, looking up at her from the growing pile of brushes in his hands, "When y'see what it is, will y'tell me what y'think?"

Essentially, he was asking to hear from her again weeks after their professional relationship was set to come to an end. Luckily, (Y/N) was busy rifling through the blush compacts she brought along, knowing that if she were busy doing the job she pawned off on Harry, it would have been too obvious how heavy her hands were shaking.

"Of course."

They fell into a quiet rhythm, Harry sorting through the brushes with a determined pout on his lips. (Y/N) did her best to bite back the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

He was so cute. And to think she was so taken with him in photos alone.

"So," she started, having the products she planned on using for tonight placed in perfect order, "We have a little bit of time before we really have to start if you wanted to wait? Anything else you wanted to do before I stick lashes on your eyes, you can do now."

"You brought the lashes?!" Harry practically bounced in his seat, eyes bright and wide as he looked up at her, "I didn't think Lambert told you!"

An aerated laugh fell from her lips, leaning against the counter with her hip popped into the surface. "I only brought some half lashes, nothing big, but I have a few options for you to pick from."

"Can we put them on now? I want to see what I look like with them on."

Nothing was more endearing than the enthusiasm he was sharing over the application. "We can if you want," she repeated, "But I don't want to put it on too early if you have other things to do. You still have a while 'til the show starts, right?"

"Yeah, but I want to take pictures and everything, too. I jus' wanna make sure 'm all pretty so we have enough time for that, too."

He wanted to be pretty.

"Alright," she smiled, "We can do that."

Harry's grin only grew at her agreement, his hands falling to his lap. "Thank you."

(Y/N) bit back her smile as she rifled through her prep products, a crystalline moisturizer being her first pick. "The lashes will probably be the last thing we put on, so, if you want to look through the ones I brought and pick your favorite, you can do that while I do the rest," (Y/N) offered, nodding her head towards the lash case she brought along as she scooped out dollop of the face cream.

An Oh! sounded from Harry before he reached for the pink plastic case, trying his hardest to keep his face angled upwards for (Y/N). A platinum dusting of what the brand called 'stardust' was laced through the moisturizer, painting his skin in a dewy glow she hoped would shine on the high points of his face during the show. Her fingertips gently massages the product into his skin, gently tracing his features with the pads of her fingers. He ooh'd and aw'd in gentle tones as he looked over the small strips (Y/N) brought along, his natural lashes brushing her hands as he flicked his gaze over the products.

"Did you see the line outside?" (Y/N) asked, settling into artist mode and finding the realms of conversation to fill the silence, "I don't think I've seen so many feather boas in one spot before."

His features lit up at the mention of his adoring fans. "Yeah? I haven't had a chance to peek out, yet. What's it look like out there?"

"Well," she started with a breathy laugh, reaching for a gentle lip mask to condition his pout before the lipstick, "There's actually several versions of you running around outside, and almost everyone has either some form of those bunnies on them or a feather boa. I'd hate to be apart of the crew that has to clean all that up."

"They're dressed up like me?" he questioned with a smile to his tone as (Y/N) brushed the mask over his lips.

"Mhm," she hummed, concentrating on his skin, "You at the Grammy's, the cover of your album, and from pretty much every music video you've done."

"Wow," Harry breathed, his awe quiet in the space between them.

"Right?" (Y/N) prompted, her own smile creeping on her face as she watched the tip of his nose and points of his cheekbones turn red with blush, "Other than that, I saw lots of hippies and lots of people dressed up with all the flower power. And a couple of zombies"

With his skin completely prepped and glowing in wait for the cosmetics stacked behind her, (Y/N) drew away to get a look at the canvas she was working with for the next couple of days. Glancing over his features, she only had one thought: she was one lucky artist to have a muse like him.

"You know," Harry started, his hands with the lash case clutched between his fingers falling to his lap, "I was worried no one was going to dress up. For the first time, I'd be the only one in costume when usually its the other way around."

(Y/N) shook her head, reaching for the light brow gel she wanted to start with while the skin prep sunk into his pores. "I feel like you should know by now, they would never do that to you—your fans. Plus, it'd be hard not to show up in costume to something called a 'Fancy Dress Party."

Harry's gaze flittered over her form as (Y/N) took a spoolie to his brows, brushing through the hairs and righting the fibers into a soft arch over his eyes. "You didn't dress up."

His tone was anything but accusing—if anything, it was curious—but (Y/N) couldn't help but feel like she'd been caught in the act. She shrugged, keeping her eyes on the gentle slope of his brows. "I wanted to dress up, but I was worried I would look a little silly walking in here dressed like a fairy when I'm supposed to be working."

"Y'brought a fairy costume?"

"It's currently stuffed at the bottom of my suitcase, but yes," (Y/N) smiled, taking the applicator brushed in the brunette tinted gel to his brows.

"Y'should've worn it. Could've been our second Glinda for the night."

The idea that he would have brought her into their little group for the night made (Y/N)'s cheeks warm along with the smile stretched across them. "Yeah?"

"Mhm," he hummed, gazing up at her from where she stood above him, "Would've fit right in."

"Maybe, I'll wear it tomorrow then," (Y/N) smiled, making one more swipe of the tinted gel though his brows before backing off.

The slope of his brows were now darkened and tamed, framing his smiling face as he looked up at her. As they discussed, she didn't have much to apply in terms of face makeup. With the strain of the show and the fact that Harry himself didn't want to have to worry about much, there wasn't a lot to apply outside of the blush and light powder to be dusted over his skin.

"What's next?" Harry asked as she plucked through the sorted brushes for one in particular.

With the large puff of a brush in one hand and a sheer face powder in the other, (Y/N) tipped the compact to show her client. "Just a little bit of face powder before I do your blush and everything. It helps everything go on smoothly."

Harry hummed at the information, most likely used to this step in the routine. His eyes fluttered closed as (Y/N) dragged the brush lightly over his skin, a satin sheen blending over the glow she already applied to his skin. The bristles tickled his nose as she dusted the tip, Harry scrunching up the feature as he huffed out a laugh.

"Sorry," she whispered, giving one last stroke of product over the center of his face before pulling away.

"'S okay," he placated her, blinking his eyes open as he heard the clink of the discarded brush handle, "I jus' never get used to that feeling."

(Y/N) assured him she would do her best to be careful from now on as she reached for a shimmering highlight powder. With a tapered brush in hand, she gently nudged his chin to the side, giving her an angled look at his cheekbone.

"Is this the blush?" Harry asked, his voice a bit muffled as he did his best to keep from moving his face.

"Not yet," she mumbled, concentrated on the subtle highlighting she wanted on the high points of his face, "Just doing a tiny bit of highlighting so there's dimension when we do the blush."

"Oh," he sounded, taking the moment to get a look at how his makeup was coming along when (Y/N) nudged his chin in the other direction, "Looks nice. I like it."

Her lips curled at the praise, a quiet thank you whispered between them as she tapped some of the glimmering gel around the C-shape of his eye. The vanity lights caught the highlight perfectly, the product melting into the warmth of his skin and the prep she had massaged into his pores beforehand.

"Gotta get your nose really quick," she warned, beckoning him to face her before tapping her ring finger into the gel.

She added the shine to the very tip of his nose, matching what was already applied to his cheekbones and the round of his chin. His skin was warm under her finger, the tip grazing over the ball of his nose before trailing along the straight angle of the bridge. Though (Y/N)'s eye was carefully concentrated on the blend of the product into his skin, from the peripheral of her gaze, she noticed the way Harry's own eyes were struggling to follow her finger. The farther up she went on his nose, the more his eyes crossed.

"What are you doing?" (Y/N) laughed out, backing up some.

A boyish smile took Harry's features, his lips curling to showcase dimples in his cheeks with just the faintest glimpse at white teeth. "I was jus' trying to watch."

"You're going to give yourself a headache if you keep trying to watch me like that," (Y/N) gently scolded, though her chastising lost all grit with the smile on her lips.

Harry only shrugged at her words, keeping his face tilted upwards as if she were the sun, awaiting whatever what next in her line up. (Y/N) sighed, the sound coming out more contented than bothered, as she reached for a detailing brush from her cup.

"Close your eyes," she directed, poking the bristles into the creamy product. Harry did just that, his features going soft as his eyes fluttered closed. She delicately painted the shimmering gel in the corners of his eyes, the sparkles catching the light. When he opened his eyes, it would give the effect of a more opened and awake eye shape, giving him the large, innocent set that Judy Garland had in the original Wizard of Oz.

While she was at it, she highlighted the bone under his brow, lifting his eyes and adding to the subtle dimension she was sculpting.

"There," she whispered when she finished, setting the highlight compact to the side with that brush joining the dirty pile.

Once he had the clearance, Harry eagerly looked in the mirror. "That's pretty," he smiled, bringing his finger up to gently point at the inner corner of his eye, "I like that bit a lot. Makes m'eyes look big."

"Good, that's what I was going for." (Y/N) felt proud of herself; no matter how minimal this makeup was, she was happy she was pulling it off to his liking. "Now its time for the blush," she said, reaching for the bright red blush compact he had specifically chosen the last time she was in New York, "You still like this color right?"

Harry perked up at the sound of the blush, his posture straightening as he peeked at the pressed powder waiting for him. "This is the same red we found?"

"Mhm," (Y/N) hummed, absently grabbing for the brush she planned on stamping the color on with before she would defuse the plots, "But I brought a couple more in case you weren't sure, anymore."

"No, no," Harry shook his head, gleaming bright eyes gazing up at her with excitement in his irises, "I like this one still. It matches m'dress."

With the brush in hand, (Y/N) tapped the bristles in the bright red powder, careful to start with a light dusting before working her way up. "Did you pick the lashes you wanted?" (Y/N) asked, distracting him from trying to watch her do this part of his makeup as well. She was scared to see how he would try to maneuver his eyes to see his cheeks.

"I liked the ones on the top the best, the longer ones," he murmured, keeping from moving his mouth too much as she stippled the blush over his cheekbones.

"Okay," she mumbled, the words coming out a little lazy as she was concentrated on the distribution of the bright color, "Did you want help putting on the mascara or did you want to do that part?"

A beat passed as (Y/N) switched sides, copying the same technique she'd used on the opposite cheek. "I think I want y'to help me. 'M scared I'll poke m'eye out if I try."

"I can do that for you," she smiled, stepping back to check the symmetry of the placement. The bright blush was placed perfectly over his cheekbones, an oval shape stretching over his cheek that emulated the shape she gave his highlight. Exactly like she pictured it.

Taking a much larger brush, she dipped into the excess powder she tapped out on the back of her hand before blending out the splotches placed on his cheek. Swirling her brush, the shade lightened as she worked, some of the bristles catching on the stray hairs of his beard line. The shade lightened into soft pinks around the edges as she blended out the blush, the shape matching that of a face chart she had pored over for weeks.

"I love that," (Y/N) said, leaning back once she finished the blending of the blush, "That looks perfect, I think."

"Yeah?" Harry bubbled, flicking his gaze from hers only to look at himself in the mirror as he angled his head in different directions. "It is perfect," he awed, "'S jus' like we planned."

Pride puffed her chest as he seemed to love it all as much as she did. All that was left was the finishing touches of the lashes.

(Y/N) told him as much, prepping him for the wand that was going to up close and personal in a moment. Rooting through her supplies she found the disposable mascara wands she brought along, and the tube of sensitive mascara she opted to use on him. He wasn't exactly used to products being so close to his eyes—there'd only been one photoshoot before this where he was in something more extensive than some face powder, he'd told her— so she needed to go easy on him. The lashes tucked away in the case would make up for the length she was forfeiting with this gentle formula.

"Okay," she said, bringing the saturated wand to his eye, "I just want you to blink into the spoolie. If I'm too close to your eye or if something hurts, let me know."

Harry murmured an okay, his knees knocking into her's as he adjusted his position. He cautiously did as she instructed, carefully blinking his lashes into the wand dipped in product, though she could tell he was worried something was going to go awry even with her help.

"Careful," she whispered when he flinched as she swiped at the baby lashes in the inner corner, "I don't want to poke you."

He didn't say anything in response, instead (Y/N) felt his hand reach out and grab at her thigh as if to steady himself. His hands were free of the rings she knew he favored, feeling nothing but the reach of his long fingers to wrap around the full of her leg and warm her skin with his palm. It was her turn to feel a bit shaky now at the gentle contact. Taking in a deep breath, she made a point to concentrate on her hand now that there was something very distracting tugging at the back of her mind.

Even when she took a step back, rewetting her applicator with a new coat of mascara for the other eye, Harry never lessened his hold on her. If anything, it tightened some when she lent in again, repeating her earlier instructions, as if she wasn't struggling to screw her head on straight under his touch.

"Okay," she peeped when she finished, reluctantly stepping back to discard of the used spoolie, "all done."

An easy smile stretched over Harry's face, as if he wasn't buzzing under his skin like (Y/N) was. "Not as bad as I thought it would be," he concluded, bringing his hand up to rub his fingers along the line of his jaw, "Only got scared once."

"Yeah," (Y/N) agreed, making a point to continue rifling around for her lash glue as if it wasn't floating on top, "You did really good, Harry."

She could practically feel his smile on her back while she applied short strips of glue to his chosen lashes. He was definitely one for praise, that was for sure.

"While we let the glue get tacky on your lashes, wanna do your lipstick?" (Y/N) suggested reaching for the tray of lip colors she'd brought.

The eager nod of Harry's head brought his curls swooping down his forehead and gazing the tip of his nose. "What colors did y'bring?"

(Y/N) presented the tray to him, several tubes in sparkling packaging calling out to him to peek through. "I was thinking something soft like a rose color because your cheeks are so bright, but its up to you."

He hummed at her input, rooting through the tubes and peeking at the names stamped on the bottom. Finally he pulled the cap off of one in matte pink packaging, from a drug store brand she adored. Twisting it up, the bullet was a soft pink that went on sheer and glossy, the shade one of the ones in the top three of her choices.

"This one good? I think a red would be too much, even if I think they're pretty." Harry looked up at her with the tube in his hand, seeking approval with the raise of his brows.

"That's what I would have picked," (Y/N) smiled, already taking the lipstick from his hand before plucking around for a lip brush, "I don't know why I'm here, you've got all the great ideas it looks like."

Harry laughed as she dipped the brush in the slope of the lipstick, "I could never do all of this, especially not the eyelashes. I would've hated to see what I would look like if y'weren't here, (Y/N). Even if y'aren't dressed up like one, you're still like m'fairy tonight."

Something in her heart shook at the sound of being called his anything.

This was a client, this was a client, this was a client.

The words rang through her head like a mantra as she swooped the lipstick over the soft pout of his lips. Maybe he was nothing more than a natural flirt—she'd read enough stories about him to know how easy it was for others to become so entranced by him—, but, god, was he getting to her. She didn't know what she was going to do once these two nights were over.

After she requested him to roll his lips together, the sheer rose color smoothing over his mouth, she reached for the short lashes waited behind them.

"Ready?" she asked, one of the lashes carefully pinched between a set of tweezers.

"Should I close m'eyes?" he asked, looking entirely too gorgeous with his face made up.

"Not yet, I want to place them first, then I'll let you know," (Y/N) explained, settling in the same position as when he had grabbed for her leg.

With his eyes bright and open, (Y/N) struggled to keep from falling into the lillypad green. The placement of the lashes was going to make or break this entire look, and she didn't want to let Harry down since he was so excited about this part in specific. His eyes watched each of her movements as she lined the strip along his lash line, the fibers blending in with his natural lashes. It took only minor adjustments to pinch his lashes together and ensure the glue was going to hold before she moved onto the other eye.

"All done," (Y/N) whispered once she finished adjusting the set of lashes now gracing his eyelids. Luckily for him and for his ability of sight, he hadn't grabbed for her again; if he had (Y/N) worried she might have poked him right in the eye with her tweezers.

"How do I look? Am I Judy Garland yet?" Harry teased, sitting up straight in the chair though he kept his gaze trained on her.

"I'd say close to, yeah," she smiled, the curl crooked as she laced her fingers together behind her back in anticipation of his reaction, "Take a look."

Whipping his head towards the mirror, Harry took in the full of his glamorized appearance. The subtle highlight caught the light perfectly, opening his eyes with the gentle flare of the lashes wisping out from the corner. He twisted his head in different angles, and wiggled his nose in hopes of catching the small details of the makeup they had planned together. The lashes seemed to be his favorite part with the way he couldn't stop blinking and fluttering his eyes, the tickling against his brow bone eliciting a breathy laugh.

"You're so good at this, you know?" Harry complimented, taking his gaze from from his reflection, "I knew y'were good from what I saw on your Instagram and everything, but it's so cool to see y'actually do it. Thank y'for coming out to help me, it really means a lot. I definitely couldn't have done this without you."

Biting back the grin that tugged at her lips, (Y/N) dropped her gaze to the collection of brushes that would need to be cleaned before being reintroduced to her kit. "I'm sure you would have managed just fine, but I'm happy you like how it turned out. Thank you."

"I don't think I would have, (Y/N)," he pressed, sinking into his chair as if to take her all in as he spoke, "I know for sure I would have poked m'eye out with those tweezers if I was in charge. If I was left by myself, I don't think there would have been a show tonight unless everyone came with me to the emergency room and watched me sing as every eyelash was pulled out of m'eye."

Her laugh filled the air in large strokes at his words. "Now you're just being dramatic," she said, shaking her head, "Is anyone coming to do your hair or are you going to be in the ER with a hairbrush attached to your scalp?"

Dimples appeared in his cheeks at her teasing though he tried to feign offense, "I've recently been granted hairbrushing privileges, you know—I don't have to have supervision anymore, so your jokes can't hurt me," he countered, a snooty raise to his brow as if he was only proving how high and mighty he was, "But, someone is supposed to come and help me put the bow in m'hair before we take photos."

(Y/N) continued cleaning up her kit though she knew she was being slower than usual, "I'd better go see if Vera needs any help then, so everyone's ready on time."

"Oh, you're not going to stay with me?"

His simple question was enough to make (Y/N)'s hands stutter as she plucked the lip brush from its discarded position on the side of the vanity.

"I can come back if you want, but I left a lot of work to Vera. I don't want to leave her high and dry and make your show run late because we didn't get everyone in makeup on time."

"You'll come back though to see my outfit and everything?"

She swallowed around the sudden dryness in her throat.

"Of course, I will."

From the corner of her eye, (Y/N) spotted a similarly red polished hand reach out to help her in packing away her things, plucking brushes up while she organized her compacts and products. Harry gently bumped his hip against hers, smiling down at her with his grin tinted a rosy pink.

"Will y'stay for the show, then, too?" he asked, voice quiet between the two of them. The length of his lashes reached as far as the stray hairs dotting his brow bone, the shimmer in the corner of his eyes almost as bright as the light in his irises.

"Am I allowed to? I feel like you're not supposed to be giving out backstage passes and tickets to everyone you meet." (Y/N) smiled although she knew she was deflecting. He was asking her once against to extend her time with him, and it was making her feel a little crazy.

Her mantra from earlier struck through her skull—he's a client.

"You're not jus' anyone," he countered, his smile going lopsided as he gazed at her, "I want y'to be there, see the show and everything." She watched as he dropped his eyes to his hands as he reached for the brush cup he had started the night with. "But if y'have other plans or anything, 's alright. I jus' wanted y'to know you're more than welcome to stay—that I would really like it if y'did."

He's a client, he's a client, he's a client—Harry Styles is a client.

"I think I could clear my schedule."

—————

There was something different about this show compared to the last one (Y/N) had the privilege of attending.

If the anticipation had just about been tangible in the air the last time she was in this room, this time around it bordered on electric. She and Vera were tucked away in a careful corner of the venue, close enough to catch the details of the stage but far enough away that they weren't encroaching on any of the fans' space who had waited outside all day for this. Orville Peck (who she'd just barely met when he was running around backstage before his set) had finished just barely a half hour beforehand, giving the crowd more than enough time to get riled up at the fact Harry was next.

It was when the lights went down that the mood in the room shifted. For a split second, it was as if the entire arena took in a collective gasp before screams rang out, visible tears springing into the eyes of some of those around them at what was happening in mere seconds.

Just like the first time, the band filtered though first, taking their places at their respective instruments in full costume just before the notes of Harold Arlen's We're Off to See the Wizard blared through the arena. Then, it was Harry's turn.

(Y/N) was granted a preview of the look when she had made her way back to his dressing room after helping with the band. The time in-between leaving him and helping Vera had been utilized to get him in full costume with bright red knitted tights covering his legs and the blue gingham dress draped over his form. The sparkling boots he had excitedly showed her pictures of earlier that month were one of his favorite parts he said, the illusion of the heel though it was nothing more than one of his signature boots had made him want to prance around he told her.

But, under the lights it was like she was looking at him for the first time.

The stretch she had imagined the costume to go through seemed amplified under the lights, his shoulders broad and squared under the delicate fabric. The dots of the embroidered strawberries glimmered under the stage lights, matching the bow on the top of his head that secured the curling sprout of his hair upwards. He skipped along the stage confidently, knowing that not only this arena was watching him so intently, but in the coming days there would no doubt be articles and photographs detailing every moment of his presence on the stage tonight—showing the world what he did. The only thing that might have outshined the smile on his face and the glimmer of his highlight was the pair ruby slippers on his feet.

All the while, he was holding the picnic basket with his Toto dog cradled inside.

The crowd of adoring fans screamed and cheered at a decibel that (Y/N) hadn't known existed until that moment. The screams lasted longer than she knew anyone could push their lungs to do, Harry's grin never lessening as he traded his picnic basket for his guitar. Charles Bukowski's poem rang through as he swaggered up to the mic jus before the opening notes of Golden shook through the venue. If at all possible, the cheers only seemed to grow louder. She'd heard rumors and seen videos of The Garden's floor physically shaking when he played this venue, even getting a taste of that when she was here last. These last two minutes alone proved she was going to get a much bigger picture of that tonight.

This was definitely going to be the kind of night that got the floor shaking, she was sure of it.

—————

It was one a.m. when (Y/N) finally snuggled under the white down blankets in her hotel room. Vera had long passed out, barely taking the time to wipe her makeup off and remove her lashes before faceplanting on her bed.

The night's show was still rattling through her bones as she sunk into the mattress, the screaming of the guitar in Kiwi pumping through her veins. When they left the venue, she and Vera had laughed at how unsteady the stable ground felt after becoming used to the shaking of the floor at Madison Square Garden.

And she got to do it all over again tomorrow.

Just as she was drifting off, her work phone pinged from where it was charging on the night stand.

If not for the contact going to her professional number, she would have ignored the notification, but it was never a good thing when a client reached out to her in the middle of the night.

Through bleary eyes, she swiped open the message only for her eyes to widen and heart to flutter.

Harry Styles

Thank you so much for coming tonight and staying for the show!!! I can't wait to see you tomorrow:)

Happy Halloween love!

She couldn't wait to see him tomorrow either.

—————

The trek down the hallways at Madison Square Garden were now familiar as (Y/N) traced her way to Harry's dressing room.

Her heels clicked against the floor as she took the sharp left she remembered almost missing every time, even when she was escorted to the room, aware of the trails of glitter all over the concrete. She had no doubt there was a fresh trail being left behind her.

The sight of the bright white piece of paper stuck to the door with Harry's name boldly printed across the page brought a smile to her face. Though she was well aware that this was the last night she had any excuse to see him again, she vowed to do her best to not think that far ahead. She was going to have fun with him tonight, and take her time while she had it with him.

Giving a light knock on the door, she shuffled in her costume. She knew she was a bit early, her and Vera being the only ones dressed up until the venue filled and Harry and the band were put in their own costumes, but she hoped he wouldn't think she was silly coming so put together.

"(Y/N)!" she heard Harry cheer as he opened the door, his grin growing as wide as his eyes when he caught sight of her.

"Hi, H," she smiled, absently tugging at the shoulder strap of her kit, "How are you?"

He beckoned her inside with his eyes stitched to her form, his smile keeping stuck to his lips. "'M good, love, 'm really good,"

Before she had much of a chance to set up her kit in the now familiar room, Harry opened his arms wide to her. A sliver of his hips were revealed from the movement of his arms, showing the black laurel tattoos that would soon be covered by the costume hanging in the white garment bag. His body looked soft under the white t-shirt though she knew (from music videos she only felt a little bad about viewing more than a handful of times) that he was solid.

(Y/N) didn't hesitate before taking him up on his invitation for a hug. She walked into his arms with a case of bashfulness following after her, her arms going around his middle while he wrapped his own across her shoulders. She settled with her cheek lightly against his chest, very aware of the makeup on her face.

If this were with anyone else—anyone other than Harry—this would have felt forced and a little rushed considering this was the third time they were meeting up. But, maybe it was the text from the night before or the way he seemed to look at her with a certain degree of tenderness in his gaze, but (Y/N) felt comfortable in his hold.

"How are you?" he asked her, audible smile in his voice before he drew away. His hands lingered over her form as he moved them to settle on her arms, his eyes trailing down her body with his eyes taking in the details of her costume, "Y'look wonderful—like Tinkerbell, but all pretty in red like Cupid."

A bright smile took place on her features as she offered a shy shrug. "It just gave me an excuse to finally wear these boots," she told him, kicking out her foot between them that was clad in a bright red, patent leather boot that matched that of her fairy costume.

(Y/N) was very aware of Harry's gaze that marched down her form, taking in the little, red satin dress draped over her form. Gold glitter rained down over the fabric, concentrated the most in the choppy cut of the hem that emulated that of Tinkerbell. Her hair was pulled back with a shimmering tie covered in butterflies, allowing the dewy makeup she applied to her face to be seen. Glimpses of gold highlighted her skin, and down her neck while traces of red blush and diffused red shadow were applied to her face. All the while, a pair of glimmering gold fairy wings were pinned to her back.

By the time his gaze finally returned to hers, (Y/N) was almost sure that there was no more air in her lungs. The smile he gave her was lopsided as he spoke, "Well, I like it a lot. Gonna give me a run for my money, that's for sure."

She wasn't going to survive him if he kept this up.

"Thank you, Harry," she murmured, feeling her cheeks heat.

Something of a familiarity settled over them as Harry guided her to the vanity, offering to help her unpack her things as he asked her how she liked the show the night before. (Y/N) lagged a bit as she tried to catch up with him, feeling the after effects of his attention as she tried to screw her head on straight under the feel of his gaze. Through her praising of the show the night before—a very welcome distraction as she got to focus on something else—she could feel his eyes on her all the while. If he wasn't careful, she was going to have shaking hands while trying to do his makeup and that wasn't going to be helpful for anyone.

"Ready for me?" he asked as he sunk into the chair, the spread of (Y/N)'s products out on the vanity.

(Y/N) gave a nod of her head, leaning against the counter in an act of nonchalance she wasn't actually feeling. "But," she countered, "we don't have a whole lot to do for tonight's look if you wanted to give it some time. Unless, you were taking pictures again soon, anyway."

Harry seemed to contemplate her words, puckering his lips to the side as his eyes flicked to the products splayed along the counter. After a moment, he looked up at her with a gentle question in his eyes, "Do you have anything y'needed to do?"

"Other than helping you, no," she smiled, tapping her red polished nails on the vanity as if to punctuate her words.

A smile that tugged on the shy side took his features. "Do y'want to sit with me for a little then? Jus' hang out for a while before we have to get to work?"

Though (Y/N) had become at least somewhat accustomed to the fact that this was Harry Styles she was working with, the blinding edge of the novelty having worn off some (not all the way, this was still a very huge deal to her), in that moment she became heart-stoppingly aware of who had just asked her to hang out.

In the back of her mind, the mantra she had basically tattooed on the inside of her skull tried to poke through and erase the sound of Harry's voice.

This is a client, this is—

But, as she gazed at him, the raspberry color of his lips curled into a smile and the green eyes she had gotten an unobstructed view into the night before looking right at her, she couldn't find that mantra reason enough to say no. No matter if her heart was about to grow wings that matched the mesh ones on her back, she was going to make the most of this night with him.

(Y/N) answered in the form of taking the seat beside him, folding her hands in her lap though her attention never strayed from him. "How are you liking that book you started?"

The smile that took over his face was worth every bit of reality that would follow her home on the plane after this night was over.

—————

"Okay, you need to hold still, and let me finish this, H."

(Y/N) knew her stern facade was nothing but a crumbling tower with the strength of her words. Since sitting down and starting his makeup, Harry had been nothing but a pest, teasing and poking at her with an endearing smile on his face that made it a little too hard to be mad at him. She held a pair of tweezers in her hand, the final droplet shaped pearl pinched between the arms as she raised a less than intimidating brow at him. If he wanted the placement of this embellishment to to match the others, he was going to need to stop poking at her and quit his laughing.

"Okay, okay," Harry relented in a breathless tone, even going so far as to close his eyes to not be tempted to run astray again.

She was surprised at his quick compliance, noting the way that every time she had told him to stop crossing his eyes to watch her highlight his nose or to quit playing an all too flirty game of footsie with her as she tried to perfect the diamond-shaped pink blush over his face, that he couldn't seem to help himself and kept playing with her. Even as she applied the first three, he hadn't been this easy to listen; he had been trying his luck the whole time as if he wanted to see how close she could flinch at his eye before there was an unfortunate accident. What she wasn't surprised about, was the way he almost immediately crumbled as soon as she got close to him with the pearl, his mouth breaking out into a grin with his shoulders bouncing in quiet laugher.

"Harry," she scolded, her call of his name sounding a little too sweet through her smile.

"Sorry, 'm sorry," he laughed, blinking his eyes open to look up at her, "I promise I tried."

From the quirk at the side of his lips and the amusement in his eyes, (Y/N) doubted he tried all that hard.

(Y/N) made a show of heaving out a sigh as she grabbed for another dab of glue to dot on the apple of his cheek, the previous bit having dried after he took too much of their time pestering her. "Just hold still for five seconds, then you can go back to being annoying, I promise," (Y/N) mumbled as she dotted the paste on his skin.

"Hey," he whined, dragging out the syllables.

"Shhh," (Y/N) hushed him again, her smile only growing when she saw his dimples trying to peek out behind the offended facade he was putting on, "Let me do this."

Before he could say much else, most likely another distractingly teasing comment that was going to make her heart flutter in her chest and her blood sing in her veins, she laid an anchoring hand on his cheek. She was careful of the products they had already applied to his skin, specifically the dewy highlight on his cheeks and the diffused blush spanning up as far as the peaks of his brow bone, as she cupped his jaw in her palm. The intention was to help him keep still, but with his warm skin under her hand, (Y/N) knew this was going to be a much bigger distraction than his prodding if she wasn't careful.

Harry settled almost immediately at her touch, like he wasn't exactly expecting the extra warmth of her hand on his face. His shoulders seemed to fall into a gentle, relaxed slope though his mouth kept that darling curl to it.

Not allowing herself to focus too much on what had suddenly appeared between them, a palpable tension she wasn't in the right frame of mind to unpack at the current moment, she took advantage of his stillness and finally pressed the pearl into his cheek. Using the tip of her finger from her free hand, she adjusted the placement and righted the point of the droplet, her nail grazing against his skin.

She would always tell herself that she diverted her gaze from the point of that pearl to double check that it was matching up with the others on his face, specifically the one situated above his eye, but (Y/N) knew what she was doing when she immediately matched his own gaze. Harry was found intently watching her, the green of his eyes seemingly brighter now that she was giving him the same attention back (or it was the juxtaposition against the baby pink blush, but (Y/N) was going to take each of those romantic thoughts as she could).

For a moment, the makeup application she had been worrying about for months was forgotten. This was a stilled moment she couldn't have planned or worried for.

"Hi," he breathed, his small smile felt under her palm as the corners of his lips curled.

Maybe it was the glitter she had distributed underneath her eyes that vignetted her vision, but (Y/N) swore in that moment, stars had gravitated towards him and made him the center of the universe for one split second.

"Hi."

A heavy knock on the door almost made (Y/N) jump out of her skin where she stood. Her hand on his cheek fell as if it were doing something scandalous as the girl she recognized to be Mr. Lambert's assistant, Claudia came through the door only a moment later. Her bright smile gave nothing away as her gaze flitted over the two of them, (Y/N) probably a little too close now that all of the embellishments were stuck to his skin.

"Hi! I just finished lacing your shoes, so I thought I'd bring them by before you get dressed," Claudia explained, sweeping through the room towards the floating rack with the single garment bag hung up, "Sorry it took me so long, Lambert suddenly decided today was the best day to organize all of the suspenders we brought."

When Harry tried to speak, at first only a croak came out. Clearing his throat, he hesitantly took his eyes from (Y/N)'s form and looked to Claudia. "'S alright, thank y'for doing that."

"Sure!" she smiled, moving towards the door before stopping at the threshold, "How much longer do you think you'll be?"

Harry didn't hesitate to direct his attention back to (Y/N), his bottom lip coming to rest between his teeth. "Um," she stuttered, words not making a lot of sense in her head at the moment, "We just need to do his lips and then he should be ready."

"Perfect!" Claudia beamed, "Everybody else is getting dressed and ready, so whenever you're set we can take a few photos before you go on!"

"Okay, we'll be out soon then. Thank you, Clauds." The nickname was punctuated with a dimple sweet smile from Harry just before Claudia disappeared out of the dressing room.

Now alone, (Y/N) let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Why she felt so guilty, like she had been caught red-handed, she didn't know. Nothing had even happened, she argued with herself as she turned to rummage through the tubes of lipstick she lugged along for tonight's show, all she had done was adjust his makeup and he said hi to her. That was it.

Nothing scandalous, nothing unprofessional, nothing that she wouldn't have done with any other client.

Right?

"You're staying for the show again, right?" Harry spoke from behind her.

"Yeah, if that was alright," she answered, distracting her restless fingers with the help of the lip brush was she dipping into the pink lipstick pinched between her fingers.

"Of course 's alright," Harry countered as (Y/N) turned to face him, brush loaded with the pink lipstain, "I want y'there."

Tentatively leaning into his space again, (Y/N) was grateful for the fact he wouldn't be able to feel the heat flooding behind her cheeks. "I'll definitely be saying then, H," she murmured, starting to work on the flushed pink hue that he wanted painted over his lips.

All the while, she felt a pair of bright green eyes framed by pearls watching her.

—————

"(Y/N)!"

In the middle of Kiwi being blasted through the venue, the floor shaking beneath her feet, the sound of Vera's voice with her hand on her shoulder pulled (Y/N) from the Harry-centric dimension she had been transported to for the last hour and a half.

Whipping her head in the direction of her friend—who was happily dressed up as a sexy witch—(Y/N) found Vera being prompted by Harry's manager, Jeff, to get her attention. She'd only met Jeff for a few minutes here and there, particularly when photos were being taken and he took peeks at the shoot before being whisked off elsewhere.

(Y/N) switched spots with Vera, skirting around her friend to allow her to see the end of the show while she was pulled to the edge of the pit. "Is everything okay?" was her first question, the words shouted in his ear over the noise of the music and the crowd.

"Yeah," he answered, a nod of his head as he split his attention between this conversation and the man on stage, "H just wanted me to pull you to come backstage before the end of the show. He said he had something he wanted to ask you."

"Oh?" She reared back, a furrow to her brows.

Jeff only shrugged, "He just asked me to grab you right before he went on for encore."

"Okay," she relented, this not being the best place to extract information given that the sound of Elin's bass was rattling through her bones, "Let me grab Vera, I'll be right back."

All it took was for (Y/N) to share that Harry had something he wanted to ask her that Vera was practically taking the lead and tugging her along. Jeff escorted the two of them down the familiar roads to the backstage area, hidden in one of the tunnels of the venue and out of sight of the concert-goers though there was still a sliver of a view of Harry onstage.

The timing was serendipitous as Harry could be seen finishing his rounds, blowing kisses and sharing his thanks to everyone who came out for the show all around the stage. The lights went down just as the final crashes of Kiwi came to an end, leaving Harry to run off stage and join the back where his friends awaited him.

Adrenaline radiated off of him in waves, hair slick with sweat while his eyes shone with something she had only seen from her spot off to the side of the pit section. A broad smile was embedded on his lips. Harry bounced on his feet as he greeted those who had waited for him, asking how the show was, though he barely waited for an answer before bubbling off to another individual. When he caught sight of (Y/N), his energy seemed to explode between the two of them.

His smiling lips formed the syllables of her name before he bounded towards her, arms open. (Y/N) let out a small ooph as he scooped her into his arms, the wind being knocked out of her lungs at the force of his embrace.

"Hi," he greeted her, voice surprisingly soft given the energy haloing his form, "'M so happy you're here, thank y'for staying." If she hadn't been prepared for the hug, her surprise only grew when she felt a pink-stained kiss be planted on her cheek. Harry only tightened his arms around her as he settled into her neck, the mouth she felt the ghost of on her cheek now buried against her throat.

"I'm happy I'm here, too," she laughed, standing on the tips of her toes to accommodate the squeeze of his arms around her middle.

It took a minute for him to unpeel himself from around her, his adrenaline finally leveling out instead of coming in the erratic spikes that followed him off stage. He kept a loose arm around the small of her back, just under the wings she was itching to rip off her back.

"We—uh—We're, like the band and I and everyone, are going out for dinner after we get cleaned up and everything to celebrate. Would y'want to come with us?" Never once did his gaze flit anywhere away from her, the trademark Harry Styles eye contact being doled out tenfold with all of the glittering energy warping his halo.

There was no way she was going to be able to say no to that, now was she?

"Vera can come, too, right?" (Y/N) peeped, feeling the eyes of her friend lingering on their interaction in between conversation with the members of Harry's band.

At the mention of another's name, Harry seemed to remember there were more than just them in the catacombs of The Garden. He looked over his shoulder to where Vera and Elin were giggling away about something that was too hushed for them to hear.

"Of course, yeah," he nodded, his hand on her waist tightening, "That means you're coming?"

"I just need to get changed and everything, but I'll definitely be there."

(Y/N) should have expected the joyous embrace that Harry pulled her into at her words. Another delicate kiss was pressed to her cheek, the pink prints surely sticking to her skin. "I'll text y'the address then, yeah?"

"Okay," (Y/N) agreed, tightening her own arms around his middle to reciprocate his hug, "Thank you for inviting me."

"I couldn't have done this without you, you know that," he countered almost immediately.

Before much else could be said, Jeff tapped on Harry's shoulder, pulling him from the interaction. "We need to get you all cleared out before people start flooding out, c'mon."

"Right, right," Harry nodded, coming back to reality before unwrapping himself from around (Y/N).

They shared quiet goodbyes, Harry and the band of them tracing the steps back to their dressing rooms. More than once Harry turned around with a wave and heart-fluttering smile directed at (Y/N).

"So, we're going to dinner after this?" Vera asked, her presence closer than (Y/N) remembered.

"Mhm."

—————

Back at her hotel, (Y/N) couldn't bring herself to wipe away the kiss prints on her cheeks as she dressed down for dinner. She was going to keep those.

—————

"Did I get it?"

"No, it's still there."

"...Now, did I get it?"

"No, you're rubbing the wrong side of your face, what are you doing?"

Harry let out a frustrated huff as he looked at his still clean hands, the so-called glitter that was marring his cheek somehow still evading him. All the while, (Y/N) couldn't help the amusement from seeping into her tone and tugging at her features. She did try to be somewhat polite, hiding her smile behind her hand when she didn't think he was looking.

"Would y'jus' get it, please?" Harry requested though his words were annoyed enough (Y/N) could argue that they felt like a demand.

"You don't want to keep it?"

"(Y/N)."

At his tone, she relented with a sigh of Fine before playfully rolling her eyes. Truth be told, she kind of liked the look of him with the glitter, especially since she knew it was from her.

When he had hugged her back at the arena, smushing his face into her shoulder and kissing her cheek, some of the golden glitter that was sprayed over her own face transferred onto his skin and stuck there just like she wished she could. Even after he had wiped at his face, removing the makeup she applied for the show, the holographic specks remained stuck to his skin. It wasn't until appetizers had been brought to the table and everyone was one round of drinks in that (Y/N) finally revealed the secret of the glitter stuck in his stubble and underneath his eye.

"Come here," (Y/N) mumbled begrudgingly, twisting in her chair to sit with her legs over the side to face Harry completely. She scooted to the very edge, leaning into the familiar space around someone who was no longer her client as of three hours ago.

Harry lent towards her, stretching his neck out and offering the cheek with glitter smeared over his pores. (Y/N) took his face in her hands, palms gentle and warm around the cut of his jaw and the soft of his cheek. She did her best to pluck the specks off, though she knew better than most people that once you had glitter anywhere in your vicinity, it was going to be with you for at least another year, if not longer.

Though she was sure her efforts were going to be futile in the face of the glitter, at least she could take her time and finally admire the man she had in front of her.

She couldn't be more grateful for the late night policies of many of these New York City spots, and the low lights they utilized at this time of night. Harry was something of a god on stage, but under the faux candlelights and the neon bleeding in through the large windows on the face of the restaurant, he looked more prince than god. The tiniest of imperfections made their way to the surface, complete with a set of faint bags under his eyes (she couldn't imagine how exhausted he was after these two shows, let alone a whole schedule of concerts for the last two months), traces of his pink lipstain clinging to the ribs of his lips, and the blemishes that (Y/N) could imagine would pop up during a strenuous schedule like his.

He looked beautiful.

"Did y'get it?"

Harry's rumbling voice brought her back to her senses, noticing now only a single speck of sparkle remained on his skin.

"There's one I can't get, it just moves somewhere else, but I got the rest," she murmured, reluctantly leaning back into her own space.

Harry wiped a heavy hand over his face as if double checking her work though his fingers lingered over the same patches she touched. "Thank you," he said with a lopsided smile, a single dimple denting his cheek, "Should've had y'there to help me take everything off; would've done a much better job, 'm sure."

Wiggling her glitter colored fingers to show him the mess he missed, (Y/N) agreed, "Definitely could've done a better job than you."

With his eyes widening in shock, Harry let out a huff of a laugh. "I missed that much? And no one told me? They let me walk five blocks with glitter on half of m'face." He gestured around them to the others situated at their table.

The Love on Tour band along with Jeff, Orville Peck, Madison Cunningham, and Jenny Lewis with a few other members of the crew were seated all around. She and Vera had been the last to arrive, the walk from their hotel being a little bit longer than what she figured Harry's crew had to work with, but (Y/N) didn't mind, especially when it allowed Harry to properly introduce her to everyone around them. All the while her heart was operating on a rate of what felt like three-hundred beats per minute when she felt his hand on the small of her back as she lent over the table to shake hands with his colleagues.

But, her favorite thing about being late, was that Harry had saved the seat beside himself just for her.

Vera had made Elin and Ny her best friends for the night, while (Y/N) was happily sucked into the world of Harry Styles and the way he captivated her attention without even having to try.

Sweeping her eyes around the table, (Y/N) gave a shrug. "I doubt you're the weirdest thing to be roaming the streets of New York on Halloween Night, so I wouldn't worry."

That brought a laugh out of Harry's throat, his smile bright and dimples deep. "You're probably right," he said, sinking into his chair with his gaze lingering over her face, "It could be worse. I could be dressed completely normal, but with a face full of fairy makeup. Now, that would definitely be the weirdest thing to find out there."

(Y/N)'s jaw dropped in faux-offense, knowing exactly the kind of rib he was trying to poke at on her. It wasn't her fault she hadn't wanted to wash off her makeup just yet—if anything, it was his! Once she looked into the hotel mirror, dressed down in a heavy green sweater and a pair of leggings that had seen better days, (Y/N) couldn't find it in herself to part with the pink kiss marks dotting her cheek from a certain pair of lips she was dreading to forget.

Reiterating words she had told him countless times through the same smile when she was attempting to get him ready today, she told him, "You're so annoying, I can't believe I helped you!"

It wasn't until she made a point to wipe her glitter covered hand down the sleeve of his tan cardigan that (Y/N) realized she still hadn't moved into her original position, her legs still hanging over the side of the chair with her body angled completely towards Harry.

Harry caught her arm, his hand wrapping around her forearm in a grip strong enough to keep her from pulling much farther away. (Y/N) did her best to keep her breathing in check and the playful expression on her face as he lent closer, his own smile crooked and eyes sly and teasing, "'M only teasing, love, no need to get all worked up. You know y'look gorgeous—that's the only reason y'would catch anyone staring at y'tonight."

(Y/N) floundered for something to say, anything to fill the air between them, but in that moment her tongue felt dry and her throat was clogged with her heart. He was flirting with her, right?

Just then, Orville called across the table to Harry, asking him to settle a debate he had started up with Pauli. Harry only lagged a second behind, his hand reluctantly falling from around (Y/N)'s arm with his eyes lingering on her face before he turned towards his friends.

(Y/N) felt lucky in that moment to be on the end of the table, able to see everyone around her and their preoccupied positions while she had her momentary freakout. The warmth of Harry's palm remained around her arm, a ghost of his touch that seared into her skin with a soothing kind of heat.

From across the table, she caught Vera's eye. Her friend only raised a brow at her, a silent question asking if she was alright.

(Y/N) could only shrug. She wasn't going to be sure until her heart slowed down, and even then, with Harry right beside her, she knew she would be in limbo for the rest of the night.

—————

"Are y'sure y'can't stay?"

(Y/N) had to fight off the lovestruck giggle that bubbled through her chest at Harry's words. If she hadn't been already in a little too deep going into this project, tonight solidified the longtime crush she knew she was going to be carrying for him.

Even with all of his friends and colleagues around him, Harry's attention never strayed too far from (Y/N). When he was pulled into separate conversations, he even made a point to tug her along and ask her opinion or try to make her laugh. He was the same person in her makeup chair the whole night, just as funny and smart, though it seemed there was something more running under his words now. When she spoke, she swore she caught his gaze more than once slipping to her mouth.

But, all good things must come to an end, even the Halloween project that had taken roots in her mind for the last three months.

Though, in that moment, with Harry pleading for her to stay, bright green eyes framed by thick lashes she knew well, she wondered if there was any way for Halloween to last another day (or month even, she wasn't picky).

As much as she wanted to stay in her spot, stake her claim on this chair and never leave, (Y/N) remembered Vera waiting for her back at the hotel, having left an hour earlier when Sarah and Mitch declared it was time for them to go back to their baby. They had a booking in the morning for a pair of Real Housewives that (Y/N) had even been the one to remind Vera about, though now it seemed she was the one that needed the warning to go to bed and get some rest.

Reluctantly, (Y/N) nodded her head at Harry, her lips curving into a frown. "Vera and I have a booking with some Real Housewives in the morning, and I already know its going to be a mess, even without me staying out late."

Harry perked up at the sound of the franchise she was to work with, a murky memory she had read months back about him being a fan of the show resurfacing in her mind. Though, it seemed the mention of the television show didn't do much for brightening up his demeanor.

"Alright," he sighed, readying himself to stand from his seat at the table, "Could I walk y'out, then? I don't want y'to wait alone for a taxi."

A smile blossomed on (Y/N)'s features. Any time with him, no matter how short, was going to earn an automatic and bright agreement from her.

She nodded her head with a quiet sure, escaping her lips. By the time they were both standing, (Y/N) telling the remaining group at the table that she was leaving for the night and that she appreciated getting to work with them and how nice it was to meet everyone, Harry was barely informing anyone of his whereabouts. Only a half-hearted be right back! was called over his shoulder as he followed (Y/N) out.

"So, where to next?" (Y/N) asked as they stepped into the night air of New York, the neon lights around them shining brighter than the moon.

"Uhm," Harry hummed, reaching up to run his fingers over the side of his jaw, "Milwaukee, I think."

"Oh," (Y/N) sounded, requesting an Uber on her phone before tucking her arms around her middle, "Then back here again, right? Only get a couple weeks away at a time before you come crawling back."

Harry let out a laugh, shaking his head, "I do have another show here but not until—"

"Oh, my god," (Y/N) laughed, the sound loud in the middle of the night though it had nothing on the traffic bustling just a few blocks away, "I wasn't even being serious. You really have another show here?"

"It was a last minute addition!" Harry defended, leaning against the brick of the building though his body never shifted away from her, "I didn't even know until a couple of weeks ago."

"That's what they all say," (Y/N) countered airily, turning her nose up as if she knew something he didn't.

"And y'call me annoying," he teased, nudging his foot against hers in a gentle prod.

A beat of silence passed, (Y/N) aware of the fact that her Uber was only five minutes away and then that would be the end of the Cinderella magic that allowed her to become so close to Harry over the last few days. She let out a sigh at the thought.

Four minutes, now.

"I really liked working with you, you know," Harry said, his voice a quiet rumble between them. He gazed at her through his lashes when she flicked her own eyes in his direction. "'M touring for the rest of the month, but after that—uh—I... I would really like to see y'again."

Time could have stopped in that moment for all that (Y/N) was aware. He wasn't saying what she thought he was saying, right?

(Y/N) tried her best to rein herself in, tugging back on the frantic butterflies that threatened to invade her stomach and crowd her lungs. "Of course," she started, words stilted, "Whenever you need a makeup artist or any advice, just let me know and I'll be there."

Harry's lips curled into a crooked smile at her words, dimple deep in his cheek. "I'll definitely be doing that," Harry murmured, amusement tinting his tone, "But, I was really hoping I could see you, again. Without having to sit in your chair and have things glued to m'face, anyway."

Those butterflies that were verging on rabid were too much for (Y/N) to contain any longer. He was to see her again, outside of the professional relationship they had forged as he sat in her makeup chair. He wanted what they had found on the couch of his dressing room and in the chairs they vacated in the restaurant behind them. He wanted what was encased between them the second he jumped off stage tonight and wrapped her in his arms.

Two minutes, now.

"I'd like that, too," (Y/N) peeped, using her shaky hands to pull up her contact book on her personal phone. "I know you already have my work number, but—um—if you want, this is my personal phone. You could put your number in, or—um—we could keep talking through my wor—"

Harry cut her off with a soft laugh, reaching his hand out for her offered device. "This is alright, don't worry."

(Y/N) watched as he typed away at her phone, his number subsequently being added to her contact list.

One minute.

Giving her phone back, Harry didn't hesitate before pushing off of the bricks and bringing her into a hug. (Y/N) reacted in affected movements, her brain struggling to keep up with the amount that's happened in the last five minutes. She settled with her arms wrapped around his middle, cheek against his chest, while Harry's had landed around the width of her shoulders, his own head dipping to rest in her neck.

"Text me when you're back at the hotel safe, yeah?" he whispered to her, arms tightening a minute amount around her form.

"Yeah, okay," she smiled, the lovestruck giggle she had tamped down before now making its way out against his chest, "I will."

It was the sound of a car coming up to the curb, idling only a few feet away that had Harry peeling himself from her form. (Y/N) allowed herself the privilege of his body under her hands as her touch lingered around his waist, she looked up to find him already smiling at her.

"C'mon," he said, voice quiet as he placed his hand on the small of her back.

(Y/N) happily followed after him as he ducked down to talk to the Uber driver as if he wasn't Harry Styles out in the middle of the city after a sold out show at Madison Square Garden. He verified the name of the driver, double checking all of the information for (Y/N) before he finally tugged her along.

Opening the back passenger door for her, Harry molded another soft smile onto his features. "Goodnight, (Y/N)."

With a neon blue sign radiating from behind him, (Y/N) saw remnants of the god that took his time on stage and shared with the world what a rockstar looked like in the modern age. But, more than anything else, she saw the man she had met in her makeup chair that made her heart race without all of the swagger that he turned on for his fans.

She saw Harry.

"Goodnight, H."

As her Uber started off towards the hotel, (Y/N) pulled up the newly added contact to her phone.

Harry Styles:)

God, she couldn't wait to see him again.

—————

Pulling up to the studio, (Y/N) felt an excitement rattling in her bones she hadn't felt in months.

She and Harry had been keeping loose contact since the final night of Harryween, messages incoming around Harry's busy schedule. Though the initial plan had been to meet up once he was finished with tour—his last show being in New York which (Y/N) made a point to tease him over—the hectic agenda of a rockstar proved too much for Harry to make concrete plans around. Though (Y/N) had been disappointed having to push off seeing him again so many times, the fact that he was trying and had kept the possibility of meeting up again alive, was enough for her to be happy.

But that contentedness had nothing on the moment when a text came through from Harry asking if she would be free to help him on set at a photoshoot for a magazine he was booked to be on the cover of. He had declined the makeup artist the magazine had offered, telling them that he knew someone in the area he really wanted to work with again. It wasn't exactly the date she had imagined they would go on when they finally had a chance to see each other, but if this was the best way for him to commit to plans with her, aside from planning out a dinner three months from now when his schedule was set to clear a little more, she wasn't going to turn it down.

That was how she found herself at a studio she had been to only a handful of times, readying herself for what Harry described to be an editorial photoshoot to go along with the roll out of a couple of upcoming projects he was the face of. They had discussed the pair of looks he was wanting to showcase, her kit stocked full of the items he had requested along with the book he had been telling her he wanted to borrow from her whenever he had the chance.

Walking in, she joined the rest of the crew that was readying for the arrival of Harry Styles, a PA instructing her to a corner of the set where a pair of vanities were set up for her to take over. She saw the familiar face of Harry Lambert working away at what was the makeshift wardrobe department by the single bathroom that was sure to act as Harry's changing room. After shooting Mr. Lambert a small wave when she caught his eye, she took stock of the room around her as she unpacked her kit.

A large white sheet was draped along the center of the back wall, the beginning bones of the backdrop for the photoshoot. Wardrobe was stocked full of different outfits hung on the limited rack space, polaroids of different looks taped to the back wall for Mr. Lambert to reference as they picked through the ensembles for the photos. PA's and other crew ran around the space with props, clothes, camera equipment and more as they built the set to be ready for Harry Styles, the man of the next few hours until The Shot was secured for the cover and the main spread that was going to be all about him was filled with an archive of photographs.

(Y/N) couldn't help her heart from racing as she realized just how soon she was finally going to get a chance to see Harry again.

She had kept up with his tour after Halloween, noting the way his charisma and showmanship never waned even in the last few concerts of the tour. Even when his new brand was being presented to the world, he never once faltered or seemed overwhelmed at his shows, seemingly glowing with all the praise being offered towards the Pleasing products she had heard rumors about since the beginning of last year. Her admiration for him as a performer only grew.

Seeing the photos of him, chest often times bared with curls framing his face and softening his features as he sang love songs and created an atmosphere full of self-love and acceptance definitely didn't hurt either. The messages she would receive in the middle of the night when she knew he was coming off stage or early in the morning on what she assumed was a day off of his, allowed her heart to keep simmering for him even in his absence.

With her back turned towards the set, (Y/N) pulled out the loose and gelled glitters she brought along, a few options of each for Harry to pick through for the shoot. Her concentration was placed on a mix of iridescent, star-shaped glitters she had mapped out could be tapped underneath Harry's eyes if he picked them, when she heard Mr. Lambert's voice ring out through the studio.

"Sue!"

A deep, familiar voice she'd only heard in videos for the last months answered back, "Susan!"

Whipping her head around, (Y/N) found Harry trailing in through the maze of PAs and set designers with greetings falling from his lips to every individual that had a moment to speak to him. He was bright spot amidst all the bustle going on around him, a sunny yellow, crocheted hat on the top of his head to crown him the sunflower king of the day. The same baby tee he had been wearing the day she helped him dress up as Dorothy adorned his torso, the smiley face on his chest a beacon. Artfully faded and ripped jeans fell over his legs before they made way for a well-loved pair of Vans he wore almost everywhere according to pap pictures and fan sightings, pink shoelaces bright against the plain white (or brown at this point) canvas. Once he made it to wardrobe, Harry wrapped his friend in a warm hug, his grin wide.

He was a lot earlier than she would expect the talent of a photoshoot to be. Maybe it was her years working in the L.A. beauty scene, but (Y/N) was much more used to these important people showing up just in time to get dressed and in makeup before being hurried to set, never this early and this welcoming to strangers on set. But, the glimpses that she got into Harry's demeanor over that Halloween weekend showed her that she shouldn't be all that surprised anyway. He was never anything less than extremely kind and sweet to everyone he met, even during interactions that lasted less than a handful of seconds.

Of course, he would be the one to show up over an hour early to his call time. Of course, he would be the one to say hello to the flustered PA who's kindness and willingness to work was being taken advantage of by the photographer. Of course, he would be the one who was different.

Unable to keep her lips from curling into a smile, (Y/N) only allowed her eyes to linger over the Harrys for a second longer before turning back to her station. He would come to her when he was ready, that's what she told herself, and being caught staring at him wasn't going to be the most welcoming introduction after months of not seeing one another.

It was only when she tugged out the face charts she made up for him, that there was a shift behind her. Something about the air changed the only way it does when someone with a presence approached. (Y/N) knew exactly who it was.

"Hey, you."

A bright smile made its way onto her face, (Y/N) spinning on her toes to see the owner of the greeting voice.

"Harry!" she beamed, finding him standing behind her with his curls peeking out from underneath his sunflower stitched hat. The wide grin she had spotted from across the room was now directed at her, dimples deep in his cheeks with the white of his teeth bright against his California tan.

"How are you?" he asked, his voice a quiet rumble between them. He looked her over with the familiar warmth of his gaze, eyes taking in the full of her form as he opened his arms in invitation to her.

"I'm good," she sighed, stepping into his arms with a contented smile on her face as her cheek met his chest, "How are you? It's been so long."

"It has been, yeah," he mumbled into her shoulder, his arms tight around the width of her body, "'M good, 'm really good. Thank y'for coming."

(Y/N) pulled back just far enough to look up at his face, his hat tamping down his curls to frame the height of his cheekbones with the brim creating something of a shade of privacy for just a moment. "Of course," she whispered, "I've been really excited to see you again."

The smile that bloomed across Harry's lips was something (Y/N) had never seen in any photos or read about in any profiles on him. "Me too."

For a moment (Y/N) forgot about the chaos running around them, the noise of the impending shoot becoming nothing more than a dull murmur in the peripheral of her mind. This moment alone was well worth the wait since New York.

Though she could have stayed in his arms for the duration of the shoot, Harry being one of the best huggers she'd ever met, she knew that probably wasn't the most professional look while being on the job. So, it was her who drew away first, her shoes scuffing the floor as she shuffled back towards the vanity.

"You're early," she said, resisting the urge to busy her fingers with the glitter-gel pot at her left.

"Am I?" Harry asked with a lilt to his tone, as if he'd heard that statement a hundred times before.

"I didn't think your call time was for another hour," (Y/N) explained, her eyes following him as he moved to lean against the vanity beside her, "I was just surprised to see you here already, that's all."

The intense eye contact she'd forgotten in his absence made it's debut for the day, the green of his eyes something she wasn't able to forget even if she'd tried. Harry shrugged at her, his gaze never leaving her own, "I was excited about this one, what can I say?"

Maybe she was reading a little too far into it, getting too excited to be back in the presence of someone she harbored a puppy's crush on, but she couldn't help but feel like he was telling her that she was a part of why he was excited.

"Nothing wrong with that," she smiled, "What's all this for anyway? Something special coming soon?"

At that, Harry's grin grew sly and crooked, his eyes finally falling from her own to catch sight of his overworked Vans. "'M not allowed to say," he mumbled, an apologetic roundedness to his features, "'S something new I've been excited about, yeah, but 'm not supposed to say anything else about it until the article comes out. I've already been in trouble a handful of times with my manager because I've been a bad secret keeper about this one, can't do it again."

"Not even a little hint?" (Y/N) pried, feeling a sense of deja-vu. It seemed he struggled to keep secrets like this, which only endeared him further to her. Besides, she was only teasing as she hadn't wanted him to get in trouble or anything... but it would be kind of fun to be in on a big Harry Styles reveal.

Harry feigned thought, puckering his lips to the side as he seemingly rolled the idea around his head. "Maybe," he settled on, ducking his chin to offer his serious proposal, "If y'make me really pretty for today's shoot, I might give y'a hint. Maybe."

Letting out a hum of thought to play along with his game, (Y/N) faux-considered his offer. "I'll see what I can do," she finished, a smile creeping on her features when she noticed the familiar red painted on Harry's nails.

Though her own were a bright shade of white now, that candy apple red brought back a slew of giddy memories.

It was then that Harry caught sight of the various glittered set out on her vanity, the closest one with a myriad of stars and moons mixed in being the one that held his attention. "What's this for?" he asked, reaching for the jar like a curious puppy with a bone.

"Well," (Y/N) twisted in her spot, gesturing for Harry to take a seat in her chair, "I had a few ideas if you wanted to look at the charts I brought..."

—————

(Y/N) watched as Harry, now with his hair mussed to perfection with the curls creating the perfect spirals and waves he was known for, dressed to the nines in a lemon yellow crop top and a pair trousers made of black mesh with bright butterflies embroidered over where it mattered most, posed in front of the camera. His hands were decked out in his iconic range of rings, the most garish of his collection making their presence known. A jade beaded necklace clung close to his throat, working against the bright yellow of his top, matching the faux-earrings cuffed around his ears. Behind him, the white sheet that made up the background had been transformed into something of a fantastical dreamland; faux plants and shrubbery was formed around him though it was clear Harry was the star and the fluttering butterfly figurines were there for nothing other to enhance the world he was to pull them into.

His makeup was left minimal for the first round of shots, nothing much farther than glowy skin prep (alá the Pleasing illuminating serum (Y/N) had been way too excited about adding to both her professional and private collections) and a brush through his brows and curl to his lashes. Harry was very excited with the various face charts she showed him, the glitter being the main focal point he was giddy over, but told her the vision for a few of the shots were for his skin to be clean and easy while the clothing they had picked would steal the show.

He was a natural, that much she could tell from the last few sets of photographs. While he definitely made the stage his home, modeling and being in front of a camera like this was something she thought might be a vacation home for him—something different to performing, but fulfilling in its own way. The photographer didn't offer much more than for Harry to look one way or another, change his footing, or ask for help from hair or makeup (she really was only needed when another coat of glossy lip treatment was to be applied to his mouth). The rest was up to the man in front of the camera as he moved with a goofy smile in between takes before turning on the serious charm when needed.

After she had finished what turned out to be only a ten minute makeup application (after just over an hour of them talking as Harry sat in her chair), Harry had requested she stick with him as he had his hair fixed. Though he was more than happy to chat with her, offering insights to what he did after tour finished (other than finishing the book he borrowed from her, which he told her he wasn't super in love with the alternating plot lines but he thought the writing was very beautiful) and what he was planning next (still no hints about this new project, though (Y/N) tried), he seemed much more inclined to ask about her. Every conversation was turned around into a question for her, what she thought about this film that had been rumored around L.A. to have begun private castings for, what her holidays had been like, and what she planned on doing after this (a very boring answer she had offered, but Harry didn't seem particularly disappointed by it).

He'd tugged her along for everything, keeping her close when he was trying to figure out what the first look of the day should be, spilling funny faces to her when he didn't think the hairdresser was looking, and incrementally asking her what she thought of specific stylistic choices despite Mr. Lambert being right there. Nonetheless, she felt honored to be glued his side, his name falling from her lips when he wanted attention.

That's how she was roped into following after him when an outfit change was called for, the photographer asking for the quick set change in the mean time. As an arsenal of flowery fake plants with mossy additions and dreamy light filters were being rushed to the set, Harry was corralled off to wardrobe, a look over his shoulder towards (Y/N) telling her that she was meant to come along.

"Is it time for the glitter yet?" she called as he disappeared into the bathroom with a garment bag, the door cracked just enough to hear her words.

Popping his head out of the doorway, (Y/N) was greeted with a heavenly smile and a hint of his bare shoulder, tattoos included. "It is," he decided, the beam of his smile almost matching hers.

"Flowers?" Her question referred to the pot he seemed particularly drawn to, a mix of pink and purple, cosmetic grade, flower-shaped glitters distributed among finely milled iridescent and green sparkles.

The dimples in Harry's cheeks were deep and calling for someone to poke at the depth.

"Flowers."

—————

(Y/N) had never been more proud of her work than what she had done today, she decided as she packed up her kit.

She'd never been a part of anything like this shoot before, even taking the handful of editorial style gigs she'd worked on in the past into account. Not only were the changing concepts attention grabbing and something that would fit right into a dream. She could see the editing now, how the hazy lighting and filters that had accompanied much of the second half of shots were going to add to the magic that would happen in the photographer's dark room and make Harry the unofficial fae king he had been crowned.

But, her favorite part was how in love Harry was with the glittered look they had crafted.

After he changed into an outfit consisting of more tulle and silk than (Y/N) had seen in her life, all the fabrics dyed a sage green with faded bleached spots that held a tint of pink in the middle, it was her job to add the glitter they had agreed on and run by both Harry Lambert the creative director. The carefully placed fragments were dotted around his eyes—cuddled in the inner tear ducts, and stamped under his eyes before the fine sparkles were added in artful strokes that were dominating the internet and television at the moment. When she finished and he finally got a look in the mirror, his irises sparkled more than the glitter she dusted along his skin.

"I love it," he had told her, the words floating out on a breath.

That praise alone was what had her smiling brightly through the remainder of the shoot, through the small touchups she made between shots, and the elongated time she was taking to pack up her kit.

When the final shot had been taken, the photographer yelling out "This is the one, Harry! This is your cover!", Harry had been almost immediately hustled back to her chair with the help of PA's tasked to take down the set before the sunset. As (Y/N) did her job of removing the glitter from his face, plucking the flowers from around his eyes, she remembered the way he looked at her as she praised his work in front of the camera and how amazing she was sure the whole thing was going to turn out. After throwing the final makeup wipe away, this one streaked with the product she had threaded through his brows and the finest of glitter that shone green in the light, Harry stopped her with a gentle hand on her leg. His touch was familiar.

"Wait for me, yeah? I need to say bye to a few people, but I want to talk to y'before y'leave."

She hadn't hesitated before saying yes, smile tugging at her glossed lips.

For the last half hour, (Y/N) distracted herself with helping other's tear down their stations before taking her time to clean up her own area before some unfortunate assistant would be tasked with breaking down the vanity table to be carted away for whoever was set to use this place next. At some point during these distractions, she heard he sound of Harry's voice pattering through the chaos. He was doing just what he'd said when he asked her to wait: thanking and saying goodbye to almost everyone on the crew. He even stopped and helped Mr. Lambert pack away his things, taking some of the heavier totes and crates off of Claudia's hands with a muttering of I'll take that, don't worry.

"Y'waited."

Now it was her turn to have that attention.

His voice held an edge of wonder, like he wasn't sure she was going to really follow up with her promise of sticking around for him. (Y/N) looked at him over her shoulder, hands busy righting the stack of face charts she brought along, a bright smile on her face. He was back in his street clothes, the bucket hat just barely containing the perfectly coiffed curls framing his face. (Y/N) could only spot one single remaining fleck of glitter, just to the right of his eye as if it were nothing more than a beauty mark.

"Of course, I did," she said, raising her brows, "Did you do everything you needed to?"

"Almost," he answered, the word quiet and slow.

It was then that he jumped in, helping to put away the final remaining products that she'd left laid out on her table. Just as she was going to slip the strap of her kit over her shoulder, Harry's gentle hand stopped her, red painted nails standing out starkly against the white blouse draped over her torso.

"I'll take that for you, yeah?"

(Y/N) dazed response came in the form of a quiet, "Yeah, okay."

Harry's smile was crooked on his features as he walked out with her, finally goodbyes called out over his shoulder to which the PA's and helpers shouted out their own send offs to "Mr. Styles." He only let out a small laugh at their reactions.

Entering the parking lot, the sun was low in the sky but hadn't yet touched the horizon. The pavement was bathed in orange tones, ranging from sherbert pink and bright coral to a blazing orange that was half the sun's fault, and half thanks to the smog that clouded L.A.. All that was missing was flakes of gold to rain from the sky like snow. Golden hour, she recognized.

When she noticed Harry give her a questioning glance, brows raised, she pointed across the lot. "I'm over there," she said, happy to have him walk her all the way out. That's what she got for coming at her actual call time, and not twenty minutes earlier to get a closer spot.

Harry's face twisted into a grin at her words. "We're neighbors, then. I parked right beside you."

"Really?" she asked, her voice titling at the end in curiosity, "I would have thought you'd pick a spot closer. You're the star and everything, it'd be well deserved."

Harry shrugged, shaking his head as the brim of his hat flounced at the motion. "I don't like to take those spots since 'm probably the only person that jus' has to bring themselves. I have nothing to carry back and forth like everyone else."

Of course, he thought like that. Because, as she realized earlier, Harry was different.

"This is you, I'm assuming?" (Y/N) asked once they made it to the pair of slots towards the edge of the lot. She couldn't hide how impressed she was from leaking into her tone when she caught sight of the bright yellow, vintage, convertible parked beside her Honda she couldn't even remember the year of.

He shrugged, though his pleased smile was a little too hard to hide. "I like to take it out when the weather's nice."

"I don't blame you," she laughed, unlocking her car. She led Harry to her passenger seat, the side closest to his own car, opening the door for him to store her kit for the drive home. Once he was cleared and out of the way, (Y/N) moved to close the door behind him, a smile on her lips though it was a bit bittersweet now. From her spot edging closer to his car, she saw him backlit with the help of the golden sun acting like the halo that should have been placed on his head during the shoot. Though she decided she'd never seen anything more breathtaking in that moment, she sunk at the fact she didn't know when she would get to see him again. If at all.

"Wel—"

"Than—"

(Y/N) cut herself off at the same moment Harry had, an apology tumbling from her lips that only ended up crashing into Harry's once again. With a laugh, she waved her hands between them as she shook her head. "You first," she determined.

"I—uh—," he started, a breathy laugh interrupting his words as he passed his knuckle under the tip of his nose, "I was jus' going to say that I really like working with you, (Y/N). I don't... We waited too long to see each other again, I think."

When his gazed matched her own, (Y/N) couldn't stop the flutter that tugged at her heart. Here they were again, making plans that she was going to yearn over for the next months. She wouldn't have it any other way. Harry was worth the wait.

"Me too," she smiled, twisting her fingers into a heap, "I really look forward to these kinds of projects with you. We have a lot of fun, I feel like. But, I understand you're busy and don't always have the say in bringing me along, so I understand why we don't see each other more often."

Harry shook his head, making the distracted movement of trying to run his hand through his hair despite the hat on his head. He let out a laugh that melted into (Y/N)'s when his fingers became entangled in the crocheted fabric, opting to just pull the piece off and tuck it in his back pocket.

"'M busy, yeah," he said, a set appearing in his jaw when he looked at her through the frame of his lashes, "But I don't—'M not too busy for you."

(Y/N) heart appeared in her throat in that moment, the beats of the chambers felt against he delicate skin of her neck with her blood rushing past her ears in a way that drowned out everything but Harry.

"If 's alright with you," Harry continued, his hands coming to tug on the cropped hem of his top, "I want to see y'outside of work things, too. I think it might be fun seeing y'without glitter ending up on m'face."

A giddy smile took (Y/N)'s features, something of a lovestruck giggle came out at his joke. "That's alright with me," she settled on, "Definitely." Her smiled bright before it was directed at the pavement under their feet. She hoped the break in eye contact would allow for her brain to click back into place, though she knew that was a long-shot when she knew Harry Styles was right there and had effectively just asked her on a date.

"Yeah?" he smiled, his voice floating out on a breathless sigh.

(Y/N) couldn't find it in herself to manage any other kind of response other than her smile widening on her features as she nodded her head. "Yeah." How she was going to be able to drive home through L.A. traffic with these clouds stuffed in her head, she didn't know. "I'll text you later then, right? We can plan something."

Though he nodded his head, Harry didn't look ready to leave. She was proven right when he took a careful step in her direction. "There was one more thing I wanted to do before I left today, if that's alright with you," his tone was quiet between them, though the set of his features solidified into something serious.

"Okay," was her lame response.

With (Y/N)'s back now against the yellow convertible that suddenly looked too small for someone of his height, especially with the way he seemed to grow taller with each careful step he took closer to her. The careful hands she had felt just barely grazing her own when passing off products or on the two occasions he had settled on his palm on her thigh when she was working on him, returned to catch on the curve of her waist. His touch was just barely more than a ghost's graze, a light patch of warmth blooming under his palm.

"I feel like I should've done this back in New York," he mumbled, eyes trained on her features, memorizing every twitch and tic of her muscles. "Tell me if y'don't want this, and I'll stop. I'll wait for you."

If he was asking what she thought he was asking...

With his gentle grip on her waist, Harry lent down, dipping his head to be level with her own. A second passed, a moment for (Y/N) to stop him if she didn't want this, before her mind had all but vanished at the feel of Harry's lips against her own.

The clouds she had been worried would alter her driving skills didn't stand a change against he warm sunlight that poured out of Harry at the tender contact. They evaporated in a moment, leaving her clear minded, nothing else to concentrate on but the feel of his kiss.

(Y/N)'s restless hands moved to settled on the center of Harry's chest, something she had wanted to do since she saw him in his Wizard of Oz costume. The same chest that stretched the fabric of the outfit was now under her hand, the faint thudding of his heart underneath the layer of muscle giving away just how giddy he was for this moment like her.

Drawing away for just a second only to return with another innocent kiss to her lips, (Y/N) smiled at the contact. This felt like the end to a first date. Nothing was implied with their kissing, nothing other than the fact they liked each other with a promise of a next time slipped in there. Harry offered her one more soft-lipped kiss before effectively pulling away.

This time it was (Y/N) that lent up to her tip-toes, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

The grin on his face was something she wished people made face charts of. His curls were wild and unruly now that they were freed from the confines of his hat, the gel unable to hold any longer as the strands draped around his face in a way that acted as if they could curtain this moment and create a sliver of privacy.

(Y/N) even swore there was a blush on his cheeks, natural and rose-hued across his skin.

Taking a shuffled step back, the space causing reluctant hands to fall to their sides, Harry shook his head with dimples deep in his cheeks. "I've got to go to a meeting tonight over dinner, but could I call y'after? We can talk about... next time."

The mention of the next time could have knocked (Y/N) off her feet—and almost did, with the way she stumbled a bit as she moved to get out of the way of Harry's car. He only let out an endeared laugh around a bid to be careful at her stuttering feet, making (Y/N) feel a little less embarrassed.

"Yeah, yeah," she sighed, carefully rounding the front of her car though she couldn't find it in her to pull her eyes from him, "Call me whenever, I'll pick up."

He waited for her to pull open the driver's side door before speaking again. "Bye, love. Get home safe."

(Y/N) all but melted into her front seat at the sound of the endearment wrapped in his voice. "Bye, Harry."

The drive home was just as traffic filled as (Y/N) expected but there was nothing that could wipe the smile off her face.

Next time, he had said.

Now, she had to figure out how to tell Vera without getting ear-splitting screams of joy in response.

—————

ahhhhh!!! this is like the perfect combination of all my love for makeup and for harry jsut coming together and I just loved this idea so much like getting to put all the pretty stuff on his face:( I really hope everyone liked this and thank u so much for reading! sorry for any mistakes and if theres any ideas or requests you have of your own please send them in!

2K notes · View notes

eregyrn-falls · 2 years ago

Text

Periodic Reminder

If you're new to Tumblr, welcome! It's a lot of fun here.

But, I implore you to do a few things.

Put up something as an avatar / icon / pfp / whatever you call it. It's wise for this NOT to just be a photo of person; but if you want it to be a photo of your favorite movie character or something, move on to the other steps.

Either reblog a few things that you're interested in, or make your Likes public and like some things you're interested in. (Note: making your Likes public is a choice, and most people do NOT make their Likes public, and that is fine! I think a lot of the pornbots have their likes public because, well, they're pornbots so a bot is just automatically picking options that most human beings don't pick. If you really really want your likes to be public, though, that's okay too.)

Give your blog a little title, or use the subtitle. (Note: lol I haven't done this either, my blog title is the same as my name; but my blog is also customized.)

The whole point is, we're in the middle of another wave of porn-bots. And some of the hallmarks of a porn-bot blog are:

An avatar that is a photo of a person, usually a young woman, usually trying to look sexy in some way. OR, one of the generic avatars that Tumblr gives you if you don't choose one. (The problem with that is that there ARE real people who use those because they're fond of them, so it's not always a giveaway.)

A username that is often a combo of firstname-lastname-numbers; but they're also starting to just be kind of randomly generated.

A blog title/subtitle that makes it pretty clear they are trying to solicit interest from people who want porn sites (the easiest to spot will mention their onlyfans rating or something).

A blank blog, with no reblogs or likes.

(Or sometimes there will be a few reblogs or likes, but they'll have no coherence to them; or, the porn-bot will make it sporting and they'll have reblogs of soft-porn or actual porn and then that makes it easy. Likes or reblogs done by a real person just tend to have a sense of coherence that bots can't match.)

I'm really sorry, but if you follow me, and your avatar is just the face of a pretty young woman, AND there is nothing at all on your blog... I'm reporting and blocking you.

#life with tumblr #pornbots

91 notes · View notes

navybrat817 · 4 years ago

Text

Eternal Brand

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Steve Rogers x Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader x Steve Rogers Summary: Being Bucky and Steve's best girl should feel easy, if only your mind and emotions agreed. Word Count: Over 4.2k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, threesome, vaginal sex, anal sex, dirty talk, tension, possessive behavior, slight angst, porn with feels (it’s me, c’mon), tattooed Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers (they’re warnings, okay?)

A/N: Welcome to the next part of my tattoo AU! This is follow up to Visible Mark - Part 3 and the start of Phase 3! Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby and @sparkledfirecracker , but any and all mistakes are my own. Thank you, lovelies! Banner created by yours truly, but Bucky and Steve photos were provided by the talented @nix-akimbo ! This AU wouldn’t exist without them. And divider by the beautiful @firefly-graphics !

Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications.

I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere but here or archiveofourown under my same username, it has been reposted without my permission. 18+ Please!!! Please comment or reblog if you desire!

The morning after the barbeque, you woke up feeling comfortable… but cold. Being in bed alone was a foreign feeling to you now. You wanted to feel warm hands and gentle breaths against your skin as you opened your eyes. Your boys were early risers though, even after the long nights of fun.

You stretched a little as you got up, grabbing and slipping on the t-shirt that was waiting for you. Your feet softly padded across the floor as you went to quickly brush your teeth. The place was quiet as you left the bathroom and you wondered for a moment if they were running errands before work. You stopped when you spotted one of your boyfriends, not wanting to disturb him when you saw what he was doing.

Steve was deep in concentration as he sat at the table, focused on the sketch pad in front of him. You watched his hand move along the paper, slowly and steadily. Taking a few steps forward, you almost faltered when you caught a glimpse of what he was drawing. It was… you.

He told a story in a simple sketch, much like the tattoos he and Bucky put such care into creating. The way he captured you didn't just make you look striking and expressive. It made you look… like the person you wanted to be. Then it hit you that he already saw you that way. Because the drawing was a reflection through his eyes.

You didn't realize he was saying your name until he reached out to touch your arm, making you jump.

“Morning,” he said with a chuckle.

"Morning,” you smiled. “Where’s Bucky?”

“He had to meet up with Nat, but he’ll be back soon. I thought I’d get some sketching in while you slept," he said, scooting his chair back and patting his thigh for you to sit. You leaned into him as you sat down, your eyes drifting back to the drawing. "What do you think?"

"It's beautiful," you said honestly.

"You are beautiful," he told you, kissing your shoulder. "I just draw what I see."

You had to smile at the compliment, even as you wanted to protest that you weren't. Were you always so self-deprecating? "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," he answered, giving your shoulder another kiss.

"How does someone go from being engaged to sharing someone with their best friend?"

You did your best to keep your voice gentle. It wasn't a question of judgment. You just wanted to know since the two types of relationships were so different.

“I was waiting for you to ask me that.”

“You were?”

“It was bound to come up and I think it’s good for us to talk about,” he replied, running his hand along your hip. “Peggy and I took things slow in the beginning when we dated. I thought I wanted something traditional with her. The house, the white picket fence, a ring on her finger.”

You looked at him for a moment, unsure of what to say. Were you not the kind of person people wanted to settle down with? “What happened?” you finally asked, running your fingers through his hair. He looked lost in thought, like the memories haunted him.

"I did love Peggy… but she loved the idea of me. It makes you doubt a lot of things when someone doesn't want you for you at the end of the day," he said.

"Steve…" you whispered. Love was about accepting someone at their best and worst and who they were at their core.

"That doesn't make her a bad person, but it did make her the wrong one for me. When I stopped ignoring what was wrong with our relationship, I broke it off. Ending things hurt, but it was the right decision."

"That still had to be difficult," you said, wondering how often he talked about this, if at all. Even if he wasn't meant to be with Peggy, letting go had to be painful. It was good that he didn't settle though, only to end up unhappier down the road.

"It was," he confirmed. "I didn't want to date for awhile. Not until I figured myself out and where things went wrong. Because it wasn’t all her. I realized that I wanted a life with someone, but I also wanted a foundation built on complete trust and respect. And I wanted someone I could connect with emotionally as well as intimately. Bucky didn’t go through what I did, but he wanted the same thing. At the end of the day, we just wanted someone who got us.”

“And that was me?” you asked, as if it wasn’t an obvious answer.

“Yes,” he said, brushing his nose against yours. “Bucky came home one day and wouldn't stop talking about you. I never heard him talk about anyone like that."

Heat flooded your cheeks. "That's really sweet."

"I didn’t expect to fall for you… not when I knew how he felt. But you are so kind and warm. It felt wrong to like you when my best friend did, too, but… you made it so easy to imagine being happy," he told you, your heart skipping a beat. "And he caught on. The two of us walked on eggshells around each other for a bit because neither of us wanted the other to get hurt. Once we finally stopped and addressed it, we were able to figure it out together. It was like the fog cleared.”

You tried to imagine that conversation between them… realizing that they liked the same person. And finding a way to make it work. “So you two really are happy with this?" you asked. "With me?" was unspoken.

Steve's smile was soft, but his eyes held that determination you admired. "The happiest I can remember in a long time, sweetheart."

You gently kissed him, his words soothing the ache you didn't realize was there. "I'm still sorry you had to go through that," you swore, touching his cheek.

He placed his hand over yours, gazing at you with a kind of softness that made your chest tighten. "That right there… your compassion. That was one of the reasons we both fell for you."

"I'm just-"

"-You. You're you."

You lightly traced one of the tattoos on his neck with your fingertip. "I cared about you before we started this. It's easy to say it was a crush and I tried to convince myself that was all it was, but it was much more than that and… doesn't this scare you?"

The feelings you had scared you a little and you hadn't fully admitted to them how you felt. Because what if they didn't feel the same way? Could you handle that kind of rejection?

"Of course, it does. Opening yourself up is one of the scariest things imaginable. But Buck and I didn't do this on a whim. We had a few long talks before we pursued this. This isn't something we would do with just anyone," he swore, holding you tight when you tried to pull away. "We know it's unconventional, but we still want to build something with you because we lo… We care about you, too."

The pressure in your chest grew. Was he about to say "love"? You swore Bucky almost said it, too. The three of you were dancing around it. Maybe because of the stubborn voice in your head telling you it was still too soon, even if you were all in. It would have been easy to write your feelings off as lust if not for the pain in your heart at the thought of letting them go.

And… love didn't have a timeline. So why did you have to abide by rules that you never put in place?

A knock on the doorframe tore your gaze away before you could answer. "Bucky…" you whispered. How long had he been standing there?

His smile was almost carefree as he gazed at you, holding a drink in his hand. "Are you scared, doll?" he asked gently as he walked toward you. He clearly heard part of the conversation. "Do we scare you?"

"I'm not scared of you two," you promised as Bucky pressed his lips to the top of your head and set the drink on the table. He surprised you by taking your hand, his thumb brushing over your ring finger.

"I'm scared sometimes," he admitted, surprising you. "I feel like I'm still dreaming that you want us and that one day I'll wake up and you'll not want me anymore."

"Bucky… Why wouldn't I want you?" you questioned, glancing at Steve for a moment. Had you done or said something to make him believe that?

"When I lost my arm…" he paused, glancing at his metal fingers. "I wasn't myself for a long time. The stares I got from people… the nightmares… it shattered a part of my confidence. It took a long time to rebuild it."

"But you did," Steve said proudly. And that made you feel proud.

Bucky smiled to himself. "Some nights were still bad. I went for a jog one morning after I couldn't sleep and I passed your way. I felt so angry and you…" he said, his fingers curling a bit. "You just smiled at me. It was so genuine and open and I just… breathed out the pain. I didn't know a smile could make me do that."

Tears filled your eyes. You didn't expect the depth of this conversation with the two of them when you woke up today. But you opened the floodgate. You could only let the tide sweep you up.

"I came home and I told this punk all about it. I had to know more about you," he said, wiping away a tear that fell. "I was yours before you even knew it. And the moment Steve let himself go, he was yours, too."

You hiccuped, trying hard not to burst into tears. These two kept working their way into your heart. Your simple actions made them feel like they were worthy of something more. You were just… being you.

"So, Steve's right… you're the only one we want. And we want to build something with you if you'll let us."

Uncaring of the awkward angle, you reached out to hug him. Your other arm went around Steve's shoulders, pulling him close. You openly cried at that point, feeling both of them bury their faces in your neck. You wished you could tell off anyone who ever made Bucky feel inferior. You wanted to snap at Peggy for making Steve doubt himself. You wanted to shield them from every hurt in the world.

"I don't ever… want either of you to doubt my want for you. And I want you exactly as you are," you whispered as you tried to collect yourself. You felt a deeper level of respect for them than you had before. "Thank you for giving me a chance to show you that. And thank you for talking to me."

"Thank you," Steve whispered, lifting his head to kiss your tears away. Bucky did the same on the other side. You felt a bit spoiled when they were the ones who opened up.

"And thank you for indulging me in this conversation when I have had no caffeine," you teased to cover up the giddy feeling that bubbled in your throat at their attention, wiping the remainder of the tears from your eyes.

"Got you covered," Bucky smiled, nodding to the drink on the table. You swore his eyes looked a little misty, too.

"Where's mine?" Steve joked.

You laughed when Bucky sat in his chair and pointed at the coffee maker on the counter. "That’s beautiful, punk,” he said, nodding to the sketch.

"I should frame it," Steve suggested.

"No, don’t do that," you said, reaching for the drink and taking a sip with a happy moan. Caffeine was your friend. “Crying was not on my list of things to do today.”

“Can we make it up to you?” Steve asked as you took another sip.

“You have nothing to make up for. It wasn’t your fault I got sappy.”

Bucky smirked a little as he leaned back in his seat. “I can think of something.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Does it have anything to do with our conversation in the pool?”

"Jesus. Here we go," Steve mumbled, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"But, doll…" Bucky groaned.

You smothered your laugh with another sip of your drink. Since you suggested that they could… ruin all of your holes, Bucky spent a good chunk of the night reminding you. As much as you wanted to… God, you wanted to, your body told you to get some rest.

"We still have a couple of hours before we have to open the shop," Bucky said hopefully. His puppy dog eyes almost resembled his best friend's.

"Buck, you're like a dog with a bone," Steve chuckled, even as he pulled you closer in his lap. “You know Nat recorded you on your knees begging. I’m pretty sure Thor was laughing in the background.”

“Proof that I have no shame getting on my knees to beg for you.”

“I think you two are trying to distract me with sex. You know that’s not all that I want, right?”

“We know that,” Bucky swore as his hand slid higher. “And that’s not all that we want, even when I act like a ‘dog with a bone’.”

You looked at him, realizing that the wound he opened wasn’t closed. These men continued to open up parts of themselves that you somehow had the keys to. They lowered their walls because you asked. Maybe they needed to distract themselves as much as they distracted you. "I don't know. I look awful right now," you teased.

"You look gorgeous," the brunette argued, placing his hand on your thigh.

"You can't dick me down until I finish my drink," you smirked, taking a slow, deliberate sip.

Steve groaned this time. "I think you really do enjoy teasing us because you know it drives us crazy."

Each sip was torturous, Bucky’s hand slipping under the shirt as Steve kissed the back of your neck. Yes, you wanted to tease them. You also wanted to calm the emotional storm brewing inside. It felt like hours passed when you finished it, slipping off of the blonde’s lap and pushing the brunette’s hand away.

“What are you-”

You whirled around and sprinted toward the bedroom, giggling when you heard the distinct sound of their chairs scraping the floor. You wondered which one would catch you first as you got close to the open door. A strong hand gripped your wrist before you could make it in, making you gasp as you were spun and pressed against the wall.

Steve framed your face, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. You could only whimper as he licked into your mouth, holding on as he devoured you. Gripping his hair, you felt him moan against your tongue. You could practically taste it.

“You gonna let us have you?” Bucky asked from beside you, his breath tickling the sensitive skin under your ear.

“Yes,” you exhaled when Steve let you breathe.

Clothes were discarded, forgotten, as you were pulled toward the bed. The frenzy between the three of you felt stronger, which you didn’t think was possible. There was hunger and possessiveness as they ran their hands along your body, but there was that adoration that they deemed you worthy of.

“Need you so much, doll,” Bucky whispered, his metal fingers pinching your nipple as Steve’s mouth latched onto the other. You truly didn’t know how you survived them. Maybe you were reborn each time.

“So much,” Steve whispered, swirling his tongue as he looked up at you.

Your breasts ached with delight from their touch, feeling your core practically pulsating with eagerness. Your pussy was greedy and needed to be filled. But after last night and that talk… you wanted to feel owned in every way.

“I want you both to fuck me,” you sighed. They groaned in sync as they pressed closer, your excitement palpable. “And, Bucky, since you begged so nicely...”

The light growl against your skin made you shiver before he pulled away to grab something from the drawer. It gave Steve time to switch to your other nipple, making you grip his hair. Bucky fumbled around before finding the bottle of lube he was looking for. Before he could open it, you stopped him.

“Wait,” you whispered, making him pause immediately. “I want Steve to open me up.”

Steve lifted his head, a surprised look on his face, while Bucky smirked. “You heard her, punk. Open her up nicely for me.”

Bucky did take a moment to pour a generous amount into his hand before handing it to Steve. You were distracted for a moment as he stroked himself. God, how were you going to take him?

“We’ll be gentle,” Steve promised as he sensed your nervousness. It began to fade as he moved behind you. Neither of them would hurt you.

“And if it’s too much, we’ll stop,” Bucky added, tenderly kissing you as you felt something wet against your tight hole.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Just tell me if it isn’t,” he soothed as he circled the tight muscle, the blunt pressure making you gasp once he slowly pressed a finger in. It felt strange. You never trusted anyone enough to have that part of you, but no one else out there was Steve or Bucky.

“Breathe, doll. You have to breathe,” Bucky whispered, pressing his forehead to yours as he helped spread your legs wider. You felt your breath catch when he slid a finger across your clit, the sensation of both men touching you so intimately making you see sparks behind your eyes.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Steve rasped as he was knuckle deep. The next breath you let out was close to a whine when he began to push another in. “You’re gonna strangle Bucky’s dick with your hole, aren’t you? Will you do the same to me? Will you let me?”

“Yes,” you whined as Bucky began to rub your bundle of nerves, his lips gently moving across your jaw. You were shocked you didn’t drip on the sheets from how wet you were.

“Gonna be so full of us, aren’t you? Let us ruin you just like you promised,” Bucky said as you nodded. The dull pressure began to fade into something more pleasurable.

“Can you take another?” Steve asked as he teased the tip of his third finger, his lips at your ear. He sounded as strained as you felt. It burned a bit and you felt full already, but they once again seemed to know your body better than you did.

“Go slow,” you urged. As eager as you were, you couldn’t just take. Not yet. But as he spread his fingers, you began to slowly rock your hips. The motion made you take them in more as he opened you up. Neither of them rushed you, letting you be in control until you whined. You felt empty because it wasn’t enough.

“There you go, sweetheart. Fuck, I wish you could see how you’re sucking me back in. You ready for his cock?”

“Use your words, doll,” Bucky said as he slid his hand down, feeling how soaked your lips were. He rubbed you once, twice, before he pulled away. “You ready for us?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, almost crying when Steve took his fingers out one-by-one. He gently maneuvered you so you were facing him again. Gazing into his eyes, you grasped the base of his cock. “Please, I’m ready for both of you.”

Bucky kissed beneath your ear as you felt the blunt head of his cock press against your hole. “Breathe, doll,” he reminded you.

Steve almost closed his eyes as you helped guide him inside your aching cunt. The push from both of them was slow and unrelenting, feeling them breach you to slide in so deeply. They didn’t move right away, simply letting you adjust. You thought you knew what full felt like before. Now you were consumed. You didn’t even realize your eyes slipped shut until you felt gentle kisses against your eyelids.

“Open your eyes, pretty girl,” Steve whispered, cupping your cheek as Bucky let out a shaking breath behind you.

“Jesus… fuck…” Bucky’s growl was so deep, his hand keeping your hips steady when you wiggled a bit. “Are you okay? Can I move, doll?”

If you hadn’t cried at the table earlier, you likely would have burst into tears from their tenderness. But you channeled that into simply feeling them. “I’m okay. Please, move.”

“So good for us. Always so good for us,” Bucky praised as his hands gripped your ass to spread your cheeks further apart. The action made you push back against him, unable to stop yourself from how burning hot you felt around their cocks.

Steve’s hands held your hips to keep you from moving, making you growl in frustration. The dark chuckle he gave you in response had you tightening around him. “Let us take care of you. Can you do that? Take our cocks until we fill you up?”

“Fuck,” you said through your teeth because you needed that. “Yes.”

It was like you were floating in the water as they began to move. Saying you felt good wasn’t enough. The stretch from having them inside you made you feel like you were already gone. The pace could have been brutal and you would have allowed them to use you, but they delicately guided you.

“Your ass is as greedy as your pussy. Knows it belongs to us,” Bucky said roughly, his breathing heavy as you heard the squelching of your wet heat. It should have sounded obscene, but it was perfect.

“Would you let me eat it, sweetheart? Open you up with my tongue until you cry and come?” Steve asked, his eyes dark as your own widened. “Let us wreck you like you deserve?”

“Oh, fuck…” your eyes rolled back, feeling like a ragdoll between them. Your body went limp and useless at their words. “Tell us you’re ours,” Bucky demanded as he thrust faster, pushing you lightly against Steve’s chest. The slight change in the angle had you crying out, your hands gripping Steve’s arms as you shut your eyes.

“I’m yours,” you swore.

“Your pretty pussy? Your tight ass?” Steve groaned as his hips snapped, seeing fireworks behind your closed lids.

“Yes!” you moaned, trying to rock forward and back against them.

Bucky slid a hand around your front. Instead of sliding down as you expected, he placed it over your chest. “And this? Because this… is what we want most of all.”

“Bucky,” you gasped as they thrust faster.

Steve placed a hand over Bucky’s and you were certain you would combust. The blinding ecstasy and swell of emotions almost destroyed you.

“Is this ours?” Steve asked, the words almost lost over the sound of your bodies colliding.

Your eyes were wet as you opened them, looking into Steve’s eyes before you glanced over your shoulder. You needed Bucky to see you, too. “You have… every part of me.”

“That’s all we want,” Bucky breathed out, gently biting your shoulder blade.

You trembled, both of them helping you stay upright as you threatened to collapse. Your hand reached over to go over theirs, the steady movements made your head spin. The three of you felt entwined. No one else could tear you apart so lovingly. No one else could… love you like this.

“I’m gonna come,” you gasped, starting to contract and spasm around them.

“We know, sweetheart,” Steve gritted, pressing his warm forehead against yours as he sped up. “Do it.”

“Come for us,” Bucky said, his tongue soothing the light bite against your skin.

Your thighs trembled as the coil snapped, a broken sob the only sound you could make from the force. Pleasure was wrenched from your soul in waves you were certain could drown all three of you. You couldn’t think straight, your body pushed to the limit and back again. Both of your holes kept clenching around them, trying to claim them as they were about to claim you.

You felt Bucky bite your shoulder again as his hips stuttered, feeling him flood your no longer virgin hole for the first time. Steve’s hips lost their rhythm moments later, hearing him cry out as he spilled inside you. The heat from being filled from both ends had you sobbing their names like a prayer.

Their cocks were still throbbing inside you as you clung to them, mumbling something as you floated back to yourself. Bucky panted harshly against your neck, his hand still against your pounding heart. Steve touched your cheek as you blinked.

“Sweetheart?” he panted, searching your face.

“Hmm?” you hummed as his handsome face came into focus.

“...You… You love us?” Bucky asked.

The euphoria disappeared completely as you tensed up, their cocks still trapped inside you. Oh, God. You… you mumbled, “I love you”.

Fuck.

Grant stared at your door with a smirk, admiring his handiwork. He wished he could see the look on your face when you saw the message he left. You deserved worse for rejecting him. And as he promised in the store, this was far from over.

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers x you #stucky x reader #stucky x you #bucky barnes x female reader #steve rogers x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader x andy barber #stucky x reader tattoo au #howling commandos tattoo au #tattoo au #sebastian stan x reader #chris evans x reader

2K notes · View notes

spencersawkward · 4 years ago

Note

Hi can i get a smut with dom!spencer on facetime with reader when he's away on a case while she's riding a pillow and spencer guides her through it like "slow down princess you're doing so well, you look so needy and pathetic for me" and she's just burying her face in a blanket in embarrassment askjalskfsjm

word count: 1.2k

content warnings: masturbation (fem!Reader x Spencer), dirty talk, dom!Spence, use of nicknames (princess, baby, sweetheart), breeding kink, innocence kink, praise and degradation.

A/N: super quick-- if you change your username and are on any of my taglists, would you mind letting me know/changing it in the doc so that i can edit it for you? nbd i just wanna keep my stuff updated hehe.

masterlist

you're giddy as soon as you hit the answer button on your phone. Spencer has just recently learned how to use FaceTime, and he's been calling much more often on cases now that he has the promise of seeing your face.

"hi!" you grin as soon as his face appears on screen. he's smiling already, and you swear that his eyes brighten.

"hi, sweetheart. how was your day?"

"it was okay. kind of boring. how's the case going?" you ask impatiently. he's been so busy, you're curious as to what's been occupying that quick mind of his. plus, you just want to hear the sound of his voice. you're never going to get over the endearing way he enunciates, the tone he uses with you. it's softer than the way he speaks to his team members; you wonder if they notice the difference or if it's just something that you imagine.

"it's interesting, but I’d rather just talk about it when I get home if that's okay?" he says it like a question, to which you nod.

"of course."

"I was hoping to talk about something fun tonight." the words come out slowly, his volume dropping to a level that makes your stomach flip.

your lips curl upwards into a smirk. "what did you have in mind?"

"I was thinking about you last night, and I was hoping to try something."

you can't help it; even though you've been dating for a while, the fact that he thinks about you when he's away gives you butterflies. "anything."

"would you happen to have a pillow nearby?"

you frown at the request but nod, reaching out and grabbing a fluffy one from the head of the bed. "yeah."

"I want you to climb on top of it for me." the order comes out stern, and any confusion you have about it vanishes within a moment. your cheeks get warm; you've done this before, but never in front of Spencer.

regardless, excitement ignites in the pit of your stomach. you follow directions and set the phone down for a moment to position the pillow between your legs, straddling it. once you're done, you grab the device and bite your lip.

"done."

"let me see, princess," he says. you angle the camera so he can see you in your lingerie and when he notes your thighs around the fabric of the pillow, his breath hitches. "do you know what I'm going to ask you to do?"

you shake your head, only because you want to hear him say it.

"grind on it." simple but straightforward. you gulp and gently move your hips down. there's still some nervousness in your stomach, maybe a bit embarrassed that he's watching you, but it's also thrilling.

your breathing picks up when it hits the perfect spot on your clit, causing you to let out a little whine. you set the phone up so it's against the headboard, leaving you the freedom to guide yourself along the pillow.

"how's that, baby?" he asks smoothly, watching while biting his lip. you saw the approval in his eyes and started to grind harder against the pillow. it feels good-- both torturously unsatisfying and just enough to tease so that you have to work up a certain pace in order to get any relief.

"really nice." you mutter, eyelids fluttering shut for a moment. your hands grip onto the fabric tighter, hips bucking.

"fuck." he breathes, and your eyes shoot open again to see his face twisted up with pleasure. he's palming himself-- you can tell by his expression and the way he starts to pant.

"Spencer, oh my god..." you lean back a little to try a different angle, moaning at the way it rubs your sensitive spot. at this point, you've stopped trying to maintain any modesty: you roll yourself down, form undulating and one hand coming up to grip your tits through your bra.

"take it off, baby." he directs greedily. you reach around and undo the clasps, never ceasing your movements as you do so. and once you've slid the garment down your shoulders, he lets out another groan. "I miss your body."

"I want you so bad." you whimper, remembering the way Spencer takes care of you. how eager he always is to get between your legs. you’d do anything for that sensation. for him.

"I can tell," he chuckles darkly. "when I get home, I'm gonna bend you over and fuck you until my cum is sliding down your thighs."

his words feel like velvet over your skin, and you moan loudly as they combine with the friction you're giving yourself. it's so new, but you love how it feels when he watches. him getting off to your insatiable movements.

"please, Spence." you work harder to reach your orgasm, one of your nipples pinched between your thumb and forefinger.

"slow down, princess, you're doing so well," he warns softly. you notice that you've created a quick rhythm and it's hard to slow when his ensuing words are dripping with lust. "so needy and pathetic for me."

your already warm skin heats even further at the way he teases. there's a sweetness to him that makes you want to latch onto that desperation, to please him even further right now. your hips move recklessly against the pillow and the whimpers of his name fall from your mouth like a prayer.

you bite down on your lip while squirming on top. the occasional sounds of his restrained pleasure urge you on. "so cute like that." he murmurs. you drop down a bit, overcome, onto the mattress. as you grind harder with the new angle, you bury your face in a blanket to conceal the eager way you cry out.

"it's okay, baby," he reminds you gently while you rut against the fabric. "show me your pretty face. I wanna see you cum."

you lift yourself bashfully to see his expression positively focused on you. "I'm close." you whisper helplessly.

"you're being so good, sweetheart, just rub that pussy for me." his words graced with a salacious groan. "imagine it's me."

"Spence..." it comes out loudly and you don't care. you're a mess for him and he loves it, touching himself over his pants while you near your edge.

"I can't wait to make you sit on my cock like that," he coaxes. "have to reward my good girl."

that sends you over the edge. you gasp as your orgasm crashes over your senses, nearly overwhelming you as you writhe on top of the pillow. your eyes roll into the back of your head and you pant. "Spence— fuck, fuck—"

you can't even form the words correctly. there's something about the sheer filthiness of the act that helps you ride out the high, and his encouragement does the same. his noises are like heaven when he watches you cum all over a pillow. the truth is that he could get you off anytime he wants and it would be easy.

after a few moments, your head clears a bit. you straighten up on the pillow, moving still as you prepare yourself for a second orgasm. the smirk on your face catches Spencer's attention.

"what is it?" he asks.

you know just what you want. "your turn."

taglist (add yourself here or lmk if you wanna be added/removed!): @xoxomgg @willowrose99 @lelifesaver @dr-spencerr-reidd@spenxerslut @gingeraleluke @satanxklaus @chasemoonlight@spencerreid9 @deansdoll @sydeekomspacekru @go2sleepducky @queenofthepouges @wheelsupscenehater @vladsgirlxx @velociraptor8 @bottomoftheketchylist @totallyclearwitch @reidsconverse @multixfandomwriter @g0lden-cth @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @slutforthegubes @spookydrreid @depressedgothgrl @spencyreidpls @flipper-kisses @jakobsdump

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut blurb #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #dom!spencer #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #mgg #mgg smut #fanfic #criminal minds x reader

1K notes · View notes

cazzyvintage · 4 years ago

Text

I wanna fuck you like an animal

Synopsis: You and Zemo did not get along, in fact, you went out of your way to anger him at every opportunity until your lust and anger for each other couldn't hold back anymore

Word count: 2.9k

Author’s note: First I'd like to thank all the lovely anons who sent in requests when I asked for some Zemo ones, I've used a combination of some of them here to come up with this. This was just a quick little something I whipped up so I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: hate fucking, degradation, gloved fingering, oral (M receiving), vaginal sex

Navigation

(Please check out navigation to see what I will be writing next, add yourself to my taglist and if requests are open or closed)

Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

A sharp breath drew through Zemo’s noise, a vein within his neck twitching and his grasp upon the glass within his gloved hand grew a little bit tighter as he furiously watched the way you deliberately left the milk out of the fridge as you finished up brewing your tea. His eyelids narrowed as he watched you step away from his kitchen, leaving it a complete mess. He tried to glare some sense into you but when that didn’t succeed let out an irritable sigh, placing his glass upon the table before him and huffing at he pulled himself out of his seat to clean up the mess. Cleanliness was important to him, vital even especially in one of his old houses which still held many fond and dear memories to him.

You breathed happily as you collapsed upon the sofa in the room, instantly pulling your feet up to lie upon the sofa earning another icy glare from Zemo which made your lips curl. For someone who was considered a dangerous villain, a cold-hearted manipulator, he was extremely easy to rile up. You enjoyed the ways his eyes would glare daggers into you, his face would redden, how he would lose some of his composure, trying his best not to lash out at you in worry about how James and Sam might react.

You were, what you considered yourself to be, Bucky’s younger adopted sister. You were forced into hydra at a young age, trained to be an agent for them and oftentimes you would work alongside Bucky in his missions. You weren’t a super soldier like him but they still had brainwashed you and given you the best training they could so that you could defeat most people in a fight. When Bucky however managed to escape the clutches of Hydra, he made sure to go back and get you and since then you two have been inseparable. He looked out for you like an older brother would and with no other family for either of you, you became each other’s family.

Naturally, you had to go on this mission with Bucky, he wasn’t leaving you out of it, and naturally, you didn’t like Zemo for what he had done to Bucky, and therefore you made it your mission to piss him off at every opportunity you could get. It was remarkably easy for how wound up he was. Such as now when you placed your cup of tea upon the expensive wooden table without a coaster, knowing it would stain.

Zemo’s eyes followed your movement and his jaw clenched in anger remembering how much that table had cost. His hands held onto the side of the kitchen counter tightly, his knuckles turning white as he tried to push back his annoyance and let it simmer. His efforts were quickly deterred however when you accidentally knocked over the tea with your foot.

“Whoops!” you exclaimed, your words laced with amusement at the situation rather than guilt for spilling the tea. You watch the liquid run across the smooth table but make no move in trying to prevent it causing Zemo to sharply grasp a towel and rush over to clear it up.

“Did you practise at being one of the most brainless people in the world, or does it come naturally to you” Zemo hissed as he sped by you, kneeling down at the table and whipping the cloth over it.

“It’s all-natural baby” you gleam, smiling sarcastically at Zemo who in return snaps his head to glare at you before turning back to the table, “Did you practise at being an insufferable asshole, or is that all-natural to you as well?”

Zemo slams the cloth down onto the table, finally spinning around you face you with his lips curled, “You are one to talk about insufferable asshole”

You scoff, shaking your head to the side then looking back to Zemo and stand up, “I wasn’t the one who blew up the UN and then used someone as a weapon”

Zemo tilts his head, his eyes narrowing again as he scrutinizes you and follows suit standing up as well, “So that is what all of this is about then hmm, you are being a brat because of what I have done?”

“Is it not obvious?” you quickly reply, crossing your arms over your chest.

Zemo doesn’t say anything for a second, instead, his eyes leave yours to trail over the rest of your body, as his tongue does its usual thing of flicking out and licking his lip slightly.

“I have another theory” Zemo finally states, taking a step forward while you take a step back. This little dance of yours continues as Zemo talks until you can’t move any further, hitting the back of the kitchen counter and with Zemo only a few inches away from you.

“Blaming me for what I’ve done as a reason for your behaviour? That is merely an excuse. Truly, you enjoy being a brat, you enjoy seeing me irritated, angry… intense”

You bite the inside of your lip, feeling the disguises you had put up about your behaviour slowly getting ripped away from you. Zemo’s gloved hand moved up to trail your jawline, softly following its line before his two fingers grasped your chin, forcing it up so you met his eyes as his eyes glancing down at your lips.

“You want me to put you in your place”

Your breath hitches in your throat, your insides becoming increasingly warmer and from the way, Zemo was looking at your lips, it made you lean in expecting to feel his own lips upon your but then the gloved hand leaves your chin and the radiating warmth from Zemo’s body leaves causing your to snap your eyes back open in confusion.

“Why would I fuck you, I despise you, I hate you. You don’t deserve it” he growls, his voice rough as his eyes pierce into you.

“That’s why you want to fuck me” you were quick to reply, now stepping up to Zemo closing the distance between the two of you, “Because you feel that anger coursing through your veins, you feel the need to let it all out before it consumes you, to feel that release, and you know the only way you can feel it is through me”

“Don’t tempt me”

“Why not?”

Your body was pushed back onto the kitchen counter roughly, your ass hitting it making you hiss through your teeth. One of his hands was on your waist while his other hand grabbed your hair, yanking your face up so that he could push his hot lips onto yours. Instantly his tongue was inside your mouth, exploring every area he could as the kiss grew messier. You couldn’t breathe, nor move, all you could do was push back against his mouth with the same amount of drive, attempting to gain back some sort of power. Finally pulling away he captured your lip within his teeth and tugged it, not caring about the marks or a bit of skin he might tear with the action, the feeling of it though made a moan escape you which went straight down to your crotch.

You barely had time to recover from that kiss when he pressed his gloved fingers to your lips, urging them inside your mouth.

“Suck” he ordered and obediently you did so. The leather wasn’t a particularly nice taste within your mouth but the sensation of his gloved fingers prodding at your tongue and pushing as far down as they could in your throat, making you gag was a feeling that was driving you wild.

When he eventually pulled his fingers away, covered in your salvia, he quickly worked at putting your trousers and pants down with one hand, grasping your thighs so tightly it would leave bruises he lifted you up on the counter and with a hand on each thigh, he pushed your legs open for him, and a low chuckle came out of his mouth as the sight of how wet you already were.

With the two gloved fingers you had already sucked, still glistening with saliva he lowered them down to your cunt and without warning, he pushed them inside of you.

You gasped at the sudden intrusion, the gloves splitting your channel open unmercifully. The leather within you was warm but rough. You could feel it rubbing against your wet walls, getting soaked in your juices and the texture meant you could feel the way you throbbed around them, how your walls were already trying to pull them in as far as they could go. Already though Zemo was pulling his fingers out, just to thrush them back into you again making your body quiver as your hands grasped his shoulders of hold onto something in relief.

He started pushing his fingers in and out of you rapidly, determined to make you sore from the friction. His gloved thumb came up and rubbed around till he found your clit and with that he pressed down as hard as he could which lead to your head falling back, your eyes widened and your mouth hung open in a silent gasp from the wave of pleasure that was pushed through you.

Your hips moved on their own now, fucking yourself onto his fingers as he continued to push his fingers as far into your cunt as he could while his thumb twisted brutally on your clit. He was pushing you closer and closer to the edge and you were helping him, needing this angry, this reckless fucking.

“Look at what a slut you are” Zemo growled, his eyes fixed on the way your cunt wrapped around his fingers, greedily pulling him in.

“You were desperate for it, to the point that you’d let me fuck you with gloves on. Could you go anymore low”

You were unable to form retorts anymore, instead, the only thing you could do was close your eyes and moan out one word, one name, “Zemo”

It spurred him on. He angled his fingers to hit that spongy sweet spot inside of you, pushing so hard against it that your vision went dark as you were blinded by stars, your whole body thrashing on the table, only not falling off from Zemo’s other hand gripping you.

When you came down from your high Zemo pulled his fingers out of you, observing your wetness dripping off them and onto the floor and so he thrust them in front of your face again.

“Lick” he commanded and eagerly you wrapped your lips around them, tasting yourself upon the leather.

After that he pulled you off the kitchen counter, tugged his gloves off with his teeth and then placing a hand on each of your shoulders he pushed you to your knees so that your face was only inches from his crotch. No words were said, no words needed to be said. All that needed to be done was to be fucked thoroughly.

Zemo’s hands quickly worked upon his zipper, tugging it open and pulling out his dick in front of you. The girth of it made you swallow slightly in panic but when his hand found your hair again, you obediently opened your mouth. Instantly he lined it with your mouth and then thrust in, with his hand on your hair he pulled you all the way down on his dick with one movement.

You gagged, feeling it hit the back of your throat and instantly tears sprung to your eyes from not being able to breathe. Your hands reached up and grasped his thighs in an attempt to support yourself and Zemo just chuckled, watching how your lips wrapped around him, how red your cheeks had become and feeling the way you chocked around him was ecstatic.

His hand pulled your head back, letting you slide off him and granting you some mercy to be able to breathe but just as quickly he thrust you onto him again. Without caring for your need he continued to face fuck you, thrusting his hips forward as he buried your face onto him, your nose hitting his public hair making you grimace, but hearing the small moans coming from Zemo lips and watching the way his own cheeks started to take a pink tinge was enough to get you dripping again. You even started to press your tongue up against the underside of his dick, feeling the way his veins throbbed against it, trying to grant him some more pleasure.

“This was what you were made for” Zemo grunted as he thrust into your mouth again, his eyes narrowed from the bliss, “To be used by the likes of me, to serve as a hole for me to use. It serves a brat like you right, to be put in your place. I should cum all over this pretty little face, show the whole world what a slut you are, how you were begging for this.”

You could feel him getting nearer from the way he twitched in your mouth, the louder his moaning was becoming but this wasn’t what he wanted and so he quickly tugged your face away from him so he wouldn’t come.

His hand roughly grabbed your arm and forced you up on your feet again, though you almost fell back down, still trying to recover from your previous orgasm. Swiftly he spun you around and with his hand on your back he pushed you onto the counter and pulled down the rest of your trousers. You just whimpered in anticipation, waiting for the moment, and speedily it came when he thrust inside of you.

You let out a loud moan mixed in with a gasp as he pushed all the way into you straight away, forcing you open roughly. You could feel every edge, every vein of him inside you, pushing you open further than you had been before. Instantly he pulled almost all the way out and then back again. His hand quickly leant forward to grasp your hair again, pulling your face up from the counter, his other hand grasped your hip in order to steady your body as he thrust quickly into you.

There was no passion here but rather an animalistic drive, the need to let off steam and anger as he fucked into you. He wasn’t gentle or kind, letting you know still how he felt about you but the harsh nature of it had you dripping anyway, turning you on more than it ever should

“What would Bucky say if he saw you now” Zemo grunted, his grip on your hair tightening, pulling it tauntingly. “His little, bratty sister being put in her fucking place. Treated as the slut she is. What is it like knowing you have my dick inside of you? That I, the one who killed those people, forced your brother to do my bidding, am wrecking you, making you unable to think of anything else apart from how my dick feels inside of you, pounding into you?”

You let out a loud groan from his words, insisting you to gride yourself back onto Zemo to get him in further, “It feels great” you finally managed to say. Your legs shook as you felt the coil within you starting to get tighter as he pushed against that blissful spot inside of you. His thrusts grew from fast to short and quick thrusts as he lent down on your body, his lips beside your ear, grunting every time he thrust his hips forward. His hair fell from its usual position, sweaty as pieces fall over his forehead, his teeth were beared as his lips were pulled back in a snarl as he continued to push into you.

“Z-Zemo” you gasped, feeling on the tip of exploding, gushing all over him and as he thrusts into that spot one last time and now choosing to bite down on your skin to leave a mark, you cried out loudly coming again this time all over his dick.

He didn’t stop thrusting however, he carried on all the way through your release as he sought after his own. You whimpered at the overstimulation as he fucked you through your release, your walls grasping him tightly as he rubbed against them. All you could do was lie there, moaning every time his hips met your’s again, not even able to form words anymore. All your mind could comprehend was the feeling of him moving inside of you, the slapping sound of his skin meeting yours and the little grunts he let out.

Zemo had stood up again, letting go of your hair to instead hold onto your hips, his grip surely causing bruises. He pulled you back onto his dick as he thrust forward and with a few more brutal thrusts in, his head flung back so his eye was up at the ceiling, briefly losing himself as he came inside of you, his cum coating your walls.

You let out one last little cry at the sensation of his cum being buried inside of you, and then with ease, he slipped back out of you as if nothing had happened. You didn’t have the energy to move, instead just lying upon the surface, breathing heavily, trying to recover slowly.

Zemo sorted himself up, pushing himself back onto his trousers, styling his hair again and when he was done he simply sneered down at you, his lips curling in disgust.

“You might want to clean yourself up before your brother comes back in and sees you as the whore you are”

With that, he stormed out of the room leaving you behind to attempt to recover from that earth-shattering fuck, knowing that one time was nearly not enough time to be with him.

TAGS: @wonderwoman292 @justreadingficsdontmindme @thehuiabird@shrekboobies @arianalilyblack @handmaiden-of-mischief @kadeuuijib @multiyfandomgirl40 @unbeatablecurlgirl @greeneyedblondie44 @sisterxciricextheatrical @lieutenantn @neoarchipelago @cable-kenobi @edencherries @faustlyaccused @julyvegan @prestigious-tea @hannahbal-the-fannibal @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @competitivepomegranate @welcometothemxdhouse @flutterskies @rumblelibrary @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sky-writes-stuff @rhinestxn-e @davianos-blog @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @mysticalexpertdaze @nyx2021 @apparrio @greeneyedblondie44 @unhealthyob @sisterxciricextheatrical @mywinterivy @bruhidaniel @bweakmybonez @barneswidow @checkurwindow @babayaga67 @spookycereal-s @hb8301 @stardancerluv @ajokeformur-ray @mylifeispainandiloveit

If you would like to join my taglist, please fill out the form here

#baron zemo x you #baron zemo #zemo x y/n #zemo x reader #helmut zemo #zemo #zemo x you #zemo imagine #zemo oneshot #zemo fanfic #zemo fic #daniel bruehl #daniel bruhl #daniel brühl

287 notes · View notes

hoodieofholland · 4 years ago

Note

Hi if possible could you write a image where the reader isn’t famous but is dating Tom, he goes lives on Instagram and starts letting fans join and ask him a questions. You get picked to join and both of you have to try and keep a straight face without giving it away.🙂 doesn’t have to be exactly this is obviously just whatever you feel like! Thank you💕

tom+instagram here we go :)

Hope you like it!!

Warnings: language, that's all :)

"What are you doing?”, you ask your boyfriend through the phone, pressed between your ears and shoulder, while you wandered around the house to get some tasks done. There were noises in the other side of the call, and you could distinguish Harrison’s voice.

“Nothin’, just setting things up for my live. Harrison’s been helping me, you know how I suck at this whole Instagram thing”, he explains, humming as he scrolled through his phone, you on speaker.

You giggle, “I know it pretty well. Think I’m gonna just take a rest and watch you struggling online”.

“Ha-ha, very funny, girlfriend”, he puffs, but you can almost hear his smile behind that sarcastic tone. “But I’d appreciate if you showed up. Who knows, I could just introduce you to all of my fans”.

You take in a sharp breath, contemplating if that was simply a joke or if there was a true desire behind that statement. You chew on your lips and keep silence.

The two of you have been in a relationship for almost one and half an year now, but you managed - only God knows how - to keep discreet about it, keeping it a secret. For his friends, Tom had an amazing girlfriend, whom everyone pretty much appreciated spending time with. For the rest of the world, Tom was a single, charmer and desired young Hollywood actor.

It wasn’t like he wanted to keep you his little secret. It was pretty much the opposite, actually. After your first six months together, Tom had tried to convince you to reveal your relationship, too tired of not being able to show off your love outside the comfort of his house. But you wasn’t willing to do that just yet. And after one and a half year, there you were, still afraid of how things might end up if you told them the truth.

You loved Tom, and you loved the fact the he was such a talented, hardworking man, but the fact that he was also a Hollywood star, known in the whole world, made you feel cornered. You didn’t want people to judge your relationship, to judge you or to give your relationship some kind of approval. You just wasn’t ready to give up your anonymity and become Tom Holland’s girlfriend.

Things were just perfect the way they were. You wanted it to stay like that for a little more time.

But you knew the day would eventually come. It was hard to not be spotted in the street with Tom by your side. You’d never show up in an event together, always making sure to only hold hands or show affection when behind four walls, only when you were pretty sure there was no paparazzi following him. You didn’t like that neither. You wanted to act normal, to have nice date nights with him, to walk outside in summer with Tessa. You just wanted to be who you were with him inside his or your house.

“I was- I was kidding, love”, he said sheepishly, and you could sense the nervousness on his voice, chuckling slightly to hide it from you. “It would be dumb, right?”

You swallow hard. “Uh- no. No, it’s fine. I mean, I’m not ready yet, but it’s alright. I know you were joking”. You curse yourself for being so dramatic about it, but you couldn’t help it. “So, when is it starting?”

“In about five minutes actually. I gotta go now, okay?”

“Yeah”, you smile tightly. “Okay, gonna watch here. Love ya”.

“Love you, darling”.

You both hang up and you sit on the edge of your bed, laying down and closing your eyes, puffing your cheeks out and rubbing your temples. “Damn it”.

Before you can call him back and tell him you were sorry over it, you sit properly on your bed and open your Instagram app, searching for him. After those exact five minutes, he was going live. You smile at the picture of him on your screen. He looked handsome, as always, but added up to the fact that he was far away, in Atlanta, while shooting Spider-Man 3.

You watch as he explains what he was going to do in his live, waving to Harrison right behind him, distracted on his own phone, saying that he was there as a support team. You laugh at how clueless he is. He starts to pick fans to join live and ask him questions. You were pretty surprised that he was allowed to do that, not giving away any spoiler, but he managed it after all.

You were having fun watching him struggle to say some usernames, and kinda surprised at how bold some comments on the bottom of your screen were. He’s single, remember?, you think to yourself and sigh frustrated. You could just go on and tell everybody, put an end to this whole situation during interviews, where Tom was always questioned about his love life and got uncomfortable about it, where you were upset for not being able to tell them to stop shipping him with girls he wasn't interested in, cause he was with you and you only.

But instead, you just sat there, watching your gorgeous boyfriend smiling sheepishly at the camera while a fan asked him about some photos that were taken of him and his co-star a while ago. He shrugged it off and told her they were just friends, but the comments made it very clear they weren't buying it.

"Alright, gonna pick another one, lemme see..."

You get yourself distracted by the concentrated face he put on, a small wrinkle between his brows, and then it happened.

All of a sudden, you see yourself on the screen, half of it filled with Tom's video, just like the previous fan. Your eyes go wide as soon as you realize you're going live with Tom.

"Shit!" He curse immediately, eyes bugging out and looking for something on his screen to take you out of it. "Sorry, I think I just tapped the wrong thing- fuck, how do I-?"

You're startled, looking at his agitated movements as he waves to Harrison desperately, and you try to think about what to do while being completely dumbfounded with the comments going on. Most of them were laughing at the fact that Tom kept being clueless with Instagram, but some of them actually commenting about you.

She's so pretty!!

Omg i think i saw her with tom somewhere

Is she the girl that was at the ffr set and no one new about??

You are about to close your app and leave them all behind, but you can't seem to be able to take your eyes off of the screen. A thought is stuck in your mind, where those people could actually know you, talk to you, and this shouldn't be so hard.

Tom wanted it. He wanted to show the world that you were his girl, wanted to go places with you and not need a whole scheme to protect you from camera lenses.

So instead of just stepping out of this, you decided to wave your hand at them, sit on your bed a little straighter and smile.

"Hey, Tom", you said, leaving it up to him if he wanted to say it now or not. He looked at you with wide eyes, Harrison by his side, a boyish smile plastered on his face.

"Hey, uh, y/u/n" he tried to play it cool, not so sure about what he wanted to do. "Nice user". And just like that, the two of you played along as two complete strangers for a whole ten minutes, until you said your goodbyes and Tom were left alone to end his live.

You felt incredibly happy with the nice comments and about how easy it was for you to make an appearance for the first time. It wasn't like you had just told them the truth, but it was something, and you felt more comfortable about it now.

Tom called you to a video call as soon as he ended the live, equally amazed by how this turned out. He apologized for bringing you to it, and you told him it was fine, that you even liked showing up.

"I think... I think that I'm ready", you said, biting your lips nervously. "I mean, if you are too".

He went silent for a few seconds before saying. "Wow. Really? Yeah, I mean, I'm more than ready. It doesn't have to be like an announcement, we could just, I don't know, go out and just wait till they-"

"Guys!" You heard Harrison shout somewhere in Tom's living room.

Tom turned his head to look at something Haz was showing and the blonde quickly made his way to appear on your screen.

On his phone there was a page with headline: Tom Holland goes live and fans spot his supposed girlfriend, y/n y/l/n.

Harrison scrolled through the page, where a lot of evidences of you and Tom being together were collected, when both of you were spotted in the same places at the same time or even one of you at Far From Home's set.

"Uh, so..." Tom twisted his nose. "I don't think we'll need to tell them anymore".

********

Taglist (add yourself to my taglist, link at navigation)

@dreamy-clousds @pinkrockstar19

@onyourgoddamnleft @spideyspeaches

@miraclesoflove @heavenlyholland

@zspideyy @marlenetough

@nsxvision @xoxohollands

@siriuslyslyslytherin @mathletemadison

@tomshufflepuff

#tom holland #tom holland blurbs #tom holland imagines #tom holland fic #tom x reader #boyfriend!tom #actor!tom #request #anon #request anon

342 notes · View notes

redheadsinmybed · 4 years ago

Text

Love is like a blanket

Wanda x Natasha x Reader

Summary: Wanda and Natasha want to get you a gift. What will happen when a crazy old woman tries to stop them from getting you the perfect gift???

Notes: Back again! Hi guys, just so you know if you are enjoying this series that you can find me on Archive Of Our Own by the same username I have here, and feel free to leave a comment! Anyways hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!!

Wanda and Natasha wanted to get you something as a ‘were an established couple’ gift. Currently they are out shopping at the mall.

Natasha wanted to get you something that you could always have. Not anything like chocolates and roses that will be gone in the first week.

Wanda wanted to get you something that you could actually use. Not like a picture frame that all you do is look at.

They’ve been through 3 stores now not finding anything that caught their eyes. They were about to give up when Wanda spotted something.

It was a light sage green queen sized blanket.

“Hey, look at that,” she said to Natasha pointing at the blanket.

“Oh my god! That’s perfect, she will absolutely love it.” Wanda and Natasha knew your favorite color was green. It reminded you of their eyes. They thought that it was adorable how you loved their eyes so much.

Wanda was walking into the store going to grab the blanket when an old women grabbed it first and put it in her cart.

Now Wanda wasn’t one to be a karen, but if it was concerning you, hell yeah she’d be a karen.

“Excuse me ma’am, I was just about to grab that,” she said pointing to the blanket. The old women just stood there ignoring Wanda.

“Ma’am?” Wanda said louder. Damn masks. The old bat finally looked at her.

“Hi, I was just wondering if I could have that blanket. I was about to grab it when you did first,” Wanda says calmly. Natasha walks in seeing that Wanda is talking to the women who had their blanket.

“That’s too bad you should’ve grabbed it before me,” the old women says.

“Please me and my girlfriend have been looking everywhere for something like that,” Natasha says. The woman just looks at them blankly.

“Do you have kids?” Wanda asks her.

“No”

“Oh okay, look we can either do this the easy way or the hard way,” Wanda says. Natasha pulls her away for a minute.

“What are you going to do, kill her?” Natasha asks.

“No, I was just going to rough her up a bit,” Wanda responds.

“That’s not the way to do this,” Nat says.

“I know it’s just that, that blanket is perfect. And I want to make Y/N happy,” Wanda says as she smiles. Imagining your smile when they give you the blanket. Her smile quickly fades as she knows the old lady won’t give her the blanket. She hangs her head in defeat.

“Hey,” Natasha says as she takes Wanda’s face by her chin lifting her head up.

“Look at me,” Natasha says. Wanda looks up at her with tears in her eyes.

“Y/N will be happy, no matter what because she has the best mama in the world.” Natasha says taking her thumb and wiping Wanda’s tears away. Wanda gives her a small smile, knowing that you will be happy no matter what.

Wanda softly kisses Natasha.

“Thank you,” she says. Wanda and Natasha walk hand and hand away from the store. Until they’re approached by a 20 something.

“Hey, hi i’m Sharon. I saw you talking to my mom, sorry she was so mean to you guys. She was going to get the blanket for me, but I overheard your conversation. You guys have a kid right?” Sharon asked them.

Sharon had blonde hair and blue eyes, and was about 6 feet tall. And Tasha thought she knew her from somewhere.

“Yes, well no, kindof. She’s a little, but she’s also our girlfriend. We are her caregivers.”

“Wow that’s awesome, I have a little of my own. Her name is Maria.” And then it hit her. The person she was talking to was

“Sharon Carter?” Natasha asked.

“Yeah… that’s me.”

“I’m Natasha and this is Wanda, we are friends of Steve Rogers.” Natasha said.

“Oh really, that’s awesome! Anyways I just wanted you to have the blanket. I know that your little will love it.” She said as she handed over the blanket to Wanda.

“Wow, are you sure?” Wanda asked.

“Yeah, I don’t need it Maria and I have like 12 blankets that we don’t use.” Sharon explained.

“Thank you,” Wanda said, awkwardly hugging Sharon.

“Maybe Maria and you can come over to the compound sometime to play with Y/N. She doesn’t have any other littles that are girls there,” Natasha says.

“Yeah Maria would love that,” Sharon says

“I have to go, but tell Steve I said hi. He has my number, text me if you want to set that up.”

“Yeah definitely, thank you again.” Wanda said.

“Yeah anytime.” Sharon left and Wanda and Natasha held hands while walking out to the car.

You were sitting in the living room. Scrolling through tiktok wondering when your girlfriends were going to get home. They’ve been gone for 4 hours now and you miss them.

As if on cue Wanda and Natasha come into the living room with a single shopping bag.

“Really? You were gone for 4 hours and you have 1 shopping bag” you exclaim.

“Glad to see you too,” Tasha says sarcastically. You smile.

“I am very glad to see you, but next time you exclude me from a shopping trip at least get more than one bag full.” You say, Natasha gives you a kiss and sits next to you on the couch. Wanda comes over and does the same sitting on the other side of you.

“What did you get anyways?” You ask curious to see what is in the bag.

“Well we wanted to get you something, sort of as a ‘this is an established relationship’ gift.” Wanda says handing you the bag.

When you pull the item out you squeal happily. It’s a sage green queen sized blanket.

“It’s the same color as your guyses eyes!!! I love it, I absolutely love it. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You say enthusiastically. You get up and hug each of them, giving them a kiss too.

“You really didn’t have to do that, but I’m so glad you did. OOOOO!!! This can be our love blanket!!!” You say excitedly. Wanda and Nat chuckle at how hyped you are about a blanket.

You get the blanket out of its packaging and sit back down on the couch. You put the blanket over Wanda and Natasha making sure it covered each of them equally. With you in the middle and Wanda and Nat on either side of you you snuggle up into them and sigh happily.

“I love you guys.”

“We love you too.”

#wanda x reader #wanda x natasha #natasha x reader #little reader #loving a little #Wanda x Natasha x Reader #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha x you #caregiver #blanket #sharon carter #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #female reader #cuddles #kisses

259 notes · View notes

juniorgman187 · 4 years ago

Text

Fighting Fire With Fire (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader must lower her pride after a date goes wrong and the only one who can rescue her is her mortal enemy - Spencer Reid.

A/N: This was a beast of a fic to write. It’s been in my WIP since September, and I managed to go from 11 pages to 22 pages in three days. It is now my longest fic thus far. I am insanely fucking proud of it and I hope it does well. Category: Angst Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: allusions to ‘catfishing,’ allusions to abduction, dub-con to taking provocative photos, alcohol, mentions of bruises, jealousy, carrying hug which implies weight of Reader (lmk if I missed anything) Word Count: 11.7k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I tried to play nice; I really did, but there was no getting through to him. Everyday started and ended with us fighting fire with fire.

Maybe the reason the two of you butt heads so often is because of how similar you are.

That’s what the team would say when Spencer and I got into one of our daily (sometimes hourly) arguments.

They constantly encouraged us to get to know each other so that we’d finally see the likeness, and until recently, I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him to like me. However, as previously mentioned, my willingness quickly dissipated in light of recent events.

Voluntarily spending more time than necessary with him would be a recipe for disaster no doubt.

Somehow, in a matter of a month, Reid decided that he simply did not enjoy my presence, which was the nice way of putting it.

To be more crass, he loathed me to no end.

Initially, I was operating under the assumption that he wasn’t fond of change, and with me joining the BAU, the change was too much too fast for him, but after four weeks, his attitude toward me never deviated. Yet again, I made another excuse for him, arguing to myself that people are allowed to not like me. I could respect that, but where he lost my respect was how he made a conscious effort to remind me of how much he despised me. Even when I was at my nicest, he still treated me like a scelerate.

If there was a prize for gaining a mortal enemy in the shortest amount of time, I guess I already won that without even trying. He hated me with a burning passion, for reasons unbeknownst to me, despite the fact that all I’d ever try to do was be his friend.

For far too long, I kept denying the part of me that knew making peace with him outside of work wouldn’t go well and it’d simply go down in history as another failed attempt of mine to form a bond with him, so it was at this point that I decided to face the facts.

He didn’t make it easy for me, either. It was hard having to be kind to someone that was only ever out to get me.

He would constantly correct me but only after I said something incorrectly, just so he could prove me wrong.

“If each police officer patrols a street, we’ll be able to cover the entire comfort zone.”

“Actually, we’d need three more officers if we want to cover the entire comfort zone. There’s still 2.347 miles that are unaccounted for.”

I never understood why he couldn’t just say his piece before me so that I didn’t look like an idiot, but I suppose that was the point.

And he had this infuriating, unwarranted habit of judging my taste in cinema and literature. Anytime I told Emily or Derek about a movie I saw or told Rossi about a book I read, he felt compelled to share his antagonistic opinions as if I asked for them in the first place. Sometimes even spoiling the endings for me!

“Rossi, I just started reading Doctor Sleep!” I was so eager to tell Rossi that, so much so that I’d become blind to one dark cloud’s own eagerness to ruin the fun.

“The hotel burns to the ground, but the ghosts don’t die with it.”

He said it with such monotony and nonchalance, not even bothering to look up from his own book to watch my reaction to his menacing act. He just didn’t care!

The list of reasons not to like him truly did go on and on, so it was almost insulting how people would compare the two of us.

They’d bring up the congruence in intelligence, the same affinity for reading, and closeness in age, but it only made me madder. The last person I wanted to resemble was Reid, except today, I gained another glaring similarity to him.

“Look at you two. Did you plan your outfits or something?” Emily playfully pointed out after I walked into the conference room.

I eyed the doctor sipping at his cup of coffee who swiveled around in his chair to see what everyone else was seeing. Just from a short glance, I spotted his navy blue button-up with white polka dots that was nearly identical to the color and print of my dress.

“Well, looks like one of us has to go home and change.” His lips grew into a mischievous smirk behind the rim of his mug.

Was that a joke? Did Spencer Reid make jokes now?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I facetiously remarked, taking the only open seat at the table which was next to the jokester himself.

“I’m kidding. You look really nice today.” He alleged without a hint of irony. He was complimenting me now, too? It was so unfamiliar that it felt like uncharted territory, possibly even a trap.

“Why? Because I’m dressed like you?” I wasn’t going to fall for his words now, maybe the version of me who would do anything to gain his approval would have. She would’ve smiled and said ‘thank you,’ but this me was going to challenge him if that was the last thing I ever did. “Bit of a narcissist are we, Dr. Reid?”

“Mmm maybe,” He wagered, tilting his head from side to side as if to contemplate the possibility. “Or maybe I just really think you look nice.”

Without even thinking, my heart skipped a beat. I was utterly repulsed by how I let his words have any effect over me. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually managed to fluster me with mediocre flattery.

It felt like years that I had to sit next to Reid at the round table before Hotch dismissed the team for the flight.

30 minutes later, and we were on the jet. I’d taken one of the seats at the table opposite Derek and Emily, with Spencer beside me.

Little things like this I could handle, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started bothering me. Morgan was listening to music and Emily was turned around in her seat, facing the back to talk to Rossi. Reid was playing himself in chess, and it took all of my self-control to not be a total asshole and knock the board and its pieces over and into the aisle. Luckily, I had a good enough distraction.

Grant: can you ft tonight?

Me: we’ll see. i might have to work overtime.

For the months that I had been talking to Grant, I was deliberately ambiguous about my job because I wasn’t exactly keen on telling him that I worked for the FBI and that I might not be able to FaceTime him since I was in the process of investigating a series of homicides. That’d surely scare him away and I was never one to flaunt my government job anyway.

Grant: you look stunning today

Me: you haven’t even seen me today

Grant: don’t need to.

Grant: you’ll always be stunning to me.

“Who keeps texting you?”

I looked up from my screen to see Reid fixated on his game but still engaged in my business.

“No one,” I harshly replied, making a conscious decision to turn my phone on vibrate so he wouldn’t hear the chime of my text notifications.

With one nimble side glance, Reid eyed my screen. I nudged him away with extra force.

“Nosy much?!”

This stunned him. He wasn’t used to my coldness, he probably expected me to smile in a chagrined manner and not confront it - as I would have done - but now I was fighting back, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he liked it.

I knew he could read fast, but how he managed to look at my phone so quickly it was like he never even moved his eyes - I didn’t know. Somehow, though, he managed to capture Grant’s entire username, and I didn’t doubt that he caught my entire conversation with him, too.

“Who’s Grant?” The name rolled off his tongue like he was insulted to even be saying it.

“No one.”

He didn’t respond soon after I said this, which I misinterpreted as a little victory for me since I almost believed he was going to drop the subject, but in true Spencer Know It All Reid fashion, he just kept going.

“‘You look stunning today B-T-W. You haven’t even seen me today. Don’t need to. You’ll always be stunning to me.’ Doesn’t really sound like a ‘no one’ to me.” His recitation of my entire PRIVATE conversation with Grant embarrassed me.

Did I forget to add his eidetic memory and speed-reading ability to the list of reasons not to like him?

“Shut up!” I nudged him, this time using much more force than the last. I was becoming more and more inclined to push over his ridiculous chess game so that he’d finally take me seriously.

“Oh, really clever by the way. Vaguely insinuating that you ‘might not be able to call him because you’re working overtime’ just so you don’t have to disclose the true nature of your job.” Spencer’s sarcasm was thick.

“Are you just jealous because the only date you’ve been on was a fake one with a serial killer and not even your actual girlfriend while she was alive?” My reference to Cat and Maeve caught the attention of the entire jet.

Each member mentally rolled their eyes thinking ‘Here we go again.’ And if that wasn’t their reaction, they were certainly cringing at the fight that was ensuing.

Things had been suspiciously good between the two of us today so it was about time we argued. We were due for our daily quarrel.

“Oh, that’s right! The only girls who like you are victims in our cases.” Now this comment was referring to Lila and Austin. (I had Penelope to thank for filling me in on all of Reid’s ‘entanglements’ after I was first reassigned).

“Really? You wanna go there?” He sassed back, diverting his attention away fully from his chess game now. “Do you know how many people get ‘catfished’ when using online dating websites? Or the statistics on how many people are raped, assaulted, or murdered by said ‘catfish’?”

“I’m not stupid, Reid. He and I have been talking for months. We’ve been on calls and Facetime before, too. We’ve just never met in person. Sound familiar?”

“What Maeve and I had is not at all comparable to what you and this ‘guy’ have. And just because you’ve seen his face before doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer or operating under an alias.”

I had to scoff. Who was he to label our relationship valid or not?

“What’s it to you anyway? We all know you’d be ecstatic if this guy turned out to be a serial killer or catfish. You’d get to rub it in my face and say ‘I told you so.’”

This touched a nerve. He hated it when I attacked his nice-guy facade.

“Is it so hard to believe I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Fine. If you think I don’t care about you, then don’t come crying to me when you realize he’s not the guy you think he is.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t! It’s not like you’d be able to protect me anyway, Pretty Boy.” I sneered, using Morgan’s nickname for him as an insult got to him, and I could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.

Hotch had to interject now. “Alright, (y/l/n), Reid, that’s enough. We need to focus on what’s actually important.”

I settled back down in my seat, facing forward and avoiding eye contact with Reid.

“Have fun on your date,” He muttered under his breath. “Hope you survive it.”

Bastard.

For the rest of the case, I was on edge. Deliberately avoiding him was a much harder task than one might think. I had to wait at least ten minutes for my coffee, so I wouldn’t be at the machine when he was there, and if I had to guess, he probably took longer just to make me wait in agitation. I had to awkwardly squeeze into a new spot beside Rossi and Hotch when we were delivering the profile. I had to ask not to travel in the same SUV as him.

And this exhausting routine went on for days. In fact, I’d managed to almost go the entire case without interacting with him. That was until Hotch sent us both in the field to apprehend the unsub.

“Are you sure?” I asked with clear reluctance.

“Are you questioning me?” Hotch replied sternly.

“No, sir.”

I was already on thin ice being the new recruit, so I knew better than to question any of Hotch’s orders. And as miserable as working with Reid was, I figured he’d at least ease up on the hostility when we needed to be professional. Evidently though, even in the field, he wasn’t willing to work together with me.

It was a quick decision, not careless in the least, however. The unsub had locked himself in his warehouse and refused to leave unless we were brave enough to drag him out of there ourselves. The ultimatum he gave specified that only one of us could do it and we both agreed that I should go in, seeing as he’d underestimate my strength as a woman, and I’d have the upperhand when I inevitably apprehended him.

However, he also explicitly told us that I couldn’t come in with a gun - it had to be an even playing field.

“You are not going in without a gun,” Reid ordered.

“We don’t have time to argue about this - I have a spare on me, okay? There are three hostages in there, two of which are children.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I handed him my gun and holster.

Had I let him waste a single second more of my time, we wouldn’t have been able to save the three hostages and successfully arrest the unsub. I saw this as a victory and I was almost willing to celebrate it with him, but it wasn’t long before he let our enmity tear us apart again.

When we got back to the precinct, I went to the locker room to change, then suddenly, Hotch came in.

“I’ve been informed that you went in unarmed against a fellow agent’s orders. This matter will be discussed in my office when we get back. I should warn you, (y/n), you do not want to make this mistake again.” Hotch left me with those foreboding words, and I knew, I knew immediately that Reid was to blame for this.

If I took a look in the mirror of my locker, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw that my face was turning a bright shade of red. I was fuming - bursting at the seams from the anger building within me that was desperately fighting to escape. I could imagine myself as a cartoon character with steam blowing out either of my ears. I was about to go on a rampage, and no one - absolutely no one - could stop me.

The last straw was hearing him come in. This was my opportunity to unleash what was already boiling.

“What the hell, Reid? ‘(y/n) went in unarmed.’ Seriously?!” I undid the velcro on my vest so hastily out of my blind rage that the spiky side of the velcro strip nearly sliced my finger. “Are you trying to get me fired?”

“If that’s what it takes to make you realize how stupid of a choice that was, then yes, I do.” He was so calm and collected in his inflection that it angered me all the more.

“What are you even talking about? What ‘stupid choice’? You knew I had a second gun on me. And even if I didn’t carry it, I still would’ve had my vest on. I wasn’t going in unarmed or unprotected, so why would you tell Hotch that?”

“In the time it would take you to assess the danger, react, and then reach for the gun at your ankle, the unsub would’ve been able to shoot you twice - if not more. That’s going in unprepared, which is going in unarmed.”

I scoffed in disbelief that he was actually reprimanding me. “Are you kidding? This is all based on a technicality? Did your eidetic memory somehow forget about what happened with Maeve? Because my memory didn’t. I know for a fact that you went into that warehouse without a vest or a weapon. And unlike you, I had a spare and my vest. AND I actually apprehended the unsub. Did you stop Diane?”

This crossed a line and I knew it, but it was too late to take it back, and clearly, it was much too late to repair any relationship I had with him. We were far beyond the point of no return.

He was so mad that he didn’t even answer me. The only response I could gauge was from his body language, which by the looks of it, all the signs of anger were plain on his face. He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear his teeth grind. Even his nostrils flared so primitively. His eyes narrowed down at me with a glare that said, ‘I’m the predator and you’re the prey.’

“Yeah, exactly.” I spat when he stayed silent.

I turned around, starting towards the exit, but I was too furious to stop there, so I spun around and unleashed the remainder of my wrath that had been dying to come out.

“Look, I get it. I’m the new kid around here, and it sucks when someone new comes in and changes up the team dynamic, but any mistake I make, or any mistake Hotch thinks I make, could send me packing. You’ve been working in this unit for years, and even if Hotch questions your choices, he won’t reassign you. He won’t even threaten it. He’s willing to overlook your mistakes because he knows that what you have to contribute to the team is too vital to let go, but I haven’t even had my chance to show him what I have to offer. So when I do make a mistake, there is nothing for me to fall back on, nothing to redeem me, and no safety net, but you? You have years of experience on your back to break your fall. So don’t you dare act like you’re doing me a favor by reporting my ‘mistake’ to Hotch. You might be costing me my dream job, and if you think that makes us friends - think again.”

I stormed out of the locker room seeing red.

This war was far from over.

_ _ _

“You’re clenching your fists again,” Emily said under her breath. I was grateful that she said it in a hushed tone, otherwise she might’ve revealed my lingering anger to the whole jet, which wouldn’t have been good.

I immediately unclenched them, opening up my hands to reveal small, dark C shaped imprints on my palms from where my nails had dug into them.

I should’ve expected that she would’ve learned at least one of my tells by now. I did have many after all. Cheek biting, fist-clenching, leg bouncing.

“Something bothering you?” She probed quietly.

She set her book down to give her undivided attention to this conversation. That was enough to tell me that an excuse like, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ would not suffice. She wouldn’t be satisfied until I told her the truth, which I surely did not want to tell. So I settled for a half-truth.

“Hotch wants to talk when we get back.”

From my peripherals, I saw her knit her brows together in confusion. “Is . . . is that it?”

“Mhm.” I lied.

“But that’s not enough to warrant the fist clenching. Cheek biting - sure - you do it when you’re anxious, but not fist-clenching. You only do that when you’re angry about something.”

“Oh, so you have figured out all my tells,” I smirked.

“Pfft, I figured them all out the first week you got here, but I won’t tell you the rest, otherwise you might try and hide them from me,” She joked.

I shook my head playfully. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just worked up about something - it’s nothing you need to worry about though.” Habitually, my eyes looked right up in his direction. I caught a glimpse of him sprawled against the couch, sleeping. He was lucky I wasn’t ranting about the little stunt he pulled earlier to Emily. He should be thankful that I was even trying to protect his reputation to her at all.

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but it does help. Take it from me, someone who really only trusts myself, you shouldn’t hide what you feel.”

What you feel.

I clung onto those words.

What was I really feeling?

Was I upset that instead of receiving praise for the arrest I made, I was scolded like a child? Was I angry that Hotch believed what Reid had to say about my “problematic behavior” instead of believing in me?

Or did I feel betrayed that despite my best efforts to build a bridge, Reid was tearing it apart brick by brick? Burning it to pieces with the fire of his rage?

“Thanks.” I bleakly said to Emily. I would’ve told her the truth, but it didn’t feel necessary at that moment. If anything, it just would’ve reflected badly on me.

Truthfully, she was the closest thing I had to a friend in the BAU, and if I wanted a permanent spot here, I needed to make more of them - and fast.

“Hey, (y/n), we’re all going down to O’Keefs tonight to celebrate. You wanna join us?” Morgan asked, walking up the aisle and crouching down beside my seat to talk to me.

“Oh, I wish I could, but I have to talk with Hotch when we get back,” I explained, smiling politely.

“We can postpone the meeting till first thing Monday morning. I need to go home and be with Jack, anyway,” Hotch added.

I didn’t realize he could hear me from where he was sitting, which made me all the more nervous that he might’ve overheard the entire conversation between me and Emily earlier.

“Looks like I’m free,” I looked back at Morgan. “Does the offer still stand?”

“Anything for you, sweet cheeks.” He winked.

Judging from the lightness of the atmosphere, everyone, except maybe Hotch and Rossi, would be celebrating at O’Keefs - including Spencer.

I think I might’ve actually preferred to be scolded by Hotch tonight, instead of being silently glared at by Spencer, but it was already too late to revoke my confirmation of presence.

Because, if Hotch could hear me from where he was sitting, then Spencer could, too.

He already heard I was coming, and there was no way I was backing down.

_ _ _

In spite of the fact that I could barely hear myself think over the loud chatter and blasting music, I could still feel the rage radiating off of Spencer. You would think with how long his nap was on the jet, he wouldn’t be so cranky, but I guess he just couldn’t sleep off his disdain for me after our minor altercation.

I wondered if the team could see it, too. The way he was burning a hole into me with his fiery stare. The tension was palpable, as it has always been, but remember - I’m not the one who wanted it that way.

He started this. I was only making the feeling mutual.

“So what about you, (y/n)? Are you seeing anyone?”

I tried to hide my growing smirk behind the rim of my beer, but I knew I couldn’t hide much from them. Of course, right across from me, Spencer was glaring at me expectantly, waiting for the answer he already knew.

“Oooh, look at her - she’s blushing! Spill.” Penelope ordered, beating her palm on the table so enthusiastically it shook all the drinks on it.

“Well, there’s this one guy I’ve been seeing for a while,” The second I started speaking, I noticed Spencer rolling his eyes. I figured his apprehension was the only response of its kind that I would receive, but I was very mistaken.

“How did you two meet?” Penelope giddily asked, nearly jumping up and down in her seat.

“A dating app, actually.”

The table went completely silent, and I immediately felt my stomach drop. It was as if I’d just said something very wrong. With just a quick glance in front of me, Spencer was basking in this.

What a dick.

Emily hesitated to ask. “...Have you two met in person before?”

Now it was my turn to hesitate to speak. “No, not yet.”

I took another sip of my drink even though I wasn’t thirsty. I just wanted to hide any part of my face I could to shield myself from the five sets of eyes burning holes into me now, rather than just the one. Trying to make matters better, I spoke all too quickly, nearly sputtering on my beer. “I’m completely safe, though. Nothing sketchy’s going on, I promise.”

“Of course,” JJ agreed. “We totally trust you,” neglecting to attach the cliche, ‘It’s him we don’t trust.’ But if she had, it would’ve spoken everyone’s bubble thoughts right about now.

“Just be careful, mama.” Derek’s response felt the most sincere, and I honestly believed he was happy for me, but it didn’t change how much their judgement initially stung.

For the rest of the night, I didn’t talk. No one noticed.

Except maybe the last person I wanted to notice.

I quietly slipped away somewhere in the night when the conversation was at its highest precisely so they wouldn’t question where I was going or if I was okay. If they had asked, the truthful answer to the former would’ve been ‘just outside to get some air’ and the latter ‘no.’

The cool breeze drifted through the door like rising fog and for the briefest moment in time, I felt suspended in the space around me - I’d finally caught my breath. That feeling wouldn’t last long, though.

I’d intentionally gone outside to compose myself until I came back a person who wasn’t on the verge of tears, but apparently, trying to pull myself only resulted in my falling apart. A ball of yarn unraveling is the closest comparison I can draw to what I must’ve looked like, crying quietly on the street.

“I figured I’d find you here.”

It was the mere sound of someone’s voice that shocked me, but it was the person whose voice it was that led to the frustration that followed.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside talking to the team of people who also agree with you about Grant?”

He was too much of a nuisance to warrant exchanging eye contact with so I simply stared forward as I spoke and wiped the tears away that were still pooling on my lower lash line. I hoped he hadn’t actually seen me crying, but from what I could tell, he was probably standing there long before he said something. And if he was truly looking at me as deeply as it felt like right now, then he’d have noticed my bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, and unending sniffling.

“Is that why you disappeared back there? Because you’re upset they didn’t exactly like the idea of your relationship?” The pain in the ass really tried, he really tried to get me to look at him by facing me and making these gestures with his hands that should’ve gotten my attention, but instead, I stayed put leaning against the wall, keeping my line of sight straight ahead.

“(Y/n), they weren’t insulting you or judging you -”

“Then why did it feel like it?” For the first time since he’d joined me, I’d looked at him. I didn’t even mean to and I had every intention of denying him that privilege for the entire duration of our conversation, but as soon as I asked him my question, we locked eyes, and I saw it written all over his face.

He felt sorry for me.

Now, he could clearly make out how distraught I was from this unobstructed view of my face that was kindled by the dim, flickering yellow glow of the streetlight beside us. And he kept staring, looking into my eyes to read me just as easily and just as quickly as he read a book.

“All we want is for you to be safe,” His voice crackled momentarily, and it actually touched some part of me for how genuine it sounded. “We weren’t trying to judge you or to insult you, and I’m sorry if it felt that way, but if we want your safety, and you tell us about something that could be potentially harmful, then of course we’re going to be apprehensive about it. That’s how people that care about you should react.”

“So are you saying that I don’t care about myself because I’m engaging in something risky?” Isn’t that the most ironic statement of this year? The definition of our job was risky, and even if this wasn’t the safest relationship on the planet, it was nothing like what we put ourselves through everyday being in the field.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying -”

“So what are you saying?” I dared. He shook his head and sighed like he was about to give up, but I needed an answer. “No, please, do continue. Finish what you were gonna say. Since you apparently know everything, 187. Please go ahead - tell me what you think I should do.”

Tell me what you really came out here to say, I ordered him with my eyes.

“I think I respect you more than you respect yourself, and that’s really saying something. Because if you actually liked yourself as much as I do, then you would realize that subjecting yourself to this nonsensicality of a long-distance relationship is not only dangerous - but insulting to your worth, too. You deserve more than that, (y/n).” He couldn’t have been clearer when he murmured a low and firm, “Much more.”

The world was spinning on its axis too fast for me to process anything he said before snapping back at him. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

With utmost clarity in both annunciation and intention, he told me, “Break up with him.”

Not a shadow of a doubt in his words.

Then, like the phantom of the opera himself, he vanished back into the bar, but even if he had stayed, I wouldn’t have had anything to say to him. I was simply rendered speechless.

Circling back to my previous argument, I questioned once more why was it any of his business anyway? I was allowed to do as I pleased and I most certainly did not have to listen to him. And I didn’t.

But I should’ve.

_ _ _

My Monday morning meeting with Hotch wasn’t nearly as fire and brimstone as I thought it would be. It did however feel like the equivalent to an “I’m disappointed in you” parent speech. In some ways, I related to the average teen who was grounded. Except instead of my phone being taken away, it was my freedom. From now on, I could only follow executive orders that had been given to me. At least for the time being.

It was clear that, deep down, some part of Hotch knew what I’d done was the right call, but he couldn’t give me any favors. Not until they were deserved on my end.

Walking onto the jet after our meeting, however, felt more juvenile than the punishment itself. I was a kid again, re-entering my classroom after using the restroom, only to have all eyes on me as I came through the door.

As per usual, the only empty chair was next to Reid. There’d been too many instances of this happening to think it was just a coincidence. At this point, I had to assume it was by design. Whose design however? That I didn’t know.

“Hello, trouble,” He sang when I took my seat.

I could only assume that this new nickname was based on what took place in Hotch’s office - thanks to him, need I remind you - but I didn’t care to know the origin because that would require talking to him, and for several reasons, that was the last thing I wanted to do. The first of which was what happened less than three days ago. An event we both hadn’t mentioned yet, and I hoped we never would.

I took every preventative measure in the book. I changed seats with JJ. I moved to the couch. I even started reading in the little hallway between the kitchenette and bathroom of the jet to avoid sitting beside him, but against all my best efforts, he always found a way to bug me. When there’s a will, there’s a way. After exhausting any real reason he had to talk to me, he had to get creative.

“You’ve been on that same page for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” I heard him say when he walked up to the kitchen to reach for the pot of coffee. Almost expecting I’d ask him what he meant, he added the explanation casually. “It never takes you more than three minutes and twelve seconds to move onto the next page. So either you’re not understanding the material or you’re not actually reading.”

It was utterly hilarious of him to imply that either of those things were definitely the answer. “What if I’m just taking my time reading this page, genius? Ever thought of that?”

His eyes turned into slits as he leaned in closer to examine me. “You’re blinking rate just increased, too.”

“Stop!” I screeched childishly, pushing him away by his shoulders in an attempt to get him off my back, but he was far from off my back. No, he was right against it. More specifically, his hand was on the small of it.

Leaning in so close that his lips were practically pressing on the shell of my ear, he whispered, “Come find me when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

He didn’t need to know his words or actions had any sort of effect on me, so I kept the most stoic facial expression on, and I didn’t say a single thing back. He turned back around to leave with the hand on my back being the last thing to go. His lingering touch caused a shiver to run down my spine while paradoxically burning my body from the friction.

I was disgusted with myself for having let him elicit any sort of reaction from me, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

“Yeah ... well, d-don’t expect that to be anytime soon,” was my poor attempt at a retort to shut him up.

“Whatever you say, trouble.”

_ _ _

Personal space can be a wonderful thing. Much less so when it’s invaded, however.

After what felt like the longest flight ever, all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. My wishes were granted when I was able to wash off the stress and exhaustion and slip into a blush pink satin pajama set Grant sent me that I’d been meaning to wear. The plunging neck of the tank top was lined with lace and adorned with the tiniest little bow at the center. To match the shirt, the hem of the shorts were lined with lace that trailed up the small triangular slits on the side of the shorts, where at the vertex of them was the same little bow detail. For such a pure and innocent color as baby pink, you’d think it’d be somewhat less revealing. The longer I started at myself in the mirror while wearing it, the more aware I’d become of the intentions behind why Grant had sent it.

How cute, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Gifts should always be appreciated, if for no other reason than the effort put into it, but this just felt slimy. There was obviously no valiant romantic intent behind the negligee, which spoiled the delight of receiving something out of the blue from him. What’s worse was that I wasn’t even sure how to thank him for something like this.

Me: thank you for the pajamas. they’re so cute!

Lying was easier over text message, in case you were wondering what the perks of a long distance relationship were.

Grant: good, I’m glad you like them. are you wearing them right now?

But sometimes, when you should lie, you don’t. And you regret it later on - take it from me.

Me: yeah, they’re super comfy

Grant: great! i wanna see them on! take a pic

As if to compensate for the indisputable hatred I had for this lingerie and what it stood for in our relationship, I did the only thing I could think that would make him think I really liked them. That I felt good in them.

I took pictures - not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, Yelp review pictures, though - provocative ones.

In the same breath I went to take them, though, Spencer’s words rang through my head.

You deserve more than that. Much more.

Shaking off the thought of Spencer, I decided against what the little voice in my head that sounded too similar to his would’ve said.

To add to the illusion, I situated myself within the hotel sheets and used the front camera to capture my chest that was very much on display in this top. In the middle of rolling around the bed, trying to find the angles that wouldn’t show my face of dejection, the door opened.

Instantaneously, I clawed at the sheets until they wrapped around me like a towel. I was ashamed to admit they provided more coverage than these ‘pajamas’ did.

My shriek of shock must’ve sounded familiar to the stranger intruding on me because no sooner did I scream than they questioned, “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“Spencer, what the hell are you doing in here?” I grumbled, struggling to maintain a tight enough grip on the sheets that would keep them from falling and unveiling a sight I desperately did not want him to see.

“I asked you first.”

Boy, if you only knew how badly I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. “This is my hotel room obviously. Your turn.”

Returning just the same tone, inflection, and vocals, he imitated me. “This is my hotel room obviously.” Like one of those magic tricks he’d show Henry or Jack, he miraculously flashed a room key between his index and middle finger that wasn’t there before.

“No, that’s impossible.”

“I opened the door, didn’t I?” That damn smirk was still there when he asked this. Maybe, just maybe, if it hadn’t been so condescending, I would’ve thought his sarcasm was ... attractive. Disgusting, I know.

“Well, if you actually plan on staying here, then you’re sleeping on the floor or the couch, got it?”

My question went unanswered until I turned around to follow where he’d traveled in the time that I spent pondering how this happened. Now perched at the window, sitting on the arm of the chair in a way that chairs weren’t meant to be sat on, he continued to stare silently at me.

“What? What is it?” I urged.

“What’s going on with the …” He made a side to side sweeping motion with his key card. “Bed sheets?”

Consciously, I shimmied the fabric further up my body. Seeing as there was virtually no way to escape an honest answer, I confessed. “If you must know ... I’m wearing p-pajamas.” My own body was rejecting the shameful admission causing the word to stumble out of my mouth.

He didn’t need to know any more than that to gather what kind of garments they were. He already figured it out.

“Did Grant give them to you?”

I almost rolled my eyes at the implication. “What makes you say that?”

“Because I know you,” He punctuated every word perfectly. “And I know that you wear big shirts and sweatpants to bed because you don’t see the point of spending money on clothes that are only made for you to sleep in - especially if they’re clothes that make you uncomfortable like these ones clearly do.”

Although, I greatly despised the fact that there was even a little bit of a chance that I might’ve agreed with him, I still defended Grant. “It was a thoughtful gesture.”

“Thoughtful, right,” He scoffed. “And which head was he thinking with?”

I was baffled he had the gall to say such an innuendo. “Spencer!”

How dare he? So what if Grant bought me something provocative because he was physically attracted to me? At least someone was.

Despite the ferocity plain on his face, he chose not to pursue this conversation. Visibly biting back on words he knew would hurt me, Spencer managed to sound remarkably genuine when he promised me, “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.”

I want you to, was my very first thought. Oh, God, that’s so fucked up, was my second.

He underlined his sincerity by turning fully around until he was facing the window. “But we should probably put the sheets back on the bed if you plan on sleeping on it.”

He was so patient as he waited for me to remove the cloth from my body. It almost made me feel guilty. He didn’t grumble or gripe, nor did he pressure me to do it at all. So by rights, there should’ve been no reason for me to take so long to let the barrier fall - he wasn’t looking at me. But I was just so goddamn embarrassed.

This wasn’t me, and even he knew that.

“You can turn around now,” I mumbled quietly once my safety net of a bedsheet had abandoned me. My arms were crossed over my chest and my thighs were pressed so tightly against each other as if to limit the surface area that Spencer could scrutinize.

That never came.

He did look, I could tell that much. But it wasn’t a look I’d ever seen before. It wasn’t rage or annoyance or pity. It was a look of lust.

A look that made me positively weak in the knees. A look far more sensual than even my racy garments.

“I’ll just sleep in Morgan’s room tonight, okay?” He offered once he finally broke out of his incapacitation. Grabbing the two opposite corners of the sheets that I was holding, it was a team effort as we arranged the covers where they belonged. It was probably the longest period of time we’d ever worked together without fighting or talking at all for that matter..

Not a single word was exchanged between us while Spencer gathered his things to leave for Derek’s. The room started to feel dangerously empty in the stillness.

When he slipped past me to make his way out, I caught his upper arm, successfully pulling him back around.

I could’ve been sweet, I should’ve. But that wasn’t our thing. So I settled for what came naturally to us and what would set off the least amount of red flags - I didn’t play nice. “As long as you promise not to hog the entire bed with your behemoth body, we can sleep together -” Catching the words as soon as they came out and what they could’ve implied, I began backtracking. “Sleep in the same bed. Sleep as in rest. Not sleep as in … anything else.”

Then, in one of those rare moments- he laughed. He actually laughed. Like a real, hearty, sudden laugh. “I know what you meant, (y/n).”

I’ll never forget the smile that followed the world’s greatest laugh either.

Oh, God, I’m so fucked up.

_ _ _

Spencer’s POV

Domesticated animals are smarter than we give them credit for. Studies have shown that pets can actually sense time; They know when it’s time for their owner to leave for the day and when they’ll be coming home, too.

Animals aren’t dumb - and neither was I.

Like a dog sniffing out their owner’s imminent absence in the home, I could tell (y/n) was leaving the hotel room for the night. If her current state wasn’t convincing enough, then her behavior throughout the entire day supported that theory just as well.

Whether it was her phone, the clock on the wall, or her watch, she was evidently keeping a close eye on the time. She did it so often, though, that you would think she would just use simple deductions to figure out what time it was by estimating the time it was when she last checked, but nope. She rarely let more than a minute go by without monitoring the clock.

My suspicions didn’t end there. What’s more suggestive was the anxious fidgeting. She had her tells of anxiety - everyone does - but this was a level of stress I’d never seen her exhibit before, not even in the field.

She kept cracking her knuckles, even when she’d exhausting all the popping noises she could from them. Her leg-bobbing was another big tell, too. I tend to sit on tables rather than in the chairs at said table, allowing me to feel the earthquake occurring on the precinct floor. Her leg was bouncing up and down so vigorously it was practically shaking the room.

I would’ve asked her what she was so impatient about, but I feared I already knew the answer.

Grant.

And if I never heard that name roll off her tongue again, it would be too soon.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask where she was going, though.

Pretending to read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I barely let my eyes venture far off the page when I loudly asked from the window seat, “So where are you going tonight, trouble?”

The faintest sound of a chuckle erupted in the bathroom, most likely from the nickname I hadn’t let die yet.

“Nunya,” was her ever-so mature answer.

I didn’t want to give her the chance to say ‘nunya business’ like I knew she would, so I quickly interjected with a monotone, “How clever of you.” If she wanted to be a child about this, then so be it.

“Let’s see. You brought your good heels out of your suitcase, which you only wear on special occasions. And you put on a different perfume than the one you usually use, so I’m assuming it’s new. ... If I didn’t know any better, trouble, I’d say you’re going on a date.”

She peeked her head out of the bathroom doorway to say, “You’re creepy, you know that?”

Seeing the small portion of her face that was embellished with a smile would’ve been enough if only I knew what dress she was hiding in behind that wall. I had yet to see that part of her ensemble, but if I had to guess, it would break my heart.

“Just saying,” I casually lied while clearing my throat.

“Well,” I heard her begin from within the bathroom. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Grant is meeting me tonight.”

Kill me now.

“I thought Grant lived in D.C.” Not that that would change much if he was already here.

“Yes, he does, but he’s driving all the way here to meet me. Seeee,” She drew out the word. “Would a serial killer do that?”

I refrained from giving the obvious answer: Yes.

“Well, I hope you don’t plan on bringing him back here. Otherwise, that’d be terribly awkward, don’t you think?” My allusion to the possibility that Grant would come back here to find me in her bed was borne from the intentions that were a complete contradiction to the words I’d just spoken. It, in fact, wouldn’t be terribly awkward. No, it would be fun. For me at least.

I would have loved to have seen the look on his face, and the worry on hers as she tried to explain who I was and why I had any right to be in (y/n)’s gravity.

The room went silent again while I stayed on the same page of my book and, unbeknownst to her, waited for her to enter the room. How long she was taking was starting to worry me, though.

“Need any help in there?” I called out.

“Nope,” She said through a strained voice that proved she was indeed struggling with something.

“Really?” I asked once more to give her another opportunity to lower her colossal pride. “Cause it sounds like you need help.”

“Nope. I’m good.” Liar.

I knew her too well. I counted down to the exact second when she finally scrambled to ask, “Can you help me zip up my dress?”

“Yyyup.” I’d already resigned to the fact that I would have to help her, bouncing happily off the bed when she finally admitted it and letting myself lose the page I was on as I tossed the book haphazardly behind me.

I was forced to join her in the bathroom for it was already hard for her to humble herself enough to ask me for help, so she certainly couldn’t be expected to lower her pride again and walk out to a place more convenient for me.

The first thing I noticed was that it was a space clearly not made for two. It was so cramped that I ended up right against her in order to fit. The second thing I noticed was how she made no movements to distance herself. She was so close to me that I could actually see the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up from where my breath ghosted on the area. The sterile smell of hotel bathrooms had been replaced by the flowery, aromatic scent of her new perfume, and my heart broke all over again.

Using the back of my fingers, I cast a barely-there caress on her neck to stroke her hair out of the way to clear the path of the zipper. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up again.

She liked that.

“So do I get to know where you’re going?” I reached for the zipper on the small of her back. “For safety purposes, of course.”

“Aww, you looking out for me, Dr. Reid?” She teased in a seductive tone while gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail that for the shortest second recorded in time might’ve reminded me of a constantly recurring intrusive image.

“Always, trouble.”

The zipper fastened with absolutely no resistance all the way to the top. My eyes flashed to the mirror to catch her expression, which told me everything I needed to know.

What a pretty little liar. She didn’t actually need my help.

Comprehending that the realization dawned on me, she gave me what she knew would shut me up. “We’re going to The Rooftop at Lamont’s.”

How effortlessly she slipped past me without a thank you or a glance in my direction served as a rude awakening.

“Well, you should take an umbrella with you. It looks like there’s gonna be a storm tonight.” This was my small way of coming to terms with the reality of the situation.

“Eh,” She waved my suggestion off with a dismissive hand. “We’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t even think about stalking me!” She warned before exiting the room.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone - my peace of mind having left with her.

_ _ _

The amount of sleep you need varies for each person and is affected by several factors. However, for most adults, 7–9 hours per night is the ideal amount. And I was slowly reducing that optimal quantity, hour by hour, until there was none left.

I would continue to sacrifice my sleep so long as I was awake for her return. If she’d asked why I was still up, I would lie. Though I wouldn’t look half so pretty as she did when she lied.

Losing rest seemed like such a small price to pay to make sure I was fully alert in the event that an emergency happened, even if I would suffer the consequences in the morning. But hey - that’s what caffeine is for, isn’t it? To re-energize oneself after staying up to guarantee one’s enemy’s safety.

Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly why Kaldi invented coffee in 750 A.D.

Besides the thunderstorm, my mind also made great company for situations like these. Granted, the visions it would project kept me up for a reason - they were all so awful.

There was simply no projected reality where things would turn out alright.

If she had the time of her life on her date, she would come back to throw it in my face that I’d been wrong, and her admiration for Grant would have deepened.

Or if he stood her up, she’d be devastated, but instead of letting me console her, she’d push me away as easily as she always did.

In a more neutral instance, perhaps she would admit it wasn’t as great meeting him as she thought it would be and the relationship would fade out for innocent reasons. Even if that seemed like the most favorable circumstance, she would eventually grow to resent me for planting the seed of doubt in her head in the first place.

But nothing- nothing I could have imagined would be as treacherous as what actually happened.

At exactly 1:09 a.m, my phone started to ring. I can’t explain to you what it was, but I just knew - it was her calling, and it wasn’t even her number.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay?”

If she said something beforehand, I couldn’t hear her because the storm was too loud and her voice was too quiet. “Did I wake you up?”

I reassured her with a tone I didn’t even recognize. “No, no. I was awake. Why? What’s up?” The line went quiet again, forcing me to prompt her to speak in order to find out if she was still there on the call. “(Y/n)?”

“Spencer ...” She choked out a hoarse sob. “I need you. I need you to come get me, please.”

My eyes clenched shut at the dreadful sound of her sorrow, and I jolted into action. After scrambling to gather the keys to her car that she’d left behind, I fled the room faster than ever before.

“I’m on my way, (y/n). Stay right there. You’re at The Rooftop at Lamont’s right?”

The poor thing took the longest pause in history, either from shame or disorientation. “He threw me in the back of his car and drove me all the way to D.C. I …” Her breath caught on her dry throat again. “I, um, I managed to escape and now I’ve barricaded myself in a payphone booth. I haven’t called the police yet. You were the first person I thought to call. I just, I just needed to hear your voice.”

My knuckles turned an unfamiliar shade of white when I gripped the steering wheel, picturing her caged up in a rectangular box, dialing my number instead of 911 just so she could hear my voice.

“Everything is gonna be okay. I promise you. My ETA is 1:28. That’s in 19 minutes. Are you okay being there for that long or do you want to find somewhere safer?”

I could no longer distinguish the difference between talking to her right now and talking to a victim in distress. I was speaking with the same tone and inflection but feeling a sharp pain in my chest that wasn’t there before.

“I can stay here. Just ... don’t hang up, okay?” The fact that the possibility of me abandoning her over the phone even crossed her mind was more than enough to get me to drive well over the speed limit.

The list of traffic infractions only grew from there because honestly? Screw my safety or anyone else’s. Her’s was the only one that mattered. She was the priority.

She was my priority.

Throughout the entire call, I kept repeating, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Frankly, it was something we both needed to hear.

It was both the fastest and slowest 19 minutes of my life. Time no longer felt real when I finally found the payphone booth that boxed in my troublesome girl. No sooner did I drive up to the sidewalk than I ran out of the car to sprint the short distance to free her from her coop.

“(Y/n)!” I shouted, swinging the door open and throwing caution to the wind in the process. Immediately, she dropped the phone, not even bothering to replace it onto its receiver.

The pouring rain had stripped her of her dignity. Mascara ran down her face in pigmented streams of black. Her curled hair was dampened into strings. But worse of all, it hadn’t washed away the darkening bruises on her skin.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She cried as she ran into my open arms.

Her body collided with mine in such a gentle manner that I had to wonder how that was possible at all or if it was a figment of my imagination. Was our collision actually that gentle or did it seem that way because of how good it felt to have her arms and legs latch around my entire torso, crossing and connecting somewhere in between?

With one arm under her thighs to hold her up, I pulled her impossibly closer to me by cradling the back of her head with the other hand.

Her small hands found their way into my hair, a new sensation I tried not to indulge in so as not to let my attention stray away from the little life I was holding in my arms.

She was so cold.

Shivering from my warm embrace, her teeth chattered as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Spencer. You were right I should’ve listened -”

“Shh, it’s okay, (y/n),” I said with the hopes that I could make the pounding heart that was thumping against my shoulder settle down until it reached her standard heart rate of 67 beats per minute.

After a second of just holding her wordlessly, she spoke again.

“I don’t wanna fight.” She surrendered so easily to me that I could hardly believe this was her at all.

“I don’t wanna fight with you either.”

That was entirely true. Fighting with her was the last thing on my mind. The first was getting her into my car.

It was easier that I imagined it would be, but then again, it’s easy to do things when you’re motivated in this way.

Before I loosened my hold on her to shut the passenger door, she squeezed me a little tighter, as if to be absolutely certain this was real and not some cruel dream.

“Thank you,” She hummed into the crook of my neck. From where her shoulder was digging into my throat, I couldn’t exactly respond verbally, so I settled for rubbing my hand up and down her back comfortingly.

“Let’s take you home,” I basically said to myself seeing as it was too quiet to be discernible.

“No,” She shook her head rapidly. “Take me to your apartment.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back to the hotel right now. I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

My apartment is closer than the hotel, I reasoned, pretending it was the logic of it that made my heart swell and not the statement I would fixate on for the entire duration of the ride there.

I need to be somewhere I feel safe.

And that’s wherever I’m with you.

_ _ _

Reader’s POV

Porcelain wall tiles gleamed back at me, mocking my wretched misery. They were much prettier than me, but then again, anything else would be prettier than me right about now.

I certainly wasn’t the belle of the ball in my bare naked state. The fact that I was sitting in a pool of my own washed off dried blood didn’t help either.

I would’ve looked away from the bright white walls, but where else were I to look? Into the pair of eyes that I was deliberately avoiding? The ones that were staring a hole through me right now? No. I couldn’t bear to meet those eyes. So I kept looking forward at the mean walls - those mean, mocking walls.

“Is the water warm enough?” He asked, dipping a finger into the bathwater to test it himself.

I watched as his hand snuck into the tub and swirled around some water, causing soap bubbles to revitalize.

For a reason I didn’t know nor could remember at this given moment, Spencer drove me to his apartment. That memory of why I was here was fuzzy, but the rest following my arrival was more vivid. Perhaps because it was all unfolding right now.

“I think I should go,” I murmured. The bathwater had gone cold, and the silence was too deafening. If I didn’t leave now, then I would be trapped forever.

I leaned forward with my knees still pressed to my chest to protect my modesty while I tugged on the silver drain plug of the tub to release the suction.

“You can’t go home. You’ll be alone again, and who will be there to help you that time?”

“I don’t need anybody’s help.” I responded curtly.

“Then why did you call me tonight?”

“Why did you answer?”

He was stunned by how I didn’t miss a beat with my question, stunned enough to purse his lips in contempt. “Should I have declined your call then? Said ‘no’ instead and let you fend for yourself? You know what - my bad, (y/n). I sincerely apologize that I care about you.”

I scoffed at his factiousness. “No, what you should’ve done is whatever the hell you wanted to do. But clearly, since you said ‘yes’ and came to my rescue like I’m some victim in a case - you wanted to be there. I could chalk that up to you having a hero complex, but I think it’s time for you to admit you just wanted to see me at my worst so you could throw it in my face like you’re doing right now.”

He clenched his jaw in fury, muttering under his breath, “I should’ve left you in that booth.”

This crossed a line, but I was just as ready to cross it, too.

“But I bet you liked saving me. Seeing me as a damsel in distress that you could white knight. You like that, Spence? Does my weakness settle your deep rooted fear of inadequacy in strength?”

Shouldn’t have done that.

For a second there, I was sincerely scared of the response I might’ve just elicited, so I shot up from the tub and grabbed the towel on the rack, quickly wrapping myself in it and avoiding Spencer’s gaze the entire way out of the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Judging from the loudness of his voice, he was right on my heels, following me close behind.

“You’re smart. Figure it out.”

“God, why do you have to be such a pain in the ass? I don’t want to leave you like this.” It never failed to amaze me how he could both show disdain and concern for me in the matter of a sentence.

“Well, you’re not leaving me like this - I’m leaving you like this.” My clever remark angered him more.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Spencer called out from the end of his hallway, “What are you so scared of?”

Reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope, I spun around to throw my arms out to my side in just the same defensive manner as he did. “Nothing! Maybe I just don’t wanna be stuck in the apartment of the man who hates me! Can you blame me?”

He ran a hasty hand through his hair, pulling at the strands out of pure irritation. “Why do you keep saying I hate you? How can any of what I’ve done for you tonight suggest that?”

He’d chosen his words carefully and for that, he was smart. His inclusivity of the word ‘tonight’ meant I could only reference his actions from the past few hours, which wouldn’t help my case, as opposed to the months and months that he’d given me the cold shoulder, which would have helped my case. But again, he was smart - he had me in a deadlock. I couldn’t accept defeat, but what could I possibly argue against his point?

My body literally shook from the power of the deep groan that tore through my chest. “God, what do you want from me, Spencer?” I wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from him, but my body was resisting all those urges. Lunging forward, I pointed the sternest index finger at him, staring the most unforgiving glare into his soul. “Tell me - tell me what you want! Because when I was nice to you, you-you treated me like shit. And then when I stopped being nice to you, you still treated me like shit. So what -” I had to laugh to alleviate the sheer rage I was feeling. “What the fuck do you want from me? Because it’s like no matter what I do, it’s just not good enough for you!”

His eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes softened. He didn’t look angry whatsoever. No, he looked hurt.

“Not good enough for me?” He leaned down to my level to look right into my eyes. “You are everything … everything to me.”

With one last breath, I cried out in anguish, “Then why? Why do you hate me so much?”

He gulped back the lump in his throat - the last barrier that kept him from telling the truth.

“I ... I never hated you. I just need to be in control of my thoughts and feelings at all times, otherwise, I feel-I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I’m on the verge of a psychotic break that I’m genetically predisposed to have. But when you came around - I lost all my control. You were inhabiting my dreams, you were stealing my sleep, occupying more and more space in my brain until there was no more room left to take. God, I think about you all the time, and I literally cannot physically stop it. I have no control anymore,” and somehow him saying that sounded something like an ‘I love you.’

“The only thing I could control was how I treated you. I thought being awful to you would get you to despise me enough to make me despise you, too, and while it was easier to be angry at you, it was so much worse having you hate me.”

“I never hated you, Spencer.” Never.

“You should have,” He rasped. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I wish to spend every day proving that I want you. Oh, I want you so bad,” He sharply inhaled through gritted teeth, and I unconsciously laughed in return. His pain wasn’t funny in the least. What was amusing was knowing that he had the same excruciating longing for me that I had for him.

“I don’t want control anymore if it means I can’t have you.”

He leaned in so carefully that I almost didn't register the movement at all. Our hearts were pounding to the same synchronized beat. We were the shore and the tide one in the same. Our breaths would draw in and out, in and out, as he held my face so gently. We were still the shore and the tide, but more than anything we were drowning in the ocean of ourselves. The rising waters of his admiration threatened to flood every empty nook and cranny of the room until it swallowed me whole. All I could feel was him, everywhere, filling absolutely everything.

“Wow ... I finally got you speechless,” The cocky bastard hummed happily, letting his words vibrate on the smallest part of my lip.

“Oh, shut up,” I declared through a smirk I needed to fight off before finally closing that nearly imperceptible gap between us.

All the forces in the world couldn’t tear us apart after we connected. They were no match for the force Spencer’s hands had as they pulled me impossibly closer. The pressure might’ve even been unbearable had it not been for the velvety pair of lips giving me back all the oxygen it stole from my lungs just seconds ago. They were so soft, like freshly washed sheets, like biting into cotton candy, like floating for the first time, feeling utterly weightless in water. It’s sweet, it’s so effortlessly sweet.

Not nearly as sweet as the words that followed our parting.

“Not enough for me?” He repeated, recalling my previous claim. “You’ve had me since the day you walked in, trouble.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

fingers crossed this fic doesn’t flop!

complete taglist: @muffin-cup @s1utformgg @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @jemimah-b99 @justanothetfangirl @kylab @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @carooliina @fortheloveofcriminalminds @watermelongubler @obsessedmaggiemay @k-k0129 @aperrywilliams @eevee0722 @spencersmagic @spencerreid-mgg @half-blood-dork @goldeng1rl8 @just-a-bunch-of-fandoms @random-human-person @masumiyetimziyanoldu @dreamer-writer-fangirl @kalamitykait @jinxy175 @apolloroid

tag not working: @gloriousmuffinempathstudent

#spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid kiss #fighting fire with fire #juniorgman187 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

383 notes · View notes

watevermelon · 4 years ago

Text

Fate | Kageyama Tobio x Reader (One-shot)

✧ Summary: For years you watched Kageyama grow - from his time as king of Kitagawa Daiichi to the seemingly aloof setter on Karasuno. Your lives were a set of near misses; distant friends, but never getting any closer. You figured that once you entered Shiratorizawa High that it would be the end of your friendship. Thankfully, it was only the beginning.

➳ Tags: Slight Oikawa x Reader; Fluff with very minimal angst; Reader transfers from Seijoh to Shiratoriazawa so there’s drama; I love Oikawa but oooF this is not a good fic of him ➳ A/N: Captain-Sama! In the groupchat is the username for the female captain of Shiratorizawa and do you know da wae is the reader’s lmao

Navigation

— xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx —

As much as Oikawa complained about him, you understood Kageyama Tobio to a certain extent.

You spotted the setter during your shared time at Kitagawa Daiichi Junior High, him being one year your junior. There was no doubt the genius and pure talent that was coursing through his veins - he was surely going to make whichever high-school he attended proud.

You had the same position as him on the women's volleyball team and served as vice-captain in your second-year, alongside a third-year who held their head just as high.

There was nothing more scary than the thought of looming talent, creeping up on you until you were rendered absolute. Oikawa, you were sure, had felt that since the moment Kageyama was placed as an alternate setter during his first-year. It was a daunting feeling, to work on something at all hours of the day and know that there was someone who could easily render it all worthless.

But that did not mean it was fair to treat the poor first-year that way.

Iwaizumi was the senpai Kageyama deserved, but the blueberry held a strange respect for the setter two years his senior. No matter how much of a jerk Oikawa proved to be, through his biting words or taunting nature to the other setter, that did not change how amazing of an all-around player Oikawa was. And that made Kageyama respect him even more.

You respected Kageyama's genius, even helping him personally with his jump-serves, but there was no doubt that he heavily relied on Oikawa's example.

You wondered how long that would last.

Oikawa progressed to Aobajōsai High School at the end of the year. And, to everyone's surprise and obvious disapproval, you did not advance to the white-and-blue signature colors of the school that most Kitagawa Daiichi students went to.

The vice-captain and later full captain of the women’s Kitagawa Daiichi Junior High volleyball team was not going to Aobajōsai.

You would be branded a traitor by the lesser students, people who served as your other teammates that you were not close to. But your friends around you knew just who much you worked hard and aspired to have this academic achievement. You, in the depths of your hearth, admitted that you wanted to be on a team that almost guaranteed victory, with teammates who you could conduct and control the game with.

Unlike what many had hoped, you were going to Shiratorizawa Academy.

Your grades were well above average, actually landing you in the top five in your class among your entire graduating year. What stood you out among the endless crowds of talented setters, beyond your unending potential, was your already rounded ability as an aggressive server. Your jump-serves were better than the other first years in your newly minted class (an ability that came as a perk of being a certain Oikawa Tōru's friend).

Given both an academic and sports scholarship, you flashed a blinding smile at your junior high graduation, parents and friends clapping at your achievements.

You felt blessed to have such supportive parents, ones who, despite their busy work schedules, still attempted to attend your major volleyball games. And had vocally voiced to you their approval of your wanting to go to Shiratorizawa, offering to pay for it out of pocket if you had not received a scholarship.

You could not ask for better parents than these.

Shiratorizawa Academy handed you a new ass - giving an entirely new meaning to practice and torture.

You accepted the position as alternate to the regular setter with a smile, happy to just be on the bench and not cheering from the stands. If anything, the first few months of Shiratorizawa showed you that you had so much more to learn.

But you were eager for the challenge.

A particular practice match with the women's team from Itachiyama Academy solidified your need for much more training. You wanted to be a reliable pillar to the team, for whatever role you needed to sub into for the game. Whether it be just as a pinch server or when the regular setter was sick, you wanted to demonstrate the winning attitude that came with being a student to a school of absolute victors.

You spent your first-year training nonstop, your fellow first-year students surprised at your youthful vigor and unending stamina. But you had to prove yourself better than reliable, that you were going to uphold the Shiratorizawa standard for setters and more if you wanted to be a regular.

You related to Shirabu and Kawanishi, fellow students in your year who were keen on becoming regulars to the men’s volleyball team. Both you and Shirabu had not attended Shiratorizawa Junior Academy, instead coming from separate junior high's that were considered lesser. Because of this, you two came in ‘brand-new’ with no friends or experience with the school personally. Shirabu grew to have an obvious close relationship with Kawanishi, but you found yourself gravitating toward them every once in a while, as well.

The rivalry between your school and Seijō took the back-burner during your training. You would see some of your previous friends when there were practice matches between your schools and you made an effort to text and even hang with some of them if given the time, but volleyball man.

It was hard to manage your academic workload alongside giving more than one-hundred percent in your sport.

When the Interhigh-Preliminaries rolled around, you watched from the stands as second-year Oikawa Tōru had already taken the helm as vice-captain and regular setter of the Aobajōsai volleyball team. You were silently proud of your brunet senpai, despite how gaudy and annoying he could be, there was no denying Oikawa’s obvious skill and love for the sport.

The rivalry between specifically Ushijima and your previous senpai ran bone-deep and it was easily palpable to everyone watching the match, even more so to you, who sat at least a hundred feet away but knew both young men personally now.

After the game, you went down and put a comforting hand on Oikawa's shoulder, who gave a small grimace at the motion before fully standing to look at you. It was easy to morph your appearance and identity with the other students adorned with purple tracksuits, (since not matter who, they all annoyed the hell out of him) but Oikawa remembered your face personally from Kitagawa Daiichi.

The two of you were not especially close during junior high, but definitely friends that would often converse on a daily basis. Since you were the vice-captain of the women's team while Oikawa was captain of his, you often shared your personal woes and experiences.

You even had a shared extra-curricular class in some science-related subject (you knew he was a closeted nerd, no matter how much he denied it). He was definitely a friend of yours, but you never truly knew what was going on in that head of his.

Oikawa’s eyes widened at recognizing your face, before dropping down the bold font of your school's name at the front of your jacket.

"And here I was, wondering if you had moved or died." Oikawa started with a small smirk, "This is much worse."

You lightly punched at his shoulder and then sighed, "Believe it or not, even though you're such a nuisance, I missed you."

Oikawa smiled, but then held a hand over his heart in feigned offense. "Nuisance?"

"I missed you, big oof." You put a loose arm under his and wrapped it around his middle in a side-hug, surprising the brunet who quickly returned the action. "I'm proud of how far you've come.

He rolled his eyes and attempted to pull away, "I don't need you to baby me."

"I won't." You stated in a firm voice, "But I do know you will continue to do whatever it takes to destroy my school."

Oikawa looked at you, fully peered at your countenance as he soaked in your words, before nodding in affirmation. You shared more words of conversation, catching up between friends who had not seen each other in a whole year, before he returned back to his team.

Like the previous Seijō captain, you were relentless in your training during your first-year. You wanted nothing more than to be the regular setter on your team. It was not enough being the sub, even as a first-year, you wanted to prove your abilities on the center-court in an official game.

The regular setter was a third-year, with graduation looming around the corner. Both you and your second-year counterpart were eyeing the position with eager eyes, but your work ethic did not fail you.

GroupChat: Caw Caw SHIRATORIZAWA ୧༼ д ͡༽୨

07:57 From: Not-my-libero-Yamagata ( ´ ▽ ` ) welcome aboard (L/N)!!

07:57 From: Captain-Sama! congrats (L/N)!

07:57 From: do you know da wae aw thanks! But it wasn’t without the help of the team (✿ ♥‿♥)

07:57 From: do you know da wae also congrats to shirabu and kawanishi!

07:58 From: Not-my-libero-Yamagata ( ´ ▽ ` ) i ship it

07:58 From: Kenjiro (`へ´*) thank you and you too

07:58 From: Captain-Sama! but there’s three of them

07:58 From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩ thanks b + you 2

07:58 From: the most tender Salami ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

07:58 From: the most tender Salami Also yah congrats but im watching you

There was no question that every eye of both the men’s and women’s volleyball teams were now scanning the shared groupchat with narrowed eyes. The newly formed regular positions were just released this morning and everyone was eagerly anticipating to see their names announced.

You were thankful that the women’s captain was so friendly, offering congratulations for your achievement, unlike many other envious third-years who were now sitting on the bench.

You were pronounced as the regular setter in your second-year, your older senpai inwardly sneering at the pronouncement. Nothing was set in stone and no player was ever safe in their position, (unless of course you were Ushijima Wakatoshi), but your older teammate knew better than to waver in their own training.

Which is why you were not personally offended when the kind-hearted, Semi Eita, did not add to the numerous amounts of congrats to you and the two other second-year boys. You were grouped together with Shirabu and Kawanishi, newly minted second-years now inaugurated into regular positions on a renowned team. There was no doubt that there was a hint of envy and competition within Shiratorizawa now.

07:59 From: Captain-Sama! don’t be rude salami this is a congrats thread

07:58 From: Ushiwaka-sama You will all surely be assets to our team

7:58 From: do you know da wae Thank you!! ❤⃛ヾ(๑❛ ▿ ◠๑ )

08:00 From: Coconut-head congrats to all the second-years!

08:00 From: Coconut-head ໒( ♥ ◡ ♥ )७

You saw the multiple indicators that someone was typing, suddenly come to a complete stop.

Goshiki Tsutomu was the rare case of a student abounding with natural talent and enthusiasm. Yes, there were tons of students blessed with a general aptitude for volleyball. But what set him apart was his humble attitude and willing manner to learn and keep being molded. He was growing to be the product of all his older teammates, since he had no previous sense of style to retain.

Goshiki Tsutomu would surely grow to be Shiratorizawa’s ace.

But right now, he was an enthusiastic first-year trying to overcome the overwhelming shadow of Ushijima Wakatoshi.

It undoubtedly set off the tempers of multiple (now) third-years. You even felt the crawl of envy at the young man. You were only granted a regular spot in your second-year. And yet this first-year had already overcome your personal feat. You knew, in the more comprehensive parts of your mind, that Goshiki earned his role and there was no excusing your petty behavior.

So, with a deep sigh, your fingers swiped across the keyboard.

08:05 From: do you know da wae Congrats to you too, Goshiki-kun! (♥‿ ♥ ) ~

08:00 From: Coconut-head thank you senpai!!

The captain of the women’s team, along with Yamagata and Ushijima, added in their own forms of congratulations to the growing thread on the chat. But there was no doubt that the atmosphere was suddenly even more tense with the addition of Goshiki’s words. You could not blame anyone; you knew first-hand how much you worked and literally slaved for your position on the starting block.

Every regular on the team worked their way to their position – that was a fact no one could ignore.

But they had to learn to live with it.

You spent most of your time getting integrated with your fellow teammates, thoughts of Kitagawa Daiichi taking a much further backburner than before. You heard the distant yet familiar names of Oikawa and Iwaizumi often make their way into conversation. There was no doubt that you loved your friends, but they were your rivals now.

And you had no hesitation in recounting their abilities and weaknesses when both Reon and the infamous Guess Monster had asked you.

It also helped that you were once the captain of the women’s team and knew them better than anyone had before. Which also helped you exploit their weakness – another additive that the coach had taken to account when putting you on the starting block.

But there was another label that, in particular, stood out as you approached your second Interhigh-Preliminary as a student of Shiratorizawa.

Freak quick duo.

You were familiar with the several different nicknames that promulgated the Miyagi volleyball scene – great king, guess monster, little giant, super volleyball idiot (but that was more of an inner joke between Shiratorizawa students).

It was strange to you, that Kageyama had not yet made an appearance at Shiratorizawa Academy. He surely had the volleyball forte and physical ability to be the most skilled setter in the Prefecture, but you chalked it up to his grades or brisk personality that may have weighed him down.

But when Kageyama was not even present for the practice match between Seijō and your own school, it made you wonder if he had dropped off the face of the planet. For students who were seriously pursuing their sport, it was not a surprise for them to travel abroad to train. But you doubted Kageyama of all people would do so, his English was terrible.

Usually students from your junior high would immediately accept the invitation to Aobajōsai, a private school seconded only by Shiratorizawa. The few unique instances against this was yourself, but there was no sight of Kageyama at your school.

So where on earth was he?

Both of Seijō’s teams, men’s and women’s, were coming for the match and the annual start of their explosive rivalry. It was strange for you, to now experience both sides of the Oikawa and Ushijima relationship. You had been on Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s side not too long ago, seeing Ushijima’s brute words that you had taken, at the time, as sarcastic and extremely biting.

It was funny how now, knowing Ushijima personally, you knew the poor spiker only had volleyball in his heart and mind – oblivious to how offensive his words could really be.

09:34 From: the most tender Salami enemy spotted Attached: brunet.jpg, ihatethisguy.jpg

09:34 From: Ushiwaka-sama He should’ve gone to Shiratorizawa

09:34 From: the most tender Salami lmao he can’t hear you waka-kun

09:34 From: Ushiwaka-sama That does not make it any less true

09:35 From: Captain-Sama! Wait

09:35 From: Captain-Sama! WAIT

09:35 From: the most tender Salami ????

09:35 From: Captain-Sama! wait Attached: screenshot.jpg

09:35 From: the most tender Salami WHAT

09:36 From: Kenjiro (`へ´*) That’s literally just a zoomed in version

09:36 From: the most tender Salami um that’s SHIRATORIZAWA’S (F/N) with the enemy

09:36 From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩ I mean she did go to Kitagawa Daiichi

09:36 From: Not-my-libero-Yamagata ( ´ ▽ ` ) wait she’s Oikawa’s student ???

09:37 From: Captain-Sama! and now it all makes sense

09:37 From: Ushiwaka-sama even his student has the good sense in coming to Shiratorizawa

09:37 From: the most tender Salami LMAO you have no chill

09:37 From: Ushiwaka-sama it’s almost summer, why would I be cold?

09:37 From: Captain-Sama! the top 3 ace in the entire country, ladies and gentlemen

You opened the chat after the last message from your captain. By then, you had already greeted the visiting teams from Aobajōsai and were leading them to the gyms that were being used to the practice matches. It was strange, seeing the friends that you had spent more than three years with, wearing rival colors to your own.

“I’ll never get used to seeing Shiratorizawa-clad you, (F/N).” One of your old close friends commented, pointing at your purple tracksuit.

“Honestly, me too.” You admitted, looking up toward her before going back to your phone. You briefly showed the last few texts to Oikawa himself, who rolled his eyes at Ushijima’s words.

There was always something strange about Ushijima when it came to the Aobajōsai setter. It was mixture of respect and something, that always motivated Ushijima to voice his desire for Oikawa to go to Shiratorizawa. He had explained on one occasion that Oikawa was a setter unlike any in the prefecture, including his current team as well.

Oikawa was the type of setter who could bring out the absolute best of anyone, orchestrate his team to their full one-hundred percent, molding them toward his personal interest and control of the game.

And as a setter yourself, you knew that despite his gaudy style, Oikawa was well above the rest.

Ushijima often voiced that Oikawa deserved a team that would help him grow, rather than a team that require him to win – a team he had to drag by his fingertips.

You had explained to Oikawa once before how Ushijima explained it to you, of course with better words and ones that the brunet would less likely take offense to, but the setter simply scowled and muttered that Waka was still an asshole anyway. When you had told Ushijima about the bonds that Oikawa upheld, Ushijima simply narrowed his eyes and said nothing.

It was strange, their relationship. The feelings seemed to run bone-deep, neither male listening to the other side or even simple reason. But you learned not to question it anymore. It went against logic.

You flipped your phone back open to the groupchat and typed.

09:38 From: do you know da wae I wasn’t his student, I was his babysitter

You typed in, Oikawa looking over your shoulder as you texted, immediately reaching over you to grab your phone the moment he had realized what you conveyed. You could almost feel the loud laughter of Tendou as he bellowed out at your text.

“Why must you taunt me like this (L/N)-chan?” Oikawa pouted, crossing his arms and looking away from you. Iwaizumi had a small smile when you showed him your words, Makki and Mattsun laughing in response since the true personality of the intimidating setter was coming to light to the other Shiratorizawa students.

“It’s time everyone learns the truth.” You teased, rubbing your shoulder against Oikawa’s as he continued to pout. There was no one quite like Oikawa, you admitted inwardly but never to the face of the already proud setter.

They unloaded their things into the visiting school’s locker room and when you returned they had already shook hands and were warming up before the start of the practice match. You tilted your head at the line-up, now a visual confirmation that Kageyama was nowhere in sight.

“Who are you cheering for, (F/N)?” Tendou asked you with a pointed finger in your direction.

You simply rolled your eyes, “Myself. I have my own game in an hour.”

It was to no one’s surprise that your school had dominated both matches, for both the men’s and women’s team. You spied the score-board when you looked over to the men’s match: 25-22 and 27-25. The gaps were not huge and it was obvious that the teams were close in ability, but Aobajōsai had yet to win a single match from your school in three straight years.

You had an unfair advantage of already being closely acquainted with many of Seijō volleyball players – you were once their captain and had to help them individually with their own routines. To your captain’s glee and the third-years’ utter dismay, you proved yourself to be the integral cog that led to the team’s victory – your position as a regular was obviously here to stay.

There was no denying the evident vigor in Oikawa’s eyes after the match, even more so since he had personally requested from you the digital recording of his practice match. An exchange of two orders of milk bread from the bakery across Aobajōsai and you had emailed the brunet his request.

You offered to walk the Seijō students to their bus, since you had a personal question in mind. “Did Kageyama move or something?” You asked toward Oikawa, who scowled in response.

“He went to Karasuno High.” Iwaizumi answered instead, elbowing the brunet for his rude behavior.

“Why do you care so much, (L/N)-chan?” Oikawa taunted, “You already have me and I’m the best setter you need.”

You rolled your eyes along with Makki, but decided to say nothing after his words.

Karasuno…

You remembered the name of the school distantly. It was still within the prefecture, but you do not recall the school being particularly outstanding when it came to volleyball or any sport for that matter. The school was not anywhere near the list of high-schools you had applied to when you were in junior high, so why would Kageyama, who had unending potential, go somewhere else?

You had voiced this outwardly and even asked if there was an offer from Seijō to Kageyama.

Makki shrugged his shoulders, but the younger student behind him, one that you did not recognize, visibly tensed and the frown on his face grew. He said nothing to you, but it was obvious that Kageyama’s name alone had an effect on the first-years.

Ushijima was already standing at the buses; perfect posture and his hands were naturally down by his sides. You could tell the Seijō students were ready to fight, tensing immediately at the sight of your fellow schoolmate, Oikawa and Iwaizumi moving to stand at the very front of their group. You fought down the urge to call Tendou or Semi, hoping that the situation would not progress further and requiring the help of the other third-years.

“Let today be a testament, Oikawa. It’s never too late for you to come to Shiratorizawa.” He uttered before walking away, right through the center of the group and back to the school grounds.

You spotted Oikawa’s tense smirk, one that he was attempting to use to hide his obvious frown. Iwaizumi was not hiding his scowl and Mattsun looked ready to fight.

You put your hands up, unsure what to say. “I don’t get it. He’s only ever like this with you guys.”

“Don’t defend him, (F/N).” One of your old friends on the female team stated, “You’re one of Ushiwaka’s friends now, you wouldn’t understand how it’s like to be on the losing side anymore.”

You bit your lip but said nothing, there was no reasoning with them when the snide venom from their defeat was still a fresh wound in their minds. You were better off not trying to say anything to them, but with Oikawa’s scowl only increasing you knew you had to do something.

Oikawa kept his eyes trained on Ushijima’s retreating back, before motioning for the younger students to load up their things into the bus, giving his own pack to someone else.

“Oikawa-senpai, please don’t let him get to you.” You put your hands on his chest, seeing the tight fists at the brunet’s sides. “Ushijima doesn’t mean it in a douchey-way, he just comes off like that by accident.”

The brunet took in a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second, before putting his hands on your shoulders and looking you full-on with his piercing hazel eyes.

“Take that Waka! (L/N) still views me as her senpai – her ability hand-picked and trained by me.” Oikawa stated with enthusiasm as he looked over your shoulder and toward the school. Your smile was now a straight-line, there really was no end to their rivalry, you inwardly mused.

You jabbed your elbow into his stomach, making Oikawa release his hold on you. He groaned and bent-down, low enough for you to lightly pat the top of his head and tell him that you looked forward to the milk bread that he owed you.

He countered, saying that you really could not resist seeing your senpai again, and was about to continue if not for the extremely fast volleyball setting loose right on the brunet’s head.

You flashed a quick thumbs-up toward Iwaizumi then waved goodbye. Walking back toward the dorms, you were ready to shower and take a nap after a day like this.

It was strange that two schools that held such an intense rivalry would often hold practice matches between one another. You chalked it up to Seijō’s innate ability to get better as the duration of a match continued, their batch of third-years in particular were good at planning and strategizing on the fly during official matches. It only made sense that they would want to play against the top school even more often.

Your first official Interhigh-Preliminaries as a regular and you watched the competition with guarded interest. You saw the name Karasuno on the first-day, surprised that the school Kageyama had chosen was in the bottom bracket. The women’s team were obviously subpar in terms of volleyball, incapable of even stopping the average serve from their opponents. You frowned, neither team on the court would prove to be a worthy challenger to Shiratorizawa, so you simply walked away from the match.

Maybe his test scores were really bad, you inwardly joked.

Shiratorizawa was exempt from the first few days of matches, giving everyone ample time to watch and gauge their future rivals.

You decided against watching the match of Karasuno vs Dateko, hearing that the Iron Wall had crushed the team only a few months prior. Rather, you chose to watch a match between Johzenji and another, since you wanted to watch for yourself the extremely aggressive style that had you wondering just what was going on inside their heads.

But when a crowd had exclaimed in surprise over by Karasuno’s court, you chose to maybe just walk over and see what the fuss was about.

You took a seat farther from the rest, hearing distantly of a freak quick that not even the school who specialized in read-blocking could keep up with. You knew, first-hand, how fast and aggressive Kageyama was with his setting, it could be a surprise to everyone’s who was seeing it. Even the spikers on his own team in junior high were constantly surprised, you could imagine how it was now that he was using it in a more public setting.

It was confirmed now, before your very eyes, that Kageyama was now attending Karasuno.

Donned in a uniformed of black and orange with a huge indicator of his number nine, Kageyama was still same in appearance from when you had last seen him. Sporting an unintentional scowl with eyes that shone with a certain determination, you could spot Kageyama in the sea of volleyball players. A part of you was proud to see your, now much taller, kouhai on the court.

Your eyes followed the game, watching as Karasuno attempted to get around the Iron Wall that Dateko was infamous for.

A lucky save from a blocked spike, Karasuno’s libero was quick on his feet and you distantly recognized the short male. You blinked, seeing Kageyama’s perfect form and unable to personally decipher where the first-year was going to set to. You saw the older looking man, one who was surely in his twenties. Or the balder looking one, watching the setter from his place in the back line.

You blinked, a second passing as you tried to figure out who was the next attacker.

Your eyes could barely keep up with the orange flash of someone as the figure ran toward the net, without regard to the set, and spiked the ball before anyone on the other side could react. You felt yourself physically reel back in surprise, what the hell was that???

This was the freak-quick duo that everyone was talking about.

It was not just another name, rather it felt like an extreme understatement to what you had just seen for your yourself. You had not spotted any visual signals and wondered just how much Kageyama had worked on his precise pin-prick setting – he was a monster now, that was for sure.

You were not able to watch the rest of the match, your team calling you since it was getting closer to the time that your group was leaving. You had your own matches to deal with, and as curious as you were about how much Kageyama had changed since you last saw him, you had your own pressures to deal with at the moment.

The women’s team of Shiratorizawa won their matches the next day, overwhelming numbers in your favor since your renowned school seemed to always carry the best ace in the entire prefecture. You took in your victories with humble stride, knowing that nothing was set in stone until the final with your rival school - Aobajōsai. Rather, you finished your stretches and attempted to get the tail-end of the match between Seijō and Karasuno.

You watched with bated breath, unsure of who to root for in the final points, as the freak quick nearly disabled the second-best school in the prefecture. You could not help but bite your lip as the shortest middle blocker you had ever seen, rose above the net, only to be blocked by your old friends.

There was no stopping the apparent heart ache you felt at seeing a team you barely knew, dejectedly fall to the ground with their heads hung low. Oikawa was hollering in victory; there was no doubt in your mind that this match extended to a much more personal level, like that of his games with Ushijima. Within seconds, the brunet was yelling out commands for his team, likely getting ready for the next match as Karasuno lagged behind with depressed visages.

It seems Kageyama is finally beginning to trust other people, you inwardly mused when you reran the last few plays within your mind.

You stood at Aobajōsai’s side of the stands, waving to Oikawa with a smile when he spotted you, lining his team up to bow at those who came to watch the match.

Oikawa made a point of smirking and pointing a finger-gun at you, making many heads turn towards your direction as he did so.

You felt the instant pang and vengeance of a thousand fangirls, making the third-years of Seijō roll their eyes as you tensely motioned a slash across your neck toward the brunet. Other Aobajōsai students, those cheering from the stands, lifted a brow in confusion and curiosity – wondering just who this Shiratorizawa student was and what connection you had to Oikawa.

“At this rate, you’ll be branded a traitor, (L/N)-chan.” Tendou joked, making you tense up at the voice. You spotted him, along with three other students from your school sitting a little farther back from the Seijō crowd.

“I can’t be interested in some of my old friends?” You teased back, walking up to where they were sitting.

“Just don’t cry when I demolish your boyfriend.”

“He’s not-!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Tendou interrupted, turning back to the court as Karasuno neared the Aobajōsai side of the court to bow and offer their own thanks. “Besides, why be interested in him when we have cuties like this one?”

Tendou quickly grabbed at Shirabu’s cheeks, forcing the setter’s frown into a puckered fish-face for a quick second before the brunet nearly mauled his fellow teammate. You rolled your eyes at the antic, but said nothing to acknowledge the question.

You turned back, watching as Kageyama’s distant eyes never wandered higher than eye-level, obviously devastated that this was the result of all his training.

“Kageyama!” You yelled, hoping that the setter would hear you over the applause.

He had, looking up at the stands and seeing you wave at him. There was no hiding his surprise and it looked like he wanted to yell something back, but was instructed by his captain that it was time to head back to the coaches. Kageyama simply waved to you and then ran back to join the others.

“Or is it that one, all along?” Tendou asked in a low voice, eyes following the Karasuno setter before they slide over to you.

You hadn’t heard the red-head, turning back and going out to where the teams were convening downstairs. You attempted to look at the Karasuno crowd, but your own team was assembling for some strategy concerning your own final, the very next day.

After three games, the Shiratorizawa women’s team was pronounced winners of the Interhigh-Prelim. Everyone was aware of your school’s name, it’s reputation – how a win like this was simply expected of you.

But absolute winner did not cover the fact that your face ached from a receive to the face, unable to raise your hands in the visible route of the insane spike of your friend. Or the fact that one of your middle blockers was now actively sporting a limp, pain exploding in her ankle after having a bad landing in an awkward spot after successfully cutting off their ace. Or the fact that one of your regular wing-spikers was now benched, an ice-pack on her knee after her old-injury was sprouting after having to be used so many times.

Or the fact that you nearly cried with joy when you heard the immense crowd of Shiratorizawa cheerleaders and students chant your name, after you performed a setter dump.

None of these details really mattered in most people’s eyes.

You were Shiratorizawa – winners to the core. They had no sympathy for your story or the hard-earned journey you made to the top, many just expected it with no empathy, and it made you scowl.

You and your team lined-up after the match, the cheering growing to a loud uproar as the cheerleaders, alumni section, and just immense crowd of students chanted the victory screech for Shiratorizawa.

You waved with both hands at your parents as they cheered your name even louder.

This was your second-year in Shiratorizawa, but your first time as a regular on the team. Your friends in Seijō were seeing your skill first-hand in the match, from start to finish, as your team had utterly demolished their hopes in progressing to nationals. You were a skilled setter before, but your time at the Academy had honed you better than you ever were. You gained experience from playing other powerhouses from around the country, even some local colleges who were willing to challenge you.

You were on a completely different level than where you were as the captain of Kitagawa Daiichi.

Your friends had accepted long ago your association with Shiratorizawa, but actively putting your face and actions to their defeat obviously strained their feelings toward you more and more.

You made sure to smile at them before the match, attempting to placate the tense feeling of fighting against your friends, but it was obvious that their friendship with you was getting harder and harder to maintain. After the game, they had completely ignored you – your current friends in Shiratorizawa advising you that it was just the heat of the match.

But you knew better and simply kept walking away as they ignored you.

The men’s team was able to defeat Aobajōsai in only two matches – Oikawa’s bitter glare and Iwaizumi’s tense frown being sent directly into your own heart.

In the end, everyone deserves to win.

But there was only one winner in the end – you mused. Taking one last look, Oikawa not greeting you this time when he saw you at the line-up, you walked away from the match and back downstairs to the lobby.

It was just too much for your heart, all at once.

You sent a text to both third-years the next day: I’m proud of you guys! Don’t let Ushijima get you down. Iwaizumi answered within minutes, thanking you for the encouragement and even complimenting you on your jump-serve, since he caught a glimpse of your game.

Oikawa never answered.

Back at school, the coaches for both the men’s and women’s team allowed a rest-day on Friday’s holiday – Family Day – claiming that everyone needed to take a breather and that they had earned it from their win.

GroupChat: Caw Caw SHIRATORIZAWA ୧༼ д ͡༽୨

11:23 From: Captain-Sama! congrats to all !! ✿♥‿♥✿

11:23 From: Captain-Sama! may your crops be watered and your skin is clear

11:23 From: Coconut-head thank you!! And for you as well ٩(♡ε♡ )۶

11:23 From: Ushiwaka-sama! thank you I am checking my plants now

11:23 From: do you know da wae I have exactly one succulent

11:23 From: the most tender Salami lmao thanks b attached:oikawameme.jpg

11:23 From: Kenjiro (`へ´*) why must you call plants that @doyouknowdawae

11:23 From: do you know da wae y

11:23 From: do you know da wae are you jealous of my good succc ??

11:23 From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩ LMAOOO

11:24 From: the most tender Salami holy shit

11:24 From: Kenjiro (`へ´*) fight me

11:24 From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

11:24 From: the most tender Salami (f/n) gives me hope for our meme legacy :’)

11:24 From: do you know da wae i gotchu bby boo

11:24 From: do you know da wae maybe I’ll even bring you back food from break

11:24 From: Captain-Sama! am I the only one staying on campus for family day? :’)

11:24 From: Not-my-libero-Yamagata ( ´ ▽ ` ) myself + Shirabu are staying as well

11:25 From: do you know da wae aw guys I’ll bring some of my mom’s oyakodon when I get back!

11:25 From: Not-my-libero-Yamagata ( ´ ▽ ` ) thank you!!

11:25 From: the most tender Salami my food is now forgotten :’)

11:25 From: Captain-Sama! you live closer to Karasuno and Seijooo, right?

11:25 From: do you know da wae yaaaas

11:26 From: Captain-Sama! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

11:26 From: the most tender Salami ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

11:26 From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

11:26 From: do you know da wae ｢(ﾟﾍﾟ)

11:26 From: Captain-Sama! don’t think we didn’t notice your little exchange with one of the freak quick kids

11:26 From: do you know da wae oh

11:27 From: Kenjiro (`へ´*) (f/n) cant have other friends ??

11:27 From: the most tender Salami oh come on we all know they shared

11:27 From: the most tender Salami the look attached: hearteyes.jpg

11:27 From: Not-my-libero-Yamagata ( ´ ▽ ` ) oh no the matchmaker is back in business

11:27 From: Captain-Sama! oikawa then kags are you hiding any other setters ??

You were lounging on your bed during common hour, hesitating in your next answer and trying to decide if you were either going to mess with everyone or just end it there. But, you always loved sowing some seeds of discord with your favorite volleyball nerds. Typing in…

11:28 From: do you know da wae im actually in love with one of the miyas

11:28 From: the most tender Salami gasp

11:28 From: My only Okaasan/Eita he can jump up his own ass

11:28 From: Ushiwaka-sama! he is a good setter

11:28 From: Captain-Sama! but a complete douche

11:28 From: Not-my-libero-Yamagata ( ´ ▽ ` ) I do not approve

11:28 From: the most tender Salami that’s how you know he’s that bad, yamagata doesn’t ship it

11:29 From: Coconut-head attached: ???meme.jpg

11:29 From: Kenjiro (`へ´*) ＼| ￣ヘ￣|／

11:29 From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩ who the fuck

11:29 From: the most tender Salami third from left attached: InarizakiHigh.jpg

11:29 From: do you know da wae tbh didn’t expect anyone to know who that was

11:30 From: the most tender Salami lmao sweetie we live and breathe vball

11:30 From: Captain-Sama! also unfortunately he was at a vbc camp with some of us

11:30 From: the most tender Salami I’d rather approve of you with oiks

11:30 From: do you know da wae lmao nah

11:30 From: Captain-Sama! these RECEIPTS would beg to differ Attached: oinkawa.jpg; jointpractice.jpg; bakawa.jpg

11:31 From: Kenjiro (`へ´*) holy

11:31 From: the most tender Salami I knew it was true love 11:31 From: Kenjiro (`へ´*) where is everyone’s chill ???

11:31 From: Ushiwaka-sama! you will be a nice Shiratorizawa couple

11:31 From: the most tender Salami LMAO

11:32 From: do you know da wae why does this keep happening

11:32 From: do you know da wae only kenjiro understands me

11:32 From: My only Okaasan/Eita ive known waka forever and even I don’t know why he’s like this with Oikawa

11:32 From: Kenjiro (`へ´*) its bc we’re the only normal ones

11:33 From: Ushiwaka-sama! I’m not with Oikawa, he doesn’t even go to Shiratorizawa

11:33 From: Ushiwaka-sama! a mistake in itself

11:33 From: Captain-Sama! IM SCREAMING

11:33 From: the most tender Salami wakanda forever

11:33 From: do you know da wae LMAO I was thinking that too but decided against texting it

11:34 From: the most tender Salami wait a second

11:34 From: the most tender Salami kenjiro x (f/n) >.>>>>>>

11:34 From: do you know da wae lmao don’t even

11:34 From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩ lmao well

11:35 From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

11:35 From: do you know da wae we all know that if that if kenjiro’s girlfriend hears this she’ll literally shank me

11:35 From: the most tender Salami lmao true

11:35 From: Kenjiro (`へ´*) she doesn’t even like me

11:36 From: do you know da wae what a lie

11:36 From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩ hard retweet

11:36 From: Captain-Sama! we all know the alpha ship

11:37 From: the most tender Salami oikawa x (f/n) x kags

11:37 From: Captain-Sama! LMAO

11:37 From: do you know da wae end me pls

11:37 From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩ oof didn’t know you were into that

11:37 From: Kenjiro (`へ´*) they can definitely do that for you

11:38 do you know da wae …

You rolled your eyes at their antics, conversation on constant haywire. But you would not have it any other way. Most people would look at your school, the simple name and already have connotation to others. Yes, you were a powerhouse school. But that did not change the fact that you were all teenagers, just like everyone else. And with it came the continuous antics of meme-lovers.

Throwing your phone back on your bed and turning to look out the window, you were happy to have a day to yourself to finally make sense of everything happening. You were proud of your win at the Interhigh Tournament, no matter how bitter or lost your friendship had become with the people you were once the closest to.

Your texted your parents about the three-day break for Family Day and they had immediately pushed for you to come back home, where they would hold a celebratory dinner along with some other families they were close to and invited. You told your roommate about it and how embarrassing they were, but she countered that it was a sweet gesture, since she held a close relationship to her own parents as well.

“They’re just proud of their little girl, that’s all!” She teased, grabbing your head into a small nuggie. She was much taller than you, a middle-blocker who was still serving as an alternate.

Most of the other members of the team were also heading home on Thursday night, eager to visit their homes and parents and finally have a home-cooked meal after being away for half the semester. You personally looked forward to your mother’s cooking and said goodbyes to your teammates after your last class on Thursday.

Your dorm at Shiratorizawa was much farther than your home, actually sitting between Karasuno High and Aobajōsai. You considered jogging the entire way, but it was a rare break and decided to give your body one as well (at least just for the weekend, of course). Coming off the train, you spotted the street sign pointing to the aforementioned high-school and heavily considered visiting the old-time friend and setter that you had yet to have a formal conversation with in a good two years.

You had some time to kill and decided that maybe it was not such bad idea.

You neared the school and heard the tell-tale sounds of sneakers and volleyballs being tossed about.

Standing in the already open doorway, you spotted several faces that you recognized from the Interhigh game still training. They wore serious expressions, studying their abilities very carefully and working to fix the kinks in what they planned to bring to the table.

“Japan!” You heard someone shout over the others, the owner of the voice pointing at you as they looked at you in surprise, before they ran over to where you were standing.

You waved at the orange-haired middle-blocker, smiling as you did so. “I remember you. Good spikes, little dude.” You complimented, patting the top of his head as he blushed at the physical contact.

You turned back to the gym, stopping the blush crawling to your cheeks as every male looked at you in genuine curiosity. You kept scanning, until finally seeing the setter you were looking for.

Kageyama was already walking up to you, smacking the head of the still sheepish middle-blocker and muttering hinata boke, before he greeted you in a neutral voice.

“(L/N)-san.” He stated simply, inclining his head as he did so.

“Kageyama-kun, didn’t expect us to meet again like this.”

You felt the looming presence of two behind you and turned to see two males peering at you with open interest. One of them, that was the taller of the two, asked toward you, “Eh, Kageyama. How do you know Shiratorizawa’s setter?”

You smiled at the two looming boys and answered, “We went to Kitagawa Daiichi together.”

The two held their hearts with open euphoric expressions, happy that you were even gracing them with a response.

Kageyama fought the urge to slap them on the head as well, before adding. “She helped me with my jump-serves when Oikawa had refused to.”

You just kept on smiling, unsure what to say or add when the boys before you had yet to say anything at all as well.

“You give me too much credit.” You countered, “You were a monster on the court the other day.”

Asahi silently studied your figure, distantly remembering your sharp jump-serve that he had gleaned from your match, it was something you were personally known for after all. A setter who was capable of shutting out the team from making any offensive plays to begin with – you really were one of Oikawa’s students after all.

“Nice to meet a senpai to our little monster.” The captain teased, offering his name – Daichi.

“What are you doing here?” Kageyama asked you, trying to keep his voice leveled.

“Both volleyball teams were given breaks until Monday, consider it a blessing for winning Interhigh.”

“Wah! I remember you.” Hinata, you recalled from earlier, stating. “You did that thing that Oikawa did to us. He went pow and was about to set and then boom it was a spike!”

You nodded, surprised on how truly enthusiastic and just all-around pure the small middle-blocker was proving to be. This was the same volleyball player who was part of the freak quick duo you had seen for the first time not long ago. Eyes shining with determination and an indescribable aura, it was a complete change to the young man jumping with joy in front of you now.

You turned back to Kageyama, “I wanted to see how you were doing. I saw your game and was just wondering…” You trailed off.

Kageyama hesitated, a small frown still evident on his visage. “We have practice now.”

You dropped your sports bag to the side, “Sure. I don’t mind helping out with jump-serves or something if you guys need it.” You paused at the silence, “It feels weird not having practice during the week anyway.”

“Jump-serve? Shiratorizawa?” The coach asked with a finger on his chin, before it morphed to a smirk. “Better make the most of it!” He directed to the group.

You felt the evident hesitation in the air, several of the older looking men simply looking at you with no words coming out. But that did not stop the little orange to bound up to you without restraint, eyes gleaming with anticipation at whatever question was being held behind those wide orbs.

“Do you mind showing me your jump serve?” Hinata asked with hands held up to his chest, excitement apparent through his lack of restraint.

“Don’t crowd her, boke.” Kageyama bit out, but you waved him off with your hand and a relaxed grin.

Offering a small smile, in hopes of softening some of his reserve, you took the ball that Hinata was offering you and glanced up toward the rest of the group. The moment your eyes came to, the older (you assumed) third-years, were ushering other members to get back to their own practice. A man with silver hair was pushing his younger ones to their previous positions, but it was obvious that their eyes were following you as you walked across the court.

“Stand back, little dude.” You motioned with your free hand as you paced further back past the line.

Holding the volleyball out with your dominant hand, you took a deep breath and launched it up into the air above you. Examining it with keen eyes, you smashed it forward, close to the outer corner of the other-side, but within the bounds.

“Uwah!” You heard his cheer of excitement from the side and turned to see a bright and eager smile.

It seemed that all the other commotion in the gym had stopped as you readied to serve, silence now much more evident as they took a full gander at you – the one capable and widely known for your monster serve. You felt eyes peering at you, but they quickly averted as you timidly looked around the room for yourself.

All but two pairs of eyes, both of which you were sure were burning into your head.

“Allow me to receive your serves!” You heard the voice from behind you, turning to see a male who was a shorter than you, with two-toned hair.

“Sure.” You muttered, surprised at the humble request of a libero you had heard so much of before.

This continued until the next rotation, a strange smile on your face from being on the other side of practice. Your coach knew better than anyone your strengths and definitely exploited your weaknesses when it came to your own practice. You distantly remembered having to do a cursed number of jump serves and, even though it was your forte, there were tears in your eyes for just how much you ached.

“Here.” An older man inclined a water bottle in your direction. “My name’s Asahi.”

“Thanks. Nice to meet you.” You nodded back in appreciation, slightly intimidated from his tall stature and rugged appearance.

Forcing yourself to steel your spine, you recalled how you were previously incredibly apprehensive around Ushiwaka, who turned out to be the biggest volleyball idiot on the planet.

“Something up?” You asked with a raised brow.

“Do you mind, walking me through your serve?” He hesitated in his request, making you inwardly surprised that a man so big and bulky, was coming to you so humbly.

Again, Karasuno seemed to surprise you.

You walked home with Kageyama after practice, floors mopped and nets neatly stored away. You were so used to your dorm at Shiratorizawa, the walk home felt familiar and yet distant – it was strange to you. The both of your homes were only a few streets separated from one another, you remembered from the walks home you would have together before in junior high. And you decided on spending the beginning of the walk together in comfortable silence.

Or at least comfortable for you.

Kageyama was inwardly struggling to say literally anything.

He remembered you as the type of person who hung around Oikawa and Iwaizumi, two people who often had no qualms in engaging in conversation. You had a bright smile, unlike his own.

And yet here you were, simply gazing ahead to the commute in front of you without a single word uttered. Kageyama had to stop himself from the physical nervous tick in his fingertips.

“I can’t explain it, but there’s just something different about you.” You stated, slowly moving your gaze over to the setter at the end of your sentence.

It was clear that Kageyama had no idea what to say, sputtering but no actual words coming out.

“It’s not a bad thing, not at all.” You raised your hands, waving them in defense. “Don’t worry, Kageyama-kun.”

“How can I not…” You heard him mutter under your breath, making you lightly chuckle at his words.

“It’s definitely a good thing.” You complimented, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder and making him instantly shy once again. “Why are you so shy, now?”

“What do you mean?” He raised a brow.

“It’s just me, no need to feel so tense.”

Kageyama hesitated, “Thank you.”

“For today? No worries, a small part of it was selfish since I wanted to see you.” You admitted.

You could hear his breath hitch, before he added okay.

“You’re such a blueberry, Kageyama-kun.” You laughed at his disposition.

“What does that even mean?! Boke.” His apprehension was quickly pushed aside at his frustrated words, making you chuckle at him even more.

You reached Kageyama’s home first, a sight you had not seen for yourself in the past year. Even when you returned back home, this was a little out of the way from your usual commute. But this was strange, it seemed completely the same no matter how much time had passed. It always just seemed…

… Empty.

You turned to Kageyama, “Are you spending family day alone, Kageyama-kun?”

“Yeah.”

You gauged his reaction, despite his rough exterior, Kageyama did not exhibit a hint of a frown or sadness at the answer. Rather, his response was rather plain – as if this occurrence was normal and not even disappointing to the setter anymore. This realization hurt your heart, having such comforting and supportive parents of your own, Kageyama deserved just as much.

Kageyama was used to spending his time alone, that much was evident.

“Would you like to have dinner with us tomorrow, for family day?”

He looked at you fully, apprehension palpable, but stated anyway. “Sure.”

You exchanged phone numbers as a formality, but saw that both of you had your previous numbers saved in each of your phones. It made you slightly happy, that Kageyama decided on keeping your phone number despite your time apart at different schools.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Kageyama-kun.”

“Boke, I’ll walk you.”

You tilted your head and pointed in the direction of your home, “It’s not that far–”

“It’s dangerous, you never know.” He interrupted, brisk words in evident contrast to his sheepish strides in front of you.

You just kept on smiling the way home.

“Would you like to come in?” You offered to which he nodded. You slid the door open and greeted. “Mom, dad! I’m home, I have Kageyama with me.”

“Come in sweetie, I’m in the kitchen!” You heard your mom’s voice, the sweet smell of her cooking fliting through the room and to your growling stomach. “Your dad is still picking some stuff up for tomorrow.”

You settled your bag at the end of the stairs before making your way over. “Hey.”

“Look at my favorite swan!” She wrapped her arms around your shoulders and then lightly squeezed your cheeks, “Now an official winner, too!”

“Mom, stop.” You grumbled, wrestling your face away from your ongoing embarrassment.

“Kageyama, good to see you too!” She greeted. “You’ve always been so tall – look at you now, all handsome.”

You laughed at Kageyama’s reddened face, no worries coming out of his goldfish expression.

Your mom continued, “I meant to stop by your home last week, I still owe your mom thanks for the calla lilies.”

“Oh. They’ll be back next week.”

Your mom paused, turning her head in question as she looked at the young man. With a newly determined face, she glanced at you and then toward Kageyama, “Would you like to join us for family day, then? We’re having a few people over and we would love to have you as well.”

“I already invited him, mom.” You stated, taking some dough off the table to eat as a small snack, which resulted in a large smack on the back of your head.

“Perfect.” Your mom assured, “I’m still cooking now, but you’re welcome to join us for dinner tonight as well.”

Kageyama backed-up with his hands raised, “I couldn’t barge in on (F/N)’s first night back with her family–“

You interrupted, this time. “Nonsense, Kageyama-kun.”

“Here, Kageyama-kun can help me with this little bit. (F/N) unpack your things upstairs and then come help set the table.”

You nodded, taking her orders without delay as Kageyama settled into the rhythm of your family.

“You were such a stern boy, back in Kitagawa Daiichi. I’m glad to see you’ve lightened up.” Your mother commented, passing the young setter some greens over the kitchen table.

By now, the meal was ready and the four of you, with the new addition of your father, were enjoying a quaint dinner to celebrate you finally visiting home after so long.

“Lightened, that’s a good word for it.” You added.

“There’s definitely a difference.” Your dad observed, “I was glad to see you’re still enjoying volleyball – still as gifted as ever.”

Kageyama paused, “You’ve seen me play?”

“Of course. There’s no denying the shock we still have when we see you serve. And that quick toss, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do it like that before.” Your mom replied, “We saw your game against Aobajōsai, there’s no doubt in anyone’s minds that you’ve grown as a person.”

“Game nearly gave me a heart attack – I’ll never get used to your brunette friend.” You dad pointedly stated toward you before turning to Kageyama, “But I’ll be honest, even though we’re closer to the Oikawa’s, I was rooting you.” He winked.

“Honey.” Your mom lightly slapped his shoulder with a smile.

“Of course, the highlight of the tournament for us was cheering our daughter on to her first official tournament win.” Your father continued, waving off her light admonishment with a grin of his own.

“Wait.” You saw the little hamster running in Kagyeama’s mind, “You watched the last few days of the tournament?”

“I wasn’t about to miss my daughter become champion!” You father bellowed, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Even if I have to use my vacation days at work, I would hate to miss something so important to her.”

Kageyama continued staring, eyes never leaving your father. There was no doubt that Kageyama lived and breathed volleyball, he loved it more than anything else really. But, his parents had yet to even begin to understand the dedication he had toward the sport. Kageyama could not remember the last time they had attended one of his games or even tournaments.

The expression on Kageyama’s face was so far-gone, it made you want to do something to comfort him.

Apparently, your parents thought the same way.

“You’ll definitely get ‘em next time.” Your dad motioned toward Kageyama. “Seriously, that quick attack you have – I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“We’ll be rooting you on again.” You mom reassured Kageyama, offering a plate of meat toward the setter who was staring at them with wide eyes.

He took the plate with hesitant hands. That’s how you knew Kageyama was so surprised, the fact that he was even wavering to eat meat – his king of food.

“Don’t look so surprised.” Your father joked before turning to Kageyama fully with a serious expression, “We’re proud of you.”

You smiled at their words.

You knew your parents well, just as they knew you, but here they were being entirely honest. Your parents did everything they could to have you in a loving environment – and this required being honest with what they wanted and what all parties were feeling. Meaning, they were not dressing up their words to the silent setter.

They really were proud of him.

You put a comforting hand in the crook of his elbow, since he was sitting beside you. That seemed to snap Kageyama out of his stupor, his glazed eyes turning to you and then between your parents.

“Thank you.” Kageyama paused, “Really.”

This was probably the extent of his social ability, you inwardly joked before offering the plate back to your parents. The poor dude was close to exploding, you could tell, and tried to steer the conversation away from the setter before that happened.

It was strange to Kageyama, the effort your parents took in spending time with you or even just what you were interested in. Your parents commented that they always downloaded your games if they were broadcasted on television, eager just to see how you were doing or wanting to send you an encouraging text about something you had done during the match.

Kageyama really felt the love in your family.

Your father walked him to the door, once dinner and dessert was done. Offering a goodbye and a literal see you tomorrow. Kageyama felt guilty, even in the face of your whole family telling him it was no issue, leaving your mom no choice but to task him with bringing a small cake for the gathering tomorrow.

Kageyama put a hand on the gate to your house, looking back with a small smile before continuing on his walk back home.

You spent the next day preparing for the small gathering that night. You only hoped that your parents would not embarrass you later. Kneading dough and humming along to the song through the speakers, you spent the calm morning alongside your mother in the kitchen. Your dorm only had a microwave, since you were still an underclassman with no privileges to a kitchen yet. It was a great change to finally have a cooked meal.

You greeted the first family with a smile, unaware of the feelings of one in particular.

“Hey, glad you guys could make.” You started, turning to the side for the new guests to enter. The parents smiled at you, inattentive to the tension between you and their daughter.

“Good to see you, (F/N). Congrats on your win, as well.” The father greeted as he passed you.

You turned to your friend, “I haven’t really seen you in a while.”

“Our last two sets was three days ago.” She bit out, glancing at you briefly before walking into your home.

You had always worried about this.

You loved your friends; your time at Kitagawa Daiichi held a special place in your heart – but that was nothing compared to the continual animosity they held for your school. The rivalry between Shiratorizawa and Aobajōsai was not a surface level problem, it was one that was seemingly burning to the core of each blue-clad student. They wanted nothing more than to absolutely destroy you, even if you were their friend. And the fact that you were a forerunner in the women’s team’s defeat, it made them dislike you even more.

You could not withhold the long sigh that escaped you.

Your parents were always the type to participate in fundraisers or school events and, being a previous member of a strong school like Kitagawa Daiichi, meant that they were in constant association with other parents to kids just like you. You loved it at the time, since it was obvious display of their support for you and the sport.

But now, after leaving the life-track of your Kitagawa Daiichi friends…

It’s not that there were no other parents that yours could connect with at Shiratorizawa. But it was harder for your parents since most of the others knew each other from Shiratorizawa junior high – meaning they already had their tight knit clique of parent association friends. It was not like your parents did not try either, but they were just closer to the friends they made at Kitagawa Daiichi. It also helped that your home was closer to the schools as well. Which meant that…

Some of their closest friends were parents from your time in junior high.

Meaning most of those invited today were probably now attending Aobajōsai.

You had to stop yourself from slapping your forehead against the door.

Your home was littered with various families containing your friends – or ex-friends? They had never actually confirmed anything to you verbally – making you want to literally throw yourself out the window and down the street into the river and hopefully float down back to Shiratorizawa.

If not for your parents, you would have had no problems walking back to school today if it meant avoiding this.

Opening the door after the telltale sign of the doorbell, you nervously smiled before the caustic eyes of the Oikawa family. Tōru, along with his parents, older sister with her husband and son, greeted you at the door as you stepped aside for them to enter. The older Oikawa dragged you into a hug, claiming you’ve grown way too much and that she was proud of your recent win. Takeru handed you a flower and you recognized it from the nearby park.

You were most nervous of Tōru – his reaction to you after the Interhigh Tournament was unlike how he had ever treated you before. Even as a newly minted Shiratorizawa student, he still took the effort to catch up with you and even text you back. But since the tournament he had been ignoring you. Iwaizumi reassured you that it was nothing personal, it was just your school that inflamed him.

But it just made it all the more awkward to be inviting Oikawa into your home now.

The rest of his family made their way into your home, but Tōru took his time in taking off his shoes and stand in the foyer area alone with you, hazel eyes locking with yours and never turning away.

“You’ve always been an amazing setter, I hope you know that.” You started.

He blinked slowly, eyes making their way from the bottom of your shoes all the way up to your face. It felt like you were being examined, his intense stare and uncharacteristic quietness raking through every detail of your body – no wonder your fellow students at Shiratorizawa found him to be intimidating. Oikawa really could be if he tried and it hurt your heart that you were now placed at the completely other side of a friendship.

Hazel eyes narrowed when he reached your face, “I don’t need your pity.”

You grabbed his elbow before he could walk away, “It’s not. Tōru, you need to know that. You’ve always been an incredible setter I look up to and that will never change.”

Oikawa looked at you but said nothing. At least his expression was more neutral, rather than its previous hints of resentment.

“Take away the names, the labels, the stupid school colors – you’re an amazing setter. And you will always have a place in my heart as my first mentor.” You admitted, watching as his eyes slowly widened with each word.

You continued, “Which is why I hate to see you beat yourself up over this. You mean so much to me, to so many people – I just want you to treat yourself right.”

Oikawa closed his eyes, seemingly taking in all of your words and letting it process one more time in his mind. When hazel eyes were peering at you one more, he had a slight smirk on his face, but you could tell that it was morphing into a genuine smile.

“Thank you, (F/N).” He tugged on your hand his time, free arm coming around your waist to bring you into a hug.

You felt his head lean against the top of yours, relishing in the moment that you could be there for your older senpai, one that had taught you so much when you were first starting your beloved sport. There was so much you wanted to convey to him and your really believed in your heart that Oikawa deserved to go to nationals – but you were just happy that he was not mad at you anymore.

“I really mean that much to you, huh?” You could hear the telltale signs that Oikawa’s teasing voice was edging back and you lifted a brow as the setter spoke, “I knew Shiratorizawa couldn’t take you away from me. You really must love me.”

You rolled your eyes, Oikawa was coming back to you.

He lightly pushed at your shoulders, one arm still around your waist but the other holding you a good enough distance so that he could peer down at you.

“Please wait for me, for marriage.” He winked.

Immediately you were pushing his arm away and turning to hammer your elbow into his ribcage. Oikawa back away immediately, muttering a curse and yelling at your violent nature.

“You’re lucky Iwaizumi’s family left for vacation or you would’ve gotten a real ass-whooping.” You stated in a dead-pan voice, making Oikawa sigh at you and mutter true.

You were happy to have at least keep your friendship with Tōru, even if your relationships with your past female friends were nothing short of a complete garbage fire at this point.

The brunette led you by hand into the living room, where many of the others were already socializing. You could literally feel the gossip spreading already, prolonged stares at where you were joined at the hands with Tōru, the whispers between the older parents, and even his own damn sister taking one look and then winking at the both of you.

You attempted to flick his hand away, but Tōru simply chastised you for being a brat.

You had to fight the urge to kick his shins.

He took out his phone and the two of you posed for the picture, joined hands visible from the angle. You wondered if this would be worth the sudden death via Shiratorizawa’s roasting if Oikawa posted this to Instabook, but you figured he would not since you were still on tense relations with literally everyone (sans Iwaizumi) from his team.

Your savior came in the form of the doorbell, immediately springing away from the hazel-haired setter and to the last awaited guest. He still followed you over, leaning his side against the doorway as he waited for you to open the door.

“Glad you made it, Kageyama-kun.” You greeted, taking the box of food from his hands so he could take his shoes off.

“Thanks again, for inviting me.”

“No problem. Make yourself at home.”

Turning back to Oikawa, you could see he was standing at full attention now - posture haughty, narrowed eyes, raised chin, and a small scowl on his visage.

You wondered if there would be a fight today.

Kageyama lost to Oikawa and your friends lost to you.

What the hell were your parents thinking????

You led Kageyama back to the living room, the both of you standing awkwardly as the current Aobajōsai kids talked amongst each other. Oikawa stood the side, surveying the situation before tsking, then walking over to you and leading you to sit in the empty armchair while he leaned on the armrest. He placed a lazy arm across the back and you fought the urge to say a sarcastic remark.

It immediately became silent, parents conversing on the other side of the dining room, unknowing to the tense situation in the center of the living room amongst the young teens.

Tōru was making it pretty obvious that he was draping his presence all around you. First leading you by the hand and sitting very close to you, even encompassing himself around you via his arm.

“Since when are you so chummy?” One of the girls asked toward you.

“We’re just friends!” You immediately raised your hands in defense. Oikawa said nothing as he raised a brow.

Another one of them sputtered, “You’re friends with Oikawa, but you don’t even try with us?”

“That’s not true. I tried talking to you and you ignored me.”

You could tell she was growing agitated as she bit back, “Why should I even try? All you do is beat us – practice matches, official games, tournaments.”

“Well, I’m playing to win.” You said with a raised brow, unsure where they were going with this.

“But why couldn’t you even try to play to win with us?” She huffed, “I get it. You wanted to be on a team of absolute winners and obviously that does not mean us. You’re the one who walked away because we weren’t worth it, right?”

You tried to get a word in, but she raised her hand for you to stop. Turning her head away from you, it was clear that no matter what you said, she was not going to listen. You looked at the other friends you had from Kitagawa Daiichi, most frowning before averting their eyes from you.

One of them took one hard look at you, keeping your eye contact, before she got up and walked away.

You felt the pain pinprick behind your eyes, the small sign of indication that tears were building on your visage. Not wanting to show your weak state to people who obviously hate you at this point, you quickly stood up and made your way to the back-porch area. Oikawa attempted to stop you, but you finagled your hand out of his grasp as you left.

You leaned against the wooden railing, wondering just how fucked up the situation grew and how different it could have been.

It hurt even more knowing that her words were true. You tried so hard, your last year of junior high, to pass the entrance exam for Shiratorizawa. That was your main goal the entire time, get into your dream school and that will make you an absolute winner. You had never, once, considered going to Aobajōsai as something desirable. It was not your second choice and honestly not even your third (Itachiyama and Fukurōdani reserved those spots). Aobajōsai sat as your last choice, something you did not actually want to do since it was inferior in your view.

But for your friends, it was their main and only choice.

You would never regret going to Shiratorizawa, it was your school and just because they resented it, did not mean that you did not deserve the title of winners.

But it still hurt that they hated you thusly.

You fought the urge to scream at the sky, when you felt an awkward, but comforting hand on your shoulder.

“They hate me too.”

“They don’t hide it well, Kageyama-kun.” You turned to him fully, a wistful smile on your face.

“It seems… Oikawa still treasures you.”

“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, he can be a complete asswipe.” Kageyama smiled at this, “But he’s still a brilliant setter and someone I wish the best for.”

Kageyama leaned his arms against the rail, eyes still trained on you. “Why do you care so much about people who want nothing to do with you?”

“I hate that I care so much.” You admitted, “But they were my friends – I held a leadership position for two years, even as their captain goddamnit. My time with them meant so much to me and it just hurts that it obviously didn’t have the same impact.”

Kageyama looked at you fully, a wondering expression on his visage.

“Was it worth it? Going to Shiratorizawa?”

“If I could go back, I wouldn’t change a thing.” You stated. “You?”

“I would still go to Karasuno.”

“Really? King of the Court?” You teased and watched the angry tick form at his forehead, “You wouldn’t come to the school of swans and absolute winners?”

Kageyama had a grim smile, one that indicated that he was thinking hard. “Now, probably not.”

“Wait, really?”

“No.” He hesitated, “I think I can really grow with Karasuno.”

“That’s great to hear.” You smiled, “Then let’s continue to live without regrets.”

“I try, but I understand.” Kageyama replied.

“Oh?”

“I remember what it’s like to turn around and no longer see a team.”

You felt your heart sag, recalling the headlines of Kitagama Daiichi’s loss. “But that won’t happen on Karasuno, right?”

Kageyama looked down and smiled, “No. It won’t.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m still rooting for you.” You said as you winked, causing Kageyama to flush red immediately.

The two of you stood in comfortable silence until the screen door opened.

“Never thought I’d see you two together like this.” Oikawa observed from the doorway.

“It’s not like that.” You waved your hand to casually dismiss his statement.

Oikawa walked toward Kageyama, stopping only at an arm’s length from him. “Good, I’ll have you know (F/N) is waiting for me for marriage.”

You actually tried to punch him in the stomach, like a full-on solid right cross on the annoying brunette, but Oikawa nearly growled and maneuvered you instead. Now, your arm was twisted behind your back and you felt Oikawa’s chest against your spine. You were about to tell Kageyama that Tōru was joking and would get a formal ass-whopping from Iwaizumi when you let him know, but you heard another voice call from just inside the house.

“Oh, this is where you all were! We’re starting dinner, come inside!” Your mom urged.

The other students said nothing when you joined them this time, probably only since you were now in the presence of parents and real adults. Kageyama sat on your right while Oikawa was on your left, you attempted to include both of them in conversation, but it was obvious that anything either setter said would immediately set the other off.

“Kageyama, would you like some more meat?” You asked, turning to him with a hopeful smile.

“Why don’t you pass me that plate instead, (F/N)?” Oikawa immediately countered before he could even answer.

Oikawa snapped another picture at dinner, one with you alongside him and flashing a peace sign at the camera and Kageyama munching away in the background as he listened passively to the others.

After dinner you returned back outside to the patio with Kageyama, now joined by others as they flit through the house.

“God, I’m sorry this is so awful.” You stated as you stood alongside the porch, shoulders touching side-by-side.

“It could be worse.” Kageyama offered, “Thank you for including me.”

“Always.” You replied, “I know we weren’t exactly close, but I did miss you for what its worth.”

Kageyama hesitated, “You don’t have to say that.”

“Why do you say that?”

“No one missed me in junior high.”

You poked him in the chest and demanded his whole attention, “Well, I did.”

The both of you lingered there for the night. Catching up on lost time and for the various woes you had in high school. Kageyama was still quiet as ever, but still offered words not unkindly throughout the conversation.

It was nice to have one-on-one time with the setter. To think that even being from the same school, the times you were able to do this could be counted on two hands. You hardly ever sat down and had a serious talk with him in the past and any insight into the misunderstood setter had you hanging onto every word.

It was no surprise later that the Karasuno setter was the first to leave. You did not blame the pour soul since he was literally the most far removed from the families present (the next probably being you).

Walking Kageyama out the door and to your front-gate, you started. “I don’t know what it is with Oikawa and you. He’s almost as bad as Ushijima when he’s with Oikawa.”

Kageyama raised a brow, unsure just how the proper Ushijima could be anything but.

“Anyway, don’t listen to Tōru.”

He cracked a smile, “I never do.”

You lightly pushed his shoulder, “We both know that’s a lie.”

Kageyama just kept on smiling, not saying anything as he looked up at the night sky.

“Thanks for coming over. Sorry that literally everyone hates us.” You joked, “I don’t know when I’ll see you again, but stay in touch, okay?”

The little awkward bean nodded, but you could tell that this goodbye was incomplete. He offered a handshake, but that seemed too formal considering your friendship. You took the hand for a second, before pulling it and wrapping an arm around him into a hug.

“Get home safe, Kageyama-kun.” You murmured against his chest and felt the deep rumble that signified his affirmation. His other hand curled around you hesitantly, unsure in his actions as he tried his best to reciprocate the hug.

“Thank you, (L/N).”

Waving one last time, you saw Kageyama make his way down the street before he turned fully on his walk back home.

“I don’t remember the two of you being that close in junior high.” You heard Tōru’s familiar voice from the doorway. It seemed the brunet was constantly walking in and spying on your interactions with Kageyama.

“Maybe your judgement is always clouded around a certain blueberry.” You stated as you walked back into the house.

Oikawa rolled his eyes then placed a lazy arm around your waist, guiding you back inside.

“I don’t feel comfortable seeing my fiancé alone with my annoying kouhai.”

“Don’t you dare say that in front of the real adults.”

Oikawa chuckled at your vernacular, but his hand on your body only tightened. You looked at him with an inquisitive stare, then pointed to the offending limb.

“Are you going to be like this all night?”

“Why? Can’t resist me if I continue?”

You sighed before moving to poke him on the forehead.

He grabbed your hand quickly and pulled it close to his bodice, pushing you forward to lean further into Oikawa’s chest. Surprised at the action, he leaned his forehead against yours, eyes closing from the comfort of the close proximity. One arm was around your waist while the other was in your hair.

You and Oikawa had always joked around, but never had you actually flirted. But feeling his large hands on your body and the soothing beat of his heart under your own, it was strange.

Oikawa whispered against your forehead, “I’m glad Shiratorizawa hasn’t changed you.”

You leaned back to look him fully in the eyes and returned in a similar tone of voice, “Don’t let it change you either.”

Oikawa had a small smile at that.

“Don’t stop on my accord.”

You jumped in surprised and tried to spring away from the brunet immediately, who slowly let go of his hold and allowed you room to stand next to him, arms still touching.

“It’s nothing like that.” You started, but Tōru’s sister just smiled and walked away, muttering about young love.

The rest of the night was thankfully uneventful, Oikawa giving you space to converse with his fellow schoolmates and you spent time playing with Takeru, his cute little nephew. You made sure to keep your words guarded around the other parents, when they commended you for your recent win at the tournament. It was weird, to say the least, to accept the compliments and praise of parents who had kids on the losing side (and they were present too! oof). At least, if it seemed your Kitagawa Daiichi friends were about to spite fire at you, Oikawa was quick to intervene and even stand by your side.

You were sure to pass out once everyone left the house, helping your mom in some light cleaning but saving the shore of it for future you.

Turning to your phone on the nightstand, since your mom utterly refused for you to use it when guests were around, you spotted dozens of missed texts and fought the urge to groan aloud.

You scrolled all the way back to the first message.

GroupChat: Caw Caw SHIRATORIZAWA ୧༼ д ͡༽୨

23:11 From: Captain-Sama! what the fuck attached: instabook.jpg; screenshot.jpg;

23:11 From: the most tender Salami looks like (f/n) actually took our advice and went with oiks and not miya

23:11 From: My only Okaasan/Eita wait but what if they’ve been related this whole time?

23:11 From: Captain-Sama! yeah it is family day

23:11 From: the most tender Salami …

23:11 From: the most tender Salami then that would mean an Oikawa actually does go to Shiratorizawa

23:12 From: Captain-Sama! LMAO

23:12 From: Ushiwaka-sama! this is not what I meant

23:12 From: My only Okaasan/Eita we know, waka

23:12 From: the most tender Salami but how can we confirm it

23:12 From: Captain-Sama! (・_・)

23:12 From: Captain-Sama! @kenjiro @kawanishi pls respond its urgent

23:12 From: the most tender Salami @kenjiro @kawanishi help ive fallen and cant get up

23:27 From: Kenjiro (`へ´*) they are not related

23:27 From: Captain-Sama! I KNEW THEY WERE DATING

23:27 From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩ lmao no way

23:27 From: the most tender Salami I need more receipts

23:27 From: Captain-Sama! I think my ship is sailing (´∀｀)♡

23:28 From: Kenjiro (`へ´*) i don’t think so

23:28 From: Captain-Sama! but they’re hOlDiNg HaNdS

You caught the gist of their conversation and scrolled down to the bottom, unwilling to read everything since you would have a whole hour to catch up to and with your sleepy eyes that just won’t do.

Without regard to whatever the last text was, you started:

00:57 From: do you know da wae oiks is an old family friend

00:57 From: do you know da wae my parents keep in touch w/ a lot of my ex-friends parents from Kitagawa

00:57 From: Captain-Sama! oof sounds awk

00:57 From: do you know da wae you have no idea

00:57 From: Kenjiro (`へ´*) wait your celebratory dinner was w/ the ex-friends you just beat ??

00:58 From: do you know da wae yeah…

00:58 From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩ oof

00:58 From: do you know da wae oikawa was the only one from Seijō willing to talk to me without the need to shank me

00:58 From: do you know da wae and even then they made sure to verbally roast me at every opportunity

00:58 From: the most tender Salami wow

00:59 From: Not-my-libero-Yamagata ( ´ ▽ ` ) we love you (L/N)!

00:59 From: Captain-Sama! just know that we’re always here for you! ♥(ˆ⌣ˆԅ)

You smiled then and offered thanks, before shutting off your phone and finally getting a good nights rest after such an awful day.

The next day at breakfast, you just smiled and complimented your parents for their thoughtful dinner and how it was a success – saying nothing about the tension between you and the friends you used to have. It was your final day home and there was not a single thing you wanted to do.

Most of the people who lived around this area went to either Karasuno or Aobajōsai and then was no point in meeting up with your current friends at Shiratorizawa just to have to go back home and then head back to school the next day. You cherished the meal with your parents, but both your parents had plans later in the afternoon. Your mom sensed your anxiousness and tasked you with small chores.

You finally were interested when she directed, “(F/N), Kageama-kun forgot his leftovers yesterday. Mind bringing them over?”

With a quick nod and changing into your outdoor shoes, you headed out the door and a few streets over to the Kageyama household.

The windows were shut and no signs of light were seen. Kageyama seemed like the type who would do anything to keep himself in top form and you wondered the possibility if he was out jogging or something.

Ringing the bell, you heard some movement inside until the setter finally opened his front-door in surprise.

“(L/N)-san?”

You lifted the container of food into his point of view, “You forgot to bring some food home last night.”

“Oh, thanks.” He took it from you and paused, “Would you like to come in?”

You nodded at his polite gesture and greeted with a familiar sight. This was not the first time you were in his home, but it surely seemed the same from the last time. Kageyama seemed like a clean, tidy sort and undoubtedly his parents were as well.

You noticed his family picture displayed proudly on the center coffee table, an innocent smile on Kageyama’s face as he was nestled between his two parents. It looked like a picture-perfect family, reflecting only questions as to what happened to them now.

“You know, I can’t believe that I have never met your parents.” You commented, looking at the picture and him following your gaze.

He hesitated before replying, “I’m not surprised.”

You looked at Kageyama fully, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t think they’ve ever watched me play.” He admitted, eyes on the floor at the sad realization.

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah.” He had a tense expression on, “But I like your family.”

“Thanks, they’re pretty embarrassing.”

“I..” Kageyama was hesitating in his words a lot, concerning this subject, you noticed. “There are no words to say how thankful I am toward your parents, for what they said and do.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You comforted, putting a hand on his shoulder. “They really are proud of you. And so am I, really. Believe me, great things are in store for you.”

That, in your mind, marked the notable shift in your relationship with Kageyama. Even after the weekend break for Family Day, you still were able to keep in contact with the setter. Previously, you were unsure where you stood with the King of the Court. But now with shared numbers and daily texting with one another, you were glad to have held your friendship with the blueberry.

Everyone was training for the Spring Playoffs, everyone’s distant goal of nationals constantly in mind. As the reining champions of your Prefecture, this was the time of year to prove once again why that was so. You were defending for three years straight, Ushijima standing tall as the prime representative of your school.

As the regular setter, you knew better than anyone the massive amount of pressure and training it took to get to this stage. And you made sure to prove it during the official matches.

You felt your heart physically break when Karasuno faced off against Aobajōsai. A school that even you had remembered as a fallen-powerhouse was now over-powering a longstanding rival of your own school.

Oikawa did not cry at the end of the game, but your connection to the older setter was enough to feel the pure anguish and annoyance that was raging in his heart. You wanted to just say something to the brunet, but when Ushijima rushed Oikawa after the match, you figured that it was probably not the best timing. (You also did not want to risk the wrath of the others).

You waited behind a pillar, listening to Oikawa and his unusually intimidating voice. Both alpha males turned and stalked in opposite directions and you fought the urge to call out to the setter. Rather than leaving it to another moment, one that would be much easier for him to ignore, you ran behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist.

He squeaked out in surprise, “Wha-”

“You deserve the world Oikawa and I know you’re meant for more than what this prefecture has to offer.” You interrupted before walking around to be face-to-face to him, “You’re going to stand on an international stage. And no one will be able to stop you there.”

He stayed quiet, eyes hard as they examined your own, as if he was trying to gauge how honest your words were.

“Besides, I wouldn’t marry a man who wasn’t prepared to take over the world.” You joked.

He cracked a small smile then, and slowly wrapped his arms around your waist. “Thank you.”

You smiled brightly, a hand on his chest while the other was on cheek, to full look at him. “I just want you to be as proud as I am about you.”

Oikawa looked away, turning to the side before returning his gaze back to you. “Why couldn’t you come to Aobajōsai?”

You were internally taken aback at the question and you were sure it showed on your face.

“I never asked before, I just accepted that my counterpart on the women’s team was on a completely different track.” Oikawa explained, voice a small whisper. “And it made me wonder how someone like you, who tried so hard against Shiratorizawa in junior high and still lost, did not even try to fight them.”

His voice was hard by the time the last few words came-out and this felt like an incredibly different Oikawa.

“You claim so hard that you care about us, about me.” Oikawa bit-out, “Then why didn’t you even try to fight for us?”

“I, everyone knew from the start-“

“You were the pillar of the team, the cog that made it run. You gave them strength and you knew that and you still left.”

You were sure this was something Oikawa had been waiting to get off his chest, a thought that had lingered for years apparently now, and were unsure what you could say to placate the remnants of your friendship with the setter.

“The fact of it all is that we cared to keep our family together even if meant not being an absolute winner.” Oikawa stated, a bruising hold on your waist now. You could not find it in yourself to push him away, “Which obviously, didn’t matter as much to you.”

“Oikawa, please.” You whispered out, unsure what you were asking for.

“Please what? To stop saying the truth or making you finally realize it?” His gaze was a predatory-kind, one you had spotted multiple times on the court and one that displayed an intimidating anger. “Are you really supposed to refer to your fiancé by his last-name?”

“Why are you being like this?” Your voice came out weakly and you barely recognized it.

“Why were we your last choice, (F/N)-chan?”

You pushed at his chest, but his hold did not budge and you were sure that your face demonstrated the absolute fear you had toward your friend of five years.

“That’s enough.” You heard the comforting voice of someone familiar along with multiple footsteps.

When you looked over Oikawa’s shoulder to see Semi’s confused one, it immediately hardened at seeing you so scared. He did not hesitate to push you two apart, standing as a shield in front of you between you and Oikawa as Kenjirō put a protective hold on your shoulder and Kawanishi scanned you up and down.

“What happened here?” You heard Iwaizumi’s voice as he rushed down the hall.

His best-friend, who knew Oikawa almost better than himself, saw the raging anger in the setter and for once and only once – it was aimed toward you alone.

The brunet took one last look at you, hard and piercing despite the addition of multiple people, before her turned away and walked back toward his team.

Iwaizumi did not leave immediately, looking at you with an apologetic disposition before following behind his friend.

“Are you alright?” Semi asked once both boys were out of eyesight.

You reassured them you were fine, but your voice could not even convince yourself.

“Oikawa might’ve been your friend, but he’s our rival now and he is trying to shake you before your final, don’t let him get to you.” Semi explained.

You nodded meekly, allowing Kenjirō to guide you back to the Shiratorizawa area. The others were quiet as you approached and you wanted nothing more than for the others to forget this ever happened.

“If only we could crush him tomorrow.” Tendou stated with narrowed eyes as he looked at your rosy nose and distraught eyes.

“Thanks, Salami.” You attempted a small smile.

“Ugh, I hate seeing you like this.” Tendou commented before putting a comforting hand on your shoulder and ruffling your hair.

Oikawa was right, to an extent. You and him had started on the same track, leaders of each respective Kitagawa Daiichi volleyball team and one of many victims to the Shiratorizawa streak. You had both felt the pure anguish of utter defeat, the fact that you had both tried your best and it still was not enough. And instead of following Oikawa’s track, you had chosen to attend the school that often broke your heart.

You wondered how long Oikawa had thought this but said nothing.

You were sure the bitter defeat was a large impetus to how he just treated you. But it still stung to know that was some pure honesty and truth in his words. You wanted the ground to swallow you up, to take away the memories of the last hour and stop yourself from seeing one of your close friends because one of your now many rivals.

Goshiki sat with you on the bus and made a point of keeping your mind off of what had just happened. It was obvious that everyone knew by now, from your captain’s reassuring stare and Yamagata putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, they were thankfully trying to keep their words guarded, at least. You smiled at the first-year, appreciative that he was trying so hard.

You saw from your peripheral that Kenjirō would often turn in his seat to check-in on you (it’s not like he was trying to hide it anyway). Yamagata offered you his spare juice box and Ushijima offered to pickup ice-cream for you on his usual night jog. It made you laugh at the offer, but accept it nonetheless since this was a rare occurrence.

Why do you care so much about people who want nothing to do with you?

Kageyama’s word rang in your mind and you thought, maybe, it was time to let Oikawa and the others go. Your heart ached at the thought, but you doubted that they shared the same sentiment about you. They weren’t staying up at night, losing sleep as they thought about you.

No, they hated you.

And when Iwaizumi texted you the next morning, you just said you were fine and it was probably for the best.

Besides, you had other things to worry about rather than people who cared nothing for you.

The next night was the finals between the men’s teams, Karasuno bringing Shiratorizawa to a full five sets, one that had you watching with baited breath. The crowds themselves seemed to have their own battle, cheering with their whole hearts to the point that you were sure you were rocking the stadium. You wished Kageyama good luck before the match, his face erupting in a rather obvious blush as his grey-headed senpai smiled and just patted him on the back. You did the same with Shirabu and Kawanishi as well.

Shirabu just smirked and Kawanishi patted your head.

Assholes.

But now you were seeing more emotion on each second-years’ faces than ever before. Yes, Shirabu and Kawanishi were salt squad and had no qualms using biting words or sarcasm. And yet the setter was much more expressive, displaying even fear and surprise as the game went on. You felt your heart surge when you saw Kawanishi get a serious face on, eyes narrowing as you saw the little hamster in his head run at full speed, guess-blocking working at it’s peak form now.

Kageyama was no exception, acting as one of the main conductors of the game and even having to sit out from his diminishing stamina. His jump serves were much better than during the Interhigh, you wondered if you should give yourself a pat on the back or kick your own ass for helping him against your own team.

But there was no doubt in anyone’s mind, while the team of Karasuno was strong through their constant attacks and teamwork – it was Kageyama who was standing out the most during this game.

Hinata and that blond middle-blocker were interesting players, but your eyes always gravitated back to Kageyama. From his jump-serve that had even your powerhouse school on their toes to his resilient efforts to keep playing despite exhaustion, Kageyama kept your attention for the entire duration of the game.

You wondered if Kageyama’s parents were present.

You were not sure who to cheer for. Ushijima proved his unending stamina, earning point after point even when it was obvious that it was getting tiresome. It made your own shoulder hurt just looking at him. Tendou showcased the true power of the guess-blocker, eyes roaming the shorter setter with keen eyes.

All of this came to a crashing end.

21-19

The absolute winners were retiring.

Everyone was tasked with one-hundred serves, even the women’s team who had their own finals in a few more days.

Shirabu and Kawanishi were tenser than usual, you noticed during class and again during lunch. Shirabu’s not-girlfriend attempted to placate his mood with ice-cream, but she later iterated to you that in the end he just needed a long hug. You tried to do the same to Kawanishi, who simply took it in pure silence as he reciprocated the gesture.

Tendou was seemingly placated when you gifted him a home-cooked meal from a recent care-package from mom, but you knew the third-year well enough that his dark paradise was a hole in his heart that could never be replaced. Ushijima was hard to read, but nonetheless thanked you when you had given him a small cactus.

The men’s game put your nerves more at odds, despite how much you were trying to hard it with a strong face. Karasuno, a team that rose from nothing to become the team heading to nationals, they were able to beat the indomitable champions of Miyagi. It made your stomach churn at the possibility of losing to your long-term rivals at Aobajōsai.

The day after the game, everyone could observe your anxieties and had decided that maybe you needed some good luck help from home. You used to always have a ritual when you were particularly nervous and that involved a certain dish you mom made as a charm before big games and it also helped to have the words of your parents affirm your confidence. Your coach agreed to this idea, spying your shaky hands and unsure moves in practice.

Before home you stopped at the Kageyama’s, Tobio answering the door for you.

“Just wanted to say congratulations.” You greeted before taking something out of your bag. “I remember you used to love these milk cartons in junior high, so consider this a celebratory gift.”

“Thank you.” He had a small smile, one that you were sure he was not even aware of. “I’m glad you’re not mad at me.”

“Why would I be?”

“Shiratorizawa...”

“Is just a school.” You interrupted, thinking back to your ex-friends from Aobajōsai, “We all love volleyball and it’s time we all accepted there can only be one winner.”

He nodded at your explanation.

“Besides, you should come watch me win our spot to nationals.” You winked, “Me versus Seijō. It’ll be one hell of a game.”

“I know you’ll do great.” Hearing a compliment like that from Kageyama, it was strange. But you smiled anyway. “What are you doing in the area?”

“Ah. I’ve been getting nervous from seeing your game, honestly. So I was allowed to go home tonight for a good luck charm and to help calm myself.”

“Nervous? But you’re not playing us.”

“I know that!” You rolled your eyes in amusement. “But Shiratorizawa has always been considered as the winners. And no offense, nobody saw your win as possible. But you did it anyway. And the same thing could very well happen to us.”

Kageyama lightly poked on your forehead. “Boke, focus on the fight in front of you. You’ve always won against them, right? In practice matches and last tournament, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then use it to your benefit, but don’t get complacent.”

You paused and smiled, “Thank you.”

“Would you like to come in?”

“As tempting as that is, I have to get home to my parents and then head back to school.” You looked at his house once more, “Are your parents home?”

“No.” You frowned, but said nothing and waited for him to continue. “Neither of them have been, for a few days.”

“Have you heard from them?”

Kageyama turned away, “They don’t even know I’m going to nationals.”

You put a small hand in the crook of his elbow, “Would you like to join us for dinner?”

“Sure.”

Since then, the match between Karasuno and Shiratorizawa was spurning you on, the thought of further rivals exciting you rather than scaring you now. You could not deny the fact that seeing both your parents and Kageyama had lightened your spirits.

And, not for the first time, you pondered over your strange relationship with the young setter.

You were not as close to him as you were to Oikawa in the past. And yet Kageyama was the one who tried just a little bit harder to hold onto you than your brunet friend. You could not deny the slight attraction you felt toward the blueberry as well, his shy and blunt nature something you were akin to. If anything, you knew better than most how much Kageyama had changed in the last few years.

But you had bigger things to worry about now.

Like going to nationals.

You relished in the slight burn in the palm of your hand at your untouched jump-serves, success rate higher than usual. And when you stood on the court itself, the name Shiratorizawa echoing as it cheered through the stands, you felt pride course through your veins.

When both Shirabu and Kawanishi wished you luck before your match, you felt the need to knock their heads together like coconuts. They tried to do it in the chillest way possible, muttering it to you with their hands in their pockets. You watched Tendou roll his eyes from behind Shirabu. Instead, you tugged them both into a hug before either could be too cool to refuse it.

Ushijima patted you on the shoulder and reiterated the tips he had given you in the gym the day before – it seemed Waka was actually watching you intently and you thanked him for his observance and helpful advice. Goshiki offered you a thumbs-up and Tendou patted you on the head for the nth time, but you smiled at both. Semi and Reon stood to the side with genuine smiles, since neither were particularly close to you, but you appreciated their presence anyway.

You were placed in the front line, your team’s starting position opting for the most attack options in the front row. The women’s team for Aobajōsai was similar in that it was a complete team, but a team not as good as Oikawa’s.

The synergy and trust between the setter and Iwaizumi was not something that could be replicated, only earned through more than a decade of true friendship. Rather, the women’s team lacked the power necessary from their ace and it was easy for a team as skilled as yours to pick up their serves defensively. Shiratorizawa relied on the power of their ace – and for a team with the best volleyball players in the Prefecture, it was a winning strategy.

Once you were rotated to serve, the entire stadium was separated from you mentally. It was just you and the game in front of you, not the loud shouts of Seijō or the pressured looks from your older captain. You let it lose, scoring with a single touch on your serve.

A no-touch service ace – a feat only you were capable of throughout the entire game.

You relished at the cheer of your name, the powerhouse clout proven when seemingly the entire stadium erupted in your name. It was a skill you had alone, not even your older senpai’s capable of scoring on a no-touch ace. And yet you did it multiple times. You spotted the clenched fists of your previous friends and their glares in your direction. But that did not deter you from your goal as you served with your entirety.

You glanced at the scoreboard, only one more point and you would be the reigning victor.

A deep breath.

In only three sets, it was over.

You were going to nationals.

Everything after that was hazy – you remember your ace literally picking you up. She was a good ten centimeters taller than you and built like a complete brickhouse, so that definitely helped. You remembered bowing to both your current and previous friends, but not a single one of them took your hand to shake at the lineup.

If you were still unsure of your relationship, it was quite clear that they hated you now.

The men’s team, sporting their similar tracksuits, clapped along in the stands as you thanked the audience. Your star-struck facial expression must have been obvious, since your fellow teammates kept poking at your cheeks and teasing your appearance.

“No touch service ace!” Your ace yelled aloud, grabbing you in another hug and lifting you like a trophy for the second time in the last ten minutes.

“You are an absolute monster, (F/N)!” Your captain commented as she laughed, arms in the air as she celebrated as well.

You felt the congrats and praise of everyone around you – your stoic coach even smiling in your direction (a small act of praise, but that was probably the best you were going to get). You felt the murmurs of the crowd around you, an immense audience that had just watched you singlehanded slam a ball away from an entire team.

It was liberating.

You along with a few others walked out from the courts, wanting to get some air away from the ruckus at the center of it all. Some wandered to the bathroom and others wanted to immediately run to their significant others.

You wandered out in the hall and the first non-teammate you ran into was a familiar brunet, running and hugging him from behind.

“(F/N), I will break your bones and make a chair out of them.”

“Shirabu, take me out to dinner first.” You joked, arms never leaving his middle even after he turned around towards you. “Come on, I just won. Grant me this?”

Shirabu rolled his eyes, but did eventually return your hug, ears suddenly red at the endearing gesture. “You serve well.”

“Thanks, maybe I’ll give you some private lessons.” You winked, earning you a push to your face immediately, putting a good foot between you and the other setter.

You laughed, the sound echoing through the hall and earning a small tsk, signaling that you two were not the only ones in the near-empty hall. You saw Shirabu tense in your peripheral, before he stepped in front of you between you and the other man with his one arm raised as if it was a protective wall.

He had his chin-up, arm on his waist as he regarded you with narrowed eyes and a dangerous expression.

“Oikawa.” You started.

“Congrats on your win.”

“Thanks.”

“Five points in the last set were yours alone, meaning twenty percent of the win was just from your serve.” Oikawa started explaining and you were unsure where he was going with this. “That’s without counting sets to the ace.”

“I suggest you leave.” Shirabu interrupted Oikawa’s external train of thought.

The brunet ignored him. “And who did you learn that jump serve from?”

You swallowed lightly, “From you.”

“And yet it was greatest weapon used today.” He narrowed his eyes, letting it travel your form as you stood there with a tight expression. “If only I had known then.”

“Let’s go, (F/N).” Shirabu stated, eyes never leaving Oikawa.

“Go ahead. I hope you think of me each and every time someone praises you on your jump-serve.”

“That’s enough.” Another voice cut in from the other end of the hallway, “She won today and not even you can take that away from her.”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes at Kageyama’s appearance before turning to you, “Of course, this is the one you actually care about.”

“Tōru, stop.” You bit out, voice stern at this convening of setters.

“Oh, cut that out. I played a part in who you are today, you and I both know that.”

“Of course, I know that!” You exclaimed as you move to stand right in front of him, “The part you played in my life will always mean something to me, but you are not the same Oikawa I grew up with right now.”

Oikawa tsked before biting out, “Good luck at nationals.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Of course I do, dear fiancé.” Oikawa emphasized the last word, shrugging as he turned to leave the way he came.

“Whatever, it’s not like you can relate to nationals anyway!” You yelled as he walked away, watching him physically hesitate at your words, but never uttering another word toward you.

Kageyama’s eyes followed him until he was completely out of view, before he turned to you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, that was nothing.”

He looked as if he did not believe you, blue eyes hanging onto your appearance for a second longer before turning to the quiet Shirabu. The brunet was examining you also, eyes trained on your blank expression as if you were trying hard to convey that you were okay.

“I should freshen up or something before the ceremony.” You started, “I’ll see you in a bit. Thanks for coming Kageyama, in case I don’t see you later.”

You fought the urge to bite your lip as you ran in the direction of the bathrooms. This was supposed to be your day. The culmination of all your hard-work as you finally earn your rightful spot to nationals, it was supposed to be a day where you cheered and were happy at being at the frontlines for a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

And yet.

You opened the door to the women’s bathroom and came face to face with the vice-captain of Aobajōsai. Or as you once knew her in junior high, she held the same position while you were the captain.

“This isn’t over.” She immediately snarled.

“I know.”

“I hope you know that I hate you.”

“I know.” You stated in a low tone, pushing past her and into the bathroom. She huffed, silently observing you as you washed your face in the sink.

“Then do something!” She yelled, “I hate you so much I feel like I can just rip you limb from fucking limb! You were my best-friend for years and you still felt the need to leave!”

“I know. And I was wrong to diminish your feelings like that.”

“I… What?” She was still huffing, despite the confused expression on her face.

“You’re right. You guys were my closest friends since I first started school and I just… left.”

“Why are you saying this?”

“Because you’re right. I don’t regret going to Shiratorizawa, but it wasn’t fair of me to disregard all your feelings. I thought it was because of the rivalry between our schools, but it was because of me.” You sighed, “I’m sorry. I should’ve considered the fact that we were a family, but I’m not like Oikawa.”

She clenched her jaw but said nothing.

“I didn’t choose to stay with my friends, I chose for my future. And that was selfish of me, but I won’t change it.”

She sucked in a deep breath and stated, “I hate you.”

“I know.”

With a long-hard look, she huffed yet again. “Good luck at nationals, you bitch.”

You could not help the chuckle that escaped your lips, but she had already turned to leave out the door by the time you turned back to where she was. At least you had said your peace, there was nothing left for you to do if they could not accept even that.

The prefecture ceremony was a blur, names announced and cheers erupting at each team-member. You remember looking over to Aobajōsai on multiple occasions – it seemed they were all looking at you. No matter what was happening or who was being called, you could almost guarantee that a good amount of them were glaring in your direction.

It was liberating that you could brush it off, no longer as affected as you would have been even a week ago.

“Congratulations, (F/N).” Ushijima commended as he stood towering over you.

“Thank you.” You bowed, “Your advice really helped.”

He nodded, before turning to speak to other members of your team.

“Congrats again.” Shirabu greeted with a smile.

Kawanishi said nothing as he wrapped his arms around your middle for a quick second before backing away. “You earned it.”

You rolled your eyes, unsure if he was referring to the game-winning victory points or the ‘hug’ he had given you just now.

But you loved them all anyway.

They were your family now.

Your coach started practice the same as any other day, as if you had not just earned your way to nationals seemingly the day before. You wondered if you had just dreamed up the last few days, the real match taking place soon which is why you were training so damn hard. Your ace raised a brow as you were all instructed to do more jump-serves but did not grumble aloud unless face with another consequence.

When the entire team had finished their round, the coach gathered everyone into a circle to address them.

“Hopefully, the last few days have taught you the importance of the jump-serve.” Her eyes travelled the group until they landed completely on you. You felt multiple eyes of your teammates do the same. “You could completely shut-out your opponent with this attack, stopping them from ever connecting and letting them simply suffer defeat without ever touching the ball.”

You raised a brow at her morbid description but kept on listening.

“There is no doubt why (F/N) was named MVP of the match. But do not rest on your laurels, enjoy your break but don’t get lazy.”

The reaction was instantaneous.

“We have a break?!” Your captain exclaimed in obvious excitement.

“I’ll see you all on Monday.” Your coach stated vaguely, before turning and walking away.

“Hell yes!” Your captain yelled, “Let’s clean-up faster so we can get homecooked meals, yes?”

You felt the air of amusement and laughter in the gymnasium, happy to finally go home on this warm Friday evening, without the worries of practice over the weekend. Maybe your coach was not that bad after all.

And when you woke up mid-Saturday morning in the comfort of your home, guessing maybe around ten, you stretched and relished in the rare enjoyment of sleeping-in. Waking at nearly five in the morning every day, just to jog of all things, was taking it’s toll on you. You had to learn how to enjoy life more, you mused with a small smile.

Your mom knocked on your door before entering, “You have a visitor sweetie. I suggest you freshen-up. I’ll make breakfast for the two of you, but then I have to leave!”

“Ughisdfhis.” You murmured into your pillow as your rolled over.

“Or maybe I should just invite Kageyama-kun to your room so he can see how you really are.” She teased.

Immediately you were up, springing out of bed at the aforementioned name. You grabbed an outfit you packed the night before, rushing into your bathroom to brush you teeth and look presentable before the young setter.

By the time you headed downstairs, you were as clean and crisp as a bloomed daisy.

“Good morning, Kageyama-kun.” You greeted, “To what do I owe this visit?”

He greeted you in kind and explained, “I wanted to congratulate you like you did to me before..”

You walked over to him and suddenly a box of avocados were thrust into your view, quickly grabbing hold of it as Kageyama rushed in into your arms.

“I’m sorry! You gave me milk and I remember in a magazine you said you liked avocados! I thought…!”

You laughed at the sentiment, happy that he had thought about you but amused that he had resorted to the secondhand words of a magazine of all places. “Thank you, Kageyama-kun. I love it.”

“Are you sure? Because I can –”

“Stop worrying so much. It’s a present from you, of course I’ll love it.” You put the box on the floor and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem.” You were openly staring at him, eyes trained on his flushed appearance as he shyly attempted to look away from your strong stare. “Boke, stop staring at me.”

You chuckled, turning your gaze to the side before back to him. “There’s just something about you that I like, Kageyama-kun.”

It seemed as if he stopped breathing, expression similar to a fish out of water.

“Like, like-like?”

You chuckled, “What? Am I not allowed to?”

“No!” He seemed exasperated, hands raised as if to stop you. “No… I’m just surprised.”

“Why?”

“Oikawa…”

“Has only ever just been a friend.” You quickly finished the sentence for him.

“Or Shirabu…”

“Has a semi-girlfriend who would literally kill me.”

“Oh.”

You had a brow lifted, already expecting this surprised and unsure reaction from Kageyama. He was always socially stunted and did not hold it to him that he had yet to actually respond to your confession. Kageyama stood, wide-eyed and barely blinking, staring straight into your eyes as if looking for a hint of farce.

“I like you, too.” He stated plainly and if not for the seriousness of the situation, you would had chuckled at his solemn tone of voice.

“That’s reassuring to hear.” You responded, smile on your face widening.

“Are you sure you like me?”

You chuckled lightly, “For someone who claims to like me, it seems as if you’re pushing me away.”

“No!” Kageyama urged, “Just making sure, boke.”

You rolled your eyes, smile still prevalent at his words. This was the same Kageyama who was labeled as King of the Court – and for good reason too. He was relentless and exuded confidence in the one medium that barely anyone could match his all-around skill. There were times, as you watched him on the court, that you were utterly impressed with his abilities. And yet now..

It was clear that Kageyama was one thing right now: unsure. And you found the need to somehow reassure him, to let him now fully and transparently that he was the complete object of your affections.

So you stepped toward the now shy setter and took his hand in yours. Widely smiling, you were about to ask him something before he suddenly interrupted.

“Would you like…” He paused, looking to the side before turning back to you. “Would you like to date?”

“I would love to.”

He smiled back, tightening his hold on your hand. It was quite clear that the entirety of your own could fit in his palm – it was a nice feeling. Unlike the multiple times that the situation called for being your hand held, like with Oikawa being an ass or the occasional Shirabu (like when he was dragging you away due to embarrassment), this felt right.

“How about today? Are you free right now?” He asked, mustering more courage now knowing that you would most likely say yes.

“Sure, just let me get ready and we can get brunch.”

Your mom was not at all surprised when she returned, seeing you getting ready for your first-date ever. Kageyama was still waiting in the living room, hands clenched at the top of his knees while the television played ignored in the background. It was evident from the expression on his face that his mind was reeling over the past hour and over the implications of the next one. You were not the only one nervous, but this was Kageyama of all people, you understood him. If only there was a way for you to convey this to him.

Kageyama overheard your mom’s declaration of happiness at the situation and fought the urge to blush, was he that obvious? Your mother, uncaring of the rather uncomfortable setter sitting in her living room, walked out of the kitchen to shoot him a thumbs-up and ink. When Kageyama only blushed harder, your mom laughed and held out her hand, your father slapping an annoyed twenty bucks into her expecting palm.

“Don’t make me regret trusting you, boy.” Your father warned, a pointer finger in Kageyama’s direction as he was dragged away and out the house by your mother for ‘privacy.’

You shoved the door closed behind you as they left, back against the wood once both were gone. “Don’t mind them, they’re embarrassing.”

Kageyama smiled, then stood and hesitantly took your hand in his. “No, don’t worry about it. I love your family.”

You felt your own expression widen as it matched his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze in yours. “Thanks. Where to?”

Kageyama nodded, saying nothing as he guided you out the house and down the street. You had good idea about where you were headed, Kageyama was a man of routine and rarely strayed from his likes unless necessary, so simply entrusted your walk to him.

You peered up at his handsome visage, black mop of hair sitting naturally with a small rosiness dusting his cheeks. He was Kageyama obviously, but much different from the one you went to junior high with. This was a man weathered and you appreciated his journey from dictator to kind blueberry, happy to have seen his growth.

You lifted a free hand to push some of his longer bangs back behind his ear, the feeling unnatural to the poor setter, who immediately froze at the physical contact.

“You’re so cute, Kageyama-kun.” You complimented, before turning back to your route and lightly tugging on his hand to keep walking.

“Boke.” Breaking his stupor, Kageyama looked to the side and muttered in a low voice. “You’re the cute one.”

You fought the urge to laugh, but wanted to do something to reflect your feelings. You knew that a kiss would nearly cause the setter to explode and debated it as your stared at his lips and later at his cheek. Your train of thought must have been obvious, since Kageyama’s eyes widened unsurely.

Knowing you did not want to implode this poor boy’s heart, you took his hand in yours and placed a harmless kiss.

He was red the whole day.

639 notes · View notes

navybrat817 · 4 years ago

Text

Visible Mark - Part 3

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Steve Rogers x Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader x Steve Rogers Summary: Being Bucky and Steve’s best girl feels too good to be true. Word Count: Over 4.9k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, groping, dirty talk, tension, feels, possessive behavior, slight angst, minor harassment, tattooed Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers (they’re warnings, okay?) A/N: Welcome to the next part of my tattoo AU! This is follow up to Visible Mark Part 2 and the end of Phase 2! Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Thank you, lovely! Banner created by yours truly, but Bucky and Steve photos were provided by the talented @nix-akimbo ! This AU wouldn’t exist without them. And divider by the beautiful @firefly-graphics !

I have discontinued my tag list. Please follow my sideblog @navybrat817-sideblog and turn on notifications to see new fics! I will only post fics, writing schedule and updates there.

You glanced at your phone as you pushed your cart down the aisle, checking an item off your shopping list. You somehow managed to sneak out early to get groceries. It wasn’t easy considering that your boyfriends traded off cuddles. Seriously, how did they manage to keep you in an octopus hold through the night? And how were they always so warm?

Smiling to yourself, you stopped to grab a couple of bags of chips. You made sure to get their favorite flavors. They were always thinking of you and you wanted to do the same for them. You knew the inevitable phone call with Peggy was coming, but you wanted to go about your day like normal and not let your imagination run wild. Before you could push your cart forward, you heard someone whistle behind you.

“Well, well. Fancy seeing you here.”

You turned around, a tight smile on your face as you saw Grant Ward and Billy Russo. They didn’t bother to hide that they checked you out, which made your skin crawl. The two of them always gave you bad vibes when you managed to see them. “Yeah. Fancy seeing someone at a grocery store,” you said, turning back to walk away.

“What’s the rush?” Billy asked as they followed.

“I don’t like to mingle in the aisles,” you replied.

“Surprised you’re out by yourself. Don’t you have Bucky and Steve attached at your hips now?” Grant chimed in.

Sighing, you stopped when Billy quickly walked around to the front of your cart. “Contrary to popular belief, they do let me out on my own,” you said sarcastically.

“Shit. So you really are fucking both of them?” Billy questioned, a dark smirk forming on his face as he leaned on the cart. You stiffened when you felt Grant right behind you, keeping your mouth shut tight.

“Always thought you were sort of innocent. Never pegged you as a slut," he whispered in your ear.

You inhaled sharply, the word making you feel cheap and dirty. Was that how people in town saw you? A little slut who wasn’t satisfied with one man? No. The people who cared, who mattered, supported you.

“If that’s what you’re into, we can show you a good time,” Billy leered, licking his lips.

You lifted your chin, refusing to let them demean you. "I'm not a slut. I’m their slut. Now get the hell out of my way.”

“I don’t think that’s what you really want,” Grant chuckled, brushing his fingers along your neck.

You were two seconds away from throwing your elbow back when you heard someone storm down the aisle. You felt Grant pull away and you wanted to burn the spot where he touched you. Billy instantly let go of the cart as well, his hands up as he backed away. You saw Thor come into view, meeting your gaze. The enormous blonde looked furious to see the other men so close to you. His brother, Loki, was close behind and looked bored as he took in the scene.

“Thor. Buddy. We don’t want any trouble,” Grant tried to placate.

“What is the meaning of this?” Thor asked, clapping a hand on his shoulder to push him further away from you.

“'What is the meaning of this?' What century are you in?” Billy mocked before the blonde swung his thunderous stare his way. “Lighten up. We were just talking.”

“Somehow I doubt you two are good conversationalists,” Loki said, looking at his brother. “But is this any of our business?”

“It is and it doesn’t look like she wants to talk to them,” Thor snapped, his gaze considerably softer as he looked at you. “Do you wish to speak to them?”

“They called me a slut. So… no, I don’t,” you answered confidently, mentally smirking when you saw Grant’s smile fall.

Loki looked more interested in the conversation now. “Did they? You two insulted the lady because…”

“She’s fucking Bucky and Steve. Is she fucking you, too? If she spreads her legs for those pricks, we figured-”

You gasped when Thor stepped forward and grabbed Grant by his collar. Did everyone forget they were in a grocery store? You didn’t want to be the cause of a fight.

“As entertaining as that would be, I wouldn’t,” Loki warned Billy when he moved to intervene.

“The next and only word out of your mouth will be an apology,” Thor ordered.

“Sorry,” Grant said through his teeth after a moment.

You nodded, not wanting to drag it out or make a big deal out of it.

“I better not see you bothering her again,” Thor said, letting Grant go. “Finish your shopping later. Consider yourself lucky that Barnes and Rogers weren’t here.”

“This isn’t over,” Grant whispered as he walked past you. Billy winked as he joined him, leaving you alone in the aisle with Thor and Loki. It took a moment to realize you were shaking. Was it anger? Disgust?

“Are you alright?” Thor gently asked.

You nodded quickly. “I’m fine. That was just… unexpected,” you said as evenly as possible, though you weren’t sure how you felt. Grant and Billy hardly ever talked to you, but their intentions were pretty clear.

“We can wait and walk you out,” Thor offered, ignoring Loki as he rolled his eyes.

Your chest tightened as you nodded again. “I’d appreciate that. I’m actually grabbing a few things to make for your party.”

“I’m glad you’ll be there and I’m sure whatever you make will be delicious,” he smiled.

You took your time walking through the rest of the store, much to Loki’s annoyance, as you listened to Thor tell a story about a recent tattoo he designed. He was so proud and animated as he spoke to you, like he was happy to have you as his audience. You found yourself much more relaxed by the time you went to pay. He even bagged the groceries for you as Loki checked the time. Similar to your boyfriends, the large blonde was a gentleman.

"Thanks again," you said as they walked you out.

"There is no need to thank us. Had it been my little one in there, Barnes and Rogers would have stepped in," Thor said, easily carrying your bags. "And I hope you do not take what they said to heart."

"I didn't," you tried to dismiss, glancing at Loki as he raised an eyebrow at you. He no longer looked annoyed as he studied you.

"I do question your taste since you threw in your lot with Barnes and Rogers," Loki said softly. "But doing so did not give Ward and Russo the right to treat you as if you were beneath them. Because you are not."

The truth was, you weren't ashamed of your relationship, but it hurt that others thought they could reduce you to something less than what you were. "That means a lot, Loki."

"Do not tell anyone I said that. I do have a reputation to uphold."

"You have a reputation?" Thor deadpanned.

You burst out laughing at Loki's expression. The pool party was going to be a blast.

"I'm gonna kill them," Bucky swore as he unloaded one of the bags.

"No, I'm gonna kill them," Steve corrected him, shutting the cupboard harder than normal.

"There's two of them. We can both kill them."

"Nat can help us hide the bodies."

"Sam can give us an alibi."

You sighed as you shut the fridge and turned to face them. Both of them were fuming, which was kind of adorable. You should have known Thor would let them know what happened before you go back. "You are not killing them. Though I wouldn't object to you holding them down and tattooing 'PRICK' across their foreheads."

The boys exchanged a look as your eyes went wide. "We could do that…" Bucky said seriously.

"I was kidding!" you said, wishing you kept your mouth shut because you wouldn't put it past them to actually try that.

"They can't just get away with calling you that," Steve said, running a hand through his hair. The agitated look on his face faded a bit when you went over and gave him a peck on the lips. "I'm serious, sweetheart. We won’t tolerate that."

"I get why you’re both angry. It upset me, too,” you told him as you took his hand. “But I’m not going to let you two start a fight over it.”

“But the fact that it upsets you is reason enough. If they say or try anything else…” Bucky stopped as you looked over your shoulder. You stood still for a moment when he clenched his metal hand before you moved, gently taking it in yours. Holding both of their hands seemed to anchor them almost as much as it did for you.

“If they do… you have my permission to do anything that doesn’t get you sent to jail,” you conceded.

“Really?” Steve asked with a smirk. “Sweetheart, do you have a mean streak?”

“Only against people who hurt the ones I love,” you answered, letting them go to unpack the rest of the last bag. You knew Grant’s words hurt them as much as they hurt you, but you hoped they didn’t read into what you just said. You didn’t even want to read into that. It was still too soon.

“Doll?” Bucky asked, reaching for your hand again when you finished.

“When are we calling Peggy? Now? I think we should call her now,” you said rapidly.

“Now?” Steve questioned.

“Yeah. Now is good,” you nodded, sidestepping them to leave the kitchen. You sighed as you walked to the living room. All the preaching about communication and you were closing yourself off for no reason, other than misplaced fear. Because what if something happened on this call? What if everything changed?

“Hey,” Bucky said from behind you before you could sit, turning you to face him. You lifted your gaze to meet his, seeing a bit of fear behind his eyes as well. “You have me. You know that, right?”

Your throat went dry as you nodded. Bucky didn’t let just anyone in, but he trusted and cared for you enough to open up. That meant everything. “And you have me, too.”

He tipped your chin as he brushed his lips against yours. The infinite gentleness as he wrapped his other arm around you made your heart race faster. It was a nice distraction, even if it was temporary.

“You sure you want to call now?” Steve asked again, his phone in hand as Bucky broke the kiss.

“Trying to avoid it?” Bucky responded, taking a seat and pulling you into his lap.

“I’m not. I want to know what's going on,” Steve promised as he sat down, twisting and turning the device between his fingers. “I don’t know what to expect, but I’m just glad you’re both here.”

“Wouldn’t be anywhere else, punk,” Bucky swore.

It was an honor to witness the bond between them, especially in moments like this. Steve was vulnerable, even if he did his best not to let it show. And Bucky would never leave him alone like that. You wouldn’t either.

“Whatever she has to say…” Steve swallowed as he looked at you. You wanted to wrap your arms around him and assure him that you had him. And that he had you, too.

“We’ll figure it out together,” you smiled softly, hoping it would ease him. Because it was the truth. No matter what was said, even if everything did change, you didn’t want to give up on either of them.

Steve exhaled as he touched the screen, making sure to put the call on speaker as it began to ring. The sound taunted you and you felt Bucky tense a bit at the second ring until you ran a hand through his hair. All three of you were on edge as it kept ringing. After all of that, would she not answer?

“Hello?”

You nearly gasped when you heard Peggy speak and it took everything in you not to answer.

“Hi, Peggy,” Steve said after a beat.

You weren’t sure if he meant for it to be there, but you heard affection in his tone. Or maybe he was just being polite. You couldn’t hold that against him. Once upon a time, he was going to marry her.

“Hello, Steve. It’s… good to hear from you,” Peggy said and there was no mistaking the affection from her. It made you lean in closer to Bucky, but you gave Steve a small smile.

“You kept calling. I owed it to you to call you back,” he pointed out, glancing at you as Bucky pulled you even closer. “But it isn’t just me here. Bucky’s here.”

“Peggy,” Bucky said as cordially as he could.

“James,” Peggy replied, some of the warmth gone. There was no lost love between them, clearly. “I don’t understand why-”

“-And our girlfriend.”

You thought the call dropped when a few seconds went by. Hearing Steve call you their girlfriend felt good. And the fact that he was upfront and unashamed, it felt even better.

“I apologize. Did you say our girlfriend?” she questioned and you wondered if she was judging her ex.

“I did,” Steve said with pride. Why did that send a rush of unexpected heat through you? “Bucky and I are both seeing her.”

You quietly introduced yourself, even though she didn’t ask for your name.

“Hello," Peggy said politely enough, but you wished you could have seen her face to get a true read on her. Was she surprised? Hurt? "I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting to speak to anyone else. I… also wasn't expecting to hear that."

"I understand it may be a surprise, but whatever you have to say to me can be said to them. It isn’t to put you on the spot. I just don’t want any secrets between us.”

Peggy cleared her throat. “Why exactly did you think I called?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said quietly. “Can you tell me, please?”

“It’s Sharon, Steve. She’s sick.”

"Sharon?" you whispered.

“That’s her cousin,” Bucky whispered back.

“She’s sick?” Steve repeated, sitting up straight. Worry filled his eyes and you didn’t blame him.

“Yes. It’s a long story, but she’s going to Metro-General for treatment. I’ll be moving just outside of town to help until she gets back on her feet.”

For the first time since the conversation began, there was a waver in Peggy’s voice. It sounded like she was on the verge of tears. It made you shift a bit in Bucky’s lap. It felt like you were suddenly intruding, even though Steve made it clear he wanted you to be there.

Steve ran a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Peggy. I had no idea.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. She's strong. Always has been. I simply didn’t want you to be surprised if you saw me in town soon since I’ll be there in less than a week.”

“If there’s… anything you need, will you let us know?” Steve offered. You weren’t sure if it was out of kindness or sympathy.

“Of course, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It isn’t an imposition,” Bucky chimed in, placing a soft kiss on your temple.

“Thank you, James,” Peggy said. “And thank you, Steve.”

You leaned your head on Bucky’s shoulder, not paying attention as the conversation continued. Peggy’s cousin was sick. Peggy would be in town. You knew how vulnerable people could be when a loved one was ill.

“...Thank you again, Steve. I’m thankful that you returned my call.”

"I’ll help however we can. As a friend,” Steve emphasized, which made you lift your head. The loving smile he gave you filled you with guilt. He was trying to assure you because that was the kind of man he was.

“Of course. As a friend, yes. I… I should go for now. Goodbye, Steve.”

“Bye, Peggy.”

You slowly exhaled as you looked between Steve and Bucky. Both of them looked concerned, but also relieved. Had they feared the worst, too?

“Steve, are you okay?” you asked, leaning over and placing your hand over his.

“I think so,” he said, turning his hand over to hold yours properly. “I feel terrible for Sharon. She’s a good person.”

“She is. I hope she pulls through,” Bucky agreed. “You gonna be okay seeing Peggy around?”

“I’ll be fine. I have you two,” Steve answered, gazing at you. “Are you okay?"

"I am," you swore, that guilt creeping in again. He should have been concerned with himself, not you. "I think we all feel better knowing what's going on. And it meant a lot that you told her who I was."

"Because I have nothing to hide," Steve swore. You believed him.

"Are you worried about seeing her?" Bucky asked, kissing your temple again.

"I have nothing to worry about," you assured them.

"Thank you again for being here," Steve whispered.

You squeezed his hand as you leaned over, your kiss soft and deep as your lips touched. “Like Bucky said… we wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

“Damn it, Clint!” Mandy shrieked when he did a cannonball into the pool, splashing her and Natasha in the process.

Clint shook his hair out as he surfaced. “Did I hear you scream, Mandy? Nat, is that how she sounds when you’re between her-”

“-I will end you, Barton,” the redhead threatened, grabbing a towel to dry herself and Mandy off.

You laughed as you sat on the edge of the pool, swirling your feet around in the water. Since the call, things felt lighter. Steve was more relaxed, even as he worried for Sharon. Bucky had an extra bounce in his step, knowing that things were secure and right. And the weather was perfect for the party.

“Thor, are you sure I can’t give you a hand?” you asked as he stood at the grill.

Thor took a swig of his beer, pointing at you with the bottle. “You brought a small feast. What kind of host would I be if I made you cook more?”

You smiled sheepishly. The boys teased you for going overboard with the side dishes, but you wanted to do something nice after Thor stepped in to help you at the store. “Are you sure?”

“You just soak up some sun,” Sam winked, going to help Thor. “Besides, your soldiers don’t want you to lift a finger.”

“My soldiers?” you repeated, leaning back on your hands.

“Yeah, your soldiers. And you’re their captain. You tell them to jump and they’re already in the air,” Sam chuckled.

“How high am I jumping?” Bucky teased, carrying a plate of hot dogs and burgers over. Steve was right behind him with drinks in hand.

Dignity be damned, you almost fell into the pool when you got the full view of them. Both were in their swim trunks, their muscles and tattoos on full display under the sun. How did they manage to keep taking your breath away? Would there be any oxygen left in your lungs?

“So… everything is okay,” Natasha stated as she took a seat beside you.

“What?” you asked, your gaze still on your boyfriends as they stood at the grill.

“Everything is okay,” she stated again, nudging you. “I know you talked to Peggy. And if it hadn’t gone well, I wouldn’t have expected you here.”

“Yeah. It’s okay,” you smiled as you pulled your gaze away. “I don’t know why I was so nervous. Actually, I know why, but it’s not like I had a right to feel that way.”

Nat shook her head a little. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Brush off your feelings like that?” she asked, nudging you again. “The two of them may share a brain cell, but you? You keep acting as if you’re not allowed to feel the way you do. Why?”

You swirled your feet again as you tried to piece together how you wanted to respond. “Because they keep showing me that I mean something to them and… I don’t want them to doubt that I’m the right girl for them.”

“You’ve really fallen for them, haven’t you?” Nat smiled to herself.

You glanced over at them again as they laughed at something that Sam said. Their smiles brought a smile to your own face. You could spend every day listening to those happy sounds and never grow tired of them. "I fell before they were mine."

“They make you happy, so let yourself have it.”

“I thought you and Mandy were going to stop assuring me,” you teased. “And speaking of… thank you for making her happy. She deserves it.”

Both of you turned your heads in time to see Mandy dunk Clint’s head under the water. “Yeah, she does,” Nat smirked, jumping in. “I should save his ass.”

You laughed as she swam over to help. She was right. Your feelings were valid and you deserved to be happy. And you had every right to have some fun, too.

Smirking to yourself, you stood up and waited until you knew Bucky and Steve looked your way. You slowly arched your back, stretching and closing your eyes as the sun rays hit you. After a moment, you opened your eyes and swayed your hips as you walked to the deeper end of the pool.

“Rogers! Watch it. You’ll burn it!” Loki snapped, making you smirk more.

You knew your boyfriends had their eyes on you and only you as you stopped and stretched again. You pushed your chest out, enticing them, but you didn’t look their way.

“Barnes, move!” Loki snapped louder. “Thor, get them away from the grill!”

You finally looked over, seeing a bit of smoke rise from the grill. It gave your men a dangerous look as they stared at you. You blew them a kiss before you jumped in. The water felt good as it washed over you, making you smile as you surfaced. Two splashes nearby had your heart racing as your boyfriends rose from the water seconds later. Watching the droplets drip down their skin, you suddenly felt like prey instead of the siren.

“What are you doing, doll?” Bucky asked as he swam close to you.

“Swimming,” you said sweetly, moving just out of his grip.

“You’re teasing us,” Steve corrected, nearly closing the distance in one stride.

“I’m doing no such thing,” you smiled before Bucky moved behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Yes, you are,” he whispered, gently biting down on your earlobe. “You’re driving us crazy. You didn’t let us have you this morning.”

“I was busy cooking,” you reminded him as Steve moved in front of you.

“You’re not cooking now,” Steve pointed out, giving you a soft kiss. “You’re teasing us in that sexy two-piece. And you think you’re safe because our friends are here.”

“But here’s the thing,” Bucky whispered as Steve’s hand slid between your legs. “Our friends don’t care where we get you off… or when.”

Your eyes widened when your bikini bottoms were moved aside. Yeah, you were definitely the prey. And feeling those fingers slide along your folds, it wasn’t the pool making you wet. “Are you really…”

“Unless you don’t want us to. We never want you to be uncomfortable, sweetheart,” Steve swore. True to his word, his fingers went still. Bucky didn’t move a muscle either, simply keeping you warm between their bodies.

Your best friend was feet away, splashing around with her girlfriend. The others were lost in their own conversations. Hell, they knew you had the vibrating butterfly in the night of the poker game. Would this really be a stretch? “Please, don’t stop.”

“That’s our girl,” Steve murmured, gently sliding a finger into your wet channel. “You didn’t let me properly thank you for being there with us.”

“You don’t… fuck, need to thank me,” you protested as Bucky’s mouth moved to your neck. Your lips tingled, aching to feel Steve kiss you again.

“Yes, I do. We both do,” Steve said, pushing his finger deep.

“We’re demanding and you put up with us,” Bucky whispered, sliding a hand under your bikini top. Your lips parted in a gasp as he gently pinched and toyed with your nipple. It always felt so good with his metal hand.

Steve brushed his nose against yours as you gasped again. “We’re selfish for wanting you so much, but you make us insatiable. Fuck, you’re soaked. Have we been neglecting you?”

You could only moan as he added another finger. Was it the thought of being outside that excited you? Or knowing that everyone would see what they already knew? That you belonged to them? Maybe that was what excited you the most… simply being their girl.

“No,” you whimpered as you squirmed, rocking your ass back against Bucky with desperation. How did they reduce you to a mess so quickly?

Bucky licked a slow stripe along your pulse up to your ear again. “Should we fuck you here? Let us take turns slipping our cocks in and out of you?”

Steve kissed you deeply when you moaned, curling his fingers when his other hand went to your hip. With expert ease, he gently lifted and lowered you back down. Fuck, he was making you fuck yourself on his fingers. “Would you let us, sweetheart?” he breathed into your mouth. “I wonder how many times we’d make you come before anyone noticed.”

Your legs shook, your spirit trying to leave your body as you climbed higher. You’d let them fuck you all over Thor’s pool, deck, house, wherever they wanted. “I’ll let you wreck every hole.”

Bucky sputtered as he gripped your breast, Steve’s fingers stilling again as his eyes went wide. It felt good that you could surprise them. “Every hole, doll?”

“Every hole,” you moaned as Steve’s fingers moved along your walls again. “The question is… which one of you gets my tight ass first?”

“Jesus FUCK,” Bucky growled, a bit of water splashing around you as he rocked his hardness against your ass. “You can’t just say shit like that. We need a warning."

“Why not?” you whined when Steve brushed his thumb along your clit. You knew their cocks had to be aching for you and that rush of power was heady. “Don’t you want to fill me up?”

Steve’s forehead met yours as his fingers moved relentlessly. The hard and deep thrusts almost matched how his cock felt. “Until we’re dripping out of you, sweetheart.”

“You'll have to plug me,” you moaned, biting your lip. It was nearly impossible to hold back your sounds. You reveled in their touches, swearing that steam rose from the water from the fire that burned inside you. Your body wound tighter and tighter, gripping Steve’s arms as he nailed your g-spot.

“Tonight,” Bucky groaned with want. “Please. I need to feel that tight hole around every inch of me.”

“She didn’t say you’d get it first,” Steve growled.

“I… get to decide,” you managed to say as your head fell back. The pleasure built with such force as they practically bickered over who would ruin you first. You felt like you were in danger of exploding as you clenched around Steve’s fingers. “I’m… Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“Do it, doll. Soak his fingers like our good girl. You’ve more than earned it,” Bucky encouraged, pinching your nipple again.

You cried in ecstasy as you let it wash over you, giving yourself up to the pure feeling of being theirs. Your cunt clenched almost painfully as your wetness coated the thick fingers inside you. You couldn’t even writhe in their grasp, their arms effectively keeping you trapped and making you feel it all. It wasn’t just the coil breaking. It was set on fire, every nerve ending heated from the pleasure in your veins.

“Almost came just from that sound,” Steve admitted as he slipped his fingers free.

You smiled as Bucky fixed your top, still feeling how hard he was as he held you. “Almost? I’m gonna be hard until I get to fuck you.”

You laughed breathlessly until you realized how quiet it was. “Um…” you trailed off as you peaked over Steve’s shoulder. Mandy, Natasha, and Clint were no longer in the pool. Sam was missing, too. Only Thor and Loki were still outside.

“If you’re quite finished, how do you want your burgers?” Loki asked.

Blood rushed to your cheeks before you smiled. “I think I have enough meat right here.”

Thor threw his head back as he laughed. “Rogers, Barnes. If you let her go, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Bucky promised, kissing your shoulder.

“Not letting go, Thor. Find your own best girl,” Steve added.

“I’m not letting go either,” you smiled, making no effort to move out of the water or their arms. You had nowhere else to be, except where they were. And the fear of falling in love with them? It faded more and more with each passing second because the future was bright. You deserved it.

Peggy smiled as she reached over, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind Briana’s ear. She was so beautiful. “I know the move won’t be easy, but I’ll be right there. And I can’t wait for Steve to meet you. He’ll adore you.”

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers x you #stucky x reader #stucky x you #bucky barnes x female reader #steve rogers x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #stucky x reader tattoo au #howling commandos tattoo au #tattoo au #sebastian stan x reader #chris evans x reader

2K notes · View notes