#i wrote this in one sitting in like fifteen minutes so it’s not proofread and excuse the yap! i have Many Thoughts.

[morsmortish]

hi beth 🔥 you mentioned dorcas and emma yesterday... i NEED to know more. the wlw world is still a unknown subject for me, so drop some lesbians 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

hello irene my love!!!! i love love love dorcas and emma individually, and i have SUCH a vision for them together. to me, they’re those two best friends who are almost toxicly dependent. they’re in the same year, same slytherin dorm, and quite a bit older than barty and reg and even maybe the marauders. to me, they are THE homoerotic wlw friendship for the ages.

i have said it before, but i see them having a rlly intense friendship. it’s also not super healthy- they’re both extremely competitive and equally proud and stubborn, and so there’s many instances of forced fake smiles, high levels of passive aggression, and even that over-the-top sickly sweetness. both of them find it hard to form many other connections, and so they find themselves both trapped in this extremely toxic friendship where they’re turning every single thing into a silent competition: emma is cruelly condescending when she is chosen as quidditch captain over dorcas; whilst dorcas not-so-subtly rubs it in when she gets more OWLs; they both simper at each other and shoot barbed but veiled insults every minute of every day. and yet, they also care more about the other than anything else. emma would kill anyone for slagging off dorcas, and dorcas would kill HERSELF before letting anyone try to get between them. they’re simultaneously each other’s worst enemy and each other’s best friend.

everyone else is a bit scared of them, and they really truly have no one else: this is both by choice and by everyone else being extremely intimidated by them. plus, their ‘friendship’ has always been laced with something else, something more, and in the absence of external company, it ramps up in intensity until they are making out to relieve the tensions between them. or they are competing for the best potions grade, with the winner getting a very specific ‘reward’. or they are finding ways to let out all the pent-up frustration they bear towards each other. they would never ever go as far as to describe themselves as dating, or in any sort of romantic relationship, and yet they have never quite been ‘just friends’. the ultimate situationship.

they’re like two ends of a tug-of-war rope, their ‘friendship’ frozen in the middle. dorcas is hot-headed and angry, whilst emma is calculated and coldly cruel. fire and ice. they’re both outcasts from pureblood society: dorcas as a muggle-born, and emma as a part of a disgraced lineage. they’re both poc women trying to stay afloat in the1970s. they also both always want to be the best at everything. they’re both ambitious and proud and selfish. in a way, they balance each other out, but also bring out the worst in each other. yet they both find solace in being able to be this ‘worst version’ of themselves- the pretence of fake smiles and forced kindness holds no value, and they both know the truth behind it all. it’s not the same as pretending to be a good person, as they are both entirely aware that neither of them are. they are just as bad for each other as they are good. they give each other the freedom to be terrible, and in a twisted way make each other better.

[space-cowgirllll]

Tolerate It

pls enjoy this kinda angsty little thing I wrote a couple of months ago when I was really going through it in a relationship and have been too shy to post anywhere until today. I miiiiight have the second part to this halfway done. If this sucks I'm so sorry lmao it’s very lightly proofread and I have not written anything that hasn't had to be turned in for a grade in years.

Part Two

You sit alone at the table wondering how you ended up here. The dinner you'd spent the better part of the evening preparing grows cold as you sip on what has to be your third glass of wine. From your spot you can see Abby standing at the counter, speaking softly into the phone while she reads through the mail that had piled up over the last week. You pick at your food, hoping she'll join you eventually, but when fifteen minutes turns into twenty and then thirty five, you realize you're wasting your time. The laughter from the other room tells you the work part of the call ended long ago. Pushing your chair back, not caring when the loud noise earns you a glare from Abby, you gather your plate and blow out the candles at the center of the table.

Abby moves to sit on the loveseat in the living room after her call. It doesn't take long for her to get lost in the new book she had just brought home. Your eyes shift to the untouched plate of food still waiting for her in the dining room and then to the apple in her hand. The sound of  your throat clearing catches her attention.

"Your plate is still at the table if you want it, babe." You gesture to the lone plate at her usual spot.

There's a pang in your chest at the sight of the floral arrangement you'd chosen for the week. Behind that, strong wind pelts rain at the window. The gloomy weather a perfect representation of the storm brewing inside you.

"I thought I told you I had an early dinner with a couple of colleagues."

"Oh."

It comes out as a whisper. Not bothering to tell her she hadn't called you back after her lunch break. Again. You make a mental note to put the plate away before bed, knowing she'll pack it for tomorrow.

Your arms are elbow deep in soapy water, trying to rush through the last couple of dishes before she retreats to her study. The clanking of pots and pans fills the quiet space. You scrub at a particularly stubborn spot, trying to think of a way to bring it up without sounding too obvious.

"How was work today?"

"Fine." Your wife replies, not elaborating further.

"It's the twenty first, right?" There's some hesitation in the question.

"Yup."

Okay.

She doesn't look up from her book when you shuffle past her a little while later, placing a steaming mug on the coffee table. Her hand caresses the soft skin of your thigh and you perk up when she mumbles a soft thanks, placing a quick kiss on her temple. The sleeping cat on her lap stirs when you give him a gentle scratch behind the ear.

You settle into the sofa across from her and watch her read. She's in the cotton pajamas and fuzzy socks you'd laid out in the closet for her. It makes you feel ridiculously overdressed. Your hands fist the skirt of your dress, feeling foolish. There's a dark spot on the satin material from leaning over the wet counter.

The record player in the far corner of the room catches your attention. You miss the nights where she'd play you one of her favorites and dance with you around the living room before letting you sit on her lap as she read out loud to you. You never thought you would miss those boring medical journals. These days you're lucky if you get more than an hour with her before she locks herself in her study.

It hadn't always been like this. The two of you have been together longer than you've been apart. Visions of eleven year old Abby teaching you how to braid her hair for soccer practice flash in your head. Crawling into her bed in the middle of the night after another nasty fight between your parents. Summer vacations to her family's lake house. Her and her parents at every dance recital and play you'd ever been part of in high school. Realizing at sixteen that your feelings for the girl weren't so platonic. Then moving into the spare bedroom down the hall from her a year later after coming out to your family. Prom dress shopping with her and her mother, sneaking kisses in the tiny fitting rooms. The Anderson's were the family you never had.

Navigating young adulthood with Abby had been fun. You'd rented a tiny apartment in Seattle and paid way too much for it while attending university. It wasn't much, but it was home. You remember the dance parties in the tiny living room. The time the blonde begged you to let her keep the tiny cat she'd found in an alley on the way home one random afternoon. Going on dates and exploring the city. Staying up late and fantasizing about what life would look like in ten years. The look on her face as her thumb rubbed small circles on the exposed skin of your belly after you'd shown her your list of baby names. Getting married just after graduation.

Abby had never been too busy to show you how much she loved you, no matter how busy she got with school. Packing your meals for work, making sure your car had enough gas in it, organizing stay at home date nights whenever your schedules aligned. And you doing the same for her when she was up to her eyebrows in work for school.

The notes were your favorite. They had started appearing randomly after you'd been unexpectedly laid off. You'd been moping around the house for weeks, losing hope after not hearing back from any of the companies you'd applied to. Always in your favorite color, the purple post it notes could be found stuck to the wherever you'd see them first thing in the morning. The silly declarations of love and the affirmations always made you smile.

Those days were long gone. You were slowly going from high school sweethearts to two people who simply co-existed. No matter what you did or how hard you tried, it was getting harder to deny the lack of warmth in her eyes when she looked at you sometimes. Today proved what you had been too afraid to admit to yourself. The only person who had ever felt like home has slowly started becoming a stranger that slipped into your bed later and later each night.

Your eyes start stinging and you bite down on your lower lip. There's no way you're breaking down in front of her, not tonight. The warmth radiating from the fireplace does little to keep away the chill running through your body. Shaky hands bring the mug to your lips, hoping some tea would calm the nausea swirling in your stomach. You're not surprised to find yourself unable to keep drinking after a few tiny sips. Abby's favorite mug grows cold on the coffee table and you're positive she doesn't even remember it's there.

The sound of her phone ringing startles you both. Abby snatches the phone off the counter, a tired sigh leaves her parted lips when she sees who's calling. She jogs up the steps, intently listening to whoever is on the other end of the phone. You pick at the chipping nail polish on your left hand, watching the way your engagement ring glints in the dim light of the fire. Your stomach dips as you slip the stack off your finger, placing them in the small bowl on the coffee table.

"Are you going somewhere?" Your head shoots up to where she's standing in the threshold. The sight of her in a fresh pair of navy blue scrubs doesn't surprise you. Her loose bun traded for a tight braid that hangs over her shoulder.

"No. Why would I be?"

She gestures at your dress. Eyes roaming over your face, finally noticing the makeup you'd carefully applied hours before. You see her lock in on your empty hand, her sculpted brows furrow in confusion. Please say something. You beg, just wanting to understand why this is happening. Was she so busy she couldn't even bother to ask what's wrong? Did she even care anymore?

The constant buzzing of the phone in her tote bag answers your question for you. She shakes her head and turns to the door, stopping to slip her feet into her sneakers. You follow silently behind her, wondering if you should say something.

"Abigail?"

She hums in acknowledgment, not bothering to look up from her phone. Her fingers move at lightning speed across the touchscreen. Your nails dig into the palm of your hand, fighting the urge to snatch her phone and chuck it against the wall.

"What?" She asks again when you don't speak up. The look of annoyance on her face has you taking a step back.

"Nevermind," you turn towards the coat closet, pulling out her winter jacket. "It doesn't matter." You don't have to look back to know she's rolling her eyes.

"I should be back before you leave for work." You busy yourself with the already organized closet, pretending to move things around while she gathers the rest of her things.

"Be careful." You mumble, blinking rapidly to stop the tears from flowing. Not trusting yourself to say much more without your throat closing.

"Always am." She plants a kiss on the back of your head and heads out the door. It's only when you hear the sound of her car pulling away that you let yourself cry. No longer caring about the mascara that is certainly smearing.

Unsteady legs carry to the foot of the stairs where you collapse into a pathetic heap. Tears freely flowing down your cheeks, further staining the material of your dress. Your hands harshly pull at the fabric, wanting nothing more than to rip it off. The pins in your hair clatter loudly on the floor as you harshly pull them out.

Your sobs echo throughout the empty house. Pain radiates through your body, from somewhere in your chest to the tips of your fingers. The nausea has increased tenfold. You inhale sharply, resting your head on your knees. Watery eyes fixed on the front door your wife had just walked out of, this gut wrenching feeling of loneliness overwhelms you.

"Happy anniversary Abby."

[rassvetsky]

would literally lose my fucking mind if you wrote carmy like touch starved, idk maybe everyone is staying after to celebrate something and he’s dragging you into his office to eat you out with absolutely zero shame because he needs it so bad

your wish is my lifelong quest i love you, hope i did it at least some justice loml

Carry You Away With Me

carmen "carmy" berzatto x fem!reader

He looked sheepish for a moment, lips curling into a grin for another split second before returning to his natural expression, eyes finding yours and locking you into his gaze. "Do you think anyone would notice if I took you elsewhere right now?"

[4k] | chef ill be honest with you this is just porn, needy!carmy (he's fucking adorable), office sex if that's even a term, established relationship, cunningulus, unprotected sex, cum-play. my apologies to the church

reblog and/or like for a kiss, feedback much appreciated! not proofread.

It was around 11 when you returned to the restaurant with a bottle of champagne cradled in your arms, watching as Gary and Tina pushed a few tables together to make a bigger one for the rest. Eating together wasn't a rare occurrence, but it often only happened an hour before service in the morning— dinners were mostly had at home or skipped altogether, depending on the importance one put into their health. But tonight called for an after-hours get-together, one that Sydney and Marcus pushed for when Ebraheim showed up in the morning with the latest issue of Gastronomica, featuring a very familiar name this time around— Carmen Berzatto.

"You know— I bet you can like, make it to a Vogue issue sometime later on, too."

"That's not exactly food-related."

"I'm just saying, dream high and—"

The few clinks of a spoon against the glass cut Fak right off and Carmen made a mental note to thank god for that later on, his gaze lifting from the long, full table that everyone was surrounding to the source of the sound; the now-empty champagne glass that Richie held.

"Can we all take a moment to stop stuffing our faces with this whatever-the-fuck it is to congratulate my cousin right here?" he spoke up, bringing a smile to your lips as you reached for Carmen's hand from under the table and muttered out "chou à la crème", another dish that Marcus had been experimenting with lately. A short chuckle left Carmen's lips when he vaguely heard what you said, and he gave your hand a firm, appreciative squeeze before rubbing his thumb along the back of your palm. "Gastronomica isn't just any magazine. I think it's supposed to be one of the good ones, like—"

"—the Vogue of food!"

"Maybe! Who knows, anyway— really, I'm proud of this mess of a man and you all should be, too." and maybe this was the most affection that Richie could whip out in public, but it was more than enough— because despite his hate for having the spotlight directly on him, Carmen was currently busy offering a smile to Richie, which the other reciprocated shortly before sitting back down, his quiet little hum of affection drowned out by the mutterings of 'cheers' along with the clink of everyone's glasses.

Proud was an understatement for this little dysfunctional found-family.

But you knew Carmen, you knew that he'd much rather skip on the compliments and pats to the shoulder; and you were way too sure that he'd need a moment to himself sooner or later. That moment came almost fifteen minutes after, when everyone split themselves into a few groups of completely different conversations, scooped up chocolate sauce and cream and small pieces of the delicate pastry got left behind on the empty plates— you felt Carmy's fingers wrapping around your upper thigh, concealed by the dimmed out lights and the table.

"S'up?" you returned your attention to him upon feeling his fingers tapping along to some nonexistent rhythm on your clothed skin, not too invested in the story Richie was busy telling everybody with the loudest voice he could muster to begin with.

He looked sheepish for a moment, lips curling into a grin for another split second before returning to his natural expression, eyes finding yours and locking you into his gaze. "Do you think anyone would notice if I took you elsewhere right now?"

"Elsewhere?"

"Not too far, jus' my office. For a couple of minutes at most." he leaned in closer to your ear just so you could hear him over the 2012's pop playlist Manny whipped out earlier, a completely mesmerizing turn of events when he started singing along to a random Katy Perry song— but that leaning closer action proved Carmen to be just another self-saboteur because he was feeling specifically out of place all day and to feel your perfume so close was a pull with a force out of this world. He couldn't pull back away then, couldn't return to his own chair and you had no choice but to push him away manually. "I promise."

"Any ulterior motives I should be aware of?" you grinned, letting your fingers curl right over his own on your thigh— and making a mental note to ease him into the habit of using hand moisturizers regularly sometime, upon the roughed up feel of his skin.

"You wound me, baby." his expression seemed to linger over offense, but his eyes told a completely different story; and before you knew it, he was pushing his chair back to get up, patting Gary's shoulder on his way to the back of house, a momentary turn of his head just so he could silently tell you to follow with his eyes.

And that, you did, despite the raised eyebrows of Richie's that you met along the way.

The kitchen smelled like a different kind of citrus, one that only belonged in dishwashing detergents as you maneuvered through the stations, cleaned up from the day's worth of filth. From your peripheral vision, you noticed Carmen reaching behind to undo the strings of his navy apron, leaving out the top string that he'd have to pull over his head until you could catch up and he could get to the office. His shirt was, again, as pristine as ever and it was a work of magic how he managed to come back home with a perfectly clean white t-shirt each day, if not for a few little drops here and there.

Finally, he pushed open the door of his office for you and you stepped in, finding your way to his desk in the darkness to flip the switch of the small light that illuminated the paperwork mostly. When your eyes found him again, the apron was long gone— tucked away in a corner, folded, although not so neatly. "Happy now?"

Instead of a reply, he just plopped down on the old, squeaky chair by the desk, thighs spread and arms wide open to make space for you. You took the offer right away, seating yourself on one of his thighs but still balancing yourself on your feet too, in order to not just dump your whole body weight on him and potentially numb out his leg. He couldn't care less, as he wrapped himself around you tightly and pulled you closer. "I don't really give a shit about Gastronomica."

"I figured," you mumbled against the material of his shirt, lungs filling in with a scent that only he could carry— a surprisingly pleasant mix of cigarettes, sweat, and gravy. It belonged to him, at least. "When's the last time you gave a shit about anyone's opinion outside of here, anyway?"

A soft hum left his lips, one that feigned agreement— but he wasn't paying much attention to what you've been saying to begin with, mind all muddied with specific moments in time that included you. Come to think of it, he'd been like this all day, even when Richie jokingly smacked him across the face with the magazine or when Tina elbowed him while he was trying to explain why she had to strain the mixture twice to get a flowing consistency— on the back of his mind, there was always you; always the lack of time he got to spend with you when the rush hour got too much to bear and he couldn't bring himself to lift an arm when he came back home to you.

When was the last time he properly touched you, took his time to memorize all the little ridges and beauty spots across your body, he couldn't remember.

So as you spoke, listing out all the reasons why he should be proud of himself for all the accomplishments, Carmen's arm curled around your waist and his fingers found your thighs again, the warmth of his palm seeping through the material of your leggings and from the way they teased upwards, you knew where this was going. "... that you managed to turn— are you not listening?"

His smile was so smug that you wanted to either kiss, or slap him. "Not really. But go on."

"Carmy, if you actually think that I'll do anything non-churchy with you here while everyone's literally twenty feet away, you're so wrong." you breathed out, because that's all you could do when his lips ghosted over the side of yours, before trailing down to where your jawline met your neck. He only hummed as a reply, clearly not giving a shit about your opinion either at that moment— but to say that you weren't enjoying the attention would be a blatant lie.

His fingertips traced the seams outlining your underwear through the extra layer of fabric while his lips latched to your neck, finally, with his warm breath hitting against the sensitive skin and the usual wet nature of his kisses leaving behind a glistening spot of adoration. You leaned into it, rather shamelessly— legs parting and fingers carding through the locks on the nape of his neck, and that only encouraged him further, causing him to whisper out a curse and a few sloppy words of praise. "Just let me, hm? Please?"

The sense of desperation in his tone was enough to push back any words of disagreement that you could blurt out at that moment. You knew you had to power through, it would be so embarrassing and disrespectful to let him have his way with you right here, while everyone else was still at the FOH— but the way his palm covered your clothed core and his fingertips teased the slight outline of your slit, all while his pretty lips were oh so busy whispering absolute filth in your ear was slowly taking away all the care you had in the world. "Carm— not a good idea."

"You weren't saying that last week, right here," two weeks ago, to be exact, but you couldn't blame him for not being able to tell time apart. "Had to cover your mouth and all, s'loud for me—"

"You're getting carried away." you chuckled, the deepest of breaths still not enough for the capacity of your lungs as you tugged on his locks slightly, prying him off of your skin just so you could get a look at him.

"Let me carry you away with me. Please, fuck— I can't think of anything else when you're on my mind." he pulled away a little from your neck, eyes of pristine skies staring right at your soul with the expression of a kicked puppy— he knew exactly how to get his way when he was miserable like that. His fingers were still against your heat, expecting permission. "Ten minutes only, just let me touch you."

You could recognize that tone, that incurability way too well— it was often reserved for nights shared between hushed whispers of promises, where he was too needy to form a single thought and all he could do was to cover your body with his and curl onto you, to feel your warmth against himself and to be one body and one soul for an hour. Uncommon in nature, even rarer to take place in a room that he reserved for professional affairs only— but the heart wants what it wants.

To his surprise, you suddenly pushed your lips against his— letting his fever take over you as well, with your hands clutching onto his shoulders and hair. You could hear the slight groan escaping his lips when his fingers breached under the tight waistband of your leggings, pushing the material down slightly with the bend of his wrist before turning his hand a little to tug it all downwards, urging you up on your feet. You got up from where you were seated, now standing between his legs with your back bent just so your lips would be on his, but he broke the kiss with a smile that took over when he finally pulled down both articles of clothing at the same time. Your back straightened when he managed to push them both down to your ankles, your hands on his shoulders to help with your balance as you stepped out of them, feeling his moist lips over your abdomen for a second before he pushed you backwards slightly, towards the desk.

He took that momentary advantage to get up on his feet and pin you right in between his own body and the desk, hands blindly pushing the loose folders to the side. You felt too exposed when his palms gripped the underside of your thighs just to prop you up on the desk, lips finding and panting against yours, a clear indication of his need seeping through the way he tugged and nibbled before his tongue found its way to caress yours.

There was nothing nice about it, but you couldn't bring yourself to care— not when he whispered your name against the plush of your lips so sweetly when your fist closed around his hair, not when he didn't even know what to do with his hands; grabbing, fondling at every inch of your skin that he could reach shakily. He pulled you flush against his body, letting you get a feel of the harsh dark denim against your bare center and you had to bite into his lower lip to stay quiet, ultimately earning a groan from him when his hands slipped under your shirt.

"Bear," you whispered out, his lips chasing yours when you pulled away to speak— which made you chuckle quietly, as he looked at you again. "Ten minutes."

"Ten minutes," he parroted, the usually wide eyes of his now hooded, pupils blown out as if he was looking right at the sun. When you reached in to kiss him again, you couldn't catch him fast enough— he was already holding onto your thighs to crouch down, looking up at you with a Cheshire grin when you spread your legs a little further apart, a force of habit.

Leaning back on your palms against the desk as much as the cramped space could allow, you took a deep breath— but it wasn't enough to prepare you for what came next when his tongue trailed a bold line across your slit, spreading your folds apart gently. It was a pleasant routine, one that you never quite got used to; because when he was down on his knees with his tongue tracing abstract shapes across your clit in a teasing manner, it was all about you and to think that a guy who often rushed things and went through life at a 2x pace would slow down just to put all of his attention on your pleasure only was more delightful than any compliment one could attain.

Carmen's fingertips were perhaps digging into the skin of your thighs a bit too hard, but could you possibly complain? The tip of his tongue dipped between your folds to spread your essence upwards, a mix of his saliva and your wetness covering your clit when he closed his lips around it and sucked— letting out a blissed groan, one that he'd scold you for if you were the culprit. You could only imagine how hard he must've been at that moment, he was always a sucker for situations like this, with the thrill of doing something so forbidden, right where he could be caught and your taste on his tongue, thighs on either side of his shoulders.

Imagining it didn't help your situation at all, it was hard to focus on one coherent thought when he kept flicking his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves but you forced through— with the thought of the blunt tip of his length all flushed and leaking in your palm, curses leaving his soft lips whenever your fingers got a bit too tight around the girth. He liked it when you put your focus there, tip of your tongue tracing the slit and leaving kisses over it while the rest of your palm jerked him off— firm and slow.

And you'd always let your lips stray when he got close, deciding to suddenly bite into the skin of his inner thighs or to lightly trace his perineum with your tongue, just to have him reduced to a writhing, whining mess with not enough air to survive in his lungs. He'd spill onto your fingers and you'd clean him up right away, moving your way upwards with wet little kisses until you reached his lips. And he was one dirty fucker because tasting himself on you when you kissed him all sloppily was probably one of his favorite things in the world.

Drowned out in all the thoughts, you didn't notice how close you were until your thighs were shaking around his shoulders, and he finally added his fingers into the mix then— his middle and ring fingers easily breaching through, grazing all of your sensitive spots from the inside. You had to press your palm against your mouth to not let a sound then, when your climax finally hit you, and you'd probably slide right off the table with how quaky your whole body was at that moment if it wasn't for Carmen's strong grip on your body, holding you right where you belong.

The position was a bit merciless on his legs so far but he made it up to his feet again, giving you a light peck on your lips before his fingers found his mouth, his tongue circling the digits to clean them up as he stared right at you, into your soul. He pulled them out with a slight pop, and licked his lips clean. "How long did we take?"

"I don't know," you panted out. "I was busy imagining the way you come."

His light laughter brought a tender, yet bittersweet ache to your heart. "Fuck, you get off to that?" and you could tell him all about just how beautiful he was, and how much it turned you on to see him blissed out in pleasure— but you didn't know if your lung capacity allowed for it at that moment, as being quiet came with the benefit of holding your breath for longer than you should. "Tell me more."

You giggled against his lips when he braced himself on the desk with his two hands holding onto the edge on both sides of your thighs. Both of your hands moved down to the front of his pants, too fucked out to care about timing as you palmed him through the material just to see that grin on his lips falter. "I'm gonna make you jack off and watch sometime." you mumbled, slowly pulling the zipper down after setting him free from the belt and the button. He hummed, forehead to forehead, before reaching for another little peck.

"As much as I don't see why I should jack off while you're in front of me," he spoke, a sharp intake of breath cutting his line of thought halfway through when your fingers finally wrapped around his cock. "but— shit, if you're into that… Only if you do it w'me, though. I wanna watch too."

"You don't get to watch." you sighed, bringing him closer with your legs to line his length up with your entrance. "You're just gonna sit there and come on your hand like a loser."

Carmen couldn't help the short snort that left him. "Are you even capable of being mean to me?"

"Mm-hm, I'm very mean when I wanna be." and right after that, his tip slid right into your cavern, pulling a deep exhale from both of you when he pushed a bit deeper. His lips found yours, mostly to keep the noises at bay while his hips rolled into yours, grinding against you before retreating a little, only to push in harder this time around.

You felt so full and blessed that you didn't even have to imagine anything to get lost in the feeling.

His pants slid further downwards with each thrust until they pooled around his ankles and your thighs wrapped tighter around his body, trapping him in. His arms were so delicately wrapped around your waist that you had to hold onto him with your whole remaining power to not slide further towards the wall, but he couldn't exactly notice that when he was feeling so damn lucky, whole length wrapped in a warmth beyond his comprehension.

And again, you couldn't blame him, because neither of you managed to notice when the skin slapping against skin got a bit too loud, and your lips pulled away from his just to breathe out the filthiest little nothings, like how much you needed him to fill you right up to the brim. "Fuck, give it to me." your hips met his thrusts half-way through when you pushed yourself against him. "Carmy, come inside me, please."

"Yeah? Are you gonna take it all?" his voice sounded broken, and his fingers would surely leave imprints on your hips with how tight his grip was. "Won't let you waste a drop, baby. I won't."

Somehow, through how feral he was with the way you were begging him, the responsible side came forward and captured your lips in his again— because while his team was full of respectful people, they were also little shits who would never live it down if they heard those beautiful sounds that escaped your lips with each hit of his blunt head against your sweet spot. The thought somehow egged him on further— he couldn't exactly decide if he was too possessive to let anyone hear or if he was possessive enough to make sure everyone knew he belonged to you, but at that moment, both of those thoughts turned him on too much, enough for him to feel his high approaching. And judging by the way your walls cramped down on him tighter with each passing second, you weren't too far behind.

You could feel yourself gushing around him, coating both of you in your essence beyond simple cleaning, but that was a matter to worry about later, not when the love of your life was balls-deep inside of you, his rough grunts right against your ear when he reached to press his lips right below it. "Close?" he mumbled, and even though your mind was too busy to hear and comprehend him properly, you nodded— feeling his arms wrapping around you tighter, pulling you closer to the warmth his body provided. And while as much as you'd like to keep this going for longer, witnessing his pace falter and voice break as he moaned out your name, filling you up in the most delicious way slowly was enough to have your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure, and to have the knot finally snap.

Your whole body was buzzing, shaky even when he held you so tight against his chest as if you'd vanish right there and then— something that he always did after sex, no matter the circumstance. You giggled wearily against his shoulder, leaving a few kisses here and there before he pulled away slightly to pull you into a kiss— nothing like the ones you shared in the past minutes, this one was all sweet and loving. "Might drip if I pull out."

"You can't stay there forever, Carm."

"Oh, but I want to." he huffed out but still moved to slowly pull out of you anyway, having you both hiss in sensitivity and just like he thought, his come was ready to spill all over the place. Quick-thinker in nature, he caught his seed with his fingers right before they could go further, pushing them back into you just to hear you gasp— and slap his shoulder playfully.

"You're a fucking freak."

"Shut up— round two at my place? Kinda wanna see where that watching me jerk off fantasy of yours might lead us."

a/n: once again i could be easily manipulated into breaking into your house with a part two, who knows

also @carmensberzattos consider this a marriage proposal

[owliellder]

Two's A Crowd

College Bully! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5)

Description: College is proving to be a lot harder than you imagined. You cannot fail this math class. So when you've tried everything else, a well-known student is recommended to you by your professor for tutoring lessons, not really leaving you with much of a choice but to work with him.

Warnings: Not proofread, No Use of Y/N, Dub-Con, Unprotected Sex, Bullying, Yelling, Cursing

Tags: College AU, Bully! Leon, Shy! Reader, both are in their early 20's, Leon is Rude AF in the beginning, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Fingering, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Tags to be Added

Author's Note: Slightly shorter chapter since I got stuck watching the last two episodes of Fionna and Cake, but I hope y'all like where I'm steering this. Pick up what I'm putting down, eh??

Cross-posted onto AO3

Chapter 2:

“This is insane. You’re not even trying.” 

Leon’s cruel comments had been endless since you showed up today. He was already irritated that you even showed to begin with, now he’s just taking all his frustrations out on you. The guy isn’t even passive aggressive, he’s just aggressive. “I showed you the formula like.. five times already.”

“I don’t need you to patronize me, please.” You asked with a meek voice, bringing your hands up to cover your face for a couple seconds before placing them down on either side of the new math assignment sitting in front of you. You understood his impatience though, you were even starting to grow impatient with yourself, having been stuck on the third question for over thirty minutes now. Leon stressed the fact that you got one hour only with him and you’d basically wasted half that time bouncing from the formula he’d written down to the question itself.

The formula was helpful, but this question included more numbers than you knew what to do with. The main issue was knowing which numbers went where in the formula and you wanted to know why they went where they did, but Leon was only giving you the formula and nothing else. One vague explanation and then he was right back on his phone.

You had a glimmer of hope for the frat boy sitting in front of you. Had, being the keyword here. One study session in and you were already starting to accept defeat. “Can you explain it to me again?” You tapped your pencil on the table nervously, keeping your eyes glued to your paper to avoid the obvious glare you’d receive from him.

The sound of his phone slamming down on the table accompanied with a groan made you grip onto your pencil tighter, now holding it still as he pulled the paper away from you. “Do I have to hold your hand, too? What’s so hard to understand about this?” He reached over, yanking your pencil from your hand so he could scribble out the first few steps to the problem. Afterwards, he tossed both the paper and pencil back over to you, tapping his finger down on the work he wrote down before circling it once. “Need anything else? A warm bottle of milk? Want me to read you a bedtime story?”

He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms with a sigh after picking his phone back up. “You’ve got fifteen more minutes.” The fuck’s his problem? 

Letting out a small sigh of your own, you silently picked up the pencil and looked down at what he’d written. Surprisingly, it did help you make more sense of the rest of the assignment sheet, figuring out the placement of the numbers by using where Leon had put them. Soon, the assignment sheet was finished and you had him look it over.

“Is it-.. Is it good?” You watched Leon carefully, studying his face for any sort of emotion other than annoyance. You unfortunately didn’t find it, but his muttered “good” made you smile, taking your own turn studying your work once he handed it back. Not tossed or thrown, handed back.

He took in a sharp breath through his nose before standing up, focus still trained on his phone. There was only a few minutes left in the hour, so you guess he took your understanding of the material as his leave. “Can we.. uh.. study again on Monday?” His hand paused on the door handle at your question, looking back at you from over his shoulder with his lips pulled tight as he gave you a glare. “You just love taking up my time, don’t you?”

“Wait, is that-” The slam of the door cut you off, leaving you to watch him saunter off through the large window in the door. Your shoulders slumped and you turned back to give your math assignment one last look before stuffing it into your backpack. At least with this new understanding, you’d be able to hopefully do the next few assignments. Mr. Lebovic was kind enough to let you redo your past fails, meaning all you’re doing is slowly climbing your way back up to a better grade with make-up work.

You held out for Leon, constantly giving him the benefit of the doubt with each study session following the first. You did your absolute best to remain passive with him, but each session was filled with crude, nasty, hate-filled comments directed at you, so it was only a matter of time until you started throwing your own comments back at him. By the beginning of November, studying had been put on the back burner whenever you two met up, assignments left abandoned in favor of fleshing out full blown arguments. He always won since you’d never really had a loud voice to defend yourself and his favorite go-to was low blow insults, somehow always managing to sniff out your insecurities.

Leon’s pattern was always one step forward, ten steps back with you. He would help and then spend the rest of your hour together nitpicking your every attempt to learn. He hated you and it was driving you mad. It was impossible to learn anything like this.

You’d grown a sour mood leading up to your trek to the library for one of your regular study sessions, a scowl settling on your face. You decided hours ago that getting dressed wasn’t an option today, you just didn’t weren’t in the mood, so instead you threw on a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants to mind the brisk chill that had rolled in at the end of October. 

The walk to the main building was dull; most of the leaves on the trees around campus had long since browned and fallen off, the grass was dead and crunchy, and it almost felt like it would start snowing anytime now with how quickly the cold had come. The feel in the air made you tired, it made you miss home. The weather made you long for the warmth a home-cooked meal provided, but you had to wait, and that wait was only contributing to your already piss poor mood.

Making your way into the library and into the reserved study room, you didn’t even notice Leon’s smile until he asked you to pull out your most recent assignment. It immediately put you off because it wasn't like his normal cocky smile or smirk, no, this one was oddly genuine. Soft, even.

“Can I see it?” He asked, smile widening slightly as he gestured towards your backpack. Even his tone was softer than usual. “Uh…” You weren’t quite sure how to react, not really processing his words as you tried to figure out whether he’s setting a trap or not.

“Your assignment. Can I see it?” Leon clarified, his arms resting crossed on the table as he glanced down to your bag and then back up at you. That was also weirding you out; the eye contact. Normally he only ever met your gaze when he was intimidating you with a deep glare and it wasn’t ever this long. He was making a point to look at you now.

Without saying a word, you unzipped your bag and pulled out a couple papers, only looking away from him twice to make sure you were getting the right ones. You made sure to hold eye contact with him, eyebrows furrowed as you searched for any insincerity. 

You’d grown rigid with his kind behavior, even more so when he thanked you and took the papers from you. Questioning him was your top priority right now, though your mouth refused to work with your brain, causing you to stutter out a simple “..what?” Leon only hummed, tilting his head a bit as he looked down at your work, following the tip of his pen as it trailed down the paper. 

“What-..” You repeated, swallowing dryly before finally getting the full “What’re you doing?” out. He seemed genuinely confused at your question, looking up to give you a puzzled look. “Hm? Whaddya mean what am I doing? I’m looking over your work.” He looked back down at your paper, clearing his throat quietly.

“No, you’re being nice. Why are you being nice?” You were quick to shoot back to try and draw his attention back to you. “If this is a joke, I’m not gonna fall for it.”

Leon sighed and dropped the pen down onto the paper to rest his crossed arms on the table again. “Why are you asking so many questions? It’s not a big deal.”

Not a big deal?! “Not a big deal?! You’ve argued with me every other day for the past three weeks!” Your hands balled up into fists on your lap, completely baffled by the dismissiveness of his complete 180° in demeanor. “I-” You stopped yourself, taking a moment to breathe. This was.. actually a nice change of pace now that you think about it. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth?

He gave you his normal annoyed look at your sudden pause, seemingly waiting on you to finish talking. “You..?” Shaking your head a bit, you let out a soft laugh and waved your hand. “Nevermind, uh.. yeah, nevermind…”

“Ooookay, well, you did good on this one so you can turn it in.” Leon held up the first paper before sliding it across the table to you, then picking up the second paper. “But this one needs a bit of work. I circled the questions that need to be redone, not gonna tell you what’s wrong with them, though.” You watched as he slid the other paper to you with your own smile now forming. Pulling out a pencil, you started to relax for the first time around this guy, bringing your attention down to the circled questions.

Your study session has never been more productive. He was being helpful; answering your questions, talking you through each step, giving you smiles and the occasional thumbs up. You’re not sure what changed or why, but you definitely weren’t complaining. When Leon wasn’t acting like someone shoved a stick up his ass, he was actually pretty handsome. You’d mentally recognized his good looks when you first met him, yet his demeanor as a whole masked those good looks entirely.

There was no way he could throw anymore surprises at you, but you stood corrected when he walked over to you at the end of your session, stopping you from walking out. “Listen, I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting. I don’t want to be mean to you, it’s just…” He paused to laugh to himself, looking down at the ground with an almost bashful expression. “I’m only tutoring because it’s a big part of my grade in my class, so..” Not a complete lie on his part.

“Oh. Oh, it's.. it’s fine.” You didn’t want him to revert back to his old style, so you chose to just dismiss it. His attitude did make sense, you wouldn’t want to tutor random people for a grade. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks. Uh.. oh, here-” Leon opened and held the study room door open for you, giving you a small wave as you walked out, which you returned. That was a nice mood booster, not being degraded and demeaned every time you see the one person who’s supposed to help you. 

Your friends had their own opinions about the experience after you described it to them. You’d been relaying every bit of info relating to your study sessions from the past three weeks to them, a second and third opinion was good to have for such an odd trade.

“I don’t trust it. Plain and simple.” Sky placed their hands down on their thighs with an audible slap. They didn’t seem impressed by Leon’s sudden chivalry, and to your disappointment, neither did Ella when you looked over from Sky to her. She just looked back at you with a shrug. “Sorry. I’m gonna have to take Sky’s side on this. There’s just something off about that.”

You sighed in defeat, turning your head around to look out the window in the dorm room. It was nice that Sky and Ella shared a dorm, you can’t discuss stuff like this in your own dorm in case your roommate decided to randomly appear. “Yeah…”

Ella scooted closer to you on the bed and pulled you back so your head was resting in her lap. “I know you got your hopes up, but please be careful. I don’t wanna see you get hurt because some pretty boy decided it would be fun to manipulate you.” You groaned, covering your face with your arms. Nothing even happened and you’re already feeling embarrassed.

“It’s okay if you like him, he is kinda cute.” Ella giggled and moved one of your arms to poke your cheek. “But just remember that the guy’s got a bit of a reputation for being a major douche.”

Sky, sitting over on their bed, pointed at Ella in agreement. “Emphasis on major douche.” They smiled and leaned back, their head plopping onto their pillows. “It was just one instance of him being sweet, after all. Who’s to say he won’t revert back to being an asshole by Wednesday?”

“I know, I get it.” You swatted Ella’s hand away and sat back upright. Even if he was putting up a front, it was still nice to get some real help with your math without being insulted. Everyone deserves a second chance and he seemed honest enough when he told you why he’d been so rude, so why not try again with him? Start fresh, maybe you’ll get to make an unlikely friend out of this popular frat boy.

A bit of a far fetched idea, considering the vast differences between you and Leon, but anything like that is worth another try. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

tags:

@kayotee4 @k-fallingstar @bobastayhigh @mi-zer-y @chasingkennedy @l30nva @espressonerd @jjouki @5tarx @bunnybreadloaves @whoisgami @cyanscribe @c4b3r1a @darichvep @mmmangel @kingtacocat @klee-iii @baby--vera @dakiniii @kenma-izhu @aliidarling @leonsmamacita

(a few of your blogs won't show up but i tried)

[talesof-old]

nightly studies | c.w.

pairing(s): charlie weasley x male!reader

warning(s): 18+, smut, blowjobs, slight edging, very slight voyeurism?, sharing an apartment, shower sex, needy reader, reader has a penis, not proofread or edited, i don’t know what i’m doing i wrote this in one sitting

word count: 1.7k

a/n: so originally the request was for while charlie and reader were at hogwarts but that would make them underage so i changed it so they’re working at the romanian dragon reserve

i did change the request just a tad, so i hope that’s fine!

masterlist

charlie weasley + smut

You’d been listening to Charlie talk about the characteristics of the Antipodean Opaleye for at least thirty-five minutes. You glanced at the clock on the apartment wall and grimaced.

23:49.

You shifted in your seat, pants rubbing against your dick in an unforgiving tease, leaving you nearly gasping. It couldn’t be helped; Charlie was most attractive when he talked about the things he was passionate about, and one of those things just happened to be dragons. The two of you had been studying for the newest addition to the Romanian dragon reserve for hours at this point.

One glance over at Charlie solidified the inkling that stopping for release would not be an option. You sighed, grabbing your previously abandoned quill and marking the notes sheet you’d made.

“-and it’s got to be one of the prettiest dragons I’ve ever seen.”

You nodded along, finishing your note about adult breeding habits. At least someone was getting ducked down.

A gentle hand touched your thigh, high enough that you nearly jumped out of your skin. “You alright, love?” Your face burned but you hummed, nodding at the redhead. He leaned closer, head just inches from yours.

“Are you certain?”

You rolled your shoulders back and spared him a glance. His eyes glittered in the soft candlelight, which under any other circumstances would have you kissing him like a starved man. He jerked his chin towards your papers. You huffed, handing him the pages with words still damp from ink.

“Blimey, you’ve gotten far more done than I have.” You shook your head. A soft smile fought its way to your lips; of course Charlie Weasley didn’t have to write any of the information down, he was Charlie Weasley. The other dragonologists didn’t joke about him being the Walking Dragon Encyclopedia for nothing.

“Not all of us can keep all of that information in our brains.” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your cheek. The stubble on his chin rubbed against the sensitive flesh of your face, reminding you of a much different place you’d like to feel it. You shifted in your seat again. The boner you’d been rocking for what felt like an eternity seemed to grow more sensitive with every moment. If you glanced up, you might’ve noticed the all too knowing smile on Charlie’s face.

Silence fell over the both of you, save for the scratching of quills against parchment or the clinking of metal in ink pots. It droned on and on, echoing like a drum in your ears. Charlie, potentially intentionally (and infuriating) oblivious, dutifully wrote out the notes he imagined he’d need later.

A part of you hated him for it.

The other part of you ended up winning, however. A quick glance at the clock told you it was twenty past midnight. Your shared roommate’s shift ended in just a little over an hour.

“How much longer you got?”

Charlie’s brow furrowed in mock innocence as he flipped through several pages then turned to you.

“Dunno, maybe a chapter?”

You clicked your tongue. “You have fifteen minutes. Please come to the bedroom when you’re done.” He simply blinked at your request; a borderline plea for him to follow.

“Love, you know I love you dearly, but why…?”

You stacked your own books neatly, putting a lid on your ink pot and organizing your paper. His expectant words had you gnawing at the inner part of your cheek.

Heat spread across your neck. Was he really going to make you explain yourself? Truly?

Instead, you stood.

In moments, Charlie’s face was beat red, though the shit-eating grin on his face let you know he was far from embarrassed—or surprised. You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face and shuffling to the bedroom.

“Be there soon as I finish, love. Don’t get started without me.”

His words turned firm. You bit your lip, closing the door behind you and undressing quietly. Night shifts sometimes ended earlier than normal due to the overlap of shifts, so there was a chance your roommate Sasha would be back at any moment.

You crawled into bed, clad in nothing but underwear, body nearly trembling with anticipation. Exhaustion weighed heavily on your eyelids despite the tension that seemed to snake through every inch of your being. Sleep would come quickly tonight.

Your cock ached at the lack of touch, enough that you seriously debated starting without your boyfriend. Time dragged as you laid among the soft sheets. Another glance at the clock.

00:52.

You groaned, head flopping back onto the pillow. Privacy was rare to come by these days, especially at the Sanctuary. Both of you loved your job with every fiber of your being, but damn if it didn’t sometimes get to you. It was like being in school all over again.

The door creaked open and Charlie’s sheepish smile instantly had you raising a brow.

“Sasha’s back.”

You nearly wept.

“Come on, I’ve got an idea.”

Charlie crossed the room to tug you from the bed, all but dragging you into the bathroom. The cogs in your brain slowly but surely started turning. A grin spread across your face.

“Shower sex? Really? Well you sure know how to seduce someone.” Charlie shook his head and wrapped his arms around you, peppering your face and neck with kisses. You hummed at the affection, tracing over the burn marks on his arms.

“Need to drown out the noises, rather not have him walk in on the two of us.”

Your dick throbbed at the idea of potentially getting caught. Charlie turned, switching on the shower and letting it warm up. In the meantime, you stripped down completely with him following suit, both nude in the chilly bathroom. Your cock slapped against your abdomen as you waited for the water.

“Remind you of anything?”

You laughed as you conjured up an image of the prefect bathroom.

“Perhaps one too many fond memories.”

He reached a hand under the water to test the temperature. With a nod, you were stepping into the rather small shower cubicle. He settled behind you, nipping at the skin of your shoulder as he reached around you to splay a hand over your abdomen. You clamped your mouth shut to avoid the keening noise that would’ve erupted from your throat.

“Careful, love.”

You leaned against the wall, desperate for stability as his hand lowered, gliding over skin until he gripped your cock at the base. You bucked your hips, the sensation too much and not enough. Red hot pleasure nearly blinded you as Charlie fondled your balls, your legs trembling at the sudden assault.

“I’m too tired to shag. Give you a jobby?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to open your mouth.

He was down on his knees in an instant, lips smacking before he turned you to face him. He leaned you against the wall, legs just barely parted for balance. Charlie guided your cock to his mouth, lips parting as he took you in. You gasped, already far too close from how long you’d waited. He inched you further into his mouth until you were as far as you could go. Your eyes rolled back as he gave an experimental suck, his tongue warm and soft against your sensitive flesh.

Pleasure coiled in your gut like a spring. If he wasn’t careful, you’d blow a load quicker than a virgin.

“Charlie-“ You weren’t even sure what you were going to say, especially as he drew back and began licking at the veins of your dick. Warm water pelted against your side. You choked, reaching a hand out to the wall as he kitten licked all the way up the length of you. He paused for a brief moment, long enough that you looked down.

His hair was halfway in his eyes, sipping wet as he regarded you like something divine. Your knees went weak.

“Beautiful.”

His lips attacked themselves to your balls, already taut from holding back a rapidly impending orgasm, and you used your free hand to cover your mouth.

He grinned, moving to lick one long stripe on the bottom of your cock to the tip. Your hips bucked against his face. He loosened his jaw, careful of his teeth, and allowed you to sink back into his warm hole.

You shook, teetering on the edge of climax, though you couldn’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed.

He sucked, bobbing his head up and down as if daring you to cum in his mouth. You moaned loudly against your hand, trembling like a baby fawn as you felt your balls tightened and your cock pulsed. Your hips involuntarily jerked, sending you deeper into his mouth. The tip of your dick hit the back of his throat, and instead of choking he sucked hard.

Just as you nearly fell over the edge, Charlie pulled away. You whined, tears filling your eyes at the denial. Reasonably, you knew he was trying to wear you out. But you’d rather cum right now. Charlie rubbed his cheek against your thigh, far too tender for what he’d just done.

“Don’t be mad, lovely.”

You inhaled sharply as your climax slowly faded away.

He pressed kisses to your inner thighs, alternating between sucking hard or gently licking at the skin, desperate to mark up your skin. He gripped your legs, his fingers digging in as he returned his attention back to your cock.

Your chest heaved as he sucked on your head, running a tongue over your slit. Your hands splayed across the tile of the shower, unsteady in their search for solid ground.

He took you deeper, your abdomen tensing as you rapidly approached your orgasm once more. Your body ached with desire. He bobbed his head, each motion sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Late nights always heightened your sensitivity.

You bucked against his mouth, moaning as he swirled his tongue around your shaft.

Charlie hummed, and all of a sudden it was too much. You cried out, white flashing across your eyes as you came. Charlie swallowed, throat still massaging you through your orgasm. You whined weakly, panting as your vision returned. Charlie slowly pulled you from his mouth, patting your thigh as you groaned. He wrapped his arms around you. You leaned heavy against him, body shaky.

He kissed you hard, salty cum still on his tongue as he did. You moaned against his mouth, almost desperate to have another go at the taste of you still lingering.

A bang on the bathroom door had you jumping in his arms.

“Are you two done now? I need to take a piss!”

You laughed quietly, resting your head against Charlie’s shoulder.

“We need to get our own place.”

+++

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟓   ❛ 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 ❜   |   THE DEN & NAKAWE PALACE, AUGUST 1991

❧  𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲  /  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

   ❛  She’ll be here any minute.' Arnaut proffered yet another empty explanation to fill the silence. The premier granted forty-five minutes, but he had already spent fifteen giving intermittent assurances that Leonor was en route, delayed in some unpreventable way. Although known as gregarious and energetic, Premier Eladio Guillen sat across from Arnaut this entire time with a small, static smile. The anticipatory silence that dragged on seemed not to faze him. Waiting grated Arnaut’s nerves, meanwhile, as did attempting to puzzle out Guillen’s thoughts. Every minute of quiet that passed constituted some kind of failed test, he was certain. Yet, he exhausted his list of aide-approved topics within the first three minutes, and Guillen resisted his efforts to sidetrack the stillborn conversation into small talk. It could only be taken as a clear, loud message that the premier preferred to sit in total silence than humor Arnaut’s attempts. 

❧ important psa: leonor is her grandmother's granddaughter; additionally, i did not proofread much and should've so sdjfsdf if you notice anything off, no you didn't !!!

𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

In fact, Leonor was due to be there any minute. She was in the parking garage of Nakawe Palace's complex, and she had arrived there just ten minutes past the appointed time. What kept her was the newspaper she’d snagged from a stand on Oceanside Avenue. It wasn’t a respectable publication, certainly not Nakawe’s paper of record, but its headline for the day caught her eye. That was rare. Even if tabloid chatter affected her subliminally, she wasn’t one to read the stories or pay much attention to the headlines. The newsstands she passed in the course of daily life were easy to ignore; someone delivered her preferred papers and magazines each morning, whether or not she planned to open them. This paper’s claim cut through the inane, sensational fabrications about her body, her love life, the silly woes with which some two-bit copywriter claimed to empathize.

It was almost certain that her having bought a copy of the day’s paper accusing her drug abuse would become tomorrow’s headline. At any rate, the shocked vendor stared. So too did other pedestrians as they passed. The speculation wrote itself. Why, after all, would she have bothered if there wasn’t something to it? Incensed, morbid curiosity wouldn’t do. There had to be a more salacious explanation; it was the one that argued her interest was somehow proof of guilt. But, the simple truth was that she had gasped at the sight of it: a grabby headline, juxtaposed photos innocuous on their own but damning in this contrived context, an authoritative quotation of concern from some anonymous acquaintance. The front page promised a full story unfurled inside, and Leonor, who had never been accused of wrongdoing in her life, became consumed with the need to know every lie printed within the pages. 

As she sat in the car, reading about how her alter-self had become obsessed with benzos and tried heroin with a hard rock band, she knew there was no recourse. The Crown wouldn’t respond. These papers could publish whatever they liked, and they weighed that freedom against the constriction of access it only sometimes engendered. Leonor’s people had been silent and inflexible since winter—a moribund policy rolled over from before, when she was an off-limits teenager regarded as inseparable from the entity of her mother. Perhaps that was why she became fair game once the mourning moratorium lifted. More likely, the press’s the dark underbelly dwellers knew the larger apparatus of the royal family saw value in any public discourse about its members. Individual reputations were less of a concern, especially when the Crown itself and more reputable papers churned out flattering, factual stories to complicate any emerging narratives. For some time, gossip and relevance went hand-in-hand. Beatriz’s vision of the monarchy was increasingly a flirtatious one, winking when provocation paid off and demurring when it didn’t. Leonor had never needed to think too hard about it. Her mother went through the grinder time and time again, but her popularity remained intact, and she hadn’t ever let on, at least to her daughter, how terrible it felt. 

It was within Leonor’s power to huddle her team and insist they at least pretend to respond. Her little household was hardly autonomous, but it didn’t need to be. Leonor complaining to her grandparents about rude tabloids would get her nowhere; a conversation among aides about public relations, on the other hand, at least created an official paper trail of bureaucratic value. Yet, that was why she found herself frustrated. This paper she held in her hands trumpeted glaring, clumsy lies. Those lies, however, didn’t need to be rooted in fact if they had been planted in a context that made them feel plausible. For the average Uspanian, the takeaway wasn’t in the details. Most people cast idle glances at the newsstands, noticing ugly candids and buzzwords, passively gleaning less of a coherent story and more of an ambient sense. Leonor’s new friends and hangouts weren’t the kind of blank slate she had been. They came with their own public associations, jumbled facts, wild fabrications. These particular details were false, and The Den remained a locked vault to the public, but it wasn’t outlandish to imagine her as part of the scene if ample photographs and videos suggested she was. 

Leonor closed the paper and laid it on the passenger seat. It sat there, folded, for just a few seconds before she snatched it up again. Quickly, angrily, she tore at it. It wouldn’t rip down the middle, so she yanked out the pages instead. They shredded into scraps as she pulled wildly with haphazard, hurried fingers. Almost as fast as the impulse struck, it ran out of steam. Leonor stopped what she was doing and, feeling satisfied but far from content, tossed the mangled paper into the backseat. 

When Leonor entered the premier’s sitting room, Arnaut watched with disbelief. She strolled in appearing unperturbed by her tardiness, and the apology she offered to Guillen as he rose to clasp her hands was simple at best. It didn’t bother him. His reception of her made his demeanor toward Arnaut earlier that afternoon seem lukewarm—unwelcoming, even. They interacted like people who were well-acquainted; Guillen’s famed charm leapt out as he kissed her cheek and made a joke about Nakawe’s drivers, and Leonor took up space in the room with ease.

Arnaut knew, in theory, he had received an upbringing not dissimilar from hers. They learned the same rules of comportment, and they learned the art of politics from the same teachers. In preparation for today, they had received the same briefs with identical preparation from the same team of aides. Yet, as Leonor settled into the sofa beside him and suggested with unimpeachable authority that they get to work, Arnaut felt the distance between them stretch to its true size. There was no substitute for experience, and there was no hiding its absence. Arnaut had been on the periphery of Uspanian public life for over a decade. Everyone remembered him as the immature, troublesome spare he had been. They viewed his life abroad as suspect. Worse, each day brought a litany of small reminders that no one much cared about who he was now or who he intended to become. 

The television summarized it well just a few nights prior. These days, Arnaut watched news broadcasts as if it were a ritual, often doing so with a pen and pad that Lorraine politely ignored. USB’s evening news hour aired interviews with passersby on the streets of Nakawe as part of its programming. One elderly woman, prompted for an opinion on the crown prince, had furrowed her brow deep and hard. ‘Well, I think he is in for the most tragedy,’ she said finally. ‘People don’t change at forty. They just don’t. I lived long enough to know. You grow up right into who you are. So, what Uspana needs, he isn’t.’

Arnaut had been so immediately agitated by despair that he leapt from the couch and began to pace, talking aloud of how easy it would be to identify the woman, to find out where she lived, to go there with a box of sweets and get on his knees and beg her to change her mind. ‘Let me prove it to you,’ he would plead, holding her frail hands. Perhaps he would cling to her feet and even  pepper the crooked toes peeking from her sandals with supplicatory kisses. ‘Give me a few good years to show you that I’m different.’ That was how he would frame it, too. She was right that it was a fool’s errand to prove he could change. What he hoped—the hopes that were, almost daily, dashed to dust—was that someone different lurked under the surface, suffocated for too long but real enough to show his face if Arnaut somehow found a way.

That way was elusive, although Arnaut knew he would never find it if he capitulated so easily. Today’s meeting felt bungled already, but he pushed himself to see Leonor’s arrival as a reset, as a reinvigoration, rather than a performance of naturality that he could never possess. He struggled to believe in his heart that the ability to rule flowed through his veins as much as hers, but it was more compelling to remind himself that he had been trained for this, too. Had he been as serious about it as she had, that deceptive distance between them would be more of a trench than a canyon. What mattered now was exactly that: he was serious now and, if the unexplained absence meant anything, perhaps even more serious than she was. 

As the conversation turned to business, Guillen let out a sigh. “Fast-tracking legislation when there’s a passing is no way to run a government,” he explained, his tone light and wry even as he regarded them both with an earnest look of condolence. 

“We’d be doubling offshore drilling in memory of Mario Esparza,” Leonor quipped. The comment prompted a laugh from Guillen, who pointed at Leonor and nodded emphatically. 

Arnaut, meanwhile, sat bemused and wearing a vacant smile. The name didn’t ring a bell. He knew enough about the politics to understand why the policy idea was ridiculous, but he wasn’t privy to the personal backstory that gave it flavor in this context. Arnaut had once believed the capital to be a slow-paced, change-resistant bastion of tradition. The monarchy was sometimes accused of being arrested by its reverence for the old ways, and the legislative assembly had its own superficial but no less real way of doing things. People were the backbone of that. Perhaps naively, Arnaut had expected to find the same names in circulation a decade later. He hadn’t accounted for the turnover, but he also hadn’t accounted for how poorly acquainted with those people—with them, with their place in politics, with their connections to others, with the culture that glued them all together—he had been. It was difficult to insert himself now, knowing he had passed up the opportunity to belong as intuitively to this world as everyone around him did. 

Having noticed Arnaut’s expression, Guillen asked, “You remember Mario, right? You’ve met Paula?”

“His wife?” Arnaut, with the urgency of panic, responded.

Leonor snorted, and Guillen raised his brows before clarifying, “His daughter. She’s filling his seat until the provincial election is held, so I assumed—”

“Forgive my uncle,” Leonor said, casting a look his way. “He’s not in the know about any of this. Good thing it’s not his job to be, huh?”

It was clear Guillen wanted to chuckle, but he remained quiet with his lips quirked in a smile that Arnaut found somehow just as offensive. He looked away from the premier’s expression to regard Leonor with quizzical eyes. 

Apparently not finished, Leonor added, “You haven’t asked yet, but I’m going to assume Diago Tegridia has been talking to you. He’s never been a fan—especially not of the part about funding students’ studying abroad. My mother planned to massage him on it, but he won’t take any of my uncle’s calls, so—” 

Arnaut, growing nervous, laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t say that—”

“No? I suspect it’s because he offended him during a hallway chat,” Leonor said with a shrug. “Like with Paula? Similar misstep. If you don’t know who’s who and what’s what, that makes it hard to do business, doesn’t it?” 

“That’s not relevant, Leonor, is it?” Arnaut asked. From the corner of his eye, he saw Guillen sitting with the same amused, forbearing smirk on his face. “This meeting has nothing to do with Representative Tegridia, and definitely not a casual conversation we might’ve had.”

With an eyeroll, Leonor laughed, “There, see?”

Guillen nodded and offered Arnaut what was, it seemed, his best attempt at a placating smile. “I’ll admit,” he began, looking from Arnaut to Leonor, “Diago does have strong opinions, and I’ve been inclined to hear him out where he has expertise. But, alright, why don’t you walk me through the particulars again—to save time, just make the counterargument to his?” 

Leonor turned more fully to face Arnaut, her expression expectant. They stared at each other for a long moment while he assessed the challenging look in her eyes and what she wanted from him,. He remained all too aware that Guillen was staring and judging, too. More than a challenge, Arnaut saw mischief in her eyes. Leonor was unwilling to look away or say anything. The corners of her lips were curled—not altogether a smirk, perhaps something more predatory, as if she intended to bare her teeth instead of break into a smile. The more seconds passed, the more pleased she seemed. 

He turned back to Guillen with a sigh, concluding, “… I’ll let Leonor take the lead.”

TRANSCRIPT:

RENZO | Have I see you in blue? In person. LEONOR | Maybe once?

RENZO | It looks good. Black is better. Brown. White, whew. LEONOR | It’s for work. Work! I’m going to be late. Poor uncle.

RENZO | He’ll be alright? LEONOR | He’s a big boy. RENZO | Stick around a little longer? LEONOR | Nice try.

ARNAUT | She’ll be here in a minute.

GUILLEN | [Sighs] Fast-tracking legislation when there’s a passing is no way to run a government.

LEONOR | We’d be doubling offshore drilling in memory of Mario Esparza.

GUILLEN | You remember Mario, right? You’ve met Paula? ARNAUT | … His wife? [Leonor snorts] GUILLEN | His daughter. She’s filling his seat until the provincial election is held, so I assumed—

LEONOR | He’s not in the know about any of this. Good thing it’s not his job to be, huh?

LEONOR | You haven’t asked yet, but I’m going to assume Diago Tegridia has been talking to you. He’s never been a fan—especially not of the part about funding students’ studying abroad. My mother planned to massage him on it, but he won’t take any of my uncle’s calls, so— ARNAUT | Well, I wouldn’t say that—

LEONOR | No? I suspect it’s because he offended him during a hallway chat. Like with Paula? Similar misstep. If you don’t know who’s who and what’s what, that makes it hard to do business, doesn’t it? ARNAUT | That's not relevant, Leonor, is it?

ARNAUT | This meeting has nothing to do with Representative Tegridia, and definitely not a casual conversation we might’ve had. LEONOR | There, see?

GUILLEN | I'll admit, Diago does have strong opinions, and I’ve been inclined to hear him out where he has expertise. But, alright, why don’t you walk me through the particulars again—to save time, just make the counterargument to his?

ARNAUT | … I’ll let Leonor take the lead.

ARNAUT | Where are you going? We’re debriefing upstairs in five minutes. LEONOR | Clocking out early. ARNAUT | Did you let Central know? It’s a weekday. You can’t leave the premises without giving them notice. LEONOR | [Chuckles] No, you’re just not supposed to.

ARNAUT | You don’t think anyone will notice the … slacking off? Talk? LEONOR | What, are you going to tattle on me? ARNAUT | I don't have to. I’m just saying it’s a bad look. Trust me.

LEONOR | You should worry about yourself, uncle. Trust me.

[lacyscabinet]

i know it’s a little late for halloween fics but going to a party with nat and reader convinces her to dress up in matching costumes and reader drinks/smokes a little too much and they’re very affectionate towards nat <333

A/N: hey anon!! don't worry! 🤍🤍🤍 I was writing my book today and I got a sudden boost of energy so not only I wrote two and a half chapters but I also got a bit back into writing for our girl Nat! Hope you enjoy!!!

Also I decided to open my inbox for a q&a regarding my book! So if you see this you are highly encouraged to slide in my inbox and ask questions!! It's a nice way for me to interact with you guys, it gives me motivation and it's so much fun!!

Plus one of the little surprises I've been preparing from a while will be revealed on the 30th of November (that day is also my birthday HIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHI) soooo stay tuned !!!

NOT PROOFREAD !!!

MASTERLIST

Gif not mine:))))))

Dreamy

"Come on I know you like it"

"I don't, not even the tiniest bit"

"But you are so cute"

"I'm the devil I'm not supposed to be cute"

"Then you're hot"

"I'll give you that"

Getting ready for Jackie's party with Natalie was a rollercoaster, you practically had to beg her on your knees to wear matching costumes, and after a couple of corrupting kisses she finally gave up, slipping on the red dress you brought for her and placing the little devil horns on her head. You on the other hand wore a cute white dress with a halo headband and angel wings.

Angel and Devil.

Halloween parties, especially Jackie's were a big deal, everyone came and had fun, every corner filled with hormone raging teens.

Soon enough everyone was dancing around chugging down cheap alcohol and hitting a few joints.

Alcohol never bothered you much, you could handle some in your system, but after Natalie sat on the couch with her friends and pulled out the weed, the amazing idea of trying it popped up in your mind.

"Are you sure?"

"Yep" you nodded

"sure SURE?" she asked again

"yep" you smiled up at her

"Okay, hit it" she mumbled as she passed you the joint, letting you take a hit.

So there you were, not even fifteen minutes later, completely intoxicated and clinging to your girlfriend who was currently sitting on a couch with you on her lap, lazily kissing up her back and exposed shoulders

"I love you" you said in a tired and definitely not sober voice, Nat couldn't help but smile and stroke your hair lovingly "I love you too"

Later, when people started to leave, she asked you if you wanted anything to drink before going home, after all the drinks were free, and of course how could you say now?

That escalated to Natalie pouring cheap beer in solo cups while you wrapped your arms around her back from behind. If before she tried to keep her tough facade by not showing how much she enjoyed your attention, now you were alone in the kitchen, so she let a big smile crawl its way to her lips

"Weed makes you clingy?"

"I'm not-"

"You are" she smiled "And actually...I don't mind"

Grinning you kissed the nape of her neck and held her tighter.

Wasn't she just so dreamy?

A/n: this is probably really messy and disconnected😭😭😭 anywayyyy I hope you liked it :)

[leah-bobeea]

Magazine Girl; Steve Rogers

You ever start writing a fic about a journalist reader at two am who’s eventually gonna end up doing steeb, over his desk, biting down on his expensive leather belt?

❀ ❀ ❀

Warnings: CEO!Steve x Journalist!Reader, Angst, Steve’s a little mean, Bossy Steve, Shy/Anxious reader, Dom!steve, mentions spanking, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, coercion (a little teensy bit), Bad writing lol

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: Terrible writing w/ a terribly rushed ending. Written on my phone, in my notes app, not beta read, and barely proofread.

❀ ❀ ❀

Yes, your hands were busy. Not busy typing out a rough draft of this stupid article on Steve Rogers, not busy calling his secretary to set up a meeting with the man, or the closest to him you could get, not busy doing their job at all. They were busy tapping your pen against the glass tabletop of your desk, successfully annoying Wanda, who sent you an aggravated look from across the room.

“Seriously, Y/n?” Wanda moved from where she was at her desk, clearly not making a breakthrough on her article for this month's issue either. You could only shake your head in reply. Throwing your head back to stare at the ceiling, you starting explaining. “Maria gave me this huge article, Wanda. Cover! And, trust me, I know she’s testing me and doesn’t think I’ll actually be able to do it so she can fire me, or belittle me, or- or something! I don’t know what to do, help me, bestie.” As you finished rambling you looked up at her with your best puppy dog eyes, hoping for some of that amazing advice she gives.

Wanda laughed and pulled a chair over from an empty desk, sitting down and haphazardly throwing her feet on top of your cluttered tabletop. “She wouldn’t give you an article you couldn’t handle, she loves you, Y/n. If it’s truly as difficult as you’re making it out as that means that she knows you’re ready for it, and you’ll do amazing. Who’s it on anyway?”

She was doing such a good job at easing your nerves until she brought up the topic. You whined high in your throat and threw your head to the side before uttering, “Steven Rogers,” you turned your body back to Wanda, “What more do I need to say?” Her eyes widened just a little. “Sheesh...I’d start making phone calls, and praying, maybe?”

❀ ❀ ❀

“Hello, Miss. Carter, um- this is Y/n L/n with Shield Mag-“ “Please hold, dear.”

You pulled the phone away from your head and let it rest on your naked thigh, quickly pressing the speaker button. It was times like this when you were grateful that you let your grandma convince you to buy a house phone. Peggy Carter was the fifth person you’d contacted trying to get an interview with this man and she was the second lady that humored you enough to at least pretend like she’d get back to you.

She’s his main assistant so you might have better luck this time...

Thirty minutes later you had your head inches off the ground and your toes wiggling in the air. Humming the annoying hold music to yourself, you braided, unbraided, and re-braided a single strand of your hair. At thirty-nine minutes you were ready to give up until you heard a click on the other line.

You scrambled to turn off the speaker and press the phone back to your ear.

“Miss. Carter I was hoping to set up an interview with Mr. Rogers, over the phone, in person, or through email, if that’s possible?” You asked, hopeful that she wouldn’t shoot you down immediately like everyone else.

“Well, Magazine Girl, I only do in person. But I am a very busy man, so I need to know right away, what’s in it for me?” Your breath hitched and you almost fell and cracked your head open from how startled hearing his voice made you. Then, you nearly gave yourself a head rush from how fast you sat up.

“Well, um, Sir, you would get a headlining article, and uh, a cover on the June issue of Shield Magazine. That’s um, that’s if you want a cover- you don’t have to be on the cover if you don’t want to, just the interview would be mentioned on the cover, but-“ His chuckle was gritty and vivid, effective in stopping your babble. “I’ll see you Friday around noon. Goodbye Magazine Girl.” He hung up on you before you could even comprehend anything but that captivating laugh.

You rubbed at your eyes and grabbed your planner and pen. “Friday at noon...”

❀ ❀ ❀

The next day you were back in the office, sitting in Wanda’s stiff chair with twin caramel lattes sitting in front of you. That was the thing about you, you’d come to work early bearing gifts just to tell your closest friend your good news. You’re sweet like that.

When Wanda arrived it was fifteen minutes later and your latte was halfway gone. Hearing her black stilettos click on the glossy linoleum made you perk up immediately. As she approached, you stood, handing her the latte and wrapping your arms around her lithe body.

“I got an interview!” You squealed, rocking your bodies side to side. She stilled you and smiled. “Gosh, that’s great, Y/n. How’d you get it?”

“Well, I called, like everyone, and he picked up, Wanda! he picked up! I’m scheduled for Friday, and my Lord, Wanda, his laugh, it's like honey...” You trailed off, sighing at the thought of him. Your head was rested on her shoulder, a faint smile on your face. “You’ve got a crush on him!” Wanda exclaimed, grabbing your shoulders and holding you an arm's length away to get a good look at your bashful face.

You gasped, “No I do not! That would be totally unprofessional!” The cackle that erupted from her made her sound like the wicked witch of the west. And honestly, under her stare, you felt like Dorothy stuck under that house.

When Wanda was finally done laughing maliciously she let you go, plopping down in her desk chair and sipping her latte. She pointed over and your desk and gave you a look. “Better start drafting those questions... we wouldn’t want you to blank on your crush.” “Wanda!”

❀ ❀ ❀

The days leading up to Friday were excruciatingly long, yet the hours until twelve flew past all too quickly.

It seemed as if your wardrobe was never ending, full of clothes that you deemed inappropriate for a meeting with the CEO of American Enterprises. You threw yourself back onto the bed, hair and makeup done but body still wrapped in a fluffy white towel. “Oh Milky, what am I gonna wear?” The soft white kitty glared at you from the pillow she was perched on, meowing at you aggressively.

Ten thirty blinked on the clock and you sat up, glancing at all of the clothes that were scattered on the floor. “I guess this will do.” You picked up the same emerald blazer you had chosen originally and layered it over some basic Levi’s, and gray low cut blouse flowing over your form. A belt was necessary, so you grazed over your options. Brown wouldn’t go, even though it was your only fancy belt. The only black one you had was old, the leather cracked and worn, but it had to do. You slipped on some pretty black heels, lucky that you painted your toes a similar color to your blouse. After accessorizing you sprayed your signature perfume, the one that got you your first college-aged boyfriend, and the same one that you were wearing when you got your first real job.

By the time you were on the Metro, it was eleven o’ six, and you were worried. If you were late you’d lose this chance, and probably your job. The car stopped around eleven fifteen, giving you fifteen minutes to make your way to the building, check-in, and try to not seem so nervous.

Finding the building wasn’t difficult at all, after all, it is the second biggest building in New York City, competing with Stark Tower. The “A” at the top wasn’t illuminated, but it still stood out against the other buildings, cowering over them.

You found that the doors were heavy and if you denied Wanda of going to those burn boot camps you would have extreme difficulty prying them open. The inside was classy, just as you expected. The lamps had blue shades and the front desk lit up with a design that resembled the American Flag, but with less curved stripes and only one large star.

The receptionist was one of the women who shot you down immediately when you called and was a little surprised when you checked in. “Hello, I’m here for Mr. Rogers, twelve o’clock?” She searched for something on her computer, clearly trying to see if the appointment was legitimate. When you were proven correct, she handed you a temporary security badge and a sharpie to write your name on it. “Have a seat over there when you’re finished. I’ll call for you when Mr. Rogers is ready for you.” She smiled, it was fake, but it helped you feel more comfortable.

The red couch was stiff and small, clearly not meant for long periods of sitting. The badge was clipped onto your blouse, not your blazer, and the weight of it was pulling at the already low cut neckline. You thought about moving it, but your attention was quickly turned to the coffee table, where your magazine sat, opened to an article you wrote. Your hands were a little shaky as you went to close the magazine, but you were interrupted before you could grasp the bent pages.

“Miss. Y/n? Mr. Rogers is ready for your interview. Head up to floor thirty six, the door on the right.” Miss receptionist sounded bored, her eyes never left the monitor in front of her. “Thanks.”

Some of the others in the waiting area looked up to you after hearing where you were going, causing you to blush.

You felt lucky to get the elevator to yourself. Thirty-six floors is a long way to go, yet you got there in under three. In the elevator you adjusted your outfit and flattened your hair, hoping it wasn’t frizzy.

The door on the right was clearly not just a meeting room but an office, which you thought was odd. You also found it odd that no one was in the room, you expected to at least be met with his assistant or secretary, if not Steve himself.

Your eyes scanned the room to make sure it was completely empty before taking a seat on the leather chair on the opposite side of the big desk. You opened your notebook and got out your lucky rooster pen before going over your questions once again, hoping he didn’t think they were stupid.

You waited fifteen minutes for him, growing increasingly irked as the minutes built up. When he walked through the door you felt like your heart stopped.

Six-four build covered in a black suit and tie, white undershirt pristine. Blonde hair disheveled and a perfectly manicured beard. The door slammed shut and you heard the clinking sound of a glass being set down. Steve lifted his head and you snapped yours to the front, hoping he didn’t catch you checking him out.

The room was silent besides a rustling coming from behind you. You busied yourself with your notebook, highlighting the questions you wanted to ask most.

“You’re a very patient girl.” He observed. Steve made you wait on purpose. He knew from the first person you called that you wanted an interview, he was friends with Maria Hill after all. But he wanted some entertainment, and after looking into you, he knew you were the right girl. So far he’s made you wait an hour and fourteen minutes for just a smidge of his attention.

“Yes, Sir.” You mumbled, accidentally stopping the highlighter too soon, pressing it down, and letting the pink ink bleed to the next page. He hummed in approval as he rounded the corner, drink in his hand, coat jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, first couple buttons loose. Finally, Steve sat in the big chair, keeping eye contact with you as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the mahogany table.

“Give me that.” Your eyebrows furrowed at his statement, “What?” You asked, putting your pen down on your lap. Steve motioned for your notebook, and you opened your mouth, starting to stumble over your words. “Oh? um- Okay?” You handed it over to him and he relaxed back into his chair. A question bubbled in your throat, but you didn’t let it escape. Instead, you watched as his eyes scanned the papers, blue cursive, and pink highlighter, little stars and flowers drawn in the corners. “Mr. Rogers, are you ready to start the interview?” You tapped your watch, twelve twenty four.

He nodded, “Yes, I’m ready.” You cleared your throat and went to ask for your notebook, but he beat you to it. “Miss. L/n, is there an achievement or something that you’ve contributed to me that you are most proud of?” Why was he asking you your own questions? “Sir, I-“ He cut you off once again. “Answer the question, doll.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “I- um, no. I haven’t contributed anything to you that I should be proud of, Sir.”

“Is there a particular moment or memory of building this relationship that stands out to you?” He continued with the questions, tilting his head to the side. Why was he twisting the questions onto you? When you didn’t come up with an answer he chuckled, sounding sickly sweet like molasses dripping straight from the sugarcane. “Patience finally wearing thin, honey?” You nodded eyes staring at his chest, you couldn’t quite muster up the courage to look him in the eye.

He snapped your notebook closed and slid it towards your side of the grand desk. “You couldn’t answer my questions correctly, Y/n.” You nodded, eyes now downcast, admiring the pattern on the blue carpet. You felt like you were going to cry. This big scary man was mean and just wouldn’t let you conduct your interview and you didn’t know why. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“I know you are, doll. But, if you can’t answer my questions how can I answer yours? You have nothing to offer me.” This was it, you were losing your chance. “Business wise, that is.” Your head shook, and your hands were clasped together, your left thumb rubbing your right nail back and forth. “I don’t understand, Sir.”

“I’m friends with Maria, Y/n. If you’re able to get this article done and get me on the cover you’re gonna get a promotion, you want that, right doll?” Your eyes went wide, “Yes, Sir.” Now, he stood, coming around to the front where you are and leaning against the desk. “She said to make it difficult, but I don’t care enough to do all that. So, doll, I’ll answer your questions. They’re quite good actually. And I’ll do a little photoshoot for the cover, but you’ll need to pay me back.” You gulped, hands suddenly sweaty, you felt like a little chihuahua, trembling under his gaze.

“How? Um, how do I pay you?” Gosh, even your voice was shaky. “Stand up. Lose the blazer.” Steve commanded, slowly unbuckling his belt. You could faintly tell from the buckle that it was Hermès. You stood and took off your blazer in a rush, folding it poorly and setting it on the arm of the chair. “Atta girl.”

He placed his hands on your shoulders and then ran them down to your hands, giving them a little squeeze before he hooked his index fingers into your belt loops, pulling you closer. So close that the tips of your shoes were touching. He leaned down to kiss your neck and you stiffened, but when he grazed his teeth over the bruised spot he just created you melted into him, your hands grasping at the pristine white button up, letting out a little whimper.

Steve pushed you back a little and took in your form, then he pulled the little security badge off, tossing it to the side. Like a little kid, he pulled at the neckline of your shirt. “Off.” You would’ve giggled at him if he didn’t look so scary right now. His blue eyes were piercing into yours, left hand so tight on your hip you thought he might leave bruises.

By the time your shirt hit the floor, he was pushing at your shoulders, hinting at you to go to your knees. “Sir, I don’t know-“

You started, knees hitting the carpet underneath you. He shushed you and guided your head to look up at him. “It's okay, baby, you don’t have to know how. I’ll do all the work, doll. Now, undo your bra.” As expected you did as he asked immediately, fumbling with the clasp until it fell down your arms. It ended up next to your thigh as you watched him pull his belt through the loops.

Steve walked around you and kneeled down, belt in his hands. “Put your hands behind your back.” You nodded immediately, so submissive, completely at his mercy. “Yes, Sir.” Steve loved how polite you were. He made quick work of restraining you, tying your hands to rest against your jean clad ass. The metal felt harsh against your skin and the soft, expensive leather snaked up your arms.

When he was back in front of you he sighed and shook his head. “I should’ve had you unzip me first.” Hearing Steve say that finally brought you to the reality of what was about to happen. You watched with big eyes as he undid the button and then the zipper, the sound making you tremble. His dress pants puddled on the floor and you were in awe as he massaged his bulge through his boxers. Slowly, he pulled them down to the middle of his thighs. His cock bounced up to hit his abdomen and he hissed as he stroked it a few times. “Open as wide as you can, honey.”

As always, you did as asked. Your tongue stuck out a little, wetting your bottom lip. He grasped the back of your head and leaned you forward a little, then you felt his blunt tip on your tongue. You gagged and spluttered when Steve was about halfway seated, he pulled out and leaned down, kissing you sloppily. “Breathe through your nose, baby. Don’t forget.” Then he was back at slowly entering your throat. “Fuck...” he grunted, finally fully seated in your throat, your nose pressed against his nicely groomed pubic hair. He caressed your throat then, rubbing the bulge in your throat, resisting the urge to press down and have you choke on his cock even more. “So good, Y/n.”

Steve started rocking into your throat, slowly fucking it as spit leaked from the corners of your mouth. After minutes of abusing your throat, he finally pulled out, adoring the way tears ran down your cheeks and how you hiccupped, wanting to desperately rub at your raw throat to soothe it. Your hands pulled at the belt and your eyes begged Steve to undo it. “Up, doll.”

He hoisted you up from your armpits and bent you over the desk. Steve pressed kisses down your back and reached in front of you, unbuckling your belt and throwing it somewhere to the left of you, then he unbuttoned and unzipped your pants, tugging them down with fervor.

Steve undid your restraints and left more kisses down your back until he reached your ass, spreading your cheeks to reveal your tight hole and glistening cunt. “I’d love to see this ass all bruised and red, but I’ll have to save that for another day.” His index and middle finger ran circles on your clit, your back arching to press into him more. “Sir, please!” You gasped, your hand flying out to the edge of the table and nearly knocking over the glass of whiskey he left on a coaster when Steve finally pushed two fingers into your aching hole.

“Gotta open you up first, doll, get you all sloppy and ready for my cock.” You cried out as he hooked his fingers, rubbing the magic spot inside of you. “Please, Steve, please.” He cooed at you, pulling his fingers out, and instead traced his name over your clit. “You gonna come, baby? Huh? You gonna drench my fingers, little girl?” You were moaning in wanton, hips humping his hand desperately. He brought his other hand down and started fingerfucking you again, giving you just enough to push you over the edge.

Your moans were breathy, your legs twitching, and you were panting by the time your orgasm faded. “I hope you know I’m not done with you yet, doll, I still haven’t come inside you.” That made you whine high in your throat and you tried, to no avail, to slam your legs shut around his hand.

Steve’s right hand fisted his cock a few times, making sure he’s rock hard and dripping with pre-cum, while his left kept your lips spread, showing him your gorgeous pussy. The blunt head at your entrance shocked you, and you yelped at the intrusion. “Sir!”

He leaned his head down and spit where you were joined, trying to make the glide even easier. “Shut up, doll.” He snapped after you cried out. Once he was as deep as possible inside of you he reached for his belt, looping it over as if he was going to spank you, and stuffed it into your mouth. “Bite down,” Steve demanded, a hand snaked around to the front of your neck where he was applying light pressure.

When you tried to push back against him he held your hips down against the wood steadily and started snapping his hips at a fast speed. Each thrust pushed you down onto the table, letting your clit rub against the mahogany wood.

Your vision felt spacey like you could black out any moment as he choked you. Your orgasm washed over you and you had to use all the strength you had in you to keep biting down on the belt. You didn’t want to know what would happen if you disobeyed his and let it go. Steve’s hips harshly snapped against your ass a few more times before he stilled inside of you, filling you with his spunk.

Before Steve cleaned you up and let you leave his office he had to finger his cum back inside of you, making sure none of it went to waste. Then, he made sure you had a way home, and a way to contact him, because, “Now you’re no longer Magazine Girl, but My Girl.”

@lo-bells

[believinghurts]

Their Daughter Pt 3

Warning: Arguing, insecurities, crying

A/N: I am planning on this being about six parts, but I’m not sure yet. Leave me some feed back! This also hasn’t been proofread so I apologize for that! Please don’t post my work anywhere else. 

The rest of the night before Ali left for Malfoy Manor passed slowly. She wrote her reply telling her aunt that she would be at Andromedas before she came to the Manor. Ali could hear the others moving around the house below her, but chose to stay in her room. After hearing her own father call her a snake she didn’t want to be at risk of getting called it again by him or anyone else. It was something she was used to at school, and often ignored, but hearing it from her own father hurt more than the others. She wasn’t a snake and just because she spent time with Slytherins it didn’t make her a bad person. She found it ironic that people in other houses say things about house unity and having friends from other houses, but none of them ever showed Slytherins much kindness apart from a few Hufflepuff's. Slytherins were misunderstood a lot and being sarcastic and rude was a defense mechanism for most of them was what Ali had learned from her time spent with them. Draco, for example, just wanted his father to be proud of him, while Daphne wanted to be seen as more than just her face and body. Everyone of the Slytherins has some sort of problem, they all realize this and that’s what makes them such good friends with one another. 

Ali shut her trunk lid before sitting on top of it blowing a piece of her dark hair from her face. She had packed a few things to take with her, though she already had quite a lot at the manor in her room. Draco told her to bring a swimsuit and leave the books in his letter, so she packed both. It had taken about an hour to pack everything she needed, so seeing as it was getting dark outside she looked at the clock. It was 6:00 meaning that it was almost time for dinner. She changed into a pair of black leggings before throwing a jumper on that somehow ended up being Blaise’s Quidditch jumper; it was always cold in the house even in the middle of summer. Shrugging she looked at her appearance in the mirror, she fixed her hair into a braid going down the side of her head before letting the growling of her stomach lead her downstairs. 

She noticed that all the noise seemed to be coming from the dining room so her plan of grabbing cookies and leaving was busted. From the sounds it seemed as though everyone was in there, but Regulus was so quiet she wasn’t sure if he was or not. Pausing she sent up a quick prayer hoping that Regulus, Remus or both would be in there. Conversations seemed to pause when she walked through the threshold. Sirius was talking with Harry and Ron, Molly was sitting with her husband and oldest two, Hermione and Ginny were looking at a book, Remus sat near Sirius looking thoughtful, while Regulus had his back to her talking with someone. He noticed some of the chatter had died down, he turned to see Ali and gave her a view of the person in front of him. 

Everyone’s mouths dropped when Ali took off faster than a snitch towards her Uncle Severus. She jumped on him, hugging him while he smiled at Regulus hugging his only niece back. “When did you get here? Why didn’t you come see me?” Ali pouted at her Uncle which caused him to shake his head, chuckling at her antics. 

“Regulus said you were probably packing for tomorrow and I did not want to interrupt. And as for when I got here it was about fifteen minutes or so,” He kissed her head before letting her step back. Severus bit back another smile when he noticed all his students and former students staring at him and his niece. “Isn’t there something else you could be looking at?” Directing his icy glare to Granger, Potter, and the youngest two Weasleys. Their heads whip down except Harry’s whose eyes went back and forth between Severus and Ali. Severus knew of the words Potter often said about Ali and the others in his house. Assuming that he was just going to keep staring at the two Severus turned his attention back to Regulus and Ali. “When do you leave for the manor?” 

Ali found it funny that her uncle had set the others in place, but she a;so got why they were looking. Severus was a private person; he wasn’t one for talking a lot or physical touch. Ali had only ever seen him hug one person and that was her. To everyone else he was a cold, rude Potions teacher, but to Ali he was her Uncle that brought her books, taught her Potions, and made the best tea in the world. She felt her fathers eyes on the back of her head, but pointedly chose to ignore him. “I leave tomorrow when Uncle Rem does.” 

“I still do not understand why you insist on going over there. They are not good company Alianova. Are you going to become like them? Become a Death Eater like Lucius and his son are? You were raised by one so it wouldn’t be a surprise,” Sirius sneered at his daughter. The look of disgust in his eyes hurt her more than the words. Ali knew that before Lucius was a Death Eater much like Regulus and Severus. But she also knew that they weren’t those people maymoer. Each of those men had decided that family was more important. It had taken a lot for Lucius to see that his ways were wrong, but the thought of harm coming to Draco, Narcissa or even Ali made him see differently. 

Ali’s blood boiled when sirius talked about her family like that. He didn’t have to like them, but she loved them and they loved her. He wasn’t there for her; they were. “They aren’t Death Eaters.” She stated firmly. 

“Aren’t Death Eaters? Are you draft? Draco may not be right now, but I know Lucius would never give up his ways. It’s only a matter of time before Draco is one as well. How old were you Regulus when you got the mark? Seventeen? Draco is almost there. Harry told me what he’s like in school, and what you're like. Stuck up, and prejudice just like the others. It’s honestly no wonder Harry doesn’t like you. Typical Black fashion to only hang out with Purebloods. You're going to end up just like Bellatrix I guarantee it if you stay hanging out with the Malfoys.”

“That is enough,” Regulus stepped in front of Ali. Everyone's eye bouncing between Ali, Regulus and Sirius. Ali felt tears brim in her eyes, and her breathing become heavier. Anger and hurt ran through her veins, battling one another. Sweat started to gather on her palms as she noticed the looks of pity coming from Molly, and Arthur after the shock of what Sirius had said wore off. Molly ushered everyone out of the room, Harry went reluctantly, beside Sirius, Remus, Severus, and Ali sensing that this was a private family matter. Remus stood, crossing the room to take Ali into his arms. She let out a shuddering breath before turning her attention back to Sirius and Regulus. “She has done absolutely nothing wrong to you or anyone for that matter. And you call her draft? Look in the mirror Sirius. She is your child for Godric's sake! Not Harry Potter. Ali is a good girl; she gets good grades, has manners, and above all she doesn’t care what peoples blood status is. You’re calling her prejudice? She is the least prejudiced person in this whole house. You have no say in anything that she does. None. You left her not just once, but twice. You can say that you didn’t know she was there all you want, but you know that anyone that had her wouldn’t have sent her anywhere else. You chose Harry Potter over her TWICE. And you never picked up the pieces; we did. Myself, Remus, Severus, Narcissa, Lucius, Ted, and Andromeda were all there for her when she was growing up. Remus taught her to read, Severus taught her how to make small potions on a potions kit, Cissa and Andy taught her took her shopping for girly clothes, Lucius taught her to ride a broom with Draco, and Ted took her to the candy shop everytime she got a good grade in school. What did you do? Nothing. If she wants to go and spend time with the people that helped raise her she can. You can’t blame her for how you're acting towards her. It’s like she doesn't even exist when Potter is around.” Regulus took a breath, turning to look at Ali who had tears running down her cheeks. His heart broke for his sweet little girl who deserved the world not this mess of a family. He pulled her to his chest, one hand stroking her hair the other tight around her back, rocking slightly to ease the sobs she was letting out. 

“That is not true. That is my daughter I love her,” Sirius started but was quickly interrupted by Remus. 

“You may love her sirius, but you don’t show it very well. Do you see what you've done? I love you Sirius, but this is wrong. Harry is your godchild, but she is your child. I think it’s best if you leave her alone for a bit,” Remus crouched down to be eye level with Ali, “Are you packed? I think it’ll be best if you go ahead and stay at Andy’s tonight.” 

Ali nodded her head before pressing a kiss to Regulus cheek whispering a love you and see you soon then doing the same to Severus who had Accio’d her trunk down the stairs. She wrapped her arm through Remus's, not even sparing a glance at the man who had caused her more pain the last couple of hours then in her whole life. Ali wanted her dad to love her like he loved Harry. She understood that she wasn’t a Gryffindor like him, but did that really make her so terrible? When she was little she had heard the stories of her father through her uncles, aunts, and a few teachers. She always thought that he was the coolest person to ever walk the corridors of Hogwarts. Often she would fanize what her life could have been like if James and Lily hadn’t died, her dad wasn’t in Azkaban, and her dad and Regulus got along. Would she be equal to Harry then? Would her dad still have favored Harry over her because she was a girl and a Ravenclaw? Those thoughts came to mind more times than she could count in the last couple weeks. 

She felt the tug of apparition in her belly for a few seconds before she landed on the Tonks’s doorstep. She felt the protection wards give easily around her as Remus gave her a one sided hug, kissing her head as she wiped her cheeks. Ali knew that once Remus knocked her Aunt Andy saw the state she was in with her puffy, red eyes, lounge clothes, and the fact that she was a day early Merlin wouldn’t be able to stop her from ripping Sirius into pieces. Remus waited till Ali nodded at him before knocking, he knew that someone would be home whether it was Andromeda, Ted, or Nymphadora. He silently hoped for the later two, but hope wasn’t on his side when Andromeda Tonks opened the door with her look of surprise turning into rage as she looked at Ali. Andy grabbed her nieces hand pulling her inside with Remus following before wrapping Ali in a hug that a mother would give her distraught child. Andromeda looked at Remus over Ali’s shoulder silently asking what had happened to which Remus mouthed out Sirius’s name. Andromeda was afraid of this when Sirius came back into their lives. She loved her cousin with all that was in her, but he was not good with priorities often not being able to sort them out even as children. Ali gripped tight at her aunt's waist knowing that she was finally going to be able to breath without having someone say something about it. 

Noise coming from the stairs caused Ali to look up. Nymphadora came bounding down only to stop when she saw her baby cousin's teary face and Remus gloomy look. She walked over to Remus standing on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek which made him blush and Ali giggle a little bit before wrapping her arm around Ali’s shoulders. “What’s up, pipsqueak?” 

Ali leaned her head onto Nymphadora’s shoulder taking in the smell of her lavender shampoo. “Not much. Mind some company for the night?” Ali was comfortable around Dora, they were like the sister neither of them got to have. Although Dora was seven years older than her, they were closer than just cousins. “Mind your company? Never. More like Dad and Mum should mind cause we are going to party it up!” Dora stated changing her hair to rainbow before poking Ali’s side to make her laugh. She knew her cousin well so she knew that they didn’t need to talk about whatever happened to make her cry. She would talk about it with who she felt fit and when she felt fit to do it. Dora knew that Remus and her mum as well as the others would take care of the issue, so all she had to worry about was making her baby cousin happy again. 

“Well I should get back home. Mainly to make sure that Regulus doesn’t murder Sirius, but if he did I wouldn’t mind too much right now,” Remus said walking to the two girls, kissing Ali’s head and Dora’s lips quickly. “Don’t cause too much trouble you two.” Remus loved the relationship that Ali had with Dora. It was often like watching his girlfriend and daughter together. Some said it was weird to be dating someone who was closer to your child's age then yours but he had learned to care a little less about people's opinions as time went on. He loved Dora and that wasn’t going to change and seeing her with Ali only made that love stronger.  Alianova was his daughter in every way, but blood. Remus gave Andromeda a nod before apparating back home in hopes that he wouldn’t have to hide a dead body. 

Once Remus left Dora guided Ali into the kitchen where Ted was cooking dinner still. “Hello darling, we weren’t expecting you till tomorrow.” He stepped away from the stove to give her a hug before the two girls hopped up onto the kitchen island while Andromeda leaned against the counter by her husband. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry about just showing up a day early. It was...just getting too much at home with everyone there and stuff..” Ali missed the way all the Tonks’s looked at each other since she was staring at the wringing fingers in her lap. 

“What happened, Nova?” Dora placed a hand on hers calming her fingers down. 

“Just Sirius got mad because I’m staying with Cissa for a week. He started saying some really mean things about them as well as said that I was going to become just like Bellatrix since I hung out with Death Eaters,” Ali sighed looking at Andromeda with tears in her eyes. “I just want him to love me. I don’t know why he can’t. I- I try so hard to make everyone proud of me, but he just hates me. What does Harry have that I don’t?” 

Dora wrapped her cousin up in a hug while Andromeda took her other side, “We are all so proud of you, sweetheart. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. Sirius has always had his judgement clouded, especially when it comes to the Potters. You are so loved by so many people, don’t you ever forget that,” Her aunt whispered in her ear, kissing her cheek. Ali’s shoulders felt a little lighter that the thought of nothing being wrong with her, but with Sirius. 

“If he doesn’t quit being a tosser, I’ll hex him with the Boogie Bat Hex. We’ll see how he likes that.” Dora naturally had to make everyone laugh to ease the tension. 

Ted handed out a plates of spaghetti and everyone settled around the kitchen not even bothering to move to the dining room. Laughter filled the room as Nymphadora recalled a story about Mad Eye from a mission the other day. As darkness filled the sky everyone sat about the living room watching a Disney movie that Dora picked out. Ted and Andromeda sat on the couch cuddled up together while Ali and Dora shared the floor in front of them. Looking at her Aunt, Uncle and cousin, Ali couldn’t help but smile feeling content for a little while even if she missed her Uncle Regulus dearly the next couple of weeks. 

The following day….. 

It was late when Ali woke up. They had stayed up late the night before watching movies till Ted and Andromeda went to bed while her and Dora stayed up later talking. She felt the excitement coursing through her veins at the thought of seeing her other family that day. Knowing that Andromeda would be up soon to tell her about breakfast, Ali decided to write to Regulus before getting dressed. Grabbing parchment and a quill off the desk she settled in the window still and began.

Dear Uncle Reg, 

I hope everything is going better at home today then it was when I was there. I’m kinda sad we didn’t get to have a decent goodbye before I left. I’ll miss you the next week or so that I’m gone and I hope when I get back we can finish the movie series we were watching. Honestly you are a total Jedi, even if you say you aren’t. I leave for the Manor today so when you write back make sure to send it there. Oh, and can you feed Athena for me? I think I left my window open, but I’m not sure so sorry! Try not to murder anyone while I’m gone, and maybe come visit for a day or so just to get away from your brother. Hug Kreacher for me! 

Love your favorite niece, 

Al 

By the time she was done her Aunt was knocking on the door. “Good morning, darling. Breakfast is ready when you are.” Andy gave her niece a kiss on the head before straightening her bed, a habit she hoped to instil in the girls but it never took. “Dora already left with Remus, but they both said to tell you that they loved you and Dora said to not take any of her clothes when you leave, but if you do I won’t tell a soul.” Andromeda winked at her. 

“Okay, I’ll be down in a few minutes just let me get dressed.” Ali opened her trunk while Andromeda gave her some privacy. She dug through it to find a decent outfit knowing full and well that when she got to the Manor she would be going out with Cissa. She settled on a black and white plaid skirt with tights, white combat boots, and a black and blue Ravenclaw Quidditch tee that she had rolled the sleeves on. Throwing her hair in a messy half updo similar to Narcissa’s, she went down stairs. 

Her uncle had made pancakes and bacon for breakfast and she quickly settled in eating her weight in food before bidding goodbye to Andromeda and Ted using the Floo network to take her to the Manor. She didn’t use the Floo often since Grimmauld Place wasn’t set up for it per Moody’s request. Sputtering out a cough, Ali dusted off her clothes before she was wrapped up in the familiar rose scent perfume that Cissa wore. “Oh you're here! I have missed you so much darling.” 

Ali wrapped her arms around her aunt burying her face in her shoulder. Ali was closer to Narcissa then she was Andromeda. She loved her aunts equally, but since her and Draco were so close in age they spent a lot of time at each other's house. Narcissa had looked at Ali as a surrogate daughter whereas Andromeda had a daughter. Narcissa provided the motherly nurture that she needed in her life. “Okay, mother. Let her breath and give us a turn.” 

Ali could literally hear the eye roll in Draco's voice. Narcissa let her go, but not before cupping her face looking at her intensely. Narcissa was incredibly good at reading people and this was something she had done to Draco, Ali, and Dora since they were little to make sure they were okay. From the small frown on her face Ali knew that Cissa knew she was hurt. Cissa also knew they would talk about it later. Draco hugged Ali before spinning her around making her laugh. It was their ritual after a Slytherin won a Qudditch game and it extended to when they hadn’t seen each other in a while. Lastly Ali walked over to her Uncle who was looking at her outfit choice. She knew the words were bound to come out of his mouth in a couple of seconds much like they would Regulus’s if he saw what she had on. “Your skirt is too short Ali,” Lucius hugged his niece before raising an eyebrow at her. 

“Oh, Lucius, stop. It isn’t too short. She’s fine.” Narcissa grabbed her hand before calling their house elf to take Ali’s stuff to her room. “We were wanting to go to Diagon Alley, are you up for it? Lucius needs to get a few things, and we could get you and Draco some school things. But you would rather stay home. I'm sure Draco would keep you company.” 

“Please say you want to stay home,” Draco practically begged looking at his cousin. 

Ali’s smile held nothing by mischief as she looked between Draco and Cissa. She shot a wink at Draco, “I think I want to go. I haven’t been in ages.” Draco let out a huff which led him to receive a Narcissa scowl. 

“Wonderful!,” Narcissa ushered Draco and Ali to the fireplace, Draco grabbed some Floo powder before grabbing Ali’s hand, “Diagon Alley.” 

The pair were quickly followed by the elder Malfoys. Ali knew she needed to get a few books for the new school year so she dragged Draco with her to Flourish and Blotts, while Draco's family spoke with a wizard outside. The potions books were located in the back of the store, Draco started at one end while Ali at the other looking for their sixth year books. Giggles filled the aisle as Draco kept making jokes about the authors names, the two were so engrossed in their book hunting that they didn’t notice the three people standing next to them with amused looks. Ali had bent down to grab a book she would need for Arithmancy as she stood back up she felt a breath on the back of her neck, she quickly turned and nearly screamed when a face was only a few inches away from hers. “Boo!” 

Pansy, Blaise, and Draco were doubled over in laughter at the look on Ali’s face while Theo gave her an apologetic smile, “I cannot believe you just did that!” 

“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m really not,” Theo hugged Ali before stepping aside to speak with Draco. Ali was nearly knocked to the ground with the force of Pansy's hug. 

“Oh Merlin, I have missed you so much, Al. Honestly we cannot go this long without seeing each other anymore.” Pansy wrapped her arms around Ali’s shoulders while Ali went around her waist. Pansy and Ali became friends quickly on the Hogwarts express first year. They had sworn to each other that they would stay friends no matter the houses they got, luckily they both got houses that didn’t rival one another too much so they shared a dorm together more often than not with three other girls, but was only close with Daphne. Snape being the Head of Slytherin house Ali didn’t have to worry about getting into too much trouble if she was caught in the Slytherin girls dorms. Most people saw Pansy and thought she was a stuck up, rude princess, but Ali knew that she was really insecure and used sarcasm to hide it. Pansy was her best friend besides Draco and normally the two would have been at each other's houses over the summer, but with Sirius being out that couldn’t happen. The two were a perfect pair; where Ali was quiet, Pansy was loud, where Ali was the brains of the operations, Pansy was the executor. “I missed you, too. I am so sorry that I couldn’t hang out this summer. We had some family stuff going on.” 

Although the Weasley, Hermione, Harry and her family coud know of Sirius’s whereabouts no one else could until he was proven innocent. With Pettigrew being gone the likelihood of that happening right now was slim. Ali was just grateful that Draco knew so she could at least have someone to talk about it with. “Alright, alright, some of us would like to say hello too, Parkinson.” 

Pansy’s eyes portrayed a look that Ali would have to question her on later. Blaise was Ali’s other really close friend. He was quiet except when he was around his group, but even then he preferred to observe then join. Ali had always found him attractive, but she also knew he would never find her attractive when there were many more prettier girls than her. Blaise kissed her cheek before giving her a hug, “How has your summer been, Supernova?” 

Supernova had been the nickname he had given Ali upon first meeting her. He loved Astronomy, and said it just fit her. “It’s been good. Read a few books, spent some time with my Uncles. How was yours?” 

“Mother got married, again. So we are now onto husband number nine. What books did you read? I had been meaning to write to you, but mother had me busy with all the wedding stuff.” Blaise grabbed the book from her hand after turning it over and checking it out he tucked it in his arm. He was always the gentleman, carrying her bag, opening doors, pulling out chairs for her. She assumed it was instilled into him by his mother since Draco often did the same for Pansy. 

“Snape got me a Muggle set of books I had been wanting so I’m halfway done with those, and I read a few books on dragons. Ya know boring stuff. How’d the wedding go? Do you like him?” Ali twisted the gold ring on her finger causing it to catch Blaise's attention. 

“Not boring at all. If you still have the dragon books can I borrow them? You usually pick really good ones and I'll need all the knowledge I can to compete with you on scores.” He grabbed Ali’s ringed hand, inspecting it before letting it fall back down to her side. “That’s a nice ring, where’d you get it?” 

The ring in question was dainty with a gold band and light green gem surrounded by littler stones. “Oh, my Uncle Reg got it for me when school ended. Said it was for getting such good scores on my OWLs. I think he just thought it was pretty, but needed a reason to get it for me.” 

“Oi! Lovebirds, let's go check out these books so we can get on with our lives. I’m dying from watching that lovely scene you put on for us,” Theo said laughing while Draco smirked at his cousin. He knew that Ali had a crush on Blaise and that Blaise had a crush on Ali, but both would not admit to one another. 

“Oh shut it, Nott. You’re just jealous she likes me more.” Blaise sent her a wink before walking towards the front of the store with Draco. Ali knew he would be paying for her books and that he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Theo was distracted talking to Pansy so Ali decided to have a little payback for the teasing he just did. She pulled her skirt down a little to make it a little longer, before jumping up onto Theos back. Theo, having noticed that Ali was going to do just that, caught her around her knees helping her get settled before walking out of the shop. Pansy talked about her summer so far, stating that she would rather be back at Hogwarts then sitting at home doing nothing. Blaise raised an eyebrow at Ali's position before shaking his head at his friend's antics. 

“Ya know being up this high is super weird,” Ali’s comment caused all her friends to laugh. 

“That’s because you are super small,” Draco replied with an eye roll. Ali was the shortest out of the friend group by an inch or so and they never let her live it down. Outside the shop Narcissa and Lucius were talking with Theodore's father and Pansy's mother. 

“Find what you were looking for?” Lucius asked when they reached the parents. “Yes, father, we did as well as a few strays to bring with us.” 

The comment earned giggles and chuckles from the parents and Ali while Blaise whacked the top of Draco's head and Theo pretended to let Ali slip making her squeal in response and hop down off his back. “Draco don’t you need new Quidditch gloves?” 

Pansy and Ali shared a look while rolling their eyes. All three boys were members of the Quidditch team and while Pansy and Ali enjoyed watching them play, it was tiring hearing them talk about it constantly. The boys looked at each other nodding before Blaise and Draco grabbed Ali and Pansy's hands pulling them to the shop. Before they got out of range Ali stopped and looked back at Narcissa, “We are going to get ice cream after this if that’s okay?” 

“That’s fine darling. Lucius and I will go and get your robes, then head back to the Manor. Bring your friends along with you home. We are all having dinner together tonight. And make sure the boys pay for the ice cream.” Cissa sent her a wink before walking away with Pansy mother. 

[yesifitswithyou]

I'm Here | Brooklyn Nine-Nine

ok so i've recently started rewatching brooklyn 99 and remembered i had this fic so im posting it appropriately here on tumblr too. i'm gonna apologize right away cuz i wrote this long ago and i didn't proofread it before doing this post so... sorry?

btw this is an amy/rosa fic

also available on AO3!

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Summary:

Amy Santiago receives a case in which a family of three (husband, wife and kid) got murdered. She cannot solve it, which plays with her mental health.

Rosa has to look for a way to help her girlfriend go through this unusually difficult time.

Triger Warnings: Self-Harm, Anxiety, Panic Attacks

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The light went through the curtain and got over Amy's laptop and files. She's been awake for a while now, working on a case. Trying to crack it. But it wasn't like other easy solvable cases. It was a huge case. A huge, weird, complicated case. The Johnson’s where this three-membered family that was brutally murdered. A husband, a wife and a 5 year older. Even though she had dealt with this type of case before, there was a huge lack of clues. A lack of clues and a long list of potential suspects. It certainly looked like a dead end.

Amy was sitting on the cold floor of the bedroom when someone on the bed next to her made a sound. Amy turned her head almost instantly, with an almost invisible smile on her lips. It was Rosa. Of course, it was Rosa. They’ve been sharing an apartment for a while now. A month and 2 weeks, to be specific.

"Morning, Santiago"

"Morning." Amy talked while getting on her feet and taking a few steps forward the bed. She sat down and got closer to the hairy mess on the other side. Rosa looked tired and sleepy but, somehow, she still managed to look stunning. Amy got close to her and admired her beauty a couple of seconds before she caresses Rosa's cheek while saying in a whisper, almost inaudible, "Happy anniversary, babe" before shortly pressing her lips against Rosa's.

She couldn’t help it. It was too cheesy, but Rosa still loved that cheesy shit for some reason she couldn’t figure out yet. But she loves that woman so much. Rosa wanted more. More of Amy’s soft lips touching her own and more of her hand caressing her skin. She grinned, being too tired to even try to hide it.

"Another year already, huh?" Rosa said before leaving another peck on Amy’s lips. A longer one, but still a peck.

Her voice was deep and raspy. It gave shivers to Amy. And a teethed smile escaped from her own lips after they left Rosa’s.

-

August 15th. All the happy thoughts have already left Santiago’s stressed head. Amy now had fifteen days to crack The Johnson’s case and there was no way she could finish it in two weeks. She refused to have her hopes up. It led nowhere. She had never been so caught up on a case. Shit, it was too much. She needed to solve it no matter what. She’s a great detective, she can’t leave a case just like that.

The reason why she was so into it was as much of a mystery as who killed them. Maybe it was the age of the little kid. Maybe he reminded her of her little cousin Pablo. Maybe it was the similarity that the husband had with that old picture of her grandpa when he was younger. Maybe it was that they had the same furniture as her own parents.

Or maybe it was the fact that the wife looked so much like Rosa. At first glance, she would have sworn it was Diaz. Fuck, she swore it was her. Even though she had seen her a few minutes ago, she couldn’t help but think it was her.

But that didn’t matter now. What mattered was that she must finish that case. She and only she by herself. It was Rosa who was on that floor with six shots – three on her chest, two on the leg and one on the abdomen-. No. No, it wasn’t… but still.

Flashes of the Captain’s words kept coming to her head and made her stress more than she already was.

"I know you have been working very hard on The Johnsons' murder case, but I have been informed this morning that Major Crimes is wanting it"

Amy's stress wasn't subtle. At all. She was constantly going from side to side. Looking for clues in the crime scene all over again. Braiding her hair frenetically. Singing awkward old songs when she was trying to focus. Skipping meals. Breaking her sleeping schedule. Not sleeping at all. It was eating her alive. The fact that she was running out of time drove her crazy. How could she not solve a murder case? What kind of detective would she be if she didn’t solve this? It was supposed she was a good detective. Why, then, was this so fucking hard?

"If the case is not solved for the end of the month, Major Crimes is taking it. That is what the superiors had told me. Dismissed."

-

Amy's body was curled up in the middle of her bed with the sheets over her, thinking about the case, trying to link what she has already memorized. Her knees were in her chest and her head was between them, feeling defeated already. A couple of tears were already coming out of her eyes. It's been days since she last had more than 5 minutes of sleep. It was on August 25. Her stress was increasing as the clock was running, but just like her case, Amy couldn’t move forward. She was already blocked. She doesn’t want to step back, but she isn’t going forward either. Plus, her third mental breakdown of the week left her exhausted. Or was it a panic attack? She’s not sure anymore.

Without any previous warning, tears began to fall down her cheeks… for the fourth time that day. They were silent tears at first, but the knot in her throat was too much and soon she started sobbing without any control.

Why haven’t you solved it? It’s just a stupid case! Solve it! You need to solve it! Why are you so stupid to solve this!

Her own mind was torturing her.

-

"Come on, Santiago, open the door." Rosa was knocking their bedroom door for the second time this afternoon. "I know you're in there, open up."

No response, just like earlier today.

“Amy, open the damn door.”

Rosa realized she would get nowhere by knocking the door any longer, but she couldn't step back. Even though she didn't want to admit it, she was scared... she was worried. She's seen Amy stressing out before, but not like this. It was somehow different this time. Amy was blocked and did nothing but work on the case. It wasn't healthy at all. Rosa couldn’t let her damage herself a minute more.

"Babe?" Her tone was softer this time. And just like that, that word made Amy's senses pay attention to the voice on the other side of the door. For a moment she forgot about the case and the tears that were coming out of her eyes. It was a brief, brief, moment of peace and calm. "Babe, please open up." It didn’t last a lot. Suddenly, a few seconds later, Amy started crying again.

It was not likely for Rosa to be begging. Fuck it, Amy is her girlfriend. She’d do anything for her, begging was nothing.

"I'm coming in."

Rosa took a hairpin out of who-knows-where and forced the door open. There wasn’t time to go for the key. For one moment in a long time, Rosa was scared. Scared that something was happening. Something bad. Something irreversible.

Once she entered the bedroom, she saw nothing. The lights were off, and the curtains closed to darken the whole room. Rosa did not turn on the lights. Instead, she walked to what she thought was Amy: a darker spot in the middle of the bed.

Rosa knew Amy felt bad. She didn't want to stress her more nor cause her to cry by saying the wrong thing. What could she say in a situation like this? She didn’t know how to proceed. If only she could ask Amy what to do. Except that it was Amy what this is all about.

"Hey, Ames." The mattress sank when the weight of Rosa fell into it. "You good?"

Rosa could listen to the soft sobs and the shaking breath of Amy. It was breaking her heart in small little pieces.

"C' mon, talk to me. What's the matter?"

Amy took her head out of the comfortable space between her legs and her chest and lifted it. It was so dark she couldn't recognize where Rosa's hair started and where it ended or what her eyes were looking at.

"Nothing. I'm just emotional"

Amy's voice sounded shaky and breathy, almost like a whisper. It seemed like she had been screaming for hours enough to damage her throat. Maybe she had.

"Is it because of the case?"

"What? No. What makes you think that?"

"Amy, it's obvious that that case is driving you crazy.” She's had three mental breakdowns and two panic attacks this week. “I think you should better drop the case."

"I'm not dropping that case because it's not driving me nothing. I'm perfectly fine."

Rosa put her hand on the mattress, looking for Amy's. A few seconds later she found it and put it between her two hands.

"Babe, I'm here to help you. I don't like seeing you suffer like this"

"I'm not... I told you, I'm just a little emotional. I don't need help."

How could Rosa fall for such a big lie?

-

It was on August 31. Amy was nowhere near solving the case. When the clock marked 10:00 AM, Major Crimes was on the precinct to pick up the files they needed to continue with what was, until then, Amy's case. She handed the mountain of papers to them as if they were taking part of her soul. She didn't take her eyes off the screen for the rest of her shift. Rosa couldn't get hers out of Amy.

She was worried as fuck.

-

Eight days later, Rosa was driving with Amy in the passenger sit back to the apartment. None of them spoke while on the road. Amy was unusually silent since the end of August. She still felt she had failed. She's a Santiago, a Santiago doesn't fail.

On the other hand, Rosa didn't know what to say for her to feel better. Why did she have to be so bad at feelings? She never hated it until now. She could always say something wrong that made her girlfriend feel worse – if that was even possible – because that's how bad she is at trying to comfort somebody she cares about. But Rosa couldn't look at Amy without noticing the unusually super long sleeves blouse Amy was wearing today. It was a mystery to her, but they could talk about that later. In a few minutes, once they get to the apartment.

-

The door closed right behind Rosa and the warmth of the inside of their apartment got to her. Amy went straight to the bathroom, just like she always did when they got back from work. But it was different this time. Rosa couldn’t hear the clacking of her two inches high heels while she was walking. It made Rosa worry. It was just an annoying sound missing, except it wasn’t. She couldn’t ignore all the signs for any longer. She has to do something… right?

When Amy came out of the bathroom, she was already on her long-sleeved dark pajamas. Rosa approached to her girlfriend, who was laying on the couch trying to find something to watch on the TV.

How a conversation like this can be started? Think, Rosa. Think.

“Ames?” She just answered by humming. “Is there something wrong?”

“What do you mean?” Her eyes still watching the screen.

“You’ve been… off lately.”

“It’s nothing.”

“C’mon, talk to me. We’ll solve it together.”

“I said I’m fine!”

Rosa was lowkey shocked. Amy never yelled. Not to her. Suddenly, she couldn’t hold it anymore.

“No, you’re not! I know you aren’t. I’m not stupid, Amy!”

“I’m telling you I’m fine.”

“Oh, really?” Rosa started listing things with her fingers. “You’re quiet all the time. Suddenly all you wear is long-sleeved even though it’s 30°C. I haven’t seen you smile for days. You’re only coming home to watch reality shows that appear on the TV. You aren’t even eating anymore!” Amy’s eyes moved from the shiny TV to the carpeted floor. “Talk to me, Ames.”

“I… Rosa, it’s nothing.”

“Why won’t you tell me? Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course, I trust you! But it really isn’t a big deal.”

“I swear to God. If this is because of that stupid case-”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Amy finally looked at Rosa’s eyes, lacking the spark they usually had. It broke Rosa’s heart a little bit more. “I don’t fucking wanna talk about it. Just drop it already.”

“Oh, but we will, and I won’t stop until we solve this. That case drove you crazy for weeks, you can’t let it hunt you when it’s not yours anymore!”

“See, that’s the problem. I should’ve solved that case. Me! Not the Vulture, not Jake, not Major Crimes. Me.”

“Why are you making such a big deal about it?!"

“She looked like you, okay?! She looked so goddamn much like you it hurts!”

“But I’m here! Ames, I’m right here.”

“You know what? I’m leaving. You don’t get it and you never will.”

Amy stood up from the couch leaving Rosa sitting on it by herself. She was going to walk towards the bedroom when Rosa took her by the wrist.

“Don’t you dare-” Rosa cut herself. Even though Amy took it just as fast, the sight of Amy’s wrist stayed inside Rosa’s brain immediately, making her worry grow quickly. “Amy, what’s that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Tienes que estar bromeando.” Rosa could feel an unfamiliar knot growing on her throat. “Let me see.”

Amy knew there was no escape this time. She couldn’t avoid it anymore anyways, so she lifted her sleeves until they reached her elbows and showed the interior of her arms. Scars were all through her skin, some more recently than others, some deeper than others.

Rosa couldn’t look for much time. She was disappointed on herself. She was because she didn’t do something earlier. She was because she didn’t notice before.

She opened her eyes again and looked right into Amy’s, trying look for answers. Amy didn’t remember the last time she saw Rosa with watering eyes. The sight of it made her hide her scars once again, putting her arms against her chest as if she was protecting them.

“Why?”

Amy denied moving her head.

“It’s not important.”

“Amy, stop pushing me away for Jesus sake.” Her voice cracked.

“It’s stupid. I don’t want you to worry.” Now Amy was crying.

Rosa got closer.

“If it is making you feel like this then it’s not stupid. Of course, I’m going to worry”, Rosa put her right hand against Amy’s left cheek, “I care about you.”

Amy closed her eyes when their skins made contact and stayed like that for a few seconds before stepping back.

“Y-you shouldn’t. I’m a lost cause.”

“No, I’m not giving up on you.” Rosa got close. “Let me help you. All I want is for you to be fine. To be happy.”

“I said I don’t need help.”

“Yes, you do!” Rosa snapped. “You can’t do this alone, Amy. You need help!”

“No, I don’t. I’m completely fine.”

“Self-harming is not being fine!! ¿Por qué no te das cuenta?” Rosa’s Spanish made everything inside Amy shake. For a moment, it made her feel weak.

“It’s not that bad…”

“¡Sí lo es, joder! ¡Déjame ayudarte! Tell me how.” Rosa sounded desperate.

“You can’t help me."

“Déjame intentarlo.”

“Why do you care!?” Amy’s tears started falling.

“¡¡Porque te amo!!” Amy froze. Rosa was not likely to talk about her feelings, but right now she could see her managing not to cry, even though her eyes were already filled with tears.

That’s when both of them gave up against the tears and the feelings. They closed the space between them. Amy hid her face against her girlfriend’s chest and started crying loudly. Rosa, on the other hand, wrapped her arms around Santiago’s shaking body, feeling the warm tears go down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” Amy whispered with tears still falling.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

“I should’ve told you before.”

“It doesn’t matter now.” Rosa took Amy’s face between her hands. “Now what’s more important is for you to get better, okay?”

Amy nodded her head before feeling her girlfriend’s lips against her forehead.

“I’m here, babe.” They stared at each other’s eyes. Rosa kept talking. “We’ll do this together. I’m not leaving.”

[skzshortcake]

hiii this is a bit of a random request. i’m sorry if it’s bothersome! u can literally ignore it if you want. it’s just,,, i’ve had worst two weeks and my friends are all busy and i just,,, am constantly overworked and stressed bcs of uni (final year of uni fucking sucks) which idk i usually can handle but this whole week has been a disaster. i had 5 meetings. and i missed 2 of them, 2 assignments, 3 presentations and lectures. and on top of that i had to write an article for a magazine. there was just,,, so much due in a week and i got overwhelmed and kinda just,,, shut down. and to top it off, this morning i slipped in the shower (literally full on split on the floor) and my thighs hurt and i can’t walk or even sit without being in pain. and i can’t remember the last time i slept. i think it was two days ago. idk. i still have SO MUCH to do so i can’t sleep yet and i’m super stressed. oh gosh i’m sorry i’m rambling.

to get the point, i was hoping u could write a fluff piece with chan where the reader is stressed af like i am?? i usually read these to escape my head for a bit cause i’m a sucker for cute romance stories :’) it’d help a lottttt. but it’s okay if you can’t! 🥺 i’m sorry for bothering~

of course!! this might seem rushed so i’m sorry if it comes off like that- but i really hope it helps you!! i basically wrote chan into my interpretation of your situation, i hope that’s ok!! stay safe and take care bby! i’m always here if you (or anyone) needs to rant.

comforting surprises  -  bang chan

member: chan

genre: comfort/angst

warnings: anxiety and an overwhelming time, crying, not proofread

note: requests are still open, but it will take me a bit to get to them. i’m doing my best i promise but it’s kinda hard to write happy things for me right now. 

-

ring... ring... ring...

chan hoped you would answer his call. he texted you earlier in the week and didn’t get a response, so he knew something must have been up. he anxiously rocked back and forth in the office chair he was sitting in, staring at the wall of his office while he waited for an answer.

a couple more rings in, he was about to hang up, but thankfully, you answered.

he heard you try and calm your breathing through the phone “hey.” you managed to say.

“prince(ss)? what’s wrong?” he immediately sat up, alert.

“it’s nothing,” you cry “i just-i just fell this morning and i’m a little busy.”

“ok, ok, can you tell me what’s going on? i’m on my way right now i’m not sure how long i’ll be.” he stood up and saved his work on the computer, hurrying to pack what was necessary in his black backpack to rush out the door.

“i-i,” you broke down in tears again “i have so much to do and i haven’t slept in days. i’m so behind on work it’s making me sick to my stomach...”

“ok, ok, i’m going to help you... can you breathe for me, baby? here, breathe in on the count of one and out on five, ok? i’ll count to eight for you.” 

he started counting through the phone for you, knowing he probably looked crazy as he loudly breathed and counted on a phone call while speed-walking through the jyp building, but he couldn’t care less.

you were doing your best, truly, and he could tell, but you still couldn’t manage to take deep enough breaths to calm down.

“it’s ok, you’re doing so well for me, y/n... i’m on my way, i’ll be twenty minutes?” he says, waiting for your “ok” before helping you breathe again.

chan managed to get you to calm down a bit by the time he walked out of the building. he suggested that you go get a glass of water and sit down somewhere and wait until he got home. 

“i’m ok, i’m ok now.” you sniffle, taking another sip of water and breathing heavily into the cup while you drank. “you travel safely please.” you told him.

“don’t worry, i will. are you going to be ok if i hang up now? i’ll be home soon, prince(ss).”

“mhmm.”

“ok, i’ll be fifteen minutes now. go sit down and rest please.”

he said goodbye and hung up, feeling even more worried for you. chan couldn’t help it, you’re his baby and he feels a responsibility to make sure you’re ok. he didn’t care if he had work to do or if he was busy, you were always his first priority.

he picked up some things for you from the downtown, practically checking his phone every thirty seconds to double check you hadn’t texted him again. he left just as soon as he arrived to make sure he wouldn’t make you wait any longer.

chan nearly dropped his keys as he fumbled with the door. he just wanted to see you as soon as possible.

“y/n?”

“hm?” your teary voice answered from the living room. you chose to sit down on the plush couch, only issue is you didn’t know if you’d be able to get back up.

“hey, i’m here now.” he set his bags down next to him while he sat down next to you. “can i hold you?” 

you just nodded, feeling sobs build in your throat again. but you didn’t cry, you didn’t have the energy to cry anymore.

chan pulled you into a hug, knowing that he couldn’t do anything to make your work easier. “i’ve got you. it’s going to be ok.”

he let you stay there for as long as you needed. once you looked up at him with a defeated expression, he knew that it really must have been a difficult time.

“i’m so stuck.” 

“honey, i’m so sorry. i’m sorry that things have been difficult, i’ll help you as much as you need, ok? we will figure it out, together. i promise.” he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead “i have something for you, baby.” 

he leaned down and pulled out a bouquet of flowers and your favorite restaurant’s takeout. chan handed you the bouquet, and you noticed how he bought the flowers in your favorite color and even had the florist wrap them it thin decorative paper with a bow wrapped around it, also in your favorite color. he always excelled at attention to detail.

you felt the tears build again. “i love you so much. thank you.” you looked down to hide your crying from him. you felt so touched that he went to the extent to rush out and get your favorite food and flowers on a whim when he was in the middle of working. 

chan truly had a heart of gold.

“of course, i love you so much too, prince(ss).” he put a hand on your cheek, not forcing you to look him in the eye if you felt overwhelmed, but letting you know he was there. “now, how about we eat some good food and get some good rest, and i will help you with your projects in the morning. it’s the weekend after all, you deserve to rest tonight. i’ll help you get to sleep.” he gave you another kiss and stood up to get some plates and utensils.

when he came back and served up your food, he turned on the tv and put on a show in the background. chan also didn’t forget to prop up your legs and get you an ice pack for your injuries.

“you will not believe what jeongin did today... he lost a bet and had to make breakfast this morning, and you can imagine how that turned out. we even gave him thorough instructions but he still managed to forget some of the ingredients and had to have help from the manager.”

chan joked with you and cheered you up, like he always did. you were pretty sure he was some sort of guardian angel for you, because he always showed you unconditional love and support, even when he was busy.

he was forever grateful for you and you were forever grateful for him.

[buckybarnesthehotshot]

i hate you but ii: i need to talk to sam (bucky barnes x reader)

i hate you but masterlist

summary: bucky and y/n can’t stand each other, but y/n needs help with her sister’s kids (enemies to lovers au)

word count: 2181

warnings: swearing, arguing, death, and this is not proofread

taglist is CLOSED

A/N: so uh this chapter kind of focuses more on y/n’s relationship with her sister and the kids. there’ll be more Bucky in the next chapter, dw

       “I’m on my way,” y/n sighed before dropping the call.

       y/n had never rushed out of the compound as quickly as she did that day. Hell, even on missions—much to everyone’s distaste—she took her precious time to make sure she had everything she needed with her. She slipped on a sweatshirt and a pair of sandals before bolting out her bedroom.

      The next thing she knew, she was in the elevator, asking FRIDAY to bring her to the basement level of the compound, anxiously gripping her phone on her side.

       With a ding, the elevator doors slid open and y/n, once again, ran as fast as her legs could take her, and got into her car (which thankfully, was voice activated) and drove away from the compound and towards the precinct.

       y/n, her thoughts spiraling, gripped tightly onto the steering wheel as tears obstructed her vision. She was having difficulty coming to terms with her sister’s death. Yes, she hasn’t seen her sister—or any of her kids for that matter—but it was difficult to deal with. How the hell was she supposed to deal with the fact that her baby sister, the one she didn’t visit for the purpose of keeping her safe, was gone.

       Was it all because of HYDRA? Was it because of some illness y/n was never made aware of? Her thoughts were starting to get the better of her until she was snapped out of her trance by FRIDAY’s voice telling her to “turn right.”

       The compound was a fifteen-minute ride away from the precinct. She arrived at the slightly run-down police precinct. Parking the car and slamming the door behind her, she speed walked into the precinct only to be stopped by a man sitting at the front desk.

       “Name and purpose?” he questioned her, staring up at her expectantly, his dark brown eyes boring into her e/c ones.

       “I’m looking for Elise Jones and Mike Jonas? I’m Cassy Langdon’s sister, Y/N L/N” she spoke to the man stationed at the front desk. He looked up, handed her the logbook and a pen, and spoke.

       “I’m going to need your I.D, ma’am,” the man questioned, holding his hand out. y/n huffed, with the rush she was in, she forgot to bring along anything other than her phone. “I don’t think I have my I.D on me right now, officer,” y/n shook her head.

       “Well, that’s too bad. I’m afraid I can’t let you in without your I.D, ma’am,” the officer shook his head.

       “Officer, I just received a phone call telling me that my sister’s dead and I have custody of her children. I don’t think you want to test me,” y/n chuckled, her voice raspy and tired.

       “That’s sad and all, but I still need your I.D,” the officer narrowed his eyes at y/n. She took a deep breath before speaking words she’d heard Tony Stark say a handful of times while trying to enter bars.

       “You need an I.D? y/n l/n, look me up because this face is my I.D,” y/n smirked, signing her name onto the log book. Once again, the officer narrowed his eyes at her before directing his attention to his computer screen and typing something into it before his eyes widened.

       “You’re an Avenger?” the officer’s eyes widened, scrambling up to his feet to salute.

       “I wasn’t in the military like the other Avengers,” y/n stuttered, shaking her head repeatedly, “a simple ‘oh hey, you weren’t lying about your identification, you can totally enter the precinct’ would do.”

       “Of course, ma’am,” the officer nodded, returning to his seat.

       y/n made her way further into the precinct and she saw what she assumed to be the waiting area since there were quite a few people seated in the room.

       “Miss L/N, over here,” a familiar voice came from one of the corners of the room. She looked over to the source of the voice and saw a woman, based off how she looked, she must have been in her late forties or early fifties, clad in a blue pantsuit with a matching blazer. y/n made her way to the woman, ignoring all the stares she was getting from everyone, and taking a seat parallel to her.

       “I’m going to make this quick, why am I the one taking custody of my sister’s three kids? What happened to their dad? You know, what’s his face?” y/n’s brows furrowed, unable to recall her brother-in-law’s name. After all, she never liked him for her little sister.

       “Mr. Langdon is currently in a holding cell,” Elise explained, smoothing out her pants as she readjusted her position on the seat.

       “That son of a bitch killed my sister, didn’t he?” y/n chuckled sadly upon hearing Elise’s words.

       “Well, your sister died in a drunk driving accident. Mr. Langdon was driving and the investigators are currently taking Ethan and Olivia’s statements on what happened and from the looks of it, Mr. Langdon could be charged with homicide,” a man interrupted her, also making his presence known.

        “You’re taking the kid’s statements? Wait, they weren’t in the car when it crashed, were they?” y/n panicked, her eyes widening in concern.

       “Ethan and Olivia weren’t included in the half of the population that went out with the blip. I don’t think they’re as young as you remember them,” the man explained before a look of realization found its way to his face, “I almost forgot, I’m Mike Jonas, your sister’s lawyer.”

       “y/n l/n, but you already knew that,” y/n shook his hand before continuing, “what about the other one; Jackson, my sister’s youngest?”

       “There’s a room in the precinct for the younger kids. Cassy’s kids who were affected by the blip are there. Jackson’s in there with his younger sister, Allie,” Elise smiled reassuringly.

       “So, there’s four of them, now? Damn it, I can’t believe my sister had another kid with that prick,” y/n rolled her bloodshot eyes in disappointment. Her mind flashed back to when they were teenagers and would talk about their futures.

       “I want a big house, a good husband, and a big family so the house would never feel lonely. I want you there too, y/n. Oh my god, the kids are going to love you!” Cassy smiled up at y/n, her e/c eyes beaming with excitement.

       “Cass, don’t you think your husband would hate it if I lived with you guys? Plus, I don’t think I’d be good with children anyways,” y/n chuckled, shaking her head.

        “Can you at least promise you’ll visit us often?” Cassy’s e/c eyes pierces into y/n’s e/c ones.

      “I promise,” y/n smiled, locking pinkies with Cassy.

       Her eyes glossed over with tears as her mind wandered to that memory. She knew damn well broke that promise. There was a point in time when y/n kept that promise and she visited Cassy’s house every week, always bringing along gifts for her niece and nephews.

       “You spoil them,” Cassy chuckled as Ethan, Olivia, and Jackson tore off the wrapping paper from the boxes she handed them.

       “It’s not my fault I’m the cool aunt,” y/n winked in response, pulling an eyeroll from Cassy.

       Those visits only ever stopped when y/n’s position as an Avenger began to pose as a threat to the family’s safety. What if HYDRA caught her during one of her visits to the house? What if she couldn’t protect them when HYDRA decided to use them against her?

       She couldn’t have that on her conscience, so she abruptly cut off all communications with her sister and her family. She didn’t want to put their lives in danger.

      To her, it’d been two years since her last visit. To Ethan and Olivia? It must’ve been seven years. Damn Thanos and his mission to “help” the universe. y/n began to feel uncomfortable in her seat. Would the kids recognize her? Would they accept the fact that they had to live with her now?

       “Your sister, she once discussed you getting custody of her children if she and Mr. Langdon were to pass. She wrote about this in her will,” Mike explained, handing y/n a manila envelope.

       She opened the envelope and she pulled out one crisp piece of printed paper—y/n assumed this was the will itself—and six envelopes. She was surprised to find one with her name written in her sister’s handwriting too; even after she’d abandoned her, Cassy still left y/n something.

       “What’s this?” y/n questioned, holding up the envelope.

       “Cassy wrote you a letter. She made sure to put emphasis on the fact that you don’t have to open it immediately. She said you would’ve taken a while before you decided to open it,” Mike explained, earning a nod from y/n as she tucked the envelope back into the bigger one as she read through the will.

       There, in the section concerning the wellbeing of Cassy’s children, y/n saw her name and the conditions of which y/n would take custody of her children.

       “If, however, my husband, Eric Langdon, is somehow unfit (an example of it being under the influence of alcohol for 2-4 days a week) or unavailable (an example of this having him jailed or god forbid dead), I entrust the custody of my four children, Ethan Langdon, Olivia Langdon, Jackson Langdon, and Allison Langdon, with my older sister, y/n l/n.”

       “Well, when can I meet the kids?” y/n smiled sadly, tucking the piece of paper back in the envelope.

       “They should be done questioning Olivia and Ethan in a few minutes. For now, I need to talk to you about how living conditions are going to be with the kids,” Elise requested, earning a nod from y/n.

       “I’d like to think I have more than enough to support them without needing to dig into the funds my sister left for them. The only issue I have is that my apartment’s a two-bedroom apartment and I think the kids are going to want more space than that, so I swear I’ll try finding a better place. One with more than enough room for the kids,” y/n explained, earning a nod from Elise. y/n remembered how big Cassy’s dreams were. Sure, she liked being with family, but she also wanted her kids to have space to move around, to play. y/n owed it to Cassy to give the kids the life she wanted for them.

       “It sounds like you have the living conditions under control. I like how you didn’t mention letting them move into the Avengers Compound, though I am aware it’s where you’re currently living?” Elise raised a brow expectantly.

      “My apartment, it’s for when I need to get away from all the hero stuff. I don’t think it’d be great for the kids to be exposed to everything going on in the tower,” y/n chuckled, the events of earlier flashing through her brain.

       “I see. But I want to discuss your involvement in their lives. Their mom just passed and their dad’s getting incarcerated. I know being an Avenger can be demanding, but I’m telling you now that you might need some time off for them to get used to having you as their guardian,” Elise explained, earning another nod from y/n.

       “I’ll let my teammates know I’m taking a break now, if you’ll excuse me,” y/n nodded out, getting up from her seat and finding a more secluded area in the precinct to ring up her colleagues.

       “Hello?” a gruff voice responded and y/n groaned internally. Of all people who could pick up the phone in the tower, why did Bucky Barnes have to pick up?

       “Barnes, I need to talk to Sam,” y/n was quick to cut the chase.

       “Why? Did you burn down another kitchen?” Bucky quipped, pulling an eye roll from y/n.

       “No, but this is really important so can I please talk to Sam?” y/n strained, her jaw clenching.

       “Whatever you’re going to tell Sam, you can tell me. I’ll let him know,” Bucky spoke in a suspiciously innocent tone.

       “I don’t trust you with relaying information, so not a chance,” y/n, for the second time in two minutes, rolled her eyes at Bucky’s antics.

       “Alright, fine. Sam! y/n burned down another kitchen!” Bucky called out.

       “I didn’t burn down ano—” y/n started only to get cut off by Sam’s voice.

      “Chill out, I know you didn’t burn down the kitchen, but why are you calling? Can’t you just leave your room and talk to us like a normal person?” Sam chuckled.

       “Because I’m not in the tower. I’m at the 87th precinct which is about 15 minutes away from the tower and I might need like 2-4 weeks off,” y/n explained, hearing a gasp from the other side of the line.

       “You got arrested?”

       “No, but I have this family emergency and it might take a while to deal with. I’ll explain it when I get back, but for now, I’m letting you know I’m taking a break,” y/n explained before ending the call and tucking her phone away in her pocket.

a/n: this has nothing to do with this but ughhhh theres this steve oneshot im having a hard time writing

i hate you but taglist: @sarcastic-britt / @kmuir1​ / @shower-me-with-roses​ / @justab-eautifulmess​ / @thomasthetankson​ / @x-abi-sharp-x​ / @intovert-gone-wild​ / @brittanymcsharry​ / @leaving-the-past-behind​ / @xoxabs88xox​ / @valeriiaaass​ / @mylifeiscrazy0423​

Forever tags: @spatium-viatorem​ / @sxphiiwrld​ / @strangersstranger​ / @nerdy-bookworm-1998​ / @cutie1365​ /

MARVEL TAGLIST: @captainamerica-is-bae​

BUCKY TAGLIST: @missmidnightxo​

[miamlfy]

Meant Nothing

 A/N: This is my first time writing a fic for Draco. Just so you know, I adore Draco but for this I made him a dick. This is kinda a no Voldemort AU, I wrote this thinking they're in their 6th year but no mention of Draco having the dark mark. This was barely proofread, apologies for any mistakes. I’m also TAKING REQUESTS, so please send them my way if you got any, Im open to writing for any character. 

Pairing: Draco Malfoy X Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst, cheating Draco, slapping/mentions of slapping 

Word Count: 1,867

Enjoy! 

(Not my gif, credit to whoever made it)

Draco was different when you two got on the train back to Hogwarts for your new upcoming year. He didn’t send you as many letters during the summer and if he did, it was simple answers to whatever you wrote to him previously. You even asked him if he wanted you to visit him at the Manor but pushed that idea away saying there was things going on at home and it’s not like he didn’t want you to meet him parents, you already did. Narcissa adored you and thought you were perfect for Draco, despite being a half blood. You suspensions only became bigger when she sent you a letter asking when you would come over, shortly after Draco said they couldn’t have any company at the time. 

However, as the year continued, Draco began being more distant with you. He would forget to attend your meetings in the Astronomy Tower or if you two planned to study together in the library, he would just not show. The first time it happened you didn’t mind, people could be forgetful. When you brought it up to him during breakfast, he gave you an apology and told you he wouldn’t forget again. You smiled at his apology, thinking it was nothing and accepting his kiss.

The second time it happened, you were in the library sitting at one of the tables Draco and you claimed as yours. Small tests were beginning to arrive in the school year and both of you wanting to keep being on top for those classes, would hold small study sessions every Thursday. Draco was already fifteen minutes late, growing impatient you began studying alone. Your mind kept going elsewhere however, wondering where that boy was. You excused it again, thinking he forgot. 

When morning arrived, you entered the great hall searching for boyfriend. He was no where to be found, assuming he slept it. You pushed it into the back of your mind and began eating breakfast. 

Entering potions class, he was one of the first students to already be in class. Walking up to your shared table, you set your bag on top and began taking out your things for the upcoming lecture. 

“Did you forget about yesterday?” You asked looking up to him. 

“Uh yeah, sorry love. After class I went to my dorm and crashed.” You simply nodded your head at that, understanding. Happens to everyone, you thought. You noticed his semi messy hair and loose tie, 

“Did you also oversleep? I didn’t see you at breakfast.” 

“Yeah kind of, I also just wasn’t hungry.” About to question him on his appearance, Professor Snape enters the classroom and begins lecture. 

The two of you planned a date to Hogsmeade on Saturday, however when it was time to leave he was no where to be found. Sighing sadly, you decided to join your friends instead. Your friend noticed the disappointment in your face,

“Maybe he forgot Y/n.” She said, her words stinging you a bit. ‘Maybe he forgot’ those words kept repeating in your head all day during your trip. 

Fed up with his antics and forgetfulness you decided you would confront him. Arriving back to the common room, he was nowhere to be found. You asked his dorm mates if he was up in his room but they simply gave you a no and told you they didn’t know where he was. Feeling defeated, you made your way up to your room and slept off the day. 

The next few days it felt like Draco was avoiding you, anytime you would try to talk to him he would already be walking away or simply act as if he didn’t hear you. In any classes you had together he would sit far away from you. It was confusing, you did nothing wrong to upset him. If anything, he was the one making you upset. 

You woke up on Thursday morning, feeling quite miserable. Draco had yet spoken to you and it was starting to affect you. You didn’t rely on Draco but being together and speaking to each other on the daily for two years, only to be thrown to the side was not a lovely feeling. After getting dressed, you began walking towards the great hall for breakfast, hoping your boyfriend would already be there and you’d get a chance to speak to him. 

However, you noticed glances of pity thrown at you. You weren’t exactly popular but after getting with the Slytherin prince, people did notice you. You received glances before,  random people in the hallways but never ones that contained pity. Choosing to ignore them, you walked into the great hall only to have nearly everyone’s eyes on you, their eyes looking at you with pity, oh how much you hated that now. 

Looking towards the Slytherin table, sat Draco sitting next to Pansy Parkinson, snogging her. Draco was kissing Pansy right in front of everyone. You froze staring right at him, which he felt, as well as everyone else’s eyes. 

You felt your heart slowly break, piece by piece, as dramatic as it sounded but it was true. You felt your body unable to move, looking into Draco’s eyes hoping to see a bit of guilt or remorse but instead there was nothing. If anything, he looked proud of himself and it didn’t help that pansy was giving you a smug look as well. It took all the remaining strength you had to not walk over there and slap him but you knew better. Violence wasn’t going to solve anything, it was only going to make things worse, no matter how much he deserved it. 

Feeling utterly humiliated yourself, you walked out of the great hall. Deciding to hide in your dorm for the rest of day. You didn’t care about classes at the moment, surely your teachers would understand why you didn’t show, they were all there to witness. You winced at the thought that everyone saw you being humiliated and you couldn’t take anyone else’s pity. 

After what felt like hours of crying and taking a small nap, you got up from your bed and fixed up your appearance. It was Thursday after all and you were going to spend the afternoon in the library with or without Draco. Ignoring everyone’s stares as you walked to the library, you sat down at your regular table. You tried focusing, you really did but tears were threatening to spill again. 

“I’m sorry to bother you Y/n,” you looked up to who was speaking, it was Hermione. You two weren’t close friends but you also didn’t hate her much to Draco’s dismay, “and I know you want to be left alone but I also know you need a friend right now and I’m really sorry you had to see that git sucking face with Pansy. You don’t need anymore pity from people and I’m here if you want to talk, it’s not good to bottle things up.” 

You sighed shaking your head, “I appreciate it ‘Mione, but I want to be alone for now.” 

“Of course, I’m here for you,” she gave you a smile, “just so you know during potions, Snape made Draco work without a partner today and took off points when he potion went sideways. I think he may have a soft spot for you.” 

Gently laughing at that, you wiped the tears streaming down your face not knowing when they started coming down and thanked Hermione again. 

Waking up the next day, your eyes felt heavy. You didn’t sleep much the night before, arriving late from the library to avoid anyone still being in the common room. Deciding your pity party was over, you dressed yourself adding a few more accessories, making your hair look pretty and put on your favorite perfume. If you were going to confront him in front of everyone, you may as well look good doing it. 

You walked into the great halls with your head held high, walking directly towards Draco who once again was sitting very comfortable with Parkinson next to him. 

“Draco, I need to speak to you.” He ignored your presence, not wanting to deal with antics you made him stand by pulling him up by his collar. 

“Hey! What th-“

“Oh shut it,” you cut him off, suddenly feeling all eyes on you two, “you too Parkinson, don’t even start.” Pansy closed her mouth, who was ready to throw some insults at you, 

“You’re going to listen to me, Malfoy and you’re not once going to speak because honestly, I may slap you if you open your mouth.” Tears began welling up in your eyes not knowing whether it was because everyone, including the teachers, were looking at you or because this is your first time you were speaking to him for the first time in days. 

“How could you?! Were those two years worth nothing, was I not worth it anymore?!” You felt the tears spill but you didn’t care. 

“You met my parents and I met yours for Godrics sake, we wrote to each other everyday during the holidays. In your letters you wrote how much you loved me, I kept all of them. I felt so happy reading how much I meant to you and how I was yours. Was any of that actually true or was it all bullshit? Did I actually mean anything to you?” You stared into his eyes, waiting for him to answer, hoping to wake up and this would all be a silly dream. 

“No, I never loved you.” That completely broke you, you couldn’t hold yourself off anymore. You slapped him, ‘screw violence not being the answer’ you thought. He deserved it. 

“Fuck you Draco, I can’t believe I ever wasted two years of my life with you. I can’t believe I ever loved you! I hope you enjoy being with someone who only wants you for your last name,” you saw him rub his cheek which was reddening by the second, “I hope you enjoy the rest of your life being miserable. Have fun explaining this to your mother.” With that, you left the hall and made your way to the Owlery and send the letter you wrote to Narcissa shortly after. 

Dear Mrs. Malfoy, 

I regret to inform you that Draco and I have broken up, reason behind it was because he decided two years of being together it was no longer fun for him and began snogging Pansy Parkinson behind my back. I assume their ‘relationship’ began during the summer holidays. Maybe he invited her over without you or your husband knowledge. If you hear of someone slapping him, that was me, I apologize but I simply could not hold back. I do hope we can continue our tea and biscuits dates, as I truly miss those since we couldn’t have one this summer. 

All is well and hope to see you soon, 

Y/n 

As owls arrived the next day delivering mail to students, Draco was given a very angry howler from his mother which only made the rest of the students, mostly Gryffindor’s, roar with laughter at his humiliation.

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “Walking the Tightrope” (Chapter 1/10) (au)

Summary: Killian's daily routines are a matter of habit. When he wakes up late one morning, his routines all change for the better. Emma doesn't care about routines, but she does care about Killian, no matter how reluctant she is to admit it to herself. 

Rating: E (much later in the story)

Content Warnings: There will be a part where pictures are posted without permission. It happens much later in the fic but if that’s not your thing, I want to put it out there now. And, of course, sexual content will be present. I will update these warnings for each chapter to pinpoint those sections!

A Special Thank You: Oh man, how do I put my gratitude into words? There are two constants in my CS fic writing life that I am so incredibly lucky to have. Thank you @captainstudmuffin for just downright prodding me in the ass to keep me moving when I wanted to give up. You were always there in the right capacity to keep me going. You did that reverse psychology thing with me that I always do to you with “Well, if you want to give up, that’s your choice...” and it worked. And then there’s @phiralovesloki who has listened to me self-depreciate for hours on end and still keeps me moving forward. And then you both turned your attentions to helping me get this thing edited and proofread. You handled all my tantrums, all my fits, all my problems. I love you both to the moon and back. 

And of course, thank you to the @captainswanbigbang for going with this rewrite idea. All of you modding this and putting shit in line and answering questions and being awesome and informative and helpful... my eternal gratitude for helping get this, my possible magnum opus, finished and out to the fandom. Much love to you all!

A/N: I wrote a lot of notes above here to start. Because of that, I’ll keep this line brief. Enjoy!

Find it on Ao3 & FFN!

-x-

Chapter 1: The Art of Routines

September 30: Monday

Every day, Killian Jones walks from his respectable dwelling by the Storybrooke Harbor to where he works, located right off the main drag. Storybrooke is nearly the definition of small-town America, but it houses a quaint-sized office of a British publishing firm that opened a branch over here last year. Three months ago, Killian took a chance to upend his whole life and applied for a junior editing position.

From a life in the Navy to a redirection of passions towards the fine art of literature, Killian has used a rigorous set of routines to get through every major upheaval in his life, including but not limited to the aforementioned relocation from London to a small speck on the map.

He uses his daily habits from the moment his alarm sounds in the morning until he shuts his eyes at night – operating his life in a tidy way and controlling what he can control while doing his best to accept whatever tries to throw him off.

Because of his method to build up his regimens, he knows that anything that lasts beyond two weeks becomes more likely to stick.

And for six weeks, Emma Swan has been part of his routines. Monday through Friday they cross the street together. They never speak. Sometimes they’ll smile and nod in greeting, but it’s enough in Killian’s book. Or at least, they’ve come to some unspoken agreement that it’s enough. Since the middle of August, this has been his norm, and thus it is now just another thing that marks time throughout his days.

The only reason he knows her name is because of the star-shaped badge she wears on her hip. That and being the sister of the sheriff are dead-giveaways to an identity. He’d heard of Emma long before he saw her as Will Scarlet filled him in on the townies. She, on the other hand, probably doesn’t even know his name. But he’s okay with that. He’s not out to meet the love of his life – not after what he went through with his last major relationship – but to enjoy a walk across the street with an ease he doesn’t understand and doesn’t have to. 

Day after day, he continues on, never looking back to see if she’s still looking at him. He’s afraid of what he might find if he does: either she’s also glancing back and this immediately becomes something different, or she isn’t and he’s effectively found himself with some kind of rejection complex. Both ideas are ridiculous. At the mere thought, Killian snorts and picks up his pace. 

On October 1st, Killian discovers how easy it is to throw off the delicate balance of a routine as strong as his. The alarm never goes off, or if it does, Killian either doesn’t hear it or turns it off in his sleep. He wakes, instead, to the sound of his text messages going off in quick succession, followed by the phone ringing and Will’s chirpy voice alerting him as he answers that he’s going to be late. 

With that, his eyes shoot fully open and he throws himself into action, hoping to get out the door in record time. He skips the coffee and the shower, throwing on the clothes he set out last night and hoping his hair stays in place with the water he combs through it. He’s out the door fifteen minutes late. His boss, Robin, will hopefully understand - he’s one of the most easy-going people Killian has ever met. Will is going to take the piss out of him, but that’s no different from any other day. Killian knew it was a mistake to share his location with his friend but in this case, with Will able to see that he was still at home when he should already be making his journey, he wasn’t going to complain about it. 

Instead, what he’s most upset about is that he’s going to miss Deputy Swan standing at their corner. 

And he’s right: she’s not there when he gets to the intersection. He pushes the button and diligently waits until it turns before crossing, just as he always does. It’s when he gets a full view of the patio in front of Granny’s that his steps suddenly halt. There she is, checking her phone and sipping from a to-go cup, standing at the table closest to the entrance. She glances up and sees him on the other side of the small fence that surrounds the front of the patio, and her eyes go wide. 

Quickly, she jams her phone in her pocket and exits the patio with two cups in hand, heading towards the sheriff’s station and away from him until she stops just as suddenly. She turns around to where he’s still glued in spot, knowing that each extra minute is asking for more torture from Will, but she walks up to him and he wouldn’t move if a bus came careening down the sidewalk at him. 

“Hi. This might be weird but… nevermind. Forget it.” She turns again, but Killian hastens after her. 

“What seems to be the problem, love?”

She spins around to face him again, a perturbed look on her face. He doesn’t know if it’s at him or herself, though, so he waits for her response.

“I’m not…” The words trail off, but she redirects. “I thought you might need coffee. You’re always so punctual. Figured if you were running late, you didn’t have any. But that’s probably ridiculous and just…” she trails off again, turning to dump the to-go cup into the bin nearby but Killian lunges for it. 

“No no, wait!” He catches the cup just before it leaves her grip, smiling wide when he successfully rescues it. “Thank you, Deputy. I appreciate it.”

“Swan. Emma Swan.”

“Oh, I know,” he responds, surprised at the devilish tone to the words. The only time he flirts anymore is when he’s two pints in at The Rabbit Hole on a rare night out with Will, and even then it’s with no intent behind it. His watch buzzes and Killian glances down to see Will is calling him again. When he sees the time, he can understand why. “Bloody hell. I’m incredibly late,” he says quickly, moving to continue his journey to the office and forgetting all his manners. 

“Is there something else I can call you, Incredibly Late?”

“Killian Jones!” he calls out as he gets to the corner by the post office. He spins on his heels to turn back to her, lifting the coffee again in thanks.

There’s an odd little smile on her face when he says it, but he’s still moving and has no time to wonder what it’s all about. “See you tomorrow, Jones!” 

Her words follow him around the corner and he grins as he picks up the pace to the office.

He’s amazed at how quickly his day turns around after officially meeting Emma Swan. Robin isn’t even mad when he shows up late, just happy that he’s finally sitting in front of his computer working on the endless edits he’s been helping with for a new book by an established writer. One that has terrible punctuation skills, apparently. And spelling. And grammar.

It’s barely been a half hour when he finds his thoughts drifting to the woman he only knows by name and reputation, and knows that somehow, his daily routines will never look quite the same. He wonders how much this little interaction means to her, too, if she looked so out of sorts when he was late today. And startlingly, he realizes that it did turn into something.

Running a hand over his face, Killian looks back at the page he’s supposed to be proofreading. He’s read the same sentence at least three times and still can’t figure out why it doesn’t feel right. It’s too early in the day to shut his office door and start reading everything out loud, however, so instead he saves his changes and closes the file, opening up a rain app on his phone and letting the sound soothe him while he stands up and stretches. 

“If you’re playing the calming sounds, I feel like you’re ready for more coffee,” Will says from his doorway. 

“You’re probably right,” Killian says, finishing his current stretch and turning off the app. “Shall we?”

“Ask Robin what he wants. Your treat since you were so late this morning,” his friend adds as he turns from the doorway. 

Killian makes a noise of aggravation, but still walks the short length to Robin’s office to inquire. 

Robin is locked in his own work, looking back and forth between three cover mockups that Will’s department would’ve sent over when they were ready. He glances up when Killian enters but only barely. “Coffee run?” the other man asks as he nudges each design around. 

This, too, is like clockwork in his life, which is why Robin already knows why he’s standing in his doorway. “Aye. Would you like me to bring back the usual or will you need something stronger today?”

“The usual is fine. Else I’ll be tempted to add liquor to it and no one at the home office will appreciate what I think of their last company email.”

“I have that whole rant recorded. You’d better make sure I don’t have anything stronger today or else they’ll get it verbatim.”

“Remind me to have you killed later this week after that chapter is edited.”

“I’ll pass it on to your secretary to be added to your calendar,” Killian mentions offhandedly while he leaves Robin’s office. This isn’t the first time Robin has scheduled to kill him for information he has on his superior. Killian’s sure it won’t be the last, either. 

As he leaves, Killian catches sight of the pictures on the wall. There’s a few scattered around his office, mostly of Robin’s adorable son Roland and his late wife. Marian passed just after Roland was born, making Robin’s decision to head up the American branch of NeverEndings Publishing House an easy one. The reason he’s stayed so long is also evident in the pictures of Regina Mills, the mayor of Storybrooke, scattered among the others. Regina was his “diamond in the rough” - the woman he never expected to meet and fall in love with shortly after he set up shop here. 

Along with pictures, there are paintings and his degrees, an antique wall clock that matches everything else, and a vintage bow and arrow hung behind the mahogany desk he nearly lives in some days. The whole thing feels like the den of some expensive cabin in the woods, but Killian knows for a fact that Robin put most of this together on the cheap. 

He passes his own little office again, noting the blank walls, the tidy desk, the single chair on the opposite side for small one-on-one meetings. He’s never really gotten around to decorating his work area. His degrees are still in one of the boxes in his flat, as are all the pictures of his friends and family from back home. 

There’s a single frame on his desk - just a picture of him and Liam at graduation that was packed into his luggage when he moved. Liam is beaming with pride while Killian looks like he’s about to bolt from the courtyard they had all gathered in after the ceremony. His left arm is tucked close by his side, and he knows for a fact it’s because he was trying to hide the prosthetic hook he wears from being in the pictures.

“So, why were you late today?” Will asks when they reach the doors and head outside.

“Alarm malfunctions,” Killian responds, as if there could be something besides human error to blame. Will just nods as they make the short trek down the street to Granny’s. Foolishly, Killian hopes to find his favorite deputy out patrolling or stopping for her own midday caffeine, but the only blonde in the diner is Ashley, the attentive but clumsy young server. 

Well, the only blonde woman. Dr. Whale, trying his best to flirt with Ruby, doesn’t count. 

“Have you heard anything I’ve said in the last three minutes?” Will asks, a touch of exasperation in his voice but humor lighting up his eyes. Instead of answering, Killian just pushes him forward to place his order. He pulls Killian up next to him and presents him to Ruby. “Tell Jones here that he has to come out with us on Friday.”

“The only thing I have to tell Jones is to place his damn order,” Ruby responds, her expression challenging Will in the way that only Ruby can. She looks back to Killian with a sweet smile. “You paying for all three?” He nods as he hands over the cash. Ruby winks at him, processing the change and handing it back before spinning from the register to make their drinks.

“Come on, mate. Come out this Friday.”

“I still have things I’m trying to unpack.”

“You’ve been saying you were going to unpack those things for the last three months.” He throws air quotes when he says “things” as if they’re fictitious items Killian invented for the sake of an excuse. He almost invites Will over to see what he’s talking about but feels like that would somehow turn into a standing invitation for his colleague to come over whenever he pleases.

“Yeah? And now I might mean it,” Killian retorts instead. Ruby places their drinks down on the counter before Will can press any further, and Killian spends an extra moment thanking the younger Lucas for exceptional service, as always.

“Kiss ass,” Ruby says as they gather their drinks and leave. There’s a smile on her face, though, and Killian knows that her days would be infinitely less exciting without him and Will pestering her at least once an afternoon. 

When they get back, Will takes Robin his coffee without having to be asked, which Killian is grateful for. But he’s barely seated in front of his computer again before Will is popping back up in his doorway.

“You’ve been summoned to the dungeons, mate.”

Killian drops his head for a second, trying to gather the energy to just… get up and go see if suddenly his benevolent boss has had a change in heart regarding his tardiness this morning. But Robin just waves him in and motions for him to sit down. 

“As you know, we originally hired you to be a junior editor to collaborate on projects.”

“Aye, that was the explanation I was given when I interviewed.”

“Well, we’ve gotten a new project that I’d like to see you take on. This isn’t quite a promotion, but it’s a test to see if I can trust you with something bigger than just standard edits to a pompous arse that doesn’t know his p’s from his q’s… literally.”

“I’m definitely interested. What is this project?”

“A young author has written a novella that twists fairy tales. It’s short but it’s deep, and I want your best on proofreading, but also on suggesting edits. He’ll be in to discuss the project at the end of this month, so keep working on your current progress until then. I’ll send all the files your way this weekend so you can start reviewing them whenever you’d like. Sound good?”

“Sounds excellent,” Killian says, genuine enthusiasm coloring his answer. “I look forward to it.”

Another disruption to the orderly life he’s been living, but honestly, this is almost as good as meeting Emma Swan. At least this feels like his disastrous start to October is no indication on how the rest of the month will go. 

-x- October 2: Wednesday

The next morning, Killian is back to his impeccable schedule, so he’s calm and collected when he strolls up to the crosswalk. Only minutes later, Emma walks up, eyes trained on her phone, earbuds playing music that she nods her head in time with. He takes a moment before she notices him to appreciate the view, to take in the dark jeans she likes to wear instead of a uniform, with black boots up to her knees. Her red leather jacket is half-zipped. Soon the weather is going to grow colder and he wonders if she’ll be warm enough on her walks.

She looks up, then, and smiles at Killian while he raises a hand in greeting. She hesitantly waves back, moving to stand next to him while they wait. 

“Good morning, Swan,” he greets just as the light changes and they start to cross. Her response is mumbled as she pulls the earbud from one ear.

“Have a good day, Jones,” she says, dipping her head as a parting gesture. There’s a smile pulling at his cheeks, and he turns to look at where he’s going instead of risking the possibility of running into something and ruining his mood.

For the rest of the week, they get to the crosswalk and he greets her. They part ways at the diner with her sending salutations before she walks up the path. In a way, it becomes a new routine for them. It’s one of the only changes to his days that he’s accepted as a normal progression instead of an uninvited intrusion.

On Friday, hours after his daily dose of Emma, he’s in the middle of the last chapter he has to edit when Will pops into his doorway in the afternoon. He goes to save the files and start the coffee routine, but Will enters the room fully and places two coffees and a bag with lunch on the corner of his desk.

“I hear you’ve got a bigger project coming up. Figured I’d be a good mate for once and encourage hard work instead of mucking around like we usually do on Fridays.”

The times that Will has been genuinely kind to him are definitely countable on his hand, so he’s almost afraid to ask if there’s a “but” included somewhere in there. However, Will just gives him a cheeky grin and heads right back out the door. 

When he’s made the final change and checked over the whole chapter again, it’s beyond the time that he normally leaves, even when he stays late. His eyes are burning and his stomach is growling again, but there’s a sense of victory when he sends the files back to Robin and shuts down his office for the weekend. 

He’s surprised to find Will on the couch in the reception area, asleep by the looks of it, and Killian is this tempted to leave him there because he knows exactly why his friend is still there. But the man brought him lunch and still owes him a beer for repayment of some good deed or another, so he knocks into one of Will’s shoes and snorts as he startles awake. 

“Come on, then. Sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“Damn right, you are.” Will’s response is groggy and expected.

Killian makes sure the building is locked up tight before they walk the few blocks over to The Rabbit Hole. He’d rather be in bed, or watching whatever his neglected Netflix queue has in store for him. While Will obviously went home and changed into something more casual, Killian is still stuck in his suit from work. It’ll have to do.

One drink, that’s all he’s promised, and then he’s going home to get the sleep he deserves and return to his normal order of events.

They’re barely through the door when he realizes his plan is going straight into the bin. There, in all her blonde glory, is Emma Swan. She’s parked near the end of the bar waiting for Jefferson to take her order. As he moves towards her, he hears Will greeting other acquaintances, but he’s too focused on getting to interact with Emma outside of their usual crosswalk that he doesn’t veer off course. 

“Fancy meeting you here, Swan,” he greets as he props up next to her. 

She jumps a little, clearly not expecting him to be there beside her, but regains her speech far easier than he would’ve if the situation were reversed.

“I’m sorry, you’re that figment of my imagination that only lives on Main Street. What are you doing here?”

He chuckles at her description of him and rubs behind his ear in a nervous gesture. Two more sentences and this will officially be the longest he’s ever spoken with Emma, and he’s enjoying it far more than he should.

“Out for a drink with my mate Will to celebrate a project ending.”

“Scarlet? See, I always thought you had better taste than that,” she says, a smirk on her face and her eyes shifting over Killian’s shoulder to where Will must’ve come up behind him. 

“Oy, just because I’m romancing your friend doesn’t mean you have to insult me.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what it means,” Emma responds to him, but there’s lightness and sarcasm in the whole exchange. 

“Romancing? You mean you finally worked up the nerve to tell Belle you fancy her?”

“Like three weeks ago, mate. This is why I tell you to come out more often.” Will claps Killian on the shoulder with those words, accepting the beer that Jefferson deposits on the bar for him, and walking back to the large gathering of people in the middle of the room that Killian is just realizing are mostly people he knows.

“Not one for socializing very often?” Emma asks, following his line of sight and waving to her brother at the table. Killian swallows a little harder when David sizes him up, eyes scrutinizing the whole time. 

“Not as much as I used to. Will and I usually make our ventures out earlier in the evening and in the middle of the week when we do.”

“So is it the expat club or something? You and Will, Robin, Belle. I think Tink stops in and drinks with them every couple weeks or so, too.”

“Will and I work at NeverEndings with Robin. The rest is all just coincidence.”

She hums in consideration, sipping slowly from her drink. “There’s room at the table. Wanna come join us, too?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“Is your brother going to murder me for speaking to you for longer than three and a half minutes?”

She glances back at David, who turns back to the group suddenly, clearly pretending he wasn’t watching them.

“Listen, he’s overprotective but he’s yet to kill anyone I had a conversation with. People I’ve dated, on the other hand…” she trails off, lifting her eyebrows to emphasize with a little shrug. 

He can’t help the laughter that erupts from him at that. She’s delightful. He could spend all his days having frivolous conversations with her and probably never grow tired of it.

“Come on, I promise he doesn’t bite unless you ask. Which is unfortunately more than I ever wanted to know but that’s what happens when you become best friends with your brother’s wife.”

“Thanks for sharing your pain with me. I hope it eases the burden of your knowledge,” he says low enough so only she can hear as he pulls out one of the remaining chairs for her. Her thank you is a quiet and pleased murmur, and he has to remind his heart to stop the constant drumroll so he can get through this evening with his dignity intact. He drops into the seat next to Emma and tries to bury the way his skin itches at the sudden change in his routine. 

A chorus of introductions goes around, with Emma giving names to random faces as she goes. He does know a majority of the people at the table, even if just by reputation. It’s nice to meet the kind schoolteacher that is David’s aforementioned wife, though he’s seen her in the library more than a handful of times since his arrival in town. 

“Everyone calls me Snow,” she explains after Emma calls her Mary Margaret. “Less syllables, more Disney Princess-ish.” When the topic shifts from greetings to the usual breakdown of everyone’s days, Killian seizes the moment no one is paying attention to them. 

“A Disney Princess that enjoys a little kink in the bedroom. Good to know,” Killian whispers in Emma’s ear, and her hushed laughter is music he wants to play again and again. 

When the conversation really starts flowing, he finds he’s less interested in drinking away his week and happier to engage with the people around the table. David still regards him with suspicion, but it probably helps that he doesn’t look like he’s trying to crawl into Emma’s knickers as the night continues on. He finished his singular beer ages ago but opts for water during his next trip up to the bar, along with food because Emma bursts out laughing when his stomach growls in the middle of her talking about a digital filing system they’re implementing. 

Emma nurses her one drink, and so he’s relieved to find her willingness to talk is due to genuine interest instead of alcohol’s influence. Of course, it may be because he’s supplying her in onion rings until she finally orders her own.

Their group slowly begins to break up, starting with the people who have someone home waiting on them. Then the couples start to leave, and Killian is pleasantly surprised when Emma all but shoves David out the door with Snow, insisting that she’s more than capable of taking care of herself. 

They talk of all things small: she tells him about working law enforcement in a small town, and he shares his experiences in Storybrooke since moving. She asks about his job and actually listens when he starts talking. 

“What’s this then?” Killian asks when Emma pushes up her sleeves. 

She looks down at it, scoffing a little. “A dumb symbol of youth and rebellion,” she replies. “I got it when I was sixteen because James and I got in an argument about how perfectly behaved I was.”

“James?”

“Oh, David has a twin brother. You know how people joke about having an evil twin? David actually has one.”

“Your family is delightful,” he comments, wanting to reach out and touch the heavy lines of the flower on her wrist. “Why this?”

“Buttercups are my favorite flower.” He’s learned so many new things about her so very quickly, but he files this information away in the event he has a chance to use it.

It’s when their whole group has officially departed that they realize the rest of the establishment is similarly abandoned, with only Jefferson wiping down bottles behind the bar. 

“Sorry about that, mate. Time for us to clear out?”

“I was gonna wait until I was done cleaning to see if you even noticed the place was empty,” Jefferson responds when Killian sets the last few glasses on the counter. Emma is behind him at the table still, gathering the smattering of bottles and the rest of the stuff to be washed. “Been a while since I’ve seen her talk that much to anyone she didn’t grow up with,” the other man remarks, nodding his head towards Emma. 

“My favorite bartender back home would probably say the same of me,” Killian admits, placing a few extra bills on the bar as a tip and wandering back over to help Emma get the last of the dishes from his late dinner and her ridiculously large pile of onion rings, of which she ate every last one.

“Thanks Jeff. Have a safe trip home,” Emma tells him as she hands him the items.

As they start walking, he expects anything but for Emma to fall back into casual conversation with him about the moving process he went through. He takes it in stride as they slowly amble down the street and back to their crosswalk. 

“I’m this way,” Emma says, indicating the direction she normally arrives from in the mornings. 

“I know,” Killian responds, his tone soft and content. “It was lovely getting to meet you, Emma.”

He holds out his hand, giving hers a firm shake. Once upon a time he was a lad who could court a woman without blinking an eye. It’s that thought that has him turning her hand and bringing it to his lips, eyeing her playfully from beneath his lashes as he looks up at her. This small gesture feels so foreign, but he likes the way she’s giving him a puzzled little smile.

“Goodnight, Swan.”

“See you Monday, Jones,” she almost whispers as he releases her hand. 

They head off in their separate directions, with Killian gently brushing his lips in wonder. 

Routines be damned, this is much better than a casual wave in the mornings.

-x-

Chapter 2

[outerspaceisbetterthannothing]

Blame [Surgeon!Calum AU] Ch.3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

Summary: What do you do if the only person you feel the connection to is the person you blamed for your sibling’s death?

A/N: This thing came up from my headass asks to wonderful Summer about neonatal surgeon!Calum au, which you can see here and here and here to understand the concept. I didn’t plan to do it at all, but the idea stuck in my mind and with support and encouragement from Summer, I came up with that. This is my first time publishing anything on Tumblr, so the feedback is extremely appreciated. Enjoy

Warnings: much less angst (I promised it’ll get better very soon), couple curse words, lack of proofreading

Chapter 3

The morning was gloomy just like Anna’s mood. She yawned again and switched off the stove, her fried eggs almost ready. She grimaced, moving them to the plate and sitting at the table. She didn’t like fried eggs, but that was basically the last piece of food in her fridge.

She remembered yesterday’s wish to cook something for dinner. Like there was anything to actually cook.

She added grocery shopping to the to-do list she was currently making up in her head and winced at too bitter taste of coffee. She ran out of milk… when exactly? Last week?

Anna wasn’t typically so bad at housekeeping. But last week’s events really messed with her routine. If things had gone differently, she wouldn’t have sat here having breakfast out of the last two eggs from her fridge. She would have been staying at Staten Island with her parents, helping around the house. She’d planned to be back to her flat the very morning of her first classes and purposefully emptied her fridge not really wishing to deal with spoilt leftovers. Now she had to adapt to new circumstances.

She finished her eggs and gave it another thought. It was Thursday morning. She was about to leave to her parents’ the next afternoon and stay at their house for as long as possible. Was it reasonable to go grocery shopping now? Or better fall back into the sinful habit of takeaways?

The very moment she was tossing between those two options, her phone vibrated shortly.

Anna took a deep breath and checked her messages. It was Ally. Anna felt her heart slowing down. Of course it was just Allie and not him.

“Jo’s cooking lasagna tonight, so I thought about grabbing some Thai food. What do u say? Noodles and wine?”

Anna couldn’t help smirking to that. Jo had an Italian Grandma, who she’d never seen in her life. Grandma Falsetti died pretty young, couple years before Jo’s Mom and Dad even met. Nevertheless Jo felt some deep connection to her late Grandma Falsetti. This connection came out in a peculiar idea that Jo had a secret talent to cook true Italian lasagna. How and when that idea settled in Jo’s eccentric mind girls had no idea. But every now and then Jo tried to prove her secret and probably yet sleeping cooking talent. She bought everything the little Italian grocery shop nearby could offer and started another crusade towards her dream dish. It would have been probably an easier task if she’d ever looked up any lasagna recipes. But Jo didn’t believe in online cookbooks and instead had an absolute faith in her spiritual connection to Grandma Falsetti. Allie and Anna never questioned that connection. They learned after the first lasagna dinner that Jo was her own fiercest critic, and every result of her desperate attempts to wake up her Italian roots was eventually thrown away. And every lasagna dinner was easily turned into a pizza dinner. Or Chinese dinner. Today it was Thai. Anna particularly adored lasagna dinners for their optimistic spirit. Jo, being a crazy passionate optimist, was never taken down by her failures in the kitchen and kept repeating that every experience was an experience. At least now she knew several wrong ways to cook lasagna, which only brought her closer to the right one.

Today’s invitation, being welcoming and well-timed on its own, also solved her grocery shopping dilemma.

Annabelle typed back “Sure! Will be there by 8. Wine’s on me” and wanted to switch off the phone but halted, her gaze settled at the contact name of the next dialogue. Her heartbeat picked up its pace again. She opened the tab, scrolled up to the very beginning and started rereading their messages. As if she hadn’t already learned them by heart.

She remember last night’s hesitation and sudden urge to text him. Still hadn’t quite understood what made her do it. And of course the first ever idea of what to type was exactly as silly as all her words said or sent to him so far.

23.46 “What would’ve happened if I’d taken a coffee?”

Even several hours later she still blushed rereading that. Why couldn’t she have started with simple “Hi” or “It’s Anna, sorry to bother”? Why her subconscious was making her look ridiculous?

23.47 “There would’ve been one coffee less on the table in the on-call room”

The speed and simplicity of his answer was calming and exciting at the same time. He stated that just like they were continuing a conversation they’d paused a minute ago and not fifteen hours. It made her almost dizzy. To the point of completely losing her mind judging by her next questions.

23.48 “That easy?”

23.49 “That easy”

23.49 “And nothing more?”

23.50 “And nothing more”

Anna dropped her phone on the table and hid her face in her hands, groaning quietly. Such a dumbass…

She recalled staring at his short unimaginative responses last night for couple minutes. After which she’d remembered about good manners.

23.54 “Sorry for the late night messages”

“Especially so stupid ones,” she thought now.

23.55 “I’ve at least 8 more hours on a shift so not so late night for me”

23.55 “Oh, ok”

The sounds, that were Anna’s reaction to that fine piece of epistolary genre, were hardly human.

23.56 “Working tmrrw too?”

23.57 “No, days off till Sat. Y?”

Anna’s hands started shaking again, almost like last night when she was typing her next message, praying at the same time for an alien invasion which would instantly block all the mobile connection and stop her from finishing her question. Whatever impediment this insane world could offer would actually do, she’d thought, cause she wasn’t able to stop her fingers from typing and feared to death to actually ask him what she was about to ask.

23.59 “Could we maybe meet up? For a coffee or sth? I really need to talk to you”

She still couldn’t believe she wrote about coffee. But as usual realisation came after she pressed send. She’d sat on her bed after that biting her fingers nervously and looking at three little dots showing on his side of the screen.

00.00 “Sure. Fri noon ok?”

Annabelle hadn’t noticed she’d hold her breath till she got that text. She’d gasped for air and almost jumped on her bed.

00.01 “Yeah, totaly”

00.02 “Let’s hold on to that, but i’ll confirm tomorrow evening in case they call me in overnight”

00.02 “Yeah, cool”

00.03 “Goodnight then”

Anna exhaled loudly rereading that last message from him for a thousandth time at least.

Why that simple sign of politeness was raising such sensation in her? Why did she see something more than just politeness behind those two words? And why everything about that man was so damn intense?

***

“It’s all about the right mood,” Jo repeated for the third time, putting her future masterpiece in the oven.

“Whose mood exactly?” mocked her Allie. Jo continued staring into the oven through the thick glass and didn't pay much attention to her friend’s words.

“Yeah, Jo, whose mood?” joined Anna, “A cook’s?”

“Or maybe guest’s?”

“No, no, no, I know! It’s all about the lasagna’s mood!” Anna started giggling, mostly because of her fair share of wine, consumed while Jo was cooking.

Jo smirked, standing up. “You are absolute bitches today, ladies! Congratulations!”

Anna and Allie raised glasses in a joky toast from the opposite side of a kitchen island.

“So, how are your parents?” Allie asked in much more serious tone.

Anna put her glass down and shrugged silently. Jo sent Allie disapproval look.

“You’ve seen my Mom in the hospital. She tries to act normal. But of course it’s hard. It’s hard for everyone,” finally said Anna. “I don’t even know what is worse, the way she acts now, or if she spent all her time alone and crying and mourning.”

“Of course second option is worse, darling,” said Jo softly.

“But shouldn’t you like… go through it. You know, anger, depression, all that stuff. I feel like she’s stuck in her denial phase. What if she’s actually harming herself that way?”

Jo was obviously lost for words. Allie sighed deeply and noted, “Everybody copes their own way. Knowing Jennifer, it’s quite understandable that she doesn’t want other people to see her grief. She’s exactly that type of woman who’d cry for three days and then stand up and go on with her life. She was never the one to dwell.”

Anna nodded, took another sip of her wine. “I get it. And you right. It’s just. I don’t know, I feel like I miss on something. The way they react… We did have time to prepare to any outcome, knowing about Grayson’s heart condition for some time. But… I sometimes feel like they overcame it in like couple hours. I know they actually didn’t, they do grieve. But the fact that they don’t really show it leaves me confused. Because I don’t understand anything. What should I do? Should I cry? Should I be angry? Should I let go and act it like there were no baby at all? I cried with my Mom the very first day, I had my gush of anger. But now…” she shook her head. “I’m literally at a loss. And my emotions are at a verge. One moment I’m completely alright, the next I’m sobbing in the middle of a parking lot. I mean, what is wrong with me?”

“Hey, nothing is wrong with you,” reassured her Jo, while Allie simply hugged Anna and stayed like that. “There is no instruction that will tell you how you should feel. Because there’s no should, Belle. You just feel, the way you do. And if it means crying in the middle of the fucking parking lot, then fine!”

Anna snorted to that, feeling tears in her eyes. “I just feel like a freak.”

“You’re not. You are hurting. It’ll take time. Just give it some time,” almost whispered Allie.

“Guess, you’re right.”

Anna took another sip of her wine and went faster, like she just remembered it. “About Saturday, there’ll be no funeral. Mom wanted cremation. So it’ll be just a little memorial-ish stuff at our house, nothing official at all. Only family and closest friends. Will you come anyway?’

“Of course, darling,” confirmed Allie. “Noon?”

“Yeah.”

They kept silence for some time, drinking and not looking at each other. Then Jo, visibly hesitating, decided to ask. “Belle, is Bryan going to come?”

Allie rolled her eyes to that question and Anna snorted.

“Yes, Jo, I’m sorry to upset you, but Bryan is going to be there. We messaged yesterday and he confirmed, that he won’t leave for school till Monday.”

“Messaged?” Jo asked in slight confusion. “You didn't talk to him?”

Anna shrugged nonchalantly, than added. “Wasn't feeling like talking.” And set her gaze at the wine glass she was twisting in her fingers.

Jo looked at Allie, who shook her head asking Jo to drop the topic. Jo widened her eyes in fake innocence when Anna sighed and gave in. “Say it,” she stated firmly.

“What?” Jo decided to continue acting innocent.

“Whatever you wanted to say. Just say it.”

“I just-” Jo hesitated for a moment, which made Anna look up at her friend in mild surprise. If there was one thing Jo could never be accused of it was hesitation. “Don't you think it's rather odd, Belle? He’s your boyfriend of more than three years and you wasn't feeling like talking to him in the probably darkest moment of you life.”

Anna frowned and looked at Allie. “Do you think it's odd too?”

Allie shook her head finishing her wine. “Can you please keep me out of this conversation?” she said, when realised that her friends’ gazes didn't move from her.

“No?” Anna raised her eyebrows.

Allie rolled her eyes at Jo and looked at her empty glass. “Well, I guess, it is a little odd. I guess if I was in the relationship I would want the guy to take care of me in such moment,” she shrugged. “But everybody's different. And if you feel like being alone, it seems totally fine to me,” she concluded, stressing her last words and looking at Jo again.

“Well, I'm sorry for being so hard-heartedly honest, but it doesn't really seems fine to me,” stated Jo.

A loud sound struck in the settled silence. Anna looked back at the couch where she left her phone. “To tell the truth, Jo, Bryan is definitely the last of my problems right now.”

She stood up and stepped to the couch to check the message. She was intended to keep her face emotionless not to give much away (mostly because there was literally nothing to give away), but she couldn't help her smile when she saw the contact name.

“Still up for that coffee?”

Her fingers started typing before she even thought about her reply. She waited a moment till he sent her an address of a little coffee shop next to the NY public library, switched her screen off, went back to the kitchen island and realised that girls’ gazes were on her all that time.

“What?” she played dumb under Jo’s questioning look.

“Who was that?” Jo obviously had a hard time trying to suppress her curiosity. Anna looked at her, then at Allie, who as usual wasn't giving much away, but was definitely interested too.

“That was…” Anna stumbled. How would she explain all of it?

“Don't say that was nobody!” exclaimed Jo. “I swear, Belle, if you say it was nobody, I'll steal you phone and look.”

Anna was taken aback. “Hey, chill, would you? Why does it even matter?”

“Because you smiled,” quietly said Allie and Anna felt almost betrayed.

“And not just smiled! You smiled your special little smile,” continued Jo as she started to slightly bounce on her tiptoes impatiently.

“Special smile? I don't have any special smiles, what are you even talking about?”

“You do,” noted Allie matter of factly.

“See? Thank you, Allie! Now spill the beans!”

“There's nothing to spill. It was Dr. Hood.” She took a bottle and poured herself more wine, but mostly just to occupy herself with something cause she suddenly felt awkward.

“Dr. Hood?” Jo repeated in disbelief and Allie almost choked on her wine. “Is it that hot doctor we saw staring at you at the hospital?”

“Well, yes,” Anna confirmed, still not risking to look at her friends.

Jo shrieked and spinned throwing her arms up in the air. “I knew it!” she yelled looking at Anna with excitement. “I knew there was something between the two of you!”

“There’s literally nothing between us, I swear,” Anna said holding her hands up in calming gesture.

“Wait, first things first! How did it even happen that you text?” bursted Allie being as excited as Jo, to Anna’s utter bewilderment.

“Well, he gave us his card, you know, just in case, when Mom only got to the hospital,” Anna explained.

Jo gave a whistle. “So it was you who texted first? I can say that I've never been so proud of you, my little Belle!”

Anna sighed and hid her head in her hands. “It’s absolutely not like that, Jo!” she groaned. “Can you not, please?”

“Then just tell us!” begged Jo.

“I shouted at him, okay?” Anna confessed, still hiding her face. Then she took a deep breath, took her hand off of her face and met two shocked stares. “The gush of anger I had,” she started explaining. “It was the very night Grayson died. I'd been hiding in the hospital corridors for some time, needed some privacy to bail my eyes out, you know. And then I decided to come back to my Mom's room and I saw him in a hall. And… it was really awful. I blamed him for everything, said he hadn't saved my brother, that it was his fault. Then started crying again. An absolute mess.”

Anna shook her head on the unwanted memory.

“What did he do?” Allie asked softly.

“Nothing much. He held me the whole time I was crying, ‘s all.”

The room was silent for some time.

“So why did you text him?” finally asked Jo.

Anna looked up at her. “I asked him to meet me. I need to apologize properly for what a horrible person I was to him.”

“Anna,” Allie gasped putting her hand on Anna’s back and stroking her soothingly. “You aren't a horrible person. You were devastated by your loss. What you did is more than understandable.”

Anna chuckled bitterly. “It wasn't actually the only shit thing I did.”

“What?”

“The day you came to visit my Mom, I was sitting on the bench in front of the hospital that morning. I was sitting there every morning before entering, actually. Needed a moment to myself, you know. So he sat next to me and offered coffee he’d bought for me. And I just shoved him off like a total bitch. And he just tried to be friendly.”

“Belle, I'm sure he understands,” tried to reassure her Jo.

“Of course, he does,” Annabelle agreed. “But that's not the point at all. The way I acted, that's not me. I'm not that person and I need him to know it. I can't explain, but I just can't leave it like that. I owe him an apology no matter what reasons I had.”

“When are you meeting?” Jo asked a moment later.

“Tomorrow noon,” she answered as Jo’s oven alarm went off.

Jo bounced again in anticipation and picked potholders. “Finally!” she breathed out, opening the oven.

They understood something was wrong as soon as Jo started cutting it in portions. The dish was basically breaking under her knife with loud crunching. Allie and Anna looked at each other too scared to say a word. Jo groaned, mumbled something about “the fucking fuck” and threw another result of her cooking into her trash bin. Then she looked up at girls and asked, looking tired and pissed, “So, what did you bring today?”

“Thai,” confessed Allie with shy smile. “But we need to heat it up.”

“Well, you know how to use my microwave,” Jo shrugged waving to Anna. “Belle, give me that damn bottle, will you? I need to drink up that disaster.”

Annabelle giggled, handing Jo wine and smiling at the visibly lightening mood. She couldn't help but thought that no matter what was happening in her life, lasagna dinners would always be there to save her from all the troubles. And at that moment she couldn't be more grateful for that.

***

“Are you sure you wanna go today?” her dad asked for at least fourth time. “Traffic’s gonna be awful.”

Anna smiled. “Dad, it's New York, traffic’s gonna be awful no matter when I decide to come.”

He chuckled lightly. “Okay, sweetheart. You gonna stay for the whole weekend?”

“No, actually I was about to stay till Tuesday. I've got first class in the afternoon so I could leave in the morning.”

“You sure?”

“Well, yeah. As long as you okay with me bothering you for so long,” she joked.

“Don't be silly.” Annabelle could see her Dad’s frown right now and smiled wider. “I just thought as it’s your last weekend before school starts you’d want…”

Anna didn't let him finish. “There’s no other place I’d rather be right now, Dad.”

“Sure thing, Anna.”

“I'll text you when I set off, ‘kay? Don't start dinner without me!”

“Can't promise you anything, sweetheart. Your Mom’s cooking curry tonight so…”

“I won't speak to you ever again if you start without me!” she threatened, giggling.

“I'm just saying I wouldn't waste much time for packing if I were you,” Mark teased again.

“I’m leaving right now,” Anna heard her father chuckle again and the sound made her heart shrink. Or maybe it was the sight of a tall man in black shirt and black jeans waiting for her outside of a quite busy coffee shop. Anna felt her hands starting to shake. “Dad, I have to go, but I'll text you later.”

“Okay, darling. I love you.”

“Love you too. See you tonight,” Anna mumbled and finished her call.

That very moment he saw her and put his phone he was scrolling through while waiting in the pocket of his jeans.

Anna felt her heart setting off in a running pace. Say Hi or Hello? Smile or better not? What was more appropriate in conversation with a man she’d accused of the most horrible things?

“I thought of buying us coffee, but realised you’ve never actually told me,” he said with a ghost of a smile on his lips, saving her from struggling with her first words.

“Never told you what?” Anna felt lost at this.

“What coffee you prefer,” he explained and let smile touch his face finally.

Anna widened her eyes half because of the fact that she didn't understand that herself, half because he wanted to buy her coffee even after she shoved him off the last time he did. “Er, cappuccino would be fine, but you don't have to buy me coffee,” she shook her head frowning a little.

He shrugged and stepped into the coffee shop without sparing her another word. Anna followed him just to see the barista noticing him and raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

“I was right,” told him Dr. Hood leaving Anna even more at a loss.

The barista guy smirked and handed him two coffee cups, giving Anna an examining look.

Dr. Hood turned back to Anna and gestured her to go back to the street.

“There are tables in the park across the street,” he showed her. “We can sit there and talk. And here's your cappuccino,” he handed her a cup and stepped towards the said park.

“So you did buy me coffee,” she concluded looking at his back and following him suit.

He shrugged and Anna thought she heard him snort. “It was a lucky shot. You just seemed like a cappuccino type,” he said and looked at her as they entered the park.

“A cappuccino type,” Anna murmured to herself having close to no clue what he was actually talking about. What was a cappuccino type after all?

“Well thanks for the coffee,” she said as they settled at a table next to a big tree and as far away from the walking paths as possible. She noted his lips twitch a little. “And thank you for not commenting on it further,” she sighed, looking away from him.

“Any time,” he answered, took a sip of his coffee and asked, “How have you been?”

Anna shrugged. What could she answer to that? Was she alright? She wasn’t even sure what alright was anymore. She looked back at him, taking slightly aback by the unexpected seriousness in his eyes. She shrugged again and saw his nod of understanding. He wasn’t looking at her with sympathy or pity, wasn’t judgemental or embarrassed by the pain behind that shrug. He just understood. And surprisingly it was exactly what she needed right now.

“So why did you wanna see me?” he asked after another minute of sitting there in silence.

Anna felt tears coming up to her eyes and took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to cry in front of him, not again. She gathered all the courage she had left in her and breathed out, “Dr. Hood, I-”

“It’s Calum,” he interrupted her with a shy smile.

Anna looked up at him again. “Um, what?”

“My name is Calum,” he repeated, his smile widening. “We’re no longer in doctor-patient relationship. Truth to be told we’ve never actually were. But anyway, call me Calum, please. Dr. Hood still has me a little uncomfortable,” he admitted.

“Oh, okay,” Annabelle mumbled, cursing herself again for the stupid childish answers. “Well, Calum, I just wanted to apologize,” she stated, looking at her hands, started picking on her nail polish out of nervousness. “For the night it all happened and for the Wednesday morning too. I had no right to blame you for what happened, I know you’ve done everything that was possible. And I’m sorry I was a total bitch to you when you just tried to be friendly. And-”

“Hey, don’t,” he stopped her again and suddenly Anna felt his right hand gripping on hers. His hand was hot and soft and so big, with three letters tattooed between his thumb and index finger. He waited till she looked back at him and said softly, “You don’t have to apologize. I totally understand.”

Anna shook her head and leaned back on her chair, her hands are still in his grip. She noticed with her side sight a little girl in pretty pink dress running excitedly around a woman several meters behind Calum and felt tears coming up again. “It doesn’t matter if I had a reason or not. I’m thankful you understand, but I still had no right to act like I did towards you. And I’m so sorry that I did. And I really hope you could forgive me, cause honestly words cannot even start to explain how grateful I am for everything you did.”

Calum smiled again and started with, “Anna, you-” but this time he was interrupted.

Two tiny hands gripped on his left arm and a chubby cheek pressed to his tattooed biceps. Calum turned his look to the little intruder. Annabelle freed her hands from his grip and looked at a little girl in confusion. Pretty pink dress with a flowery print told her it was the same girl she noticed couple minutes ago. The girl was about three, had pretty curls the color of milk chocolate and big blue eyes, which were fixed on Calum’s still slightly surprised face.

“And who is that here?” he chuckled, big smile on his face.

“It’s just me, doctah Cawum,” she replied and giggled, not looking anywhere but at him. “I made a wish I meet you today,” she revealed shyly and giggled again.

“Seems like a real magic to me,” Calum chuckled again, standing up from his chair and bending down to the girl. “Now, I guess I deserve my hug.”

The girl laughed happily, as he lifted her up and spinned couple of times, squeezing her in his massive arms. They stopped and the girl pulled back a little, settling comfortable on his hip. That was exactly when a woman the girl was with came up to them, she looked a little embarrassed and angry.

“Aubrie, how many times do I need to tell you not to run away from me?” she nagged little girl in a rather soft voice.

“But I saw doctah Cawum!” Aubrie stated, like it was totally indulging. The woman snorted, looking at the man holding her little daughter. “Of course you did,” she sighed. “Hello, Calum! And I’m sorry we interrupted you,” she looked apologetically at Anna.

Calum hugged her with his free arm with no hesitation. “Don’t be ridiculous, I’m always glad to see you. This is Anna, by the way,” he looked back at Annabelle. Anna smiled at the woman. “And these are Laura and my favourite patient Princess Aubrie,” he introduced them, bouncing Aubrie on his hip.

“I’m not a patient, I’m your friend!” exclaimed Aubrie and hid her face in his neck.

“Oh, I’m so silly! I’m sorry, princess, of course you’re my friend!” he agreed easily and moved his gaze to Laura. “You were at the hospital? How is our little girl?”

“Yeah, we were at the usual checking. Dr. Irwin said she’s absolutely okay. Even approved on dancing classes,” she smiled, stroking Aubries curls.

“Will you come to my concert when I be dancin’ pwincess?” Aubrie asked, pulling away and looking at Calum with eyes full of adoration.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he promised, hugging her again.

“Okay, angel, we have to go,” her mother sighed. “Hug doctor Calum goodbye and let’s go.”

“No, Mama,” whined Aubrie and clung on Calum’s neck with both hands, making him laugh quietly.

“Remember you wanted to buy those beautiful cups for your garden party? If we go now we’ll probably have enough time to do it today,” traded Laura with a mischievous grin.

Her trick obviously worked, as Aubrie let go off Calum’s neck with a sad expression on her face.

“Will you come to my garden party?” she asked him, before letting him put her down.

“Well, if your Mom and Dad are okay with that,” he hold back for a moment.

“Come on, Calum, you know, you are always a welcome guest in our house,” smiled Laura at him.

“I will most definitely come,” Calum promised to the little girl in his arms. “When is it going to be?”

“Next Saturday, at around three,” said Laura, as Aubrie struggled with answering, probably not very good with days and time yet.

“Then I’ll see you there, right, princess?” Calum asked Aubrie, and she nodded excitedly, glowing with happiness.

He hugged Aubrie one more time, they said their goodbyes with Laura, who shared one more smile with Anna, and with that they left.

Calum stood there for a moment more, looking after them, and then sat back down on his chair, shy smile still on his lips.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled, looking at Anna.

“That’s okay,” she smiled back, even though her heart was aching from the sight of a happy little kid. “Did you treat her?”

Callum hummed admittedly.

“Tell me about it,” Anna asked.

Calum frowned, her request took him by surprise.

“Well, Aubrie was one of my first patients after I started operating after couple of years of residency. She was born premature and had a heart condition.”

“Like my brother?”

“Not exactly,” he shook his head, his stare not leaving Anna’s face for a moment. “There was a little problem with her cardiac valve, it’s rather easier than what your brother had. She was operated on the third day after her birth and spent almost four weeks after that in an NICU. She needs regular check ups now. Although her chances of living a healthy life without any other operations are very high.”

“You aren’t the one who checks up on her?” Anna asked, slightly confused.

“No, my job is finished after the first month of their life,” Calum explained. “Then we pass our little patients on to pediatrics. But I do like to follow their progress,” he finished quietly.

Anna nodded, not really knowing what to say to that.

“Why’d you ask?”

She looked straight at Calum and felt a lonely tear fall down her cheek.

“I don’t really know,” she said, wiping a tear with her hand and smiling apologetically. “Just needed some good story, I guess.”

“Hey,” Calum stretched his arm forward and grabbed her hand again, making her shake a little. “There’ll be plenty of them in your life. Just give them some time.”

She smiled back at him and sniffed. She squeezed his hand in silent thank you and offered, “Do you, maybe, wanna walk a little? Of course, if you’re not-”

“I’m not,” he smirked, standing and pulling her up by her hand, “whatever you wanted to say next.”

Anna let him snake his arm around her shoulders and lead up the street. She was dazed by his easiness and by the way her heart felt lighter. She couldn’t even try to explain all the things she felt, too overwhelmed by his presence. But she was absolutely positive about one thing. She wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the day with his arm around her shoulders.

Taglist: @dancingonanemptywallet @5saucewho

[spideyspence]

a year has gone by (i’m waiting) ; peter parker

hi everyone im back. it’s been proofread (a big thanks to @birthday-joc). i realised i should probably mention what song inspired this fic and it’s paper hearts by the vamps. it’s a very cute song and i love it so much. anyway, this is one is cute and i hope y’all enjoy. love you guys (and thank you again for 100 followers)

-

When Y/N found out about Peter being Spiderman, it sent her into a bit of a crazy headspace. Her boyfriend was one of the many humans who had been turned to dust. He had gone to space. He put his life at risk every day to protect the citizens of New York and the whole world.

There was no doubt that she loved him. She had so much respect for him and his willingness to help others. Every time he went out in that Spiderman suit, her anxiety levels were high until he either stopped by hers and said good night or sent her a text to say that he was safe.

She had not removed him from her life, she could never do that. She had been friends with him since middle school and he was the closest friend she had. Y/N had Michelle and Ned, but Peter was always there for her.

That was why when she broke up with Peter, she could feel her heart-breaking and seeing Peter’s face fall like that, is something that she wishes that she could forget.

-

Y/N walks down the hallway at Midtown High School and it’s one of those days where she wishes she could shrink. She wants to crawl into her bed in her pyjamas and just binge watch a TV show on Netflix that you don’t need to pay too much attention to. When she was with Peter, days like this she would have texted him in the morning asking him to bring in one of his hoodies, too big for her and it would also smell like him. It settled her anxiety and allowed her to focus on her work a bit better. The jumper helped ground her when Peter wasn’t there.

Now she feels alone walking this hallway. It’s been almost a year since she broke up with Peter but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less. She told Peter that she needed space because she had become dependent on him to the point where she needed to build herself back up and not have to rely on anyone when concerning her mental health. In that past year, the love she felt for Peter has never changed nor faltered. She misses him, that was all she knew in that time and she wanted to return to his arms.

-

Peter had a spare period before lunch. He just had a chemistry test, so he did not have new material to study that day and he had left his maths textbook at home. He hadn’t seen Y/N by that point. He missed her, even more than she missed him. He was never too good with words. When he told Y/N that he loved her for the first time, his words had just moulded into one. Somehow, she knew what he was saying, and she replied with an ‘I love you too,’ and a kiss on his lips.

They never became sick of one another’s presence. Peter was never annoyed when he woke up with Y/N’s hair in his mouth because it let him know that what they had was real, and it was not just a figure of his imagination. They had watched many movies together that every time they watched a movie again, they knew when the other was going to laugh. Whether it was going to be a small chuckle or a ‘fall back on the bed’ kind of laugh. When Peter closed his eyes, he could still picture Y/N’s face in the light of the fairy lights she had wrapped around her headboard when it was the only thing illuminating her room.

The feeling he had when he was with her was what he missed.

They still caught up with one another. Their group was Ned, Michelle, Peter and Y/N. They could not go their separate ways because they had been through a lot together. How the three of them kept themselves strong when Peter had died was what let them know that they were not just going to be ‘high school friends’, they were going to be friends for much longer.

Peter sat in the library, staring at his notebook in from of him with a pen in hand. He wanted to write a letter or even just a note to Y/N, but he had no idea what to say. That he missed her? That he still loved her? Those were both true, but he still didn’t know what to write. So, he didn’t think. He touched the pen to the paper and just wrote.

Fifteen minutes later, he gave up. Peter re-read his emotions that he had put on paper. They sounded too sappy and he had come to the conclusion that no matter what he wrote, it didn’t matter because Y/N wasn’t going to read it anyway.

Peter sat near the bin in the library, so he didn’t bother getting out of his seat. He attempted to throw it into the bin a few metres away. He didn’t even turn around to make sure that the crumbled paper landed in the bin, nor if anyone was even behind him.

-

Y/N couldn’t concentrate in class. Thoughts running through her mind because she felt unsettled that day. She was in her maths class and they were studying for an upcoming test but every single noise she heard was heightened for her, so she asked the teacher if she could go study in the library instead. Y/N was a good student, so the teacher didn’t have an issue, wrote her a note and she was on her way with her books to the library.

In order to focus and calm down, she plugged in her headphones as she walked to the library and hit shuffle, just to block out one of her sharpened senses. Since she was focused on making her way to the desk and wasn’t focusing what was around her, she didn’t notice a brown-haired boy tossing a crushed-up piece of paper her way.

As the paper hit her, it startled her, but she didn’t squeal. She placed her books at her table and looked around to see what idiot decided to throw paper at her and whether they had the guts to own up. She glanced at where she was standing and the table next to there.

That’s when she saw him.

She unfolded the paper and started to read.

‘I wish I could put it into words how much I miss you. I know you’ve studied Shakespeare for school, so put some really nice quote of his in here. I really do miss you and I still love you. It hurts to see you wander down the halls alone sometimes. I know that before everything, I would have had my arm around your shoulders. I know that on days like today when your anxiety is high, you would be wearing my jumper. It’s not the dates I miss or the nights we spent watching movies and staying at each other’s place, it’s the look in your eyes you once gave me. Whenever you look at me, I search for it, like a lost puppy trying to find their owner. Sometimes I can see a glimmer in them, but I still look away because it isn’t like it was before.

I miss using your shampoo and conditioner. My hair was always so soft and lately, it hasn’t been looking it’s best due to the stress of school, Tony being on edge about everything and me missing you just so fucking much. I would say ‘I don’t know how I’ve survived this past year without us being as close as we used to’, but that would be a lie. I couldn’t care less about myself right now. I know that’s shitty and I should be caring about myself, but I truly feel happy and myself when I’m with you. I know it’s bad to rely on others for your mental health and feeling happy, but I can’t help it. Whenever you smile, no matter how big or how small it always creates this light and happiness for everyone in the room. Your happiness is contagious.

I miss you Y/N, I really do.’

-

‘So,’ Y/N says as she sits down next to Peter with a smile on her face.

‘You miss me huh?’

Peter looks over to you, looks back down and smiles at his notebook.

‘Yeah of course. Do you miss me at all?’ Peter asks, nervous.

‘I miss being happy and my happiness was with you. So yes, I miss you and I always will.’

The bell rings and Y/N walks back over to get her maths books and when she turns around, she sees Peter with his hand out, there for her to hold if she wishes to.

-

Y/N sits next to Peter at the lunch table, closer to him then she has been for too long. She doesn’t have his jumper on, because it’s no longer one of those days. The rest of the group at the table can tell what’s just happened.

‘Ned, cough it up.’ Michelle says to the other boy.

‘Cough what up?’ Ned asks, praying that Michelle will let it go.

‘You owe me $5. I told you they were gonna get back together this week.’

Y/N chuckles and she rests her head on her boyfriend’s shoulder.

She’s back to being happier, both of them are.

Happier and in love.