#if i had planned my trip literally a week later though i would’ve been there for mischief movie night which is killing me

[enter-drfrog]

Broke: being upset that I don’t won’t be in London when Mischief Movie Night returns or The Comedy About Spies

Woke: seeing the 10-year anniversary cast of The Play That Goes Wrong because I am still in London

[takeariskao3]

omg @onlyhereforthefanficnation i totally forgot that i have an epilogue written that contains spoilers for parts 2 & 3 but if you are interested i'll put it under the cut!

*content warning* for dramione, panville, lovenott, padron, & married hinny 😉

December 2009

Christmas in Holyhead had always been a sight to behold, but it seemed the village had outdone itself this year. Snow covered rooftops and decorated storefronts served as a festive backdrop for the last minute shoppers and really completed the postcard perfect feel of the place. Ginny could appreciate the scenery, even if she was less than thrilled about how many people had been at the market. She’d only needed to grab a few last minute items, but the trip to the other side of town, which normally would’ve taken a quarter of an hour, took three times that. 

Wind whipped her copper hair as she turned onto the lane and she tucked her chin into her scarf. She was now a full thirty minutes behind schedule and everyone would be arriving within the hour. Creating a mental checklist of the last few things she needed to do, she figured dinner would only end up being ten to fifteen minutes later than planned, but only if Harry pitched in to help. 

He better have finished decorating the living room or she was going to hex him into next week.

Reaching the end of the lane, Ginny stomped up the front walk of their cottage. Through the picture window she could see her husband lounging on the couch, flipping through the latest issue of Seeker Weekly. 

She decided a hex was too mild, perhaps a nice Reducto to his favorite appendage would get her point across. Ginny swept into the house, banging the door open loudly and storming into the living room just in time to see Harry spring to his feet and levitate a few strands of garland in front of him. 

“You lazy little wanker!” she bellowed. “I gave you one job while I was gone, and it was not to sit on the sofa, flipping through adverts!”

Harry had the good sense to at least look sheepish. “But I’m no good at this. It takes me four tries just to get one scallop-”

“Do you want to make the canapés then?” Ginny interrupted. “Because I would much rather hang garland.”

“No,” Harry muttered quickly. “No, no, I’ll finish the garland.”

Ginny smirked when he turned away, all she had to do was threaten him with cooking and he would volunteer to do literally anything else. 

She set to work at their kitchen island, pulling out the cutting board and bewitching a few knives to start slicing, all the while watching Harry’s progress with the Christmas decorating. He wasn’t lying, he really was awful at scallops; and though she was just going to have Hermione fix it when she arrived, Ginny found that she rather liked the imperfection, at least it showed that he tried.

Harry skirted her a few wary glances, apparently calculating how likely he was to get yelled at again if he spoke. Watching these internal struggles play out on his face was one of Ginny’s true joys in life. 

Eventually, he decided he was safe because he asked, “Do we have to do this every year?”

“Do what?” Ginny furrowed her brow in confusion. “Host a party? You’ve never had a problem with having people over before-”

“No,” Harry hesitated. “Secret Santa.”

Ginny rolled her eyes, they’d had this conversation at least six times in the last three days. “Will you please just tell me what’s bothering you?”

Harry turned away, muttering something she couldn’t make out.

“Sorry, didn’t quite catch that.”

“It’s Malfoy!” 

Shocked by this little outburst, Ginny blinked a few times trying to play catch up. “What about him?”

“I know he drew my name. He’s been hinting about it for weeks.”

Ginny bit back a laugh. “And that’s why we shouldn’t do secret santa? Because it forces Draco Malfoy to buy you a gift?”

Harry set his jaw. “He’s up to something.”

Shaking her head, Ginny went back to slicing her vegetables and tried to look as innocent as possible. Though, it clearly didn’t work, because Harry moved to stand on the other side of the counter, splaying his arms out wide and leveling her with his interrogation look.

“You know who has my name, don’t you.”

“No,” Ginny replied innocently, refusing to look him in the eye.

“Yes, you do. You know-” Harry walked around the island to invade her personal space. “You have to tell me who it is.”

“I absolutely do not.”

“Yes, you do! It’s... spousal privilege.”

She practically fell over laughing. “That’s not a thing.”

“Please, it’s driving me mad.”

“Harry,” Ginny explained, her patience wearing thin. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be secret santa anymore.”

“Aha!” He said, pointing a finger in her face. “So, you do know.”

Ginny let out the deepest, most exasperated sigh she could manage and went back to her horderves. 

“Ron has Luna, so it can’t be him-” Harry was muttering again, working through the mystery like he was solving a case. “Hermione won’t tell me, but I’m pretty sure she has Neville. She bought a book called Exotic Plants of the East Indies last week. You have Hermione, I found the slip of paper in your bedside table-”

“Hey!”

“I have Padma,” He continued, ignoring her indignation, “and Ron threatened to jinx me if I didn’t get her something nice.”

“Did you get her something nice?”

Harry waved her off like this was the least important question to be asking at this juncture. “It’s Pansy, Luna, and Theo who I can’t crack.”

Now he was roving around the room in circles and if Ginny didn’t get a hold of the situation soon, he was going to ruin the whole evening before it even started.

“Speaking of bedside tables,” She deflected. “I noticed a new addition to yours last night.”

“Oh, that.” He stopped pacing, giving her his full attention. “I picked it up at Tomes and Scrolls the other day.”

“What is that? Book number four?”

“Well I figured it couldn’t hurt. It’s not like I had any great examples to begin with.” He said it flippantly, like it didn’t matter, but Ginny knew how much it bothered him that all of the father figures in his life were either neglectful or dead, her own father excluded. 

Ginny set her wand down and went to him, folding her arms around his middle. “You’re going to be a great dad, Harry. You don’t have to read every parenting book in the shop to do it right, you just have to love them.”

A few moments passed in an easy silence, their embrace comforting and familiar. 

“You’re sure we can’t tell them tonight?” Harry asked. 

She knew how much he wanted to share this with their closest friends, each one a part of the family they chose, but Ginny was immovable. 

“It’s still early,” She reasoned. “There'll be plenty of time to celebrate after the new year.”

The doorbell rang and she sprung away from him to look at the clock. “Merlin’s sodding blue bollocks-”

Harry was let out a bark of laughter at her curse, and was still chortling as she pushed him toward the entryway to answer the door.

The food ended up being a full forty-five minutes behind schedule, but that was mostly because Ginny was too busy talking and catching up to finish the canapès. Hermione fixed the Christmas garland (bless her) and also took charge of trimming the tree, which meant that Draco and Theo were really the ones setting out the baubles and ornaments, while Padma and Luna helped Ginny stage the food on serving dishes. 

“I just don’t see why it needs to be so long-” Pansy was complaining, pushing Hermione’s curls away from her face. “You’ve finally started taking care of it properly, at least let me give you a trim-”

“Cut her hair, Parks-” Draco called from the other room, “and I’ll turn your favorite dragon hide handbag a ghastly shade of yellow.”

Pansy inhaled sharply. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Ron chose that moment to try and stick his finger into a bowl of dip, and Padma smacked his hand away. 

“Ow!”

“Honestly, Ron,” She said, moving the dish out of his reach. “We’re about to set it all out, can’t you wait five minutes?”

“I didn’t eat lunch in preparation for this meal,” He explained. “Ginny’s made mum’s recipe, I can smell it.”

Harry and Neville appeared through the backdoor, cheeks pink and snow in their hair but both of them grinning ear to ear. 

“Got a dozen each,” Neville said, giving Pansy a quick peck on the cheek and passing her a bag of Snargaluff pods. 

“I told you to wait and do that after we eat-” Ginny chided. 

Harry shrugged, storing his bag of pods in the cupboard. “Beats putting up the tree.”

“You know,” Theo drawled. “Never understood why they called him The Boy Who Lived. The boy who evaded, more like.”

“You’ve missed a spot, Nott. Just there,” Harry called back, pointing to an empty area on the left side of the tree. 

Several ornaments darted at Harry’s head and he ducked back into the kitchen to avoid them. 

“See what I mean! Evaded.”

“Oh, Harry-” Luna cried dramatically, making a bee line for him and plucking some invisible entities from around his head. “You’re covered in Sponge Stonkers.”

“What’s a Sponge Stonker?” Ginny asked curiously, as Harry doubled-over to allow her better access. 

Luna turned his head back and forth, even going so far as to check his hair. “They’re terrible, they latch onto someone and suck out all their initiative. If they stay long enough, the host is left distracted with an excruciating migraine.”

“You know,” Harry said, catching her eye like he couldn’t believe his luck. “I did have a headache yesterday.”

Ginny gave him a look that let him know he wasn’t getting off that easy for refusing to help decorate.

---

“My turn,” Draco said when only he and Neville were left. He pulled a large, square box from the other side of the couch and set it down on the coffee table. “Happy Christmas, Potter.”

Harry looked like he was either going to be sick, or jinx the box. Maybe both.  

“I’m sure it’s perfectly safe,” Ginny muttered under her breath but he still didn’t open it, in fact he looked to be reaching for his wand.

She flipped open the lid before he could do something ridiculous. There was a soft pop, followed by a dwarf appearing in a cloud of white smoke. It was dressed as a Christmas cracker, complete with a frilly hat and tutu and holding a glittering red and green card. It cast its eyes about the place looking for its target and when they finally settled on Harry, it cleared his throat and said, “A musical Christmas card for Harry Potter, by Ginny Potter and Draco Malfoy-”

Ginny had to clap her hands over her mouth to keep from laughing at the absolute look of horror on Harry’s face. But then the dwarf started singing:

“His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,His hair is as dark as a blackboard,There isn’t a danger he won’t run toward,He’s the hero who conquered the dark lord!

"He’s mediocre at quidditch, always bumbling around the pitchHe falls off his broom and sometimes goes adriftNo seriously, one time he even swallowed the snitch,He’s the hero who conquered the dark lord!

"He always keeps his witch coming back for moreHe’s quite capable with his tongue and his sword,But of course he is, he’s a gryffindor!He’s the hero who conquered the dark lord!

"He’s got a nice bum, very round and defined,Sometimes he whines but his smile is sublime,Even though he’s pushing thirty, he’s still got a great hairlineHe’s the hero who conquered the dark lord!

"Other than that, there’s really not much of import,He doesn’t like spicy food and he’s a really bad sport,To be honest, he’s kind of dimwitted and a real bore,He’s the hero who conquered the dark lord!

"We hope he likes this present we penned,We wanted to show our appreciation for him as a friend,But it’s over now, we’ve come to the end,A Happy Christmas to the hero who conquered the dark lord!”

The final note was drawn out beyond reason and cut off with a flourish, the dwarf disappearing in another cloud of white smoke and the card fluttering into Harry’s lap. 

Everyone was in varying states of mirth. Draco was visibly shaking with laughter, his face buried into Hermione’s hair. Hermione herself wiped tears from her eyes. Neville was grinning broadly at Pansy, who was doubled over in his lap, her giggles keeping her from sitting upright. Ron had his head thrown back and his arms clutching his sides, while Padma next to him tried to laugh without snorting. Luna had grabbed the card and convinced Theo to make a duplicate they could take home with them.

Ginny still had both hands over her mouth to keep from cackling, and she watched as Harry’s flushed expression changed from alarm, to mortification, to indignation. 

“Mediocre at quidditch-” He said slowly, turning to her, and she knew that look, knew what would happen next. With a shout, she jumped over the back of the couch and took off toward the kitchen. However, she only made it a couple of strides before he caught her around the middle and tickled. 

“I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry,” She squealed, struggling to breathe. “He made me-”

Harry stopped his incessant fingers but didn’t let go, she felt him trace the ghost of a circle just below her navel and her insides melted.

“Don’t listen to her Potter,” Draco called from the couch. “It was all her idea.”

“I imagine it was a team effort,” He replied dryly, his arms circling her midriff to hug her from behind. Ginny held onto him, watching as Neville worked up the nerve for his turn. Her chest went tight in anticipation. This was the real reason they were all here tonight, why Ginny had suggested the idea of secret santa to begin with.

Pansy sat up straighter, the only one who hadn’t received a gift yet. “I don’t know how you’re going to top that, Neville.”

Neville coughed awkwardly, “I have some idea.” 

Then he pulled a small parcel from the inside pocket of his jacket. Pansy made grabby hands at it and Neville handed it over with a grin. Everyone in the room held their breath, wondering if it was finally happening. Pansy, to her credit, seemed to have no clue, until she unwrapped the messy package and held a black velvet ring box in her palm. 

Moving off the couch to kneel in front of her, Neville grabbed the hand that wasn’t holding the box and beamed up at Pansy.

“Oh my god-” and her voice trembled just a bit on the words.

“Open it.” He nodded to the box.

“Oh my god-” she said again, cracking the lid and revealing a two carat onyx gemstone set inside a halo of diamonds. 

“I love you so much,” Neville started, his voice never wavering. “I’m absolutely mad for you. You are the funniest, cleverest, most beautiful woman I have ever met and I can’t imagine living the rest of my life without you…”

Tears were shining in Pansy’s eyelashes, the look on her face so surprised and genuine that Ginny felt her own eyes get warm. She held onto Harry a little tighter, and he returned the gesture, resting his chin on the top of her head.

“So,” Neville concluded with a deep breath. “Pansy Louise Parkinson, will you marry me?”

Pansy was nodding before he’d even finished the question. “Yes, of course I will.”

She caught Neville’s face in her hands, pulling his lips up to meet hers and the whole room cheered.

Congratulations were passed around, everyone taking turns to hug the newly engaged couple. Theo grabbed a bottle of champagne from the fridge, bewitching it to keep refilling itself, and before long everyone had a glass. Thankfully, there was too much excitement for anyone to notice that Ginny hadn’t even taken a sip of hers. 

Luna recited a strange limerick that was apparently a celtic betrothal tradition, followed by Ron giving an uncharacteristically heartfelt toast that had everyone smiling through the tears in their eyes. Ginny noticed even Draco had to clear his throat roughly once they had chorused To Neville and Pansy over raised glasses. 

Eventually, the women grouped together on one side of the room, gushing over the ring and talking about wedding plans. Pansy was already talking about eloping abroad, maybe in France, while the men were passing around a flask that had mysteriously materialized from the inside of Theo’s jacket.

“This is so wonderful,” Hermione gushed, her face flushed with champagne. “You two are going to be so happy together. I mean you already are of course- but so much excitement happening what with you and Neville, and Harry and Ginny-”

Hermione stopped talking abruptly as Ginny widened her eyes at her best friend in warning. The whole room went quiet, all eyes turning to look between her and Harry.

“What about Harry and Ginny-” Ron asked urgently. 

No one said anything, Ginny was still staring daggers at Hermione, her stomach in knots. 

“What about Harry and Ginny-” Ron asked again, his voice going up an octave.

“You told Hermione?” Harry hissed as he moved to stand next to her. 

Ginny shook her head. “She guessed-”

“When!?”

“Last week.”

“Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on-” Ron interrupted loudly.

“Er,” Harry stammered, letting his hand tangle in the hair at Ginny’s nape. He only ever did that when he was nervous. “We’re– that is to say, Ginny… is pregnant.”

A beat of silence, and then the room erupted. Ron nearly tackled Harry onto the couch, giving him such a violent hug that Ginny wondered if her brother didn’t break something in the process. Luna and Padma immediately bombarded her with questions on how she was feeling, how far along was she, when did she find out? Theo was shouting about needing something better than champagne as he rummaged through the sideboard, but Ginny only had eyes for Pansy. 

She was surprised to see her friend grinning from ear to ear as she pulled Ginny to her. 

“I’m so sorry-” Ginny started. 

“Don’t be,” Pansy reassured, giving her a tight squeeze. 

Ginny shook her head feeling awful. “But this was supposed to be your night. Neville wanted it to be perfect.”

“It is perfect.” Pansy grinned again. “Hermione was right, this is wonderful.”

Ginny felt her anxieties ease enough to enjoy the moment. 

Pansy’s expression changed to something thoughtful and serious. “We’re going to leave the world better than we found it. We aren’t going to raise our children to believe all the shit we were taught growing up-”

Speechless in the face of such conviction, Ginny just pulled her in for another hug. 

“What is it!?” Pansy asked quickly. “Have you found out!?”

Ginny shook her head with a grin.  “Luna,” she asked, holding out her palm. “Would you do the honors?”

Luna positively beamed. Taking a hold of Ginny’s hands, she turned them over and back again before narrowing her focus. She had zeroed in on a spot so intensely, Luna’s nose was practically touching Ginny’s skin. She stayed like that for longer than any of them would have thought, Hermione catching her eye doubtfully.

Suddenly and with a grin splitting her face, Luna wrapped her arms around Ginny’s neck and murmured quietly in her ear. Ginny laughed, feeling like her chest could crack open with joy.

“Well!?” Harry cried impatiently. 

Ginny met his gaze with tears in her eyes. “It’s a girl-”

“A girl!?” 

Harry caught Ginny around the middle, picking her up and spinning her around in a devastatingly happy embrace.

A TPFY next gen question! Was Lily a planned baby? What about Ruby and James? Also, if not planned, what would be their conception story? (You know, in case you’re looking for a smut Sunday prompt…)

Love your work!!

i'm sorry this took so long, i thought about writing it! but then i remembered that i should probably spend my free time writing my actual fics *insert skull emoji here* i still have answers though!

lily was a 'let's stop trying not to have a baby and see what happens?' but then they got pregnant the first month of no birth control

ruby was a planned baby but she took forever. they started trying when lily was about 18 months old but they didn't get ruby until a year later

james was an accident (LOL) it was a quickie and they sort of ... forgot about birth control

[honeypiehotchner]

My Deep Blue Love (Tom Hiddleston x Fem!Reader) -- Soulmate AU one shot

This was 100% born out of boredom and loneliness and those damn Soulmate AU POV Tiktoks that I have seen practically 24/7 for the past WEEK on my fyp

(I’m not sure if I’ll do a part 2, rn I have no plans for it)

quick note on the technicality of this one: you lose all ability to see colors when you turn 12 and you don’t regain the ability until you meet your soulmate. but! you have to meet them in person and it has to be a mutual eye contact. pictures/videos of them don’t work, and if you just saw the back of their head or something in person, that doesn’t work either. it’s all about the shared eye contact babeyyy

small disclaimer: Brie Larson is mentioned in here and she has a wife, but that is very much only in this fic, and as far as i know Brie doesn’t have a wife irl lol (i also don’t know if she’s spoken about her sexuality at all so what i’m saying is take it with a grain of salt ok)

Summary: Everyone around you is meeting their soulmate, but you still see in black and white. You’re ready to give up, and basically have, when you lock eyes with your soulmate.

Warnings: None! Just a bit of angst, lots of fluff toward the end 

You knock on your mom’s bedroom door at 4:58am. She’s already awake, sitting up in bed, ushering you over.

With tears in your eyes, you crawl onto her bed, snuggling close to her chest.

“I don’t want to lose my colors,” you whimper.

“I know, baby,” she whispers, kissing the top of your head. “It’s okay.”

You were born 12 years ago on this day at 5:08am, so in a few short minutes, when you officially turn 12 years old, all color will drain from your life.

Or the colors could stay, but that’s only if you’ve somehow already met your soulmate. And that’s rare, nearly impossible.

You squeeze your eyes shut at 5:07 and you don’t open them again until 5:10.

The colors are gone.

+++

twenty years later

You sigh heavily as you receive yet another wedding invite. You are invited to witness the official beginning of Olivia and Jeffrey’s lives together as husband and wife, soulmates for all of time.

The glitter sticks to your fingertips, tiny black dots against your skin. Your friend told you it’s gold. You barely remember what that looks like.

Lately it seems like everyone has been meeting their soulmate. Just yesterday, you were having coffee with a friend when she looked up at the girl sitting behind you, and boom.

“It’s like the world just exploded,” she had said. Colors were everywhere. She immediately left you to go talk to the girl.

You don’t blame her for that. If you had met your soulmate, you probably would’ve done the same thing. But you can’t say for sure because you don’t know.

You wouldn’t be so cynical of it all if your boyfriend of five years didn’t meet his soulmate while the two of you were out at dinner. You wish you could say that he was faking it. But it was clear from his face (and the girl’s) that he wasn’t kidding. It was real. He had met his soulmate, and it wasn’t you.

It’s never you.

You’ve had guys cut off dates before they even start, all because they didn’t see colors when they laid their eyes on you. They refuse to even be friends with you.

All anyone is doing anymore is searching for a soulmate and it’s exhausting when none of them are yours. When all of your friends see color now. When everyone assures you that it’ll happen soon. What does soon even mean?

You grab your ice cream from the freezer and fall onto the couch, flicking to whatever channel has late night shows that aren’t complete garbage.

As usual, you find yourself watching a talk show, and tonight Tom Hiddleston is one of the guests.

You’re sort of familiar with him from a few movies, but other than that, you hardly know anything about him.

“So, Tom, we’ve all been wondering what’s going on with you and Brie Larson?”

“Brie?” Tom asks, clearly shocked to hear this question. “We’re just good friends, that’s all.”

“Oh, she doesn’t make you see any colors?”

“Ah, no, actually, she does not,” Tom chuckles, but doesn’t sound sad at all, surprisingly. “Her wife does that for her, not me, I’m afraid.”

“Oh really?” The host brushes past the mention of Brie’s wife and keeps the focus on Tom, of course. “So is that true, you still don’t see color?”

Your ears perk up at the mention of someone else not seeing in color. It’s rare for anyone to talk about this on television. Most celebrities don’t talk about whether or not they’ve found their soulmate, but more often than not, those that have are quite loud about it.

“Yes, that’s true,” Tom answers. “I still see the world in a lovely black and white.”

You snort, harshly jabbing your spoon into your ice cream. Lovely. Yeah, right.

“Do you really think it’s nice? Do you not miss the colors?” The host asks.

“No, no, I do. I do,” Tom admits. “But I like to think I’ll see them when the time is right.”

You groan, going to Google to look up his age. And when you see he’s 40, you groan even louder. He’s older than you and he still hasn’t met his soulmate. That’s just depressing. How can he sound so optimistic?

“Alright, well, if there’s one thing you wish you could tell your soulmate, what would it be? Maybe they’re watching right now, you never know.”

Tom smiles wide. “Maybe, maybe, um… Oh, so many things,” Tom exhales deeply. “I guess I could be cliché and say I can’t wait to meet them and wait for me, but I think I want to say… I think I want to say I understand. It is frustrating, still seeing in black and white, but our paths will cross soon, I’m sure of it. Until then, my eyes are blue.”

Blue. Blue.

You roll your eyes. You don’t even remember what the color looks like.

+++

seven months later

“I am not going to a movie premiere. You’re insane!”

“Please!” Your friend, Catherine, cries. “You’ll love it, I swear.”

You glare at her over your coffee. “That just makes it sound like you have a trick up your sleeve.”

“I don’t,” she says. “I just want you to take advantage of this and come with us! When will you ever have the chance to go to a movie premiere again?”

She has a point. Dammit. “Touché. How did you get tickets, anyway? Please tell me you didn’t spend thousands for this.” You wouldn’t put it past her, even though you tell her not to every time before she does something like this.

“God, no, Joe surprised me with them earlier. He said he went to school with the lead.”

“Oh. Cool. Who?”

“Tom Hiddleston, I think. Have you heard of him? He’s British, but that’s about all I know. Joe just said they ran into each other the other day and reconnected.”

You stop halfway through a sip of coffee, careful to not choke on it. Slowly, you nod. “Yeah. I...I’ve seen him in a couple things.”

“Apparently, he hasn’t met his soulmate either…” Catherine trails away, raising her eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes. “I heard,” you set your cup down. “He’s probably met them by now though since he blasted it on television like that.”

“Or he’s still searching and you’re still being too cynical.”

“You’re probably right,” you chuckle.

“Sooo, you’ll come?”

You sigh heavily. “As long as you help me pick something to wear.”

+++

“I’m regretting letting you talk me into this already,” you mutter when you nearly trip in your heels.

“Oh, hush,” Catherine swats your arm. “It’s an excuse to get dressed up and look hot for no reason. Take it.”

“Fine.”

Catherine’s soulmate, Joe, was whisked away almost as soon as the three of you stepped inside the venue by some director (you think), but he promised to return in a few minutes. Catherine told him not to worry. She’s used to him being dragged away for conversation. You can see from her face that she’s more proud of him than anything, and not at all annoyed.

Currently, you and Catherine are standing near the small bar, waiting for them to announce that it’s time to take your seats. You desperately want a drink, but part of you knows it would be a bad idea.

One glass of wine can’t hurt, though. Maybe it’ll take your mind off the pain in your feet.

You peel away from Catherine when you see Joe coming back, and you flag the bartender down quickly.

After ordering a glass of white wine, you wait patiently, wishing you had chosen a dress with sleeves. It’s fucking cold in here.

“Darling, you’re shivering, are you alright?”

Your head turns toward the smooth voice, face set and mind trying to decipher whether or not it was a sincere or creepy comment when the world quite literally explodes.

There, standing beside you, concern written all over his face, is Tom Hiddleston. Only now the concern has washed away into awe when your eyes lock with his.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, stumbling even though he’s standing in place.

“Blue,” you murmur. “Your eyes are blue.” Without even thinking or asking, your hand lifts to cup his cheek, and then you pull back, “Shit, sorry—”

But he grabs your wrist gently, placing your palm on his cheek. “It’s alright.” His thumb strokes the back of your hand. “I have been looking everywhere for you.”

“I thought you didn’t exist,” you whisper in reply. But here he is. His eyes are blue, his lips are pink, he has tiny brown freckles all over his rosy cheeks. You look back to his eyes, narrowing your own. “You liar. Your eyes have green in them, too.”

“Do they really?” Tom chuckles. “I never would’ve known.”

“That’s why you have me,” you tease, and you don’t know where any of this is coming from, yet it doesn’t feel like you’re pretending. It feels like you’re finally yourself.

His other hand tangles with yours as he nods. “That’s why I have you, indeed.”

At this time, the lights in the theatre begin lightly flashing, signaling that it’s time for everyone to begin making their way to their seats.

But neither you or Tom move one inch.

The only issue is people are beginning to stare.

You notice it first, so you slowly pull your hand from his cheek. This movement shocks him back to reality, too, and he blinks a few times, yet he doesn’t let go of your hand.

“I, um, I have to make a speech,” he says. “But then I can come back to you. Will you save me a seat?”

“Don’t you have to sit up front?”

He nods. “I do, but—”

“Then I’ll come with you.” You aren’t sure if it’s the fact that he hasn’t let go of your hand yet, or if it’s because you’ve been waiting so long that now you don’t want him to be further than an arms length away from you, but you mean what you say.

“Are you sure?” He asks, but you both need to make a decision quickly because you can see someone waving from the wings, most likely trying to get Tom’s attention.

“I’m sure.”

He doesn’t question it, in fact, he grins, and brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “Let’s go, then.”

[accioxreparo]

entranced | f.w.

synopsis: Fred finds himself taking a different approach to get your attention. Little does he know he already has it. 

pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

warnings: none!

a/n: This idea is straight from the discord chat earlier with my babes! This concept is honestly so amazing and completely inspired by @levylovegood​ and also this picture so hopefully I did it justice 😭💖

The Gryffindor table was uncharacteristically silent as Fred Weasley approached late for breakfast. That was typical though. More often than not he was rushing in right before classes started and just as quickly rushing back out.

What was unusual though, and the source of everybody’s shock, was the pair of glasses framing his face. Glasses he didn’t need. Glasses nobody was sure even belonged to him.

“What?” Fred barely acknowledged them as he started putting food on his plate. “What’s with the staring?”

“What’s with -” Ginny let out a heavy sigh as she shared a glance with her siblings, every one of which was just as confused as she was. “What are you wearing those for?”

“Wearing what for?”

“Those obviously!” George reached across the table and flicked the frame of the glasses, skewing them sideways on Fred’s face. He ducked out of the way before he could retaliate. “Didn’t even know you owned any glasses.”

“Well I do,” Fred answered easily. Now that he was looking up he couldn’t help himself. His eyes scanned the Great Hall until he found you hunched over a book and scribbling something on some parchment.

“Well yeah but what for?” Ron frowned through a mouthful of food.

“To see, Ronniekins,” Fred looked away from you quickly when you glanced up abruptly, almost immediately looking right at him. “That’s what most people use them for.”

“Yeah but that’s not what you need them for,” Ron was oblivious to the fact that Fred wasn’t paying him any attention. His gaze had gone back to you the second you went back to your reading. “Think one of us would’ve noticed if you really needed them.”

“Spill it,” Ginny leaned forward while narrowing her eyes. “I can almost guarantee you didn’t own those before last night. Now why do you need them?”

“Need what?”

A groan resounded between the three siblings, each of them coming to the realization that Fred was paying absolutely zero attention to their conversation.

“Okay new question,” George kicked Fred underneath the table, forcing him to look their way again. “What’s got you so -”

But before he could get the question all the way out Fred threw back his goblet of pumpkin juice and practically tripped over himself getting up from the table. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Well that was something.” Ron shook his head, staring at the empty spot his brother had just left.

Ginny nodded towards the entrance of the Great Hall where Fred had stopped, apparently finding one of the suits of armor very interesting. “Look at that.”

“Makes sense now,” George only shook his head as the three of them watched Fred wait a few seconds after you had left the Great Hall to follow you. “McGonagall changed our seats in Transfiguration the other day and since then our dear Freddie’s been infatuated with none other than Y/N Y/L/N. Has a perfect view of her from where he sits now.”

“You’re kidding,” Ron couldn’t help but scoff at the revelation. “She’s top of her class, always in the library. There’s no way she’d even give Fred the time of day.”

“Maybe that’s why he likes her,” Ginny shrugged, going back to her own breakfast. “Or why he’s intrigued at the very least.”

George hummed before a smirk flashed on his face, leaning in towards his younger siblings a little more. “Place your bets, kids. Do we think Fred’s little glasses plan is going to work or not?”

*

You tried your hardest not to stare, you really did.

Of course you’d noticed Fred Weasley of all people hanging around you for the past week or so, who wouldn’t? The fact that he happened to go out of his way a little to talk to you meant absolutely nothing at all though, you’d convinced yourself of that. Especially not when you knew you’d stuttered through practically every conversation you’d had with him so far.

Finally you thought maybe, just maybe, you were getting somewhere. Maybe you could work up the courage to say more than a few words to him next time you spoke. But then you caught sight of the glasses sitting comfortably on the bridge of Fred’s nose. They framed his face perfectly and it really wasn’t fair how they somehow made his eyes shine more than they usually did.

Any kind of coherent thought you were able to form left your brain when you laid eyes on him from across the classroom.

This really wasn’t you. You were smart, you knew that for a fact. Sure you mostly kept to yourself but there wasn’t a single time you hadn’t been able to think of a quick comeback, even if it was only muttered to yourself underneath your breath. That was how all of this had started after all.

He’d overheard a particularly hilarious quip during Potions one day and his burst of laughter had earned him a detention. He had promised you he didn’t mind when you fumbled your way through a quick apology the next day.

Now, though, you were speechless at the mere sight of him because how was it possible for one human to look that good? It didn’t help that you quite literally had the perfect view of him from across the transfiguration room. You weren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed him in his glasses before. Had he even worn them before?

Just as you were about to search your memories for any kind of recollection of Fred and his glasses you were interrupted. It was then you realized that you were openly staring at him, and apparently not very subtly.

“Would you like to tell the class what it is you find so interesting, Miss Y/L/N?”

You weren’t sure how long Professor McGonagall had been standing there or what answer she expected of you. Before you could say anything she turned around and took a few steps, effectively blocking your site of the very person you’d been distracted by.

“What about you, Mr. Weasley? You seem to be just as distracted.”

Fred, for once, seemed to also be at a loss for words. He’d barely managed to blink owlishly and start with the beginning of an excuse before he was shushed again. McGonagall looked between the two of you for a moment before pursing her lips. “Detention tonight, both of you.”

Frankly, you were too scared to argue. So instead you turned back towards the very thing that had been the cause of your distraction only to find him already looking at you. You could feel the heat rush to your face when Fred offered you a smile as he pushed the glasses up his face a little and mouthed, this should be fun.

*

Much to your surprise, you were in fact not the first one to reach the transfiguration room at exactly seven o’clock that night. Fred pushed himself off the wall immediately upon seeing you walking his way, a look on his face you couldn’t quite read.

“And here I was thinking you were going to ditch me.”

“I think,” You gulped as you looked anywhere but at him. He was still wearing his glasses and you were positive you’d get distracted again if you looked at him for too long. “I think I’d just get another detention if I did that.”

Fred, on the other hand, was looking right at you with a small smile playing on his lips. This detention was more than worth it in his eyes, especially if it meant getting to spend an hour alone with you. Well almost alone anyway. You were fidgeting a little too much though, something he noticed rather easily. “Is this your first one?”

“First what?”

“Detention.”

You frowned then, stopping your nervous movements and looking up at his towering figure. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know really,” Fred shrugged and couldn’t but smile at the sight of you looking at him curiously, head tipped to the side and arms crossed in front of you. “Maybe it’s just cause you’re always so quiet.” The memory of you cursing at Snape under your breath a couple weeks ago made him laugh suddenly. “You do have a mouth on you, though, don’t you?”

You knew what he was referring to immediately and a flush spread across your face once more. “I’m sorry about that, again”

“Don’t worry about it,” Fred leaned against the wall again and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. “So is it?”

“No,” With a sigh you followed his movements and sat down cross legged next to him. “Though I guarantee my reasons probably aren’t as fun as yours.”

“Try me,” Fred turned then so he was facing you, a cheeky smile playing on his lips. “You first.”

Slowly your nerves started fading away. Your gaze however stayed focused on the wall in front of you. “Fine, One was for ditching History of Magic to read in one of the broom cupboards.”

“Well aren’t you a little rebel.”

“Oh always,” That comment made you laugh. You could hear the grin in his voice and finally worked up the nerve to look at him, trying your hardest to focus on the conversation and not on the way his school robes had been abandoned and the sleeves of his button up shirt rolled up his arms. “Now your turn.”

Talking to Fred came easier than you thought it would. A couple well timed jokes had you relaxing completely and soon enough the two of you were laughing together right there, sitting on the floor in a random hallway.

The reason behind you being there had slipped your mind completely. That is until you noticed Professor McGonagall walking down the hallway. Both of you scrambled up from the floor, simultaneously recalling the fact that you had detention.

“Professor,” You nodded and quickly straightened out your clothes.

Fred, meanwhile, gave a smirk as he leaned against the wall once more. “You know I think we ought to give you detention for keeping us waiting, Professor.”  

“Did neither of you get my owl?” McGonagall ignored the comment as she moved to unlock the door to her office.

You turned to look at Fred, both of you sharing a confused look. “Owl?”

“Your detention was cancelled,” Once the door was unlocked she stood in the doorway and glanced between the two of you. You didn’t miss the ghost of a smile that flashed on her face. “Though I suppose it’s just as well. The two of you two certainly got to know each other better. Perhaps you can now find it in yourselves to keep the staring to a minimum in my class.”

Then without another word she walked into the room and shut the door behind her.

Your stare was blank as you glanced quickly between the office, Fred, and the spot Professor McGonagall once stood. “Did she -”

Fred chuckled again and followed as you started walking down the hallway towards your common room. “Did she what? Trick us into going on a first date? I think so.”

You weren’t able to keep the grin off your face as you shook your head a little. “It was not a first date. It was talking.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

“Well in that case how about this weekend? We can try not to get ourselves another detention while sneaking out to Hogsmeade.” Fred stopped when you did and couldn’t help but notice the surprised look on your face, one that faded quickly. “How about it?”

“I’ll agree if you tell me one thing, first.” You challenged, eyes narrowing and arms crossing as you stared directly at him for the first time.

“Anything.” Fred’s answer was just as confident.

Your eyes flickered across his face, taking in the sight of him wearing those glasses just as you had earlier. “You’ve never worn those before have you?”

A beat passed and Fred knew he’d been caught. You could see right through him. “Yes I have.”

“No you haven’t,” Your arms fell to your sides, being able to see his hesitation clearly. “I’d remember.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you look good in them.”

“Do I?” Fred chuckled when your eyes widened at your own comment. One you evidently you hadn’t meant to actually tell him. “Since we’re confessing I suppose I should tell you that you’re right.”

“I knew it!” You were quick to respond and nod in satisfaction. “What are you wearing those for then?”

For a moment Fred only looked at you. This wasn’t where he’d seen his day going. Maybe some more pining, wondering if you’d noticed him at all. Now that he was here beside you, both of you apparently smitten enough with each other for one of your professors to meddle, he was ecstatic. “I’ll tell you but you’re not allowed to laugh at me.”

“I promise I won’t.”

“Fine,” Fred started walking down the hall again but stayed focused on you to see what your reaction would be. “I thought they’d make you notice me more since you always seemed to be avoiding me.”

You tried not to smile, you really did. But the corners of your mouth started turning upwards and Fred stopped again, not being able to resist grinning along with you. “You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“I’m not!” A laugh really did escape you then and you quickly put a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound. You looked up at him then, a little more serious. “I swear I’m not laughing at you. I just think it’s cute.”

“Well I’m glad you think so cause I quite like these. Think I look rather dashing.” Fred pushed the glasses up a little bit from where they’d slipped and smirked. “And apparently you agree since the whole reason we’re here is your staring.”

“Hey, both of us were staring, thank you very much.”

“Well I couldn’t help myself, darling. You’re entrancing, you know.”

“Entrancing,” You repeated the word and your grin softened, looking away as butterflies formed in your stomach. “Is that right?”

“It is,” Fred gave a firm nod, giving you no room to argue. “You’re beautiful, love, you must know that.”

When you dared to look at him he was smiling at you, a completely genuine sparkle in his eyes as he looked only at you. You weren’t sure yet what the warm feeling that erupted in your chest and fluttered through your body at the sight of his gaze trained on you was. He was looking at you like you were the world and it overwhelmed you with emotions you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Fred on the other hand? You were positive he was definitely somebody you could get used to. Him and his smile that never faded. Him and his laugh that was practically infectious. Him and his eyes that were full of life, showed you entire worlds, and sat behind a pair of glasses he didn’t need.

“Thank you,” You couldn’t help but beam back at him, a flash of confidence suddenly coursing through your veins. “So are you.”

[blessednereid]

Pity the Living

Daniel Sharman x Reader Series

A/N: The Much Requested, and By Requested, I mean @rogershoe wanted me to write this, MY DANIEL SHARMAN FANFICTION!!!!!! The character that Y/N plays is based on my OC for FTWD and is not an actual character in FTWD. Basic Premise of the setting for this chapter is that they're in high-school/ secondary school. But for the majority of the story(minus flashbacks) it's set in 2016/17 when s3 of FTWD was filmed.

Story Summary: When (Y/N) (L/N) reunites with a high-school friend on the set of the job she's been working on for the past 2-3 years, not only is she excited to work with the guy who inspired her to go into acting, but to hear about what he's done since she's seen him. But the more they talk, the more she realizes, this reunion is not going the way she had planned.

CW: Cursing? brief mention of alcohol, anxiety, mentions of food, fake dagger, fake blood, bets,

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Career Day

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

Most of the students around you were chorusing to the tune of your school anthem, but not you. You had heard the melody and sung it almost a million times. Whether you were exaggerating or not, not even you knew. Instead, you were whispering and laughing with one of your best friends, Daniel Sharman.

You met Daniel when you first came to the school. You didn't know many people. You didn't even know yourself in this place. It was a completely foreign experience, but he stuck by your side and showed you around.

Since then, you had made friends, joined the swim team, learned your way around the school without ending up in the boys' restrooms instead of the girls' ones. Despite not needing Daniel to show you around anymore, he still provided plenty of comedic support and pick-me-ups and was a great mate all around.

Your teacher had just finished introducing all the parents who were presenting at career day. The assignment being after the presentations were finished, you were supposed to think about what you wanted to be in the future. You had no idea what you wanted to be. But of course… Daniel did.

"An actor."

"An actor?" he nodded. "Like Macbeth?"

"No, Macbeth is a character. An actor is a person who plays the character."

"Why an actor?"

"Dunno. Just seems right."

You frowned. "Huh, that's nice. Knowing what you want to be."

"You could always try acting. It's worth a shot."

"Hah, if I ever tried acting, it would probably be when I'm old, senile, and look like Betty White."

"Oh, come on. You're a great actress!"

"What's that supposed to mean, Sharman?" you gasped.

"Just that you tell fibs and stories as if they were the truth. That's all acting is."

"I DO NOT!"

"How did you convince your mum that your dog jumped onto the table and ate the cake without making any noise last weekend, then?" You opened your mouth to speak before closing it.

"Cat got your tongue?" he teased.

"Shut up, Sharman."

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

L/N Residence

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

You and Daniel were both swimming in the pool in your backyard when Daniel asked you the question.

"Did you think about it?"

Still floating, you asked, "About what?"

"Acting."

You laughed incredulously. "You were serious?"

"Of course I was." He swam closer to you and pulled your leg down, making you flop around and splash water.

"WHAT THE HELL!"

"Was just trying to get your attention," he remarked innocently.

You coughed. "You had it."

"Picture this," he waved you off. "Us, on the red carpet-"

"Who's red carpet?"

"Does it matter? We'll be each other's dates anyways."

"Why is that?" you asked.

"Because we're best friends."

"What if one of us has a boyfriend or girlfriend?"

He shrugged. "Ok, whatever. We're on the red carpet separately. It's both of ours red carpet-"

"So, does that mean we're in a movie together?"

"Yes, Y/N," he muttered exasperatedly.

"But that's impossible?"

"Why do you say that?"

You leaned closer to his ear. "BECAUSE I'M NOT BECOMING AN ACTOR."

He jumped away from you, proceeding to splash you with water.

"Mark my words. I know talent when I see it."

You sighed. "Could this just be you not wanting to be lonely in the acting world?"

He jutted his lip and spoke in a whiny voice. "Maybe…"

You laughed before splashing a giant wave of water at him. While he still had water in his eyes, you dove under and pulled him down.

He flailed around before his head popped up, and he calmed down.

"WHAT THE HELL!"

"PAYBACK, SHARMAN!"

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Announcement

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

The intercom gave a heavy buzz, and static-y noises ran amok over the building before a voice actually came through the speakers.

"Hello, Teachers, Students, and Faculty. Welcome back to school. We hope that you all enjoyed your holidays and got the rest you needed to pay attention in class today," the last part was passive. Your principal gave more announcements for clubs and sports around the school, such as upcoming games or reminders for students to buy the school yearbook.

You were nodding along interested, or looking for interest really when something caught your best friend's attention.

"The school will also be hosting its first-ever play, Romeo and Juliet. Interested people should report to the music room before the end of the week to receive information."

You saw Daniel's eyes widen only moments before he spoke up. "Hey," he waved at you. "You should audition!"

"Daniel, are you insane?"

He chuckled, "No, but I think you'd like it."

You tried arguing, but he wasn't taking no for an answer. "You're the one who said you didn't know what you wanted to do after you graduated. Doing this cannot hurt."

"Yeah, it can't hurt until I trip on my costumes and break my neck!"

"That rarely ever happens," he said exasperatedly. "Ok, how about this? You audition, and if you end up getting a role and actually doing the play, I'll give you fifty pounds."

You squinted. "Do you even have fifty pounds to give me?"

"Do you even have to ask," he feigned shock in the accusation? You gave a sour face before he truthfully answered. "Fine, I don't have it now. But I will by the time the play comes around."

"What do I get just for auditioning?"

"I'll convince my mum to make that cake you like."

"Fine."

"BUT!" he exclaimed. "You have to audition for Juliet."

"You're kidding?"

He laughed. "No, I'm not. You have to audition for Juliet."

"I hate you," you mumbled before sighing a whispered 'fine.'

He gave a toothy smile. "Then we have a deal."

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Auditions

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

You reluctantly walked onto the stage, Daniel's widening grin so visible in the audience. He said that he only put his name on the audition sheet so he could watch the auditions. He would've already been gone by the time it was his turn.

"Hello, My name is Y/n L/n, and I am auditioning for Juliet," your lips pressing into a straight line after saying the sentence.

You stammered through your first few lines. "Sh-Shall I speak ill of him— that is my husband?" You said with a laugh.

"Ah," you paused and clicked your tongue. "Poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name… When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it?"

You said your following line in an accusatory manner. "But wherefore, villain... didst thou kill my cousin?" you said, though your voice squealed trying to pronounce 'didst.' "That villain cousin would have killed my husband."

"Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring!" Your voice rose and fell several octaves. "Your tributary drops belong to woe, Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy." Fake tears spring to your eyes, your voice cracked, and you began slowly falling against an invisible wall.

You looked down at your paper for what to say next. "My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband. All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then?" You wiped your cheeks dramatically.

"Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death, That murd'red me. I would forget it fain;" your lips quivered, and you sucked in deep, heaving breaths before speaking your line.

"But O, it presses to my memory. Like damnèd guilty deeds to sinners' minds! 'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo--banishèd!" You shouted.

You stood back up in a startling jump, and with a proud smile, you said triumphantly, "And Scene!"

The directors and some students in the audience, especially Daniel, gave a round of applause before the director dismissed you.

You took the steps to the stage and sat next to Daniel as the director called the next student to audition.

"You were amazing! The director might as well have given you the role right then and there."

You laughed, "Hang on, charmer. There were a bunch of Juliet's who literally said that entire thing so… fluently. I stammered through the whole thing."

"But you showed more emotion than anyone else. You only had a week to prepare. The actual show will be like child's play."

"They want people who can memorize and recite. The emotion can be added later, but it's worth nothing if they forget their lines."

"There is such a thing called improvising for a reason," he reassured.

"Who in their right, bloody minds wants to improvise Shakespeare?"

He turned his head and chuckled before waving a five-pound note in front of your face. "Here, I got to go before they call me, but you earned this at least."

"Five pounds for being forced to audition for a stupid play so you can prove a point? Wow, you must really fancy me, huh, Sharman?" you said sarcastically.

"Goodbye, L/n," he whispered before sneaking out the back door of the auditorium.

"Alright, next up. Daniel Sharman!" The director shouted your friend's name a few more times before giving up.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Headmasters Office

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

A week after your audition, you were called to the headmasters' office. Thus is the cause of the curious looks from your classmates. Oohs and Aahs flooded your ears as you grabbed your bag and headed out the door to the front of the school.

When you got to the front of the building and went into the headmasters' office, you saw the Theatre director, Ms Parker, standing behind the desk. "Headmaster Leo allowed me to use his office to do this. Isn't that cool?"

Ms Parker was one of the younger teachers in school. She was twenty-four, and this was her first year teaching after receiving her bachelor's degree in education and a master's degree in music production. A fact she could astoundingly ramble about for fifteen minutes. As proven at the auditions.

"I didn't want to call you to the theatre room. That would be too predictable, correct?" You'd come to realize she was a very eccentric woman. "I have called you in here to inform you that you have been selected to perform in this year's play of Romeo and Juliet."

A wave of shock coursed through your body, and you were sure it reflected on your face. "Are you sure?"

"Darling, I'm positive!- your audition was totally spectacular! So brilliant-in fact- that I am completely sure in my choice to make you our female lead- Juliet!"

"What!" Your eyes widened into a blank stare. Your thoughts were running rampant in your mind. You thought that performing on the stage would be a breeze when you weren't the lead.

"Ms Parker, I didn't actually want the part of Juliet! It's just that my friend dared me to audition for Juliet! Is there no way I can get a smaller part? I'm no Juliet. The show would be ruined," you rambled.

The directors' facial expressions softened, "Darling, you are the only choice. None of the other people who auditioned can even compare to the amount of passion you produced in that audition. I am determined to have you as our Juliet."

You whimpered out an "Ok." Professors had a strange way of convincing you to do extra credit assignments or things that aren't necessary.

"We have a chemistry read for you and a few of our other choices for Romeo after school today. Do you need to contact a parent to let them know where you'll be?"

"Uh, yes, please."

After you made your call, you walked back to your classroom with shaky hands. The class period was almost over, but you had to tell Daniel that you had gotten a part in the show. Not just any part- THE PART!

You shuffled into the classroom reluctantly. All eyes were on you as every student had assumed you'd been in trouble. Either suspended, expelled, or told your parents were going to have a sit-down with the headmaster.

You took your seat next to Daniel before taking out a piece of paper and writing out a note, encompassing the words, "I got the part!"

You slid the sheet discreetly onto his desk. When he read it, his eyes widened, and he quietly moved his hands toward yours, beckoning for a high five.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

First Rehearsal

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

After the chemistry read, the role of Romeo was given to a kid named James Mercer-Allen got the part. Though it was more because the directors were starting to become tired.

The next day was the first rehearsal. Swimming season was last semester, so there was no clash in schedules with the play.

"Alright, this rehearsal is to get acquainted with the stage, your fellow actors, and directors," she insisted. "Now, let's introduce ourselves. Can our Romeo please stand up?"

James stood up and gave a brief introduction. You were called on next. You stated your name, "I was on the swim team last semester, and I'm in my thirteenth year. I hope I can do this role justice."

More students stood up to introduce themselves. The entire process took more than thirty minutes.

The next thing to happen was that the rest of the students were called to recite lines for various roles. The only parts that had been cast preliminarily were Romeo and Juliet.

You and James had sat on the wooden stools unless there was a scene going on that needed Romeo and/or Juliet.

By the end of the first rehearsal, the majority of the speaking roles were cast. You went home exhausted but not expecting the conversation that waited for you.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

The Talk

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

"We're moving?" you shouted at your parents from your seat across from them in the sitting room. "What do you mean we're moving."

"Honey, your dad got a job in the states, so we have to move," your mother argued.

"But what about school? No school will take me in the middle of the year, and it's my last year of secondary school. I don't want to spend the rest of my last year knowing nobody."

Your dad, the man of the hour, spoke up. "Dear, we're moving at the end of the year. After school ends."

"But- What about Uni?"

"You said you were taking a sabbatical year!"

"Yes, so I could intern in London!"

"Can't you intern in California?" Your mother whined.

"We're going to California? It's the furthest state?"

Your dad attempted to reassure you but failed. "Darling, it won't be that bad. Maybe you'll like it there more than you like it here!"

"I could never like anywhere more than I like it here!"

You agreed to go to your room and spent the rest of the day there. Later on, after you finished moping, you ringed up your closest friends to tell them you were moving. You did that until you were so tired you fell asleep on the phone with Sarah before you even called Daniel.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Confrontation

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

"Why am I hearing from everyone besides you that you're moving?" Daniel appeared out of thin air behind you, and the accusation was an assault on your conscience.

You could lie and tell him that you wanted to reveal that to him in person, or you could just tell him the truth- say you fell asleep. Mix-and-Match? You ended up just telling the truth. "I fell asleep when I was making some of my other calls. I was going to tell you, I swear!"

"Why didn't you call me first. I'm your best friend?"

"That's why! It was too hard. I kept putting it off and putting it off and putting it off because I didn't want to tell you, I don't want it to be true, and telling you of all people would make it feel real."

"Why can't you stay for Uni?"

"I already told my parents I was taking a gap year. I didn't apply to any colleges."

"Crap!" he sighed. "Ok, well, we're going to have to make the most of it. And! You're getting a going away party!"

"Daniel, I don't need-"

"No debate! You are getting a going away party!"

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Opening Night

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

Four months later, after all the rehearsals and memorizations of lines. After much running around the entire film department, it was finally opening night, and your nerves were shot.

You were scrambling all morning to find everything you needed. All your costumes were at the school, but you still needed to bring your black leotard, skin-coloured tights, and wear your hair in an up-do style.

You decided to do your skincare routine, but your panic got the best of you, and you forgot what every single product was used for.

Daniel came over and helped you get ready but found you practically hyperventilating.

Your parents drove you both to the theatre, and when Ms Parker told you that Daniel couldn't be backstage, you promptly told her that he was your emotional support. After much arguing, she finally let him backstage.

Around an hour before showtime, the director told Daniel that he had to go wait in the audience if he already bought his ticket or that he had to go do it now.

Before he left, he gave you a pep-talk. "Hey, so one time, I was in this play, and the idea was that I was expelled, and there was a piece of paper I had to give my 'mother,' but I lost it. So we had to improvise, but I couldn't find the paper, and I felt horrible. So just know, even if you forget your lines, you must improvise, and remember, it still probably won't compare to the embarrassment I felt that day. So you can laugh at my humiliation. "

You chuckled, "I will. Ok, go before you get in trouble."

"Ok, me, our parents and all your friends will be in the front row. I've already reserved the entire row. I brought a whole bag of jackets just for that reason!"

"You can't do that," you said in between cackles.

"For you, I'll do anything," he grinned.

A few hours later and the show was almost done. "What's here? A cup, closed in my true love's hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end," you wept.

"O, churl! Drunk all and left no friendly drop to help me after? I will kiss thy lips; Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, to die with thine restorative." You leaned over James and let your hair fall to the side of your head to cover your face. You pulled back without actually kissing James.

"Thy lips are warm."

A whispery voice came from offstage, "Which way?" The cue for you to take the poison, which was actually cranberry juice.

"Yea, noise? Then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!" You grabbed the dagger and brought it near your chest. "This is thy sheath;" you drew the fake knife back three inches from your chest and stabbed it to where the bag of more cranberry juice was and punctured the bag. 'Blood' soaked through your dress. "There rust, and let me die." You fell dramatically onto the altar and waited for the scene to end as the crowd cheered.

After the show, you dashed into the crowd where your friends and family waited for you. Ovations and Applauses were passed, lauded boxes of chocolates and gorgeous roses were given.

When you got to Daniel, he practically tackled you with a hug. "I actually thought you died for a split second. The blood looked so real."

"Daniel, most people don't bleed that fast, do they?"

"I don't know but fear kicked in, and I couldn't make sense of anything."

You grinned and almost went to your parents before Daniel grabbed your arm. "You don't have a date to the Leavers ball, do you?"

"No, I don't. Why?"

He sighed. "Well, I was thinking that you could go with me. I don't have a date either."

You squinted, thinking there was some ulterior motive behind his actions. "Ok, I'll go with you if you give me the money you owe me before then."

"It's right here," he smiled.

Your face scrunched up, but you reluctantly agreed. You only had a month of school left, and you might as well spend it having fun with your friends.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

The Leavers Ball and the Getaway Party

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

You were dressed in a light blue, pleated, Mikado prom dress that cut off at mid-thigh. You had black wedges on your feet and a black pearl-beaded bracelet on your arm.

You were wearing a half-up, half-down style that framed your face and a silver necklace with a circle-shaped diamond.

You were sitting in the parlour when Daniel rang the doorbell. He was ten minutes late.

"Sorry," he said when your dad answered it. "I know I'm late. I was picking up Kat and James."

Kat and James were your and Daniel's respective friends who'd started last year after you and Daniel introduced them.

"Hi," you popped out of the shadows. "Alright, Mom, Dad, we're late, so we're just going to get goi-"

"Wait! I have to take pictures! Go get Kat and James."

"No, Mom. No pictures!"

"It's only right. I just want a few. We can take it outside."

You sighed but reluctantly caved into your mother's will.

The four of you took pictures outside of Daniel's Jeep Wrangler. You took ones with silly faces, just girls, just boys, and ones with all four of you before your parents allowed you to leave.

You were forty minutes late, and the ball was already in full swing by the time you got there.

You got on the dance floor immediately because one of your favourite songs was playing, but the DJ switched the song as soon as you found a decent spot. It was a slow song. You chuckled, and Daniel put his hands on your waist.

"Well, this is awkward."

A few minutes later, Daniel posed an interesting question.

"Did you know that I had a crush on you when you first came to school?"

"Uh, you stammered. "No, I didn't know that."

"Yeah, I did. It was short, though. Surface-level."

"Oh," you said. "Should I take offence to that?"

"What?" His eyes widened in realization with what he said. "No, that's not what I meant. You have an amazing personality. I just meant that… I just meant I like you more as a friend than to ruin that with any of those feelings."

"Oh, ok. You wouldn't have, though."

"I wouldn't?"

"No, everyone needs an ego boost every once in a while."

"Haha!"

"And besides, I've had feelings for you at one point too. But it was very cliche, so I tried to shake it as hard as I could."

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows. "And did you?"

"Like I said, as hard as I could. If it's still there somewhere, it's buried very deep, so much so that I was embarrassed."

"Embarrassed to like me?"

"I mean embarrassed to try and make my life seem like some movie."

"Oh, well, if you did, it would've just made you that much better as an actress. Speaking of that, would you consider acting in the least?"

"Maybe, now that I'm leaving, it's basically the last thing I have to connect me to you."

"No," he said, pointing to your bracelet. "You have that."

You had forgotten that it was Daniel who gave it to you, but the realization brought a smile to your face. "Oh yeah, I'll never take it off."

Later on, long before the ball ended, you saw many of your friends leaving.

"Hey, are you ready to go?" Daniel approached you.

"Where is everyone going?"

He wriggled his eyebrows. "Afterparty!"

"But it's not over?"

"Quit being a party popper and just come with us, L/N!"

You gave in, something you did a lot, and you all started driving. When you got there, you realized you were at Daniel's house.

"The afterparty is at your house?" you asked.

"Well…" James answered.

Kat joined in. "It's really an afterparty!"

"This is your going away party!" Daniel finished.

"But I'm not going away for another month."

"Well, now you have an entire month for people to give you gifts and stuff, and you don't have to worry about the party!" He reasoned.

"But why did it have to be after the Leavers ball?"

"Because you're already in a dress, and it has to be a surprise! Surprise!" Kat exclaimed.

"Alright, fine!"

The entire night you partied and danced, and though you didn't drink alcohol, plentiful amounts of pop and mocktails were passed around. The music was a delight to your ears with all your favourite songs. There were chips and pizza with all your favourite toppings.

"This party is awesome!"

Daniel grinned. "Well, I am an amazing party planner if I do say so myself."

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Airport

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

Daniel's parents drove your family to the airport. Your parents had sold the car. Your dad would return in a week to close a deal on the house. Everything was official, and now you were leaving.

You got out of the car, and the tears forcefully began to fall.

"I'm really gonna miss you, jerk," you said disdainfully to Daniel.

He chuckled. "I'm going to miss you more."

"Impossible!"

He wiped the fallen tear from your eye, and for a moment, you could see every single multi-coloured speck in his eyes and noticed how sometimes they looked blue, and at others, they looked grey or green.

You noticed the curvature of his smile and the chisel of his jawline.You saw the hurt in his eyes that said, 'why do you have to go? You're killing me,' and wanted to never move from that position.

He continued to rub the tears that fell onto your cheek, and the sad moment was as sheltered as it could be. You felt safe with him, in his arms, just looking at his face and being reminded of how he comforted you in a place that felt as familiar as Oz felt to Dorothy.

"What am I gonna do without you?" you whispered.

"Get at least one acting job, get an assistant and an agent, I'll do the same thing, and then either one of us has our assistants reach out to our agents, so we get back in touch in case we ever lose touch."

He sounded so grave that you couldn't help but laugh. "That's assuming I do become an actress, Daniel."

"You're right," he whined. "But don't forget me."

"I promise."

And you tried to keep that promise. Throughout your first year, you interned at UCLA, working in the lab. You then applied to go to school there, and you still tried to keep Daniel in your mind. Maintaining a social life on campus combined with schoolwork already wasn't easy. However, you still wouldn't let yourself forget your best friend.

It wasn't until you entered your senior year and you were about to graduate that he started to wane in your memories. The things you did together became obsolete as new friends and memories replaced the old. The things he taught you were thrown out to make space for the new lessons you learned each day.

Even when you did become an actress, you never really remembered why you decided to. You remembered that your friend pushed you to do that play, but it was almost ten years ago, and for the life of you, you couldn't remember his name.

But you did do it, first as an extra, then a body double, and then you started getting l roles on smaller shows. But your big break was getting a quasi-lead role on the spin-off of a big television show, The Walking Dead. For two years, you enjoyed going to conventions and playing the complex character, Valeria Bishop, and you thought you had it all figured out.

But life has a funny way of coming full circle and throwing you a curveball that knows you off course and changes your life.

[jamilelucato]

Mine [F.W.]

pairing: Fred Weasley x reader;

summary: Fred suggests the unmissable proposal to pretend to be dating, but will it work?

warnings: fluffy but i know you all love it;

a/n: forgot to mention but the reader can be from any house (if you are one to believe that students from different houses can stay in other common rooms); again, this is for the A Very Harry Potter Christmas (day 8) with @whack-ed

Harry Potter Masterlist ||  Musical Hogwarts Series 

When Fred came to you, three weeks ago, asking for your help, you said yes, because, frankly, it was pretty nice being the one the twins trusted to teach them new rare spells and charms.

However, three weeks ago, Fred didn’t ask for your help with spellcasting. He asked you to date him.

Okay, okay, fake date him. But still dating, so it was a surprise. You gasped for air, unsure of what to say next, unsure of how to continue. You stared at him, involuntarily tilting your head.

And you said yes. Honestly, you didn’t regret it — yet. Fred explained how you two would proceed, and your part came across pretty easy.

You had to smile at him during classes, and toss him notes. He was going to spend more time around you in the library, and you would join him in his and his twin’s pranks. Again, pretty simple stuff.

“And nobody can know?” your whispered echoed in the dark abandoned corridor.

Fred held his wand which had its tip light with Lumos closer to your face. He wanted to be sure you wouldn’t tell anyone about it.

“No one. Not even George,” he whispered back, hoping to sound serious. “That one can’t keep a secret, I’ll tell you that. And he’ll tell her.”

“Her?” you asked before you could hold yourself. When Fred and George asked for your help, and you agreed, you couldn’t ask questions. That was their primary rule, but you were so curious...

“Angelina,” he said her name in a tender whisper and part of you felt jealous. Not of Fred — Godric, no — but of the fact that Angelina had someone like her. And nobody liked you in, what? Forever?

“Is this all for her?” you asked politely, moving your own wand towards the two of you, who, now thinking, were closer than needed in the dim passageway.

Fred gulped. Yeah, he fancied Angelina. George knew. Now, you knew too. But he didn’t like to say it, and he hated when people mentioned, particular because she didn’t like him back.

“So when do we start?” you asked after a moment in silence after Fred refused to confirm he liked the Gryffindor chaser.

++

Fred’s head rested over your lap while you carelessly ran your fingers through his ginger locks, in one of the opaquest couches available in Gryffindor’s common room.

It wasn’t the first time you two could be found in this position. Although you generally preferred to be the one laying down — you loved when people in general played with your hair —; when Fred walked in you were already sitting, so he was left to be the one to lie down.

Three weeks of fake-dating had gone by, and you couldn’t believe it. At first, the days seemed to be going down slowly, as you had to force interactions with the twin. But after the end of the first week, when Fred met you with the offer to walk around the school holding your hand, the relationship came to be easier to tolerate and the days started going by really fast.

Fake-dating Fred was effortless because Fred was a good friend. That wasn’t much of a surprise — you knew Mrs Weasley had raised her children well — but the fact that he was an exceptional joker and a funny chap was a bonus you weren’t expecting.

He would’ve been a nice first boyfriend if he had been in fact your first boyfriend. 

Thankfully, people were buying the relationship with no problem — you even heard Ginny saying it was inevitable. You two didn’t even need to kiss in front of the students for them to believe. Well, you did have to endure some physical contact (like what you were doing right now with his head over your lap), but that was surprisingly rather enjoyable.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Fred asked all of the sudden after Godric knew how long you two had stayed cosy in front of the fire.

“I’m going to Hogsmeade to buy some Christmas presents,” you answered, looking down to meet his gaze. He seemed peaceful and calm when he had your fingers intertwined in his hair. “Wanna come?” you invited him to enjoy your little trip — a corner of your mind remembering that he was allegedly your boyfriend; therefore, he should escort you.

“Sure,” he smiled, but you were almost sure that it was because you moved your fingers and not because he was much excited to Hogsmeade. “Have to buy some myself.”

George spotted you two in the couch, comfortable together — as he was already used to finding you two — and he joined in the conversation.

“Plans for tomorrow?” he asked, sitting down in the sofa next to your left.

“Hogsmeade,” was Fred’s simple reply. You found it super cool how he didn’t even need to get up to know the voice belonged to his twin. 

That was another thing being in a sham relationship with Fred made you improve: differentiating Fred from George. Not that three weeks earlier, you were terrible, but you were undoubtedly not the best one for the job. Now, you had no problem at all.

“Oh, perhaps I’ll see you two around,” George smiled, his eyes meeting yours. You smiled back at him, pleased to know that he still liked you even though you supposedly had his twin’s tongue in your mouth often. George didn’t know the truth, obviously, but even so... You wondered how long would take the twin to found out Fred was lying about his love life. “I have a date,” added George, noticing that he should elaborate.

“Wow, Georgie, how nice!” you kept your smile, this time only shaking your head positively so he could know you were genuinely happy.

Fred seemed delighted too, stretching his neck over your lap for just an opportunity to see his twin without having to get up.

“Good luck,” wished Fred. “Although she can’t be pretty as my girl, I hope yours is at least cute.”

You looked down at Fred, meeting his gaze before nudging his head slightly out of your lap. If you two were indeed dating, instead of pushing, you would’ve kissed him — and, oh, the urge to do so was strong, but you reminded yourself that he was just following his act.

George watched your interaction with joy in his eyes. He was happy for his brother for finally finding someone to utterly understand him — and he had other reasons too, but they didn’t matter now.

“You two are so cute, ” George said, before getting up. Fred hadn’t even noticed that his twin was still there — so much he was distracted with your attempt of being embarrassed. Deep down, Fred was acknowledging that more than often, you were managing to truly distract him from his surroundings. 

“I’ll leave you two with some privacy,” said George before finally leaving.

You and Fred exchanged looks again, and then both burst into laughter, not believing George honestly had let that out.

“He seems more romantic,” you pointed out, starting to play with Fred’s hair again.

Fred shifted — you felt his body melt at your touch again.

“Perhaps it’s this new girl, ” Fred shrugged. He came off as unable to care deeply when your fingers ran through his scalp.

“I don’t think she’s much new,” you said, thinking more to yourself how George always appeared to be the more romantic of the twins.

++

“Which one do you think Ginny would like more?” Fred asked, holding what seemed to be two same shirts for you, who had no basic sense of how to tell Quidditch teams apart.

“Which one is she fan of?” you asked, deciding to not mention to Fred that you were terrible with teams.

Fred sighed. “Both,” he replied, knowing deep down that his sister would like any of the shirts, but he just wanted to get her the perfect one.

“Well, I’d pick this one,” you took a loop of faith, pointing to the shirt with your favourite colour. Fred stared at the one you aimed and then smiled, suddenly realizing you had no idea which team was each.

“I’ll go with your suggestion,” he then said, leaving the other shirt behind and heading to the cashier. You were glad he was over with the Quidditch Supplies store — you really had no interest in being there longer than necessary.

To be fair with Fred, he was being a very charming companion in the Hogsmeade trip, and he had even paid you a hot chocolate mug. Since students were bumping with you two all the time, the dating facade was still up and so, he was holding your hand around the village.

It was probably the first time since the whole thing started that you actually felt nervous about making physical contact with Fred. Perhaps it was because this trip (and the Christmas shopping thing) felt too personal, but you couldn’t be sure.

Well, actually, you didn’t want to be sure. You couldn’t have feelings for Fred — period. 

“Did you buy everything you wanted?” you asked Fred, a couple of hours later, because you were a bit tired of walking around, pilling up bags of gifts. But you didn’t want to be the one to admit.

“Huh, yes,” he answered, after checking out the bags he held. “Three Broomsticks?”

Shaking your head in an affirmative, you repositioned your own plastic bags while Fred waited for you, with his hand stretched. You swallowed hard a second before you felt the touch of it — although perhaps the high temperature was the fault of the gloves you both wore.

Why the hell could you feel an electric shock when touching him when there were literally layers of tissue separating both of you?

Fred walked in first, holding the door up for you, and, as you walked in, he offered to take your bags himself. You tried to protest, but he was very determined about it, and you were glad to be free of the extra weight.

It was then you saw George, sitting in a table not far away from the entrance. He was laughing cutely because the girl with him had gotten herself a moustache made of butterbeer.

Oh, and the girl was Angelina Johnson.

“Fred?” you called his name, unsure of what to do, but you definitely needed to take Fred away from there. He looked up from the bags on the floor. “Let’s go back to the castle; we can drink butterbeer later.”

Fred frowned, confused with why you changed your mood. “I’ll grab it really fast, [y/n], don’t worry.”

“No, Fred, I want to go back,” you tried to be firm.

“[y/n], nonsense; why...?” but he never finished his question. Instead of focusing on your face as he was doing before, he focused on what was happening behind you. 

And behind you, George and Angelina were having the time of their lives.

“Fred?” this time you called his name in a lower voice, scared of what his reaction. Well, or the lack of it, since he seemed frozen in time. “Freddie?”

The ginger boy shook his head as if he was getting rid of a bad taste in his throat. He finally met your eyes, and although he wasn’t exactly smiling, he didn’t look sad either.

“Sure you don’t want that butterbeer?” he asked, surprising you because or a) he was being very mature about the whole Angelina thing or b) he was hiding his feelings.

“Let’s get out of here,” you replied, not allowing him to suggest anything else since you took most of the bags on the floor and opened the door of the pub again.

If George noticed you two had walked in on his date, he never mentioned. 

You didn’t stop walking — and hoped Fred was doing the same — until you were back at the train station and inside one to get back to Hogwarts. Since the trip was quick, trains were coming and going all the time, and with a look at your wristwatch, you knew that the next one was leaving in just ten minutes.

It was only when you sat down that you decided to face Fred again, who, unbelievably still had the same expression on: neutral.

“Okay. Can we talk about what we just saw?”

“My twin on a date?” Fred raised a brow, his expression shifting to confusion, but there was no sign of anger on it.

“Your twin on a date with Angelina,” you corrected the boy, turning your whole body to face him. It was comfy because the bags were no longer in your hands, making every move extreme.

“Oh, that.”

“That, Fred. Aren’t you... angry? Disappointed? Anything?” you asked. You were supposed to be handling this calmly, but his lack of emotion was annoying your guts.

“George’s happy, so I’m happy. It’s that simple, actually,” Fred shrugged, avoiding your eyes for the first time that day.

“It’s not simple. You like her, Freddie,” you stated what should’ve been obvious for him.

Fred sighed, shrinking in his cushioned seat. He had been avoiding that talk, and it was not just since he saw his twin with Angelina.

He has been noticing his feelings for Angelina had changed, but he couldn’t point out how it changed, and why it did. He figured it was because of you, but that made no sense in his mind.

You weren’t supposed to be his type. You were nerdy and an avid reader (and read for fun, which he could never understand). You didn’t know anything about Quidditch, so you stayed away from the sport. You thought long before you acted, which was so different from him, who was always more emotion than reason.

Honestly, he didn’t even understand how he managed to keep his friendship with you for so many years. Of course, Fred was grateful to be your friend — after all, you had a questionable sense of humour that always fascinated the ginger, and even though you were afraid of being caught for it, you never denied help to him and his brother when a prank needed.

He knew that something could change in the dynamics of the two of you when he suggested being your fake boyfriend, but he didn’t think that the change would turn the relationship into something so much better.

Fred stared back at you, having no idea of what to say to you. He was afraid of rejection. And this time his fear seemed more potent than anything he ever felt before.

“I don’t like her anymore,” he simply said, still focused on your beautiful eyes.

His answer confused you. “Well, then why are we still dating?”

You noticed when you forgot to add the word “fake” in your sentence, but you were so done with that word that you shook that thought away.

“I don’t know,” Fred sighed, looking down at his hands over his lap.

You stared at him, not being able to believe the guy. You had lost three weeks for a boy that didn’t know what he was doing? Three weeks that you could have invested in finding a real boyfriend?

Your hands reached for your plastic bags, and as soon as the train stopped, you ran out of it. 

“[y/n]!” you heard Fred call you, but you didn’t dare look back.

++

“Didn’t see you and [y/n] in Hogsmeade. Did you guys leave early?” George asked when he sat down next to his twin in the common room. 

He had walked Angelina back to her dorm, and he decided to see if his twin was still around. George was never one to brag, but he really needed to vent to someone about how happy he was that he could finally be with the girl he wanted because Fred didn’t fancy her anymore.

Fred looked up to his other half and pressed his lips tight against one another. If he didn’t tell George, he would find out later, and he wouldn’t be happy.

“We broke up,” Fred simply said, biting his nails.

George’s eyes widened as he stared at his twin and he gulped nervously, not knowing how to proceed. His happiness was suddenly gone.

Fred didn’t get over Angie, and, once again, George would’ve to step away, leaving the path over to his twin. Damn it, George told himself, I really thought [y/n] was the one for him.

“Can I ask why?” George was still holding on to his hope.

“She...” Fred started, but he didn’t know if that was the right way to say it. “I...” he corrected himself, but it still sounded off. “Well, we weren’t really dating.”

George raised his brows. How come you weren’t really dating? Thinking about it now, I never saw them kissing, George reminded himself. But the way they looked at each other, the way Fred melts at her touch... How [y/n] blushes when Fred praises her... You two looked like a real couple for George.

“It was one of my stupidest ideas, but I went with it, and now I’ve lost a friend,” Fred complained, staring at his twin, hoping George had a solution. But the younger twin was as lost as Fred. “I was so dumb!”

“Fake-dating is always a dumb idea,” George pointed out, relaxing once again.

So Fred does fancy her, he though. But he screwed up.

It wasn’t like Fred could tell George the real reason behind why he suggested dating to you, but he could spin around the truth.

“I had a reason behind the whole thing, I just wasn’t expecting [y/n] to become more important to me than my initial reason,” explained Fred, sighing.

“I was. I mean, I would’ve,” George said, making Fred stare at him with confusion. “You always seemed to have a thing for her. I don’t know, perhaps just attraction?”

George saw that Fred was still lost, so he continued.

“Like, did you really need her to teach you Aguamenti for that prank on Filch two months ago? We had just learned it with Flitwick,” George used the first example that popped in his mind. “Or when you wanted to prank McGonagall so she would believe you were Dumbledore — you’re gonna tell me you didn’t know how to prepare a Polyjuice Potion?”

Fred gulped, suddenly feeling guilty. His twin was right — he never needed guidance with those simple spells and potions, but he ran for your help at any chance he had. Only now he knew it was because he wanted to be around you.

He reached for one of the cushions over the red couch and screamed on it. George found the scene hilarious.

“I’m screwed!”

++

It was the Sunday after the Hogsmeade trip, and even though every cell on your body wished to stay in bed, you knew that deep down you had no real reason to be mad and to feel heartbroken.

Your involvement with Fred was fake, and it was bound to be over from the beginning. You, better than all people, should know it. So there was no reason to stay curled up in bed, moaning about it.

But even if you knew you were bound to see Fred around the school, you weren’t expecting him to be outside of your common room entrance, as if he was expecting you to come out.

“Fred?” you had no idea why you said his name in that tone of surprise. Down, you knew he would come looking for you as soon as he had another prank planned.

His face lightened up when he heard his name coming from your lips. After his long talk with his twin last night, he started noticing you did, in fact, have a strong power over him, one that even you didn’t seem aware of.

“We went Christmas shopping yesterday, and I never gave you your gift,” he said, explaining himself, answering the question you didn’t dare ask.

“It’s not Christmas,” you said, a bit too quickly, “yet.”

“But it’s soon to be,” he raised a brow, stepping away from the wall he was leaned in and handing you a small box.

“How come I didn’t see you buy it?”

“Because I can be very sneaky when I want to,” he smiled. It was so easy for him to be happy around you.

“Hm,” his answer didn’t convince you, but you opened the box anyway, finding a beautiful golden necklace inside.

It had a small pendant on it — an initial, his initial. The golden “F” sparkled in your hands.

“Fred, wow,” the jewel made you speechless — you knew Fred wasn’t rich and you were almost sure that it was very expansive. “I can’t accept it, Freddie — we’re not dating anymore.”

Fred stopped your hands with his before you could return the necklace.

“I bought it for you.”

“It has your initial on it,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, I hoped to mark you as mine,” he smirked, deciding to be bold about the situation.

“We’re not dating,” you said, swallowing down your wish to forget that detail.

“But do you want to?” 

His question echoed in the passageway, but thankfully no one was around to disturb. You stared at the ginger, not believing he could actually be proposing what you heard.

“Fred...” you started, reminding yourself not to panic.

“I lied yesterday on the train. Not about Angelina — I do not fancy her,” he explained himself, stepping closer to you. “I lied about why I didn’t end or fake-relationship earlier. I didn’t do it because I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing you with someone else, making plans with another boy, holding hands with another guy.”

You gulped, but Fred didn’t seem ready to stop talking.

“I’ve never been as happy as I was during those three weeks you faked liking me,” he continued. “And being away from you will be the death of me. Please don’t turn the school prankster in the school bore,” of course he had to finish his charming speech with some cheeky sentence.

You couldn’t help but giggle, moving closer to him as well.

“I like you too, you idiot,” you smiled, holding tighter the jewel with just one hand.

“So... we’re dating again,” he smirked. “Only this time, I’m allowed to do this.”

Then, tugging you by the waist, he caught your lips in a kiss that would come to be the first of many.

[latenightdecaf]

Entry 6 - of light gaze and worrisome face

part of let the pile of good things grow series - series masterlist

previous entry here

Yoongi x reader

Ft. nonidol!bts

Producer!yoongi, roommate!yoongi, soft!yoongi

slow burn romance, friendship, slice of life

series of drabbles/one shots

no warnings for now

A/N: starting to get the hang of this again, it’s been a while so i’m just going where my imagination takes me. So i’ll probably be posting another one for tomorrow before the motivation leaves me. Hope you all like it.

Word count: 1,953

Pacing back and forth in the living room as you’re having this conversation with your friend and also editor, Hye Jin. Talking you out into the possibility of taking in another project that would put an indefinite pause to your own book.

“I couldn’t possibly say no, she had this whole speech on how she wanted to make this book for her baby. To read to her when she’s old enough. Words from a loving mother for her newborn child, my goodness.” You stopped and sighed. “I know, but having to accept this means also putting your book on hold, you’ve been working on that for months now—is that really something you are willing to do?” Hye Jin reminded you on the other end. You stopped on your tracks, not saying a word and just looking blankly over the view from your living room. Thinking to yourself, ‘I can’t believe it’s summer already.’

Yoongi who have just woken up and is getting himself some water in the kitchen and were just looking intently at your back not particularly eavesdropping in your conversation, but just looking. You haven’t even realized he walked in.

“I know you, you’re just running away from this. You’ve been so scared of finally publishing something that is yours and yours only. So when a small window of opportunity presents itself you immediately took the ticket to leave.” Hye Jin, your editor who has became a good friend to you throughout these years, has always been good to you—she can so easily read you, too.

“You know for someone who’s actually trying to get pregnant for months now, you don’t seem to understand her feelings. Of course, I’m just here to help.” Weak argument on your end, you know she’s right when she said that you were running away. “You’re always there to help. But what about you? You know for someone who doesn’t want to have kids. I’m surprised you’re too adamant to do this.” Her statement made you laugh. “Have you changed your mind?” She added.

“I may not want kids, but I’m not heartless.”

And those were the last phrase Yoongi heard from you as we backed to his room.

Your conversation with Hye Jin went on for a couple more minutes only to end up with some sort of a compromise.

“You’ll need minimum 3-4 months, and probably maximum 6/7 months to wrap this all up? You need to get this done more quickly. That’s my only deal.” You sighed in defeat. “I’ll try.” Ending the call and waving the white flag. You too were also not sure of what you’re getting yourself into. Is it just you running away? Or is this the small part of you feeling guilty again.

“You’ll need minimum 3-4 months, and probably maximum 6/7 months to wrap this all up? You need to get this done more quickly. That’s my only deal.” You sighed in defeat. “I’ll try.” Ending the call and waving the white flag. You too were also not sure of what you’re getting yourself into. Is it just you running away? Or is this the small part of you feeling guilty again.

Weeks later, Yoongi’s packing up for their fishing trip that his friend, Jin insisted they would come. He felt like he has no choice but it might be good reason to go our for a change.

“Hey, I thought you said you guys were going camping? Why do you have your equipments with you… you poor corporate slave.”

He laughed at your remark. You’re still looking at his stuff all puzzled and confused by how heavy it all looks. You leaned on the kitchen counter as you watch him put his stuff out from his room.

You asked again, “Dont you think it’s a little too much? Cant you leave some stuff? Do you even have clothes in there? How bout food? Not important? Music is life?” He laughed. You’re good at making him laugh.

He finds all of your worrisome-sarcastic remarks endearing. He looked at you and said, “Look, it’s like you—you not taking your ipad everywhere you go. Or that small sketchbook you have. You draw every chance you get, you draw in the middle of lunch or while waiting for someone. And if not your ipad, you draw even on table napkins and ask the waiter for more. It’s the same for me.”

You let out a smile at his comparison.

“Okay okay, point taken mister. Point. Taken. But my ipad wont break my back—just saying.” You teasingly replied.

“Maybe i can leave some.” Looking at his bags and talking to himself as he puts some of his stuff back in his room and minutes later he’s done preparing for their camping tomorrow.

“All done?” You asked as you look over to a now somehow reduced luggage. “I’ll help you put some of it in your car.”

You carried with him some of his bags as he is the type to have everything ready before leaving.

As you walked down the stairs, just carrying the lightest possible baggage you could ever find. “You sure you have enough food in here?” Lifting the bag and shaking to hear whats inside. “I mean i know you can certainly whip anything and turn it into a meal but this looks like there’s just ramen in here.”

He finds you cute when you worry.

“We’ll do grocery tomorrow on our way, no worries.” That statement puts you at ease. You reached the ground floor and towards his car. “That sounds good. I mean—just incase the fishing thing wont work out. You know, like last time? There might be a lot of fish in the sea and then suddenly there’s none for you—i mean that in the most literal sense. Not just in women, you know—just incase.” Teasing him again and bringing up the time he went home from a fishing trip. He was so tired, they didn’t caught a single fish. And the trip was cut short and they all immediately went home. He declared then to never go with Jin again but I guess, he love that Hyung of him a lot to be packing all these for yet another fishing trip.

There’s a good sense of companionship between the two of you. The way you can always make him smile without even trying. The way you always tease him lightly. He’s known you for a while, has seen you with your friends and he knows that you’re just the warmest person—to everyone, not just to him. But it looks like something has been bothering you lately, he even offered if you wanted to go with him on their fishing trip, assuring you that Jin and Hoseok are good people and nothing bad will happen. But you respectfully declined. Not just because you don’t eat fish but because you just need some time alone. Not that Yoongi has ever been a bother to you in any way too but just alone would be nice, you thought.

Yoongi will be gone for the whole weekend and possibly be returning on Sunday afternoon. You don’t have any particular plans just work and then some more work. As soon as you’re both back into the apartment you asked, “You’re leaving tonight? At midnight?”

“Yeah around that time, why?” Yoongi confirmed.

“Nothing.”

“Are you okay?” He asked, as you stopped in front of the refrigerator to get yourself some coffee.

“Yeah, why won’t I be?”

“You do know you say that a lot.” Yoongi grabbed himself a glass and grabbed the pitcher in your hand and you just smiled. “There’s not much meat left in the fridge, couple of things are missing too. You want me to go to grocery before I leave?” Leaning in the kitchen sink and drinking your coffee. You let out a deep sigh unknowingly. “No, I’ll go. Don’t worry.” You left your empty glass onto the sink. “I’m just saying, I can go if you’re not up for it.” You shake your head to reassure him, “I don’t mind, okay? I’m going to be fine.” You walked passed him as you went to your room.

Yoongi definitely knows that something’s been bothering you for days. He doesn’t want to pry, if you don’t want to talk about it. He just keeps looking at you, just in case you want to talk—these days your mind has always been elsewhere and there’s just so much work to be done.

You wanted to say goodbye before he left but you fell asleep in the middle of the evening and woke up half past one. You went outside to check and it looks like he already left. You got yourself some water from the kitchen and there’s a post-it left in the fridge that says, “Got you some groceries, call me if there’s anything.” You opened fridge and he even refilled your ice creams. You know you couldn’t have a more thoughtful cat. Even when he went away for almost a week for work and you were dying from a sky high fever, you never really called him for anything. But he constantly reminds you that you always can.

Yoongi volunteered to drive this time for some odd reason. It’ll be an almost 2 hour drive from Seoul to Daejeon, he actually doesn’t mind driving and quiets enjoy it more than he’d ever admit. Everything is set, their fishing trip as orchestrated by his hyung, Jin and Hoseok who had no choice but to be dragged unto this trip. They’ve been his friends for the longest time, being in the same company who also works in the industry. Hoseok, a renowned choreographer and Jin, one of the company directors in his agency. He never would’ve agreed to yet another fishing trip if only Jin didn’t promised to have everything paid for and ready to go. He held Hoseok hostage though and so he has no choice but to go as well. Sleeping at the passenger’s seat they both drifted away as Yoongi drives.

They have gone to multiple fishing trips over the years, some where even overseas during their vacation and something wrong always turn out like the time they have to cut the trip short because they have been sitting in the boat for hours and they haven’t caught a single thing. The owner of the boat found it odd too.

But to Yoongi’s surprise everything’s turning out smoothly, on their second day of camping they were able to caught a lot of salmon and have it for dinner. Stuck in his own thoughts while grilling some salmon, Jin shouted. “Yoongi-ah! You’re burning it.” Immediately going back to reality, and thankfully saving the precious fish from burning. “What are you thinking about so deeply?”

“No it’s nothing, Hyung.” He replied as he kept tending to his almost burnt fish.

Once grilling is done they all gathered to have their dinner with some drinks. Soju and beer is always present and with Hoseok around to play some games. In the middle of all the silliness that is Jin and Hoseok and taking the game way too seriously for their own good. Jin asked Yoongi, “Why are you always staring at your phone?” He immediately hide it and said, “No nothing, hyung.”

“What are you thinking of again?” Knowing how Yoongi is sometimes, Jin pried as Yoongi kept looking distracted the entire trip. “Nothing, Hyung. Really.”

“Okay, it’s your turn.” Giving him his Nintendo, he eventually added “If this is about Hyuna, just let me know if you don’t want to work with her again. Maybe we can do something about it.” Yoongi let out a chuckle and drank a shot of soju. “Hyung it’s nothing really, it’s not about her either. The work is fine, we actually finished it sooner than I thought. You must have heard it already.” Jin eventually took the game from Yoongi replied, “I did, you guys were really professional about all this.”

“Of course.” Yoongi proudly replied as he sneaked a peek into his phone again. Unconsciously waiting for some call.

moodboard sr: x x x

[bittercoldbrew]

Not Beyond Repair

Summary: He was her first love, her greatest heartbreak. Twenty years and an alien invasion later, the universe seems determined to bring Marcus Moreno back into her life.

Rating/Warnings: Rated M for coarse and suggestive language (no smut, but mentions of a past sexual relationship), allusions to (but no descriptions of) child abuse/neglect. And just like so much angst. 18+ ONLY

A/N: Wow so this has been sitting in my wips since uhhh March I guess??? I wasn’t really planning on ever finishing it, just something I’d tinker with from time to time, but over the past week or so while procrastinating writing something wholly unrelated I was suddenly struck with inspiration and couldn’t seem to pull myself away. No idea if I’ll ever write a follow-up, but I’ve gotten pretty attached to these characters now, so I guess we’ll see! Anyway, here’s 7k+ of Marcus Moreno x OFC angsty tender goodness. Enjoy!

It’s been a quiet day, rainy and cool, the gloomy weather keeping all but her staunchest regulars at bay. Not great for her bottom line, but getting back into the swing of things after being lightly kidnapped by decidedly un-sexy tentacle aliens has been...more of a challenge than anticipated. This has been a good chance to get caught up on packages to be shipped out, and sprucing up a few displays, and generally working her way through the rolling list of ancillary tasks. After an admirably productive morning and a quick trip to the sandwich shop next door for lunch, Vera had just settled in behind the counter and cracked open her current read when the bell above the door chimed for the first time in hours.

The thing about owning a tiny bookshop in a quiet part of an otherwise-bustling city is that people expect her to just be reading behind the counter all day—not remotely the case, there are a hundred other things she should be doing right now, but at least she doesn’t have to feel too guilty at being caught slacking off as she looks up to greet the new customer with an easy smile.

Her expression freezes halfway there.

The long legs and broad shoulders of Marcus Moreno fill her doorway—and all the rest of him, too, clad in tight dark jeans and a light gray sweater and a black leather jacket. There’s a strained, nervous expression on his face as he lifts a hand to sweep rain-slick hair out of his face, then gives her a half-hearted wave. “...Hey,” he says softly.

"...Marcus," she sighs, hoping she doesn’t sound quite as confused and uncomfortable as she feels, gripping the book in her hands so tightly the binding creaks.

He attempts a smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sorry to just show up at your work like this, but I, uh...don’t have your number anymore.”

“But you have the shop’s address?” she asks, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

He shrugs. “It’s a local bookstore with your name on it. Even I’m not that bad with google.”

She sighs. Smack dab in the middle of the block, the name West & Elm Books had seemed a cute idea, prompting visitors to ask, “This is Elm Street, but what’s West?” The first twenty or so times, she’d been chipper as anything to respond, “I am! Vera West, nice to meet you.”

The routine had gotten old very fast.

“Pretty sure google also knows the shop’s number,” she drawls, with a pointed nod toward the landline literally two feet away from her on the counter. Even with three separate online storefronts, quite a few of her customers aren’t terribly comfortable navigating the internet, and these days the shop phone probably gets more use than her cell.

He has the sense to look abashed, at least. “I... Yeah, I know, I just wanted... I can—leave. If you want me to.”

She finally sets down her book, not caring to mark the page. A week ago, she would’ve run him off the moment she saw him. But now..? “Just—try not to...drip on anything,” she huffs, gesturing vaguely at his wet clothes. What, were superheroes too cool to carry umbrellas or something?

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” He looks down at himself as if he hadn’t even realized, tries to wipe his shoes off on the mat, takes a few steps inside. Instead of swinging closed behind him, the door gets caught by a gust of wind that blows it open further, then yanks it shut with a harsh clang of the bell, and they both flinch. “Sorry,” he mutters again.

“What do you want, Moreno?” she asks—not angry to see him, really, but suddenly and completely exhausted.

He nods his head, as though her snappishness is exactly the welcome he’d expected, and it makes her bristle with old hurts thought long buried. But then his next words surprise her right out of what should’ve been a one-way trip to anger: “I wanted to thank you.”

She blinks, confused; asks dumbly, “For what?”

For the first time since entering, he meets her eyes—and god, she had forgotten how warm they can be, how kind, how tender. “You thought the world was ending, and you ran to find my mom.”

She shrugs her shoulders like it was no biggie, like making sure Tía Moreno was safe hadn’t been her first and only thought after watching him get attacked and captured by aliens on the fucking morning news. “Didn’t have anyone else to check up on,” she says—and it’s true, if not entirely honest.

“She said you showed up to the house with a baseball bat,” he says, resting his hands on his hips and shifting his weight to one foot, the way he always used to when he knew he was about to get on her nerves. “A Slugger, even. Like the one I gave you.”

The gift had been half joke, half deadly serious; something to keep her safe on the nights she couldn’t stay over at his parents’ house and instead had to navigate the unpredictable environment of her mother’s apartment and the men she sometimes brought back with her from the various bars she worked at—and a wooden bat so, he’d told her with a dimpled grin, she could turn it on him if she ever needed to. They’d been best friends at the time, just a couple of stupid barely-teenagers, one with the supernatural ability to command metal, the other with no particular power or significance beyond a certain knack for always knowing how to make the gloomiest boy in school smile. The moment he put that bat in her hands had been the moment she realized she was hopelessly in love with him, even if it’d taken her a few more months to put words to the feeling and say them to his face.

It’s the same bat tucked with her behind the counter now, the one she’s kept at her bedside every night for more than twenty years, the one with “VW + MM” lovingly carved into the handle. She’d made herself a real pain in some squid alien’s ass to get it back from whoever had confiscated it, once they’d finally been released from the spaceship.

She sure as hell isn’t going to tell Marcus that, though. With a huff, she gets up from her stool and turns from his prying gaze, stepping over to the espresso machine. “¿Quieres un café?” she asks, but her voice sounds so flat and tired that it comes out as more of a command than a question.

“...Gracias,” he mutters awkwardly, as though he’s not entirely sure whether she’d been asking or telling, either. It doesn’t matter; she’d never known him to turn down good coffee, and although it’s been a long, long time since she last called him a friend, she can't imagine that’s something that will ever change.

She can feel his eyes on her while she pulls a couple shots and steams some milk, but he at least keeps his dumb mouth shut, for once. The espresso machine is a real treasure—an Italian import, small but mighty, a worthy investment simply because she loves to have a little something special to offer her favorite regulars and kind customers (though it’s always mysteriously in need of repair whenever anyone’s rude to her, weird how that happens, huh?)—and she wouldn’t want him saying something to sour her mood while she uses it. The Marzocco deserves better than that.

When she turns back around with a cortado for him and a latte for herself, she sees that he’d grabbed one of the stools from the little table by the window, has seated himself across the counter from her own spot. Any hope she may have harbored that he’d been planning on drinking his espresso and walking back out of her life flees at the sight. Biting back another sigh, she sets the drinks down and sits, holding her cup in both hands as if it might protect her from whatever else he has in mind to say.

“Thank you,” he says softly, picking up the tiny spoon and twirling it in his fingers absent-mindedly. “Vera—”

The bell dings again, and they both turn to watch a huge umbrella force its way through the door, followed closely by a young-ish couple huddled together, laughing brightly at their successful escape from the elements. Their obvious mirth somehow manages to make Vera feel even grouchier, and she straightens up and calls over to them, “Hey, sorry folks, we’re closed!”

The two stop shaking out their umbrella all over her nice wood floor, and turn to look at her in surprise. The woman’s eyes widen in something like camaraderie and understanding, taking in Vee’s and Marcus’s closeness and tense posture; but the guy’s expression sours, and he gestures sharply at the door he just barged through, unable or unwilling to read the damn room. “The sign says you’re open.”

“Yeah, thanks,” she agrees, trying and probably failing to keep the bite out of her tone. “You can flip it for me on your way out.”

He looks ready to argue with her some more, but his date grabs his arm with a “C’mon, babe...” So instead he flips her the bird—but at least the woman turns the sign as they manipulate the umbrella and themselves back out to the street. Hopefully they’ll find their way to the sandwich shop next door to weather the storm, go be Bill and Stu’s problem rather than hers.

“Sorry,” Marcus murmurs, a needlessly contrite look in his eyes. “Want me to, uh...hit the lock?”

She’d been halfway off her stool to do just that; sighing, she sits back down. “Sure, knock yourself out.”

He twists at the waist, lifts a steady hand; a moment later, she hears the metal latch click into place.

Apparently it’s still enough to make her heartbeat kick up a notch, the way he so casually defies the laws of nature. People with powers aren’t quite so rare as they once were, but they tend to keep to their own communities, out of necessity if not some blatant prejudice. Vera knows a small handful of other folks with inexplicable talents, but no one holds a candle to Marcus Moreno.

...To his superpower, that is.

Shaking her head of useless thoughts, she takes a slow sip of her latte to keep from having to meet his eyes. “So, uh... Your mom. She doing okay?”

He nods his head, taking a sip of his own drink—she tries not to let herself be charmed by the way his glasses slip down the bridge of his nose when he dips his head, just barely managing to resist the muscle-memory instinct to pluck them from his face and put them on herself. “Yeah. Yeah, she’s good. Disappointed in me and the other adults, of course. But the Heroics asked her to lend a hand with training all the kids, and she couldn’t be happier.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Vera can’t help but smile at the thought; she may not be an active hero any longer, but age hasn’t slowed Anita Moreno down much at all from the woman she remembers, the closest thing to a mother figure she’d had after dad died and mom subsequently lost her grip on reality. It’ll be good for Tía to get back into it, she thinks. “And Missy? How’s she holding up?”

“She’s great,” he says, and there’s a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes as he speaks of his daughter. “She has— I mean, she likes the hero stuff well enough, and don’t get me wrong, that’s a huge relief, but... But she has friends again, y’know? It’s been so long, I thought... Well, she’s... She’s doing great.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she tells him, and—despite everything—she really means it. Despite everything, she still remembers how it’d felt after dad died, and mom had moved the two of them halfway across the country to get away from the memories, and Vera herself had sworn she’d never care about anyone else ever again, until the gloomiest boy in school suddenly got it into his head to change all that. “She’s a good kid. Clever, kind. The rest of the day sucked, y’know, the whole fake alien invasion thing, but...I liked getting to meet her.”

“She’s better than I deserve,” he says, tone solemn as he nods his head. He sets his cup down and folds his arms on the countertop, leaning in a little, brow creasing into something stern. “She told me you talked to her.”

“Oh, yeah?” she asks, holding her cup in front of her chest and leaning back a fraction, hoping the movement comes across as subconscious rather than calculated. “What’d she say?”

“Not much,” he admits. “Which means it must’ve really mattered to her. She said you swore one another to secrecy.”

If she lets herself think about it, Vera can almost feel the memory of the girl’s small hand in hers. But she doesn’t let herself dwell on it, just shrugs instead. “It’s good for a girl to have a couple secrets from her dad.”

“It is,” he agrees with a nod. His lips purse, his eyes lowering to stare into his espresso thoughtfully. “But mom... She said Missy seemed about ready to give up on the other kids, on coming after us, on all of it. Said she looked ready to shut down, until you went over and spoke to her.”

It sounds like Tía’d been exaggerating; really, it hadn't exactly been some kind of profound heart to heart or inspirational monologue or anything, it was just...a nice chat. The girl had asked who she was, what she was doing at her abuela’s house; Vera’d explained that she and Marcus had once been good friends, that she and Anita Moreno still kept in touch, that she’d been worried about the woman who practically raised her after seeing all the scary stuff on the news. Missy had been surprised to find out that her dad had a friend she’d never heard about, so Vera had shown her the carving on her bat and told her a truncated version of how he’d been kind to her in the darkest period of her life and they’d become inseparable for years, until time and circumstance made them go their separate ways.

And then Missy had asked...if she'd loved him.

And—hell, she'd been talking to his daughter, and an hour earlier she'd watched helplessly as he got swallowed up by a tidal wave of flying alien robot monsters, and she'd thought the world was ending, and she'd...answered honestly.

"I did. And I think I still do. And I'm scared I'll never get the chance to tell him."

There'd been other things they talked about, too; Vera had tried to be a little motivational for a minute there, had told the girl how she didn't have any powers, either, but that she'd never let it keep her from doing what needed to be done to protect the people she cared about. But none of that had seemed to land quite as close to home as the things she'd admitted—to herself as much as to her new young friend—about Marcus.

Not that she had the least intention of mentioning any of that to him, of course. The world hadn't ended; and once she'd gotten over the initial flood of relief at seeing him alive and unharmed, once he'd explained that this whole ordeal had been a test—for their own children, for fuck's sake—she'd been too angry at him and his stupid face and the Heroics most of all to be able to admit any such thing.

And if Missy hadn't told him what they'd discussed, she certainly would not betray the girl's trust. It had been a solemn (if improvised) oath they'd sworn, after all. Vera had never been one to break a promise, and she was not going to start now.

"It wasn't anything like that," she sighs, propping her elbow on the counter, her chin in her hand, taking a moment to study the face of this man who had once been the boy she’d known. Gone a little softer around the edges, but also far more put-together than she can ever remember seeing him. He has grown and changed in ways that are unfathomable to her, and it's her own fault that she wasn't around for any of it, and the realization makes the ache in her chest expand into a gnawing chasm, makes her words come out breathy and stilted and weird. "We just...talked about you, I guess. What you were like at her age, that sort of thing. If she...found inspiration in that, I think it's got more to do with you than me."

"Hmm," he breathes, his tone low and thoughtful. He takes another sip of his espresso, eyeing her over the rim of the cup, and those dark, watchful, gentle eyes are just the same as they have always been. For all the ways he's changed, he is still just as handsome and familiar as she always knew him to be, and this realization is staggering, too. "She asked me about you too, you know?"

"Really?" Vera lifts her mug to her lips, considering this. The girl had struck her as clever and curious from the moment she saw her, even before she'd recognized her father's expressions in her face and realized who she must be. It shouldn't be a surprise that Missy had pressed him for more info, but she can't help but feel pleased and, also, a little humbled by the attention. "What'd she want to know?"

"Why we stopped being friends," he answers, so bluntly that she has to cast her eyes away, staring out at the rows of bookshelves because she just can't look at his face anymore.

"What'd you tell her?"

"The truth. The...appropriate parts, anyway. I told her about your dad," he admits, his voice going gentle at the mention of her father, even now afraid to rub salt on such old wounds. "How he was a real hero, a firefighter without any powers to protect him, and I told her...how hard it was for your mom, after he died. I wanted her to know you weren’t...wrong to be afraid of what might happen to us, if I became—well, what I’ve become, I guess.”

What he’s become...

Sure, yeah, she’d been able to see a lot of it coming. Until his wife, no one had known Marcus half so well as Vera had, and even twenty years ago she’d been able to visualize the potential brimming just beneath his skin—could see it so clearly, it was as if she could reach out and touch it.

And now here he is, stumbling back into her life after all this time, looking like a snack and a half, just overflowing with big dilf energy in his dorky glasses and leather jacket and tousled hair.

But he's a widower, too; a serious man with an important, impossible job and a bright, wonderful daughter, and what does she have? A used bookstore perpetually in danger of not quite making ends meet, and the painful, delectable memory of how, once upon a time, this venerated hero had simply been the boy she loved, eating her out in the bed of his dad's old pickup truck like his life depended on it.

They were good memories, ones she'd never been able to make herself forget, no matter how much they hurt, no matter how much time passed. And it wasn't just the sex, either. He'd been her first, sure, and she'd been his—but he'd also been her first of everything else, too. Marcus Moreno had been her first kiss, her first boyfriend, her first best friend. He'd been the first person to ever hold her hand when she was scared, to ever give her a shoulder to cry on, to offer her refuge with the mere fact of his presence and the softness of his smile. He had been the first person to ever see her.

She has dated other people after him—eventually, occasionally—but no one very lasting. Loving Marcus had made her feel like her heart was too big to fit in her chest, like her veins were full of sunlight, like none of the sorrows in her life would be able to dig their roots into any inch of her skin that he had ever touched. No one else even came close.

Her own fault entirely; too busy pining after the one that got away to notice the possibilities available to her, too wounded by her first and greatest heartbreak to acknowledge that the love she'd lost had likely been nothing more than a dangerous blend of hormones and youthful fantasy. But she couldn't deny that he'd just about ruined her for all others. Nobody since had ever fucked her so good or made her laugh so hard—certainly never both at the same time.

Meanwhile, he had well and truly and decidedly moved on. Married a beautiful woman who looked absolutely nothing like her, had a brilliant daughter and the life of his dreams with her, at least until tragedy struck. And Vera—she had genuinely mourned when his wife died, had felt gutted when he lost her. All she had ever, ever, wanted was for Marcus Moreno to be happy—wanted it enough to know she could never give him what it would take, enough to sacrifice her own happiness by removing herself from his equation.

“It was stupid,” she admits aloud, hauling her mind away from the melancholy with both hands, forcing herself to meet this head-on. “I was stupid. I should never have made you choose—”

“No, you didn’t, that’s the thing,” he blurts, cutting in with a vehemence that shuts her up quickly. “I didn’t realize until I was telling Missy, but then it was so obvious. I was the stupid one. You said you couldn’t be with me if I joined the Heroics, but that never meant I had to cut you out of my life the way I did.”

“No. No, Marcus, that was your dream! And just look at what you've done with it. I still... I can’t believe I ever thought to ask you to give it up.”

“You didn’t. You set a boundary for yourself. I can see that now, I can respect that now, but at the time? God, Vee, I threw away the best friend I ever had because I couldn’t see past my own ego. Stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

"Maybe we were both stupid, then. I thought—" her voice cracks, brittle and far too full of feeling, and she has to blink hard and take a sip of her quickly-cooling latte, pulling herself together. But if she ever has any hope of getting over this—over him—she has to get this out in the open. "I thought I wouldn't be able to live with the worry. You saw how my mom fell to pieces after dad, but even before that she was already...splintered. Every time he was on duty, it was like another piece of her crumbled away—she had that fucking police scannner, would just hover in front of it all day and night, just in case, and I... I couldn't let that be my life, too."

"Vera—" he starts, but she shakes her head tightly and cuts him off, because now that the floodgate's been opened, there is no turning back.

"It didn't matter, Marcus." She pushes up from the stool, paces behind the counter with her hands on her hips, too riled to sit still. "I found the one thing I knew you couldn't give me and I used it to drive you off and I let you go, and it didn't even matter because I still spent every day of my life scouring the news, or laying awake at night terrified of losing you, and I didn't even have you anymore!"

When she manages to risk a glance his way, the expression on his face is one she's seen only once before, the day after his college graduation, right before he told her they were done. Stricken is the only word for it, and when he speaks, his voice is a low, dark rasp. "I never wanted that for you, Vera."

Hidden away, deep inside her chest, something softens—something she thought had calcified, after all these years.

"I know, Marcus." She runs a hand down her face, shakes her head and turns away from him. "I know. And I've gotten...better at managing it. Or, hell, maybe I just grew up. Lost enough people in my life that I finally learned that sometimes there isn't anything you can do. Maybe I would've been okay, eventually, if I hadn't... If we'd stayed..."

She can't finish the thought, it's still too painful to speak aloud.

I loved you, she thinks, but can't say this, either. And I think I still do. And I don't know if I'll ever be brave enough to tell you.

"...I know you've kept in touch with my mom," he says, gentle-voiced, and the change of subject is so jarring that she turns back to look at him. He's got his head bowed, staring down at the little espresso spoon, twirling it in his fingers. "She always told me she was meeting with her ‘book club’, that I couldn't come over because I'd be too distracting. Can't believe it took all this for me to figure out she meant you. You were always the smart one."

She pulls a face that he doesn't see, hopes he can hear the contrition in her voice. "I'm sorry about that. I just asked her not to tell you, thought it'd be...weird." It was weird, wasn't it? What kind of person still got together with their ex's mom on a regular basis, decades after such a spectacular breakup? But Tía has a gravitational pull all her own, one Vera's never been able (nor particularly willing) to evade. Plus she makes the best honey cookies. "I didn't think she'd straight-up lie to you, which is...probably even weirder. I, uh... Sorry."

"It's alright, Vee." He lifts his head a little, lets her see the smirk on his face, an expression so familiar that it makes her whole body ache. "I know how she is. I'm glad things stayed good for you two."

She nods slowly, running a hand through her hair. "Me too. You're mom's the best, Moreno."

"Yo sé." There’s habit to the words, a rhythm neither of them have forgotten, despite all the time that’s passed since last they said them. But the old sparkle that used to come into his eye is missing, replaced with a heavy caution. “When you guys met for book club, did she...talk about me?”

“Not always,” she answers dutifully, because technically it isn’t a lie. Sometimes they talked about the weather, or Anita’s gardening, or even—ostensibly—books. Honestly, Vera usually tried to steer well clear of any talk of Marcus and his perfect life without her, and for the most part Tía was respectful about that. But as the years passed, it grew less and less painful to hear, and she’d been grateful to have some sense of what was going on with him even when it still hurt a little.

"Did she tell you..? After my wife died," he says, and something in Vera's chest constricts, and she forces herself to keep her eyes on his face and not his hands—not his fingers toying with the ring he wears, the tiny piece of metal that she cannot bear to look at directly. "After she died, I stopped going out in the field. Did mom ever tell you why?"

Her throat has gone tight and the words won't come, not certain where he's going with this but certain from his body language and the look on his face that it's not going to be somewhere pleasant. She shakes her head.

"Missy asked me to," he says with a shrug. "Simple as that. She was scared, and grieving, and she didn't want to lose me, too, and she asked me to stop fighting. So I did."

"Marcus—" she tries, but her voice breaks on his name and tears start to well in her eyes, and she turns her back to him because she will do a lot of things, but she will not let him see her cry.

"I did it without hesitation," he continues. "Without question. It took me actually experiencing grief to understand where you'd been coming from, and even at the time I still never made the connection. But Missy asked and I agreed, because I love her. I still...broke that promise, now, because I thought I didn't have a choice. But I was willing to try, and I wish... I wish I had loved you like that, back then. I should have loved you enough to try."

Okay, well, maybe she is gonna let him see her cry.

“Jesus, Marcus,” she croaks, whirling on him. “You can’t just say shit like that to me.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he says, lifting a hand as if to reach out and comfort her—but she’s about three feet and twenty years too far away, so he lets it fall back to the countertop instead. “I just— I want you to know that I know I fucked up, and now I finally understand why. I know I’m too late, but...when the Ogima brought you back, and I saw you again, I thought...”

She’d been separated from Anita when the aliens took them aboard their ship. Even handcuffed and relieved of her baseball bat, she’d done her best to fight back, determined to find Tía, superpowers or no. The aliens hadn’t actually been willing to hurt her, a random civilian caught up in the midst of their twisted game, and eventually they’d given up on trying to restrain her and simply tossed her in with the Heroics.

His face when he saw her, and the way he’d fallen to his knees beside her to tear off the metal cuffs like they were made of paper, and how he’d cradled her sore wrists in his big warm hands, and what he’d felt like against her chest when she threw her arms around his shoulders and pressed her face into his neck—Marcus, alive and whole—all of it had seared into her memory on contact, his voice and his scent and his body plaguing her dreams again for the first time in years.

“I was telling Missy about you,” he says, clearing his throat and changing the subject, and she can’t help but wonder if he’d been remembering those same things, whether thoughts of her had been plaguing him as well. “And thinking of how good things used to be, when you were a part of my life. And noticing how much I’ve missed you. And I realized... I think I broke your heart, Vera.”

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slow, unwilling to lie to him about this. “Yeah, you did, Marcus.”

He nods his head, gaze dropping with the movement, accepting her words but unable to look at her.

She takes a step forward, and then another, sinking back onto her stool, her shoulders relaxing for perhaps the first time since he'd entered her shop. His right hand still rests on the countertop where he’d dropped it, balled into a fist, and she stares at it for a long, quiet moment, hesitates...then rests her own hand beside it, close enough that her knuckles brush against his. “But not—” she swallows thickly, watching as his fingers unspool, reaching for hers but not grabbing, waiting to see what she’ll do. She isn’t sure, herself, surprised by the warmth of his skin and by the sight of her hand in his, not entirely certain how it got there. “Not beyond repair.”

His thumb rubs the back of her hand, fingers curling around hers, holding her steady, grounded to him. He lifts his eyes to hers, and they’re just as dark and warm and beautiful as she remembers. “I know I can’t take any of it back. I know we can’t just start over. But would you consider—I mean, would you even... Do you think we could try again?”

She blinks back a few traitorous tears, glancing away to stare out the display window at the rain-swept street beyond. A week ago, her answer would’ve been a resounding no—hell, she probably would’ve chased him off with her bat the moment she looked up and saw him in her doorway. But now, after everything, after realizing she might never see him again, after finding him here in her shop with his heart on his sleeve, looking to make amends...?

“Do you mean as friends?” she asks, forcing the words out past her reluctant tongue, forcing herself to look back at him so she can gauge his reaction. “Or as...you know...something more?”

His brows draw together and he tilts his head to the side, eyeing her curiously. “I don’t know. Would that be...something you want?”

“I don’t know,” she echoes. She eyes the flecks of gray in the scruff along his jaw, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, thinking of all the ways he’s changed since she last let herself love him, and all the ways she’s tried to change, too. “Maybe...someday? But I’ve been...getting over you.”

She doesn’t tell him that she hasn’t been very successful at it. She doesn’t tell him that it’s a battle she’s been fighting with herself ever since he walked away from her; doesn’t tell him that most days it still feels like she’s losing.

She’s sure he can tell that she’s holding all that back, but he doesn’t push her, just nods his head and lowers his gaze to their hands, still clasped together.

“Yeah, that’s... I haven’t, uh...dated since...” He doesn’t finish the sentence, and she’s grateful—the memory of his wife is already a tangible enough barrier between them, without him speaking her name aloud. Anyway, he was never any good at casual, her Marcus, and she isn’t surprised to learn that he’s stayed single after losing her.

“Maybe we could start with friends for a while,” she offers, shrugging when he lifts his eyes back to hers. “Just...see how it goes?”

He flashes an amused smirk. “What, a friendship trial run?”

“Sure. It couldn’t hurt, right?”

“Yeah... Okay, what’re you thinking? Like...a few months or something?”

“Six,” she says definitively—it seems to be the average length of all her relationships after him, just long enough for her to figure out if she’s losing interest, not so long that she’d feel compelled to stay together for the sake of sunk cost. If, after six months, they haven’t driven each other away again, and she still feels this overwhelming urge to peel that leather jacket off of him and have him right here beside the cash register, then, well... Maybe by then she’ll feel confident enough to follow through.

“Six months.” He nods his head thoughtfully, considering her offer, apparently unruffled by the specificity of her time limit, content to roll with it. “Okay. Yeah, I can do that. And then we’ll...touch base, see how we’re both feeling, see if we want to stop or...try something else?”

“Right,” she agrees, nodding too. Laid out like that, it almost sounds like a totally rational sort of plan.

“Right,” he echoes, a small smile beginning to tug at his lips, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening. She glances away before she can catch a glimpse of that dimple in his cheek, the one that always made her knees feel weak. “Okay, well, in that case, I have something for you here...”

She turns back when he pulls his hand free from hers, reaching in the inner breast of his jacket for some secret hidden pocket. There could be any number of things emerging from there—after having been abducted by real-live aliens, she’s learning to expect the unexpected. But he simply pulls out a sheet of paper, folded in half twice, and holds it out to her.

“It’s from Missy,” he explains as she hesitantly takes the page from him. “She said I should give it to you even if you said no, but I, uh...thought that’d be weird.”

Vera frowns at his words, unfolding the paper delicately. It’s a sturdy cardstock, decorated with a colorful border of vibrantly-patterned washi tape. In the center, written in fluorescent bubble letters, the message reads: “You are cordially invited to the MORENO FAMILY BI-MONTHLY MOVIE NIGHT, this Saturday night. Doors open at 7pm, dinner and snacks provided. Movie TBD.”

Below, in purple gel pen and careful cursive, there’s a postscript: “P.S. Please come! My dad’s really sorry. <3 Missy”

“Please don’t feel obligated,” Marcus is saying, rubbing the back of his neck. “I told her we shouldn’t pressure you, but she really wants to see you again. But also if it’s too much, I can tell her you already had plans or something, or... I mean, I won’t make you out to be the bad guy or anything.”

She traces a finger along the looping letters, feeling a few sappy tears start to prick at the corners of her eyes. Blinking them away, she asks, “‘Bi-monthly’, huh? Does that mean twice a month, or every other?”

“Twice a month,” he confirms with a sigh. “It used to be every weekend but, y’know, she has friends now. I’ll have to learn to share my Saturday nights.”

Vera laughs, surprising even herself, and looks up to find him smiling fondly at her, dimple on full display. “Do I need to bring anything?”

“You’ll come?”

“I was cordially invited,” she points out, gesturing to the paper, watching as his smile spreads into a broad, brilliant grin. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“That’s...” he starts, trailing off breathlessly. “That’s wonderful. And, uh, no, you don’t need to bring anything. Just...yourself. We usually—I try not to let us eat too much takeout, but Saturdays are special so we’ll probably order pizza. You still like mushrooms on yours, right?”

She laughs again, surprised that he would remember such a thing. “Yeah, Marcus, I do.”

“Good.”

He looks at her, those deep brown eyes twinkling, his gorgeous face lit up with a happiness she hasn’t seen there in far too long, and she starts to wonder how she’s ever going to make it six months without his mouth on hers.

“I’m, uh... It’s really great to see you, Vee.”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I mean—me too. I mean... I’m glad you came by, Marcus.”

“Me too.” His smile is infectious—it always has been. She watches, amused, as he clears his throat and fidgets awkwardly, patting his pockets, then running a hand through his hair, then downing the rest of his cortado in one gulp. “Thank you for the coffee and, uh...for giving me another chance. I, um. I should get going, let you enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Sure,” she says, wondering what his leagues of fans would think, to discover that Marcus Moreno gets like this when he’s nervous, fumbling with his words and forgetting what to do with his hands. She hopes they never find out, that this can be one of the many secrets kept safe from his adoring public, a side to him that she is privileged—even now, even after everything—to see. “Oh! Hang on, wait. Here.”

He carries the extra stool back over to its place at the window, then returns to the counter and watches attentively as she grabs a scrap piece of paper from the stack beside the phone, scrawls out seven digits, and hands it over to him.

“My number,” she tells him, shrugging. “So you don’t have to google me to stay in touch.”

He laughs and accepts the paper, fingers brushing against hers for a brief but luminous second, and she’s pleased to see that it gets tucked away into his jacket’s special secret inner pocket, too. “Actually, I, uh... I might’ve got your address from mom, instead.”

Vera shakes her head with a smirk, sliding from the stool and moving around the counter to walk him to the door. “I should’ve known she had a hand in this, somewhere. She’s been trying to get me to talk to you for years, now.”

He sighs heavily, slumping his broad shoulders. “Yeah, same here. I’m sorry it took me this long and an alien attack to actually listen.”

“Yeah, y— Hey, wait...” she trails off, frowning as an utterly ridiculous thought occurs to her. But...could it be..? “You don’t think your mom... I mean, I know that whole thing was set up for the sake of the kids, but she wouldn’t have— Would she—?”

“What, would she have staged an alien invasion just to get us talking again?” he jokes, but the smile drops quickly from his face, his brow creasing with suspicion. “I... No, she... Surely not. I mean, how could she have known you were going to come find her?”

“Right,” she agrees, a little too quickly, a little too eager. She doesn’t mention the fact that, after checking on the other Elm Street shopkeepers and texting her few friends that live downtown, she’d had nowhere else to go and nothing else to do than to check on Tía. Vera shakes her head. “And she wouldn’t have put Missy at risk like that just to meddle with us.”

“Right,” he echoes, nodding vigorously, his eyebrows shooting up. “Still, I... I’ll call her.”

“Okay,” she says, feeling relieved that he had thought her wild idea was at least worth looking into, that she isn’t just totally paranoid. Or, at least, that he’s equally as paranoid as she is.

It’s...a nice feeling, to know that she and Marcus Moreno are still on some same wavelength, even after all the years they’ve spent apart.

“And I’ll call you,” he says, brown eyes meeting hers as the concern on his face melts into a gentle fondness, making her chest feel warm, her body light.

She grins. “Yeah. And I’ll see you Saturday at 7.”

“Yeah. Missy will be so excited to see you again.” There’s a definite flush to his cheeks as he adds, “And—I will be, too.”

She laughs, unlocking the door and pulling it open for him. Outside, the rain is still coming down, but she can just make out the first rays of sunlight beginning to pour through the clouds.

He turns to look at her one more time, flipping the collar of his jacket up with a gleam in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. “I’ll see you later, Vera.”

“I’ll see you soon, Marcus,” she says, and her heart thumps hard against her rib cage and the words are so sweet on her tongue, because they’re true.

From the calm safety of her doorway, she watches him dash through the rain, head bowed, out to his car—watches him stop to wave at her before getting in, and she returns the wave with a laugh as he fumbles with his keys—watches as he finally makes it inside and starts the car, and as he backs carefully out into the street, and as he begins to drive away—watches until his tail lights fade away into the distance and the rain.

Only then does she straighten up and let the door swing shut. With a smile playing across her face, Vera West flips the sign to Open.

[joontier]

Subliminal in Scrubs | V2; report xiv 

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, workplace relationships

warnings: none to note

word count: 2.4k

g/n: Send me your thoughts?

[taglist]:  @nottodayjjk @ditttiii @zeharilisharaban @btsbunny07 @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @aamxxrii @codeinebelle @btsmakesmehappy @stargukkie @moonchild1​ @starbear019​​

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) |  navi. | m.list

“Do you really have to leave me?” you drag the words out as you chew your dinner, one you insisted on having inside Ayoung’s apartment on her last day. You even add a cute little pout afterwards, hoping that Ayoung might reconsider her moving last minute. 

“_________, that was literally the third time you asked me tonight. One more and I think I might change my mind.” 

You sit up straighter, an expectant look on your face. “Really?” 

“I’m afraid not, __________. I’m even surprised you kept asking when you literally helped me pack the last of my stuff. Shouldn’t you have been doing the opposite if you wanted me to stay?” 

You let out a rather unattractive burp and a pretty loud one at that, then you sigh again for the nth time tonight, knowing it’s going to be a while before you find another neighbor that is as unbothered by your poor table etiquette as Ayoung. 

Speaking of neighbors, a coworker’s face pops into your mind and you’re suddenly reminded of your embarrassing encounter with Jungkook just the other day in the very corridor just a door away from where you were seated. “By the way...that guy you brought over the other day…” 

“Oh him?” 

You brace yourself for the bad news, tilting your head towards Ayoung while you wait for her response. “Yeah, I don’t think he’ll be moving in anytime soon.” 

“Oh,” comes your reply, shockingly nonchalant enough to mask the joy of not having Jungkook as your neighbor. Giddy, you prod her on, wanting to hear the rest of the story. “Shame though, he was such a hottie.” 

“How did you even meet him in the first place?” 

“Just last week I went to a cafe to study and partly cure a hangover from the previous night, I checked the post I uploaded for new possible tenants and Jungkook...that’s his name by the way...he was one of the first who sent a message about wanting to see the apartment in person, so we agreed to meet up on a later date.” Ayoung pauses for a moment, stacking a box on top of another. 

“But just a few moments later while I was reading, this boy came up to me and asked if I was...well me and he told me he was Jungkook. Eventually, he asked if I was free because he mentioned that he had nothing else to do that day and he would’ve appreciated it if he got to see the place and have a drink at the same time.” 

There’s a funny look on her face and you raise a brow questioningly. “Have you ever seen a man more attractive in just sweats?” Oh Christ. 

“I mean, most guys would look like a hobo in those, plus he’s probably dumb for just walking around in sweats with only 25 degrees outside but damn.... You know only truly hot men can pull off looks like that. And he surely was packing.” Shocked to the core, you stare at her with your mouth hanging open, not wanting to believe all of these were coming from your sweet sweet Ayoung. Especially not when they’re about Jungkook. 

“So I thought, why not right? I guess the hot chocolate I made wasn’t the only thing that was warm that night…” A suggestive smirk graces her lips and you scoot farther away from her, absolutely scandalized. 

Much to your chagrin, your mind betrays you with rather raunchy images. Goosebumps line the skin on your arms as the embarrassment comes back to you in waves. “Gosh Jungkook, that little fucker.” 

Ayoung creases her brows. “You know Jungkook?” 

Crap. Ayoung wasn’t supposed to end up knowing this. 

“Yeah I know him. Sort of.” 

“Oh, too bad. It would have been great if he moved in so you won’t have to deal with a total stranger for a neighbor. Where do you know Jungkook from?” 

You contemplate for a moment, wanting to weigh if it would be of any benefit having to tell the story of how you met Jungkook. Ultimately, you ended up sharing a brief background, missing out on a few vital points aka Jungkook being a total prick. 

You help Ayoung bring down the rest of her stuff to the lobby, wanting to see her off. “I wanted to bring you to your new apartment but I’ve got an early shift tomorrow, and being late won’t be a good record this early in my job.” 

“It’s alright, silly.” Ayoung leans in for a hug. “We’ll see each other again soon, yeah?” 

“You’re making it sound like I’m moving overseas, stop it!” 

You wait until she gets inside the cab she booked, waving at the car’s rear until it fully disappears from your sight. 

The next day you wake up freezing your ass off, even with you wrapped in a duvet burrito. You take a peek outside your window, grunting as a blanket of snow envelops everything in sight. Everything is white, and the gray trails on the road are the only thing that distinguishes the street from the sidewalk. 

You do your morning routine fairly quickly, spending the rest of your spare time watching people outside your window while you finish your coffee. As a motorbike moves along the length of the street in front of your building, you silently wish the driver a safe trip, hoping he or she didn’t have to use such a vehicle in this weather. 

You take another sip and Jimin instantly enters your scrambled thoughts, remembering how he mentioned he uses a scooter to and from work. There’s a side of you that is assured the Jimin is responsible enough to know how risky it is to use a scooter during the winter. 

The other half of your brain, though, isn’t convinced. Quickly, you set your mug aside, replacing it with your phone and dialing Jimin’s number. He answers after three rings. “_________?” 

“Hey Jimin, I know it’s too early for me to be calling you but I was wondering if you were going to use your scooter on your way to work today?” 

“I was--” 

“Because if you were planning to, don’t. It’s snowing really hard outside and I’m worried you’ll be taking your friend’s scooter on the slippery road….Would you mind if I’ll offer you a ride?” 

You know you were risking a lot, with your own car - your very own Camry which you don’t even trust. It has aged gracefully, and was clearly nearing its end but you knew four wheels was better than two in this snow. 

“I don’t...but I also wouldn’t want you to come all the way here to pick me up when I can just take the subway? Or the bus maybe…” 

“Would you rather pick one that asks for a fare or a free ride?” 

“You’re not exactly giving me a choice here, _________.”

“Great! ‘Cause I’m already on my way to pick you up.” 

“Thank you for the ride, sunbaenim.” Jungkook pulls on the handbrake before setting his hands on the Porsche’s steering wheel for the last time.

‘Someday’, he says to himself, someday he’ll get a car of his own. Someday. 

“Thank you for also letting me drive your car…” 

“She’s a beaut isn’t she?” the younger doctor nods, wanting to rub his palms over the dashboard in fascination, but then he wouldn’t have wanted the senior resident to think he was some sort of lunatic. 

Jungkook decides to keep his hands on his lap instead. 

“You live around the area?” 

“Yeah, just a few blocks from the garage…” 

“Really? Which apartment do you live in? I’m quite familiar with the area.” 

Jungkook is hesitant to mention the name of the building knowing that the apartment complex he stays at most likely has a reputation because it’s the cheapest he could find around the area. 

Before the intern opens his mouth to reply, Seokjin’s phone rings just on time, the sound startling the latter. He opens the car door and alights from the vehicle to get more reception. Jungkook grabs his bag from the back and follows after shortly. Seokjin points to his phone, mouthing that Jungkook doesn’t need to wait for him, so the intern bows to his senior in gratitude, before heading off to the main building. 

As he passes a vending machine, he remembers he wasn’t able to bring his jug with him today so he approaches the machine, scanning other options he could take with his water. He comes across a small carton of banana milk and a thought crosses his mind, a smirk playing on his lips as he adds the beverage to his purchase. 

Jungkook hurries to the on-call room, hoping his tiny plan will fall into place. 

“Thanks for the ride, ________. I owe you so much already. You’re too kind.” 

You wave Jimin off, expressing your worry and how you thought you wouldn’t be able to handle your conscience if you didn’t ask about his mode of transportation to work today. Jimin gives you a warm smile in return. 

“You’re a good friend, _________.” Jimin leans over the center console and gives you an awkward side hug, catching you completely off guard. 

“Woops! Sorry! I didn’t… wasn’t…” Jimin has his hands waving around in the air as he tries to apologize for hugging you out of the blue. “It’s fine, Jimin,” you laugh as you put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. “It’s fine. You don’t have to worry about it.”

Tilting your head outside, you tell him that you both should get going and that you’ll be heading to the toilet first to get changed. While Jimin heads to the surgery department, you make your way to the parking lot’s toilets, bumping into the one and only banana-milk-thief Jeon Jungkook. 

“Hi _________, good morning!” He chirps, the uncharacteristically wide smile on his face throwing you off for a moment. 

At least somebody woke up on the right side of the bed today. Jungkook chuckles, and you realize you weren’t supposed to say that out loud, but you’re somewhat proud that you did, making your sentiments towards the guy as clear as day. 

“Bit rich coming from you miss grumpypants.” 

Your mouth falls open. “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me, darling. See ya later....grumpy.” Before Jungkook leaves, he manages to give you a quick noogie, definitely messing up what’s left of the quick messy bun you made before leaving your apartment. 

Taking in a deep, long breath, you calm your nerves down, deciding today wasn’t going to be the day Jungkook was gonna get to you. 

After your brief encounter at the parking lot, Jungkook heads quickly to the on-call room and looks for a place inconspicuous but visible enough for you to see. He plucks a sticky note from a stack from the shelf just above the table and grabs his pen from his chest pocket. 

Jungkook folds the yellow square into half and writes your name on it, just in case nobody would dare take a carton of milk for someone named after a dwarf from Snow White.  He then sticks the note on the moist packaging, hopeful that the slight sheen of water will help stick the paper onto the carton.

Recognizing Jimin’s voice from the door, Jungkook quickly hides his peace offering behind the files on the table, and pretends he’s reading the patient’s charts before Jimin nears where he’s standing. You and Soomin enter the room shortly afterwards. 

“Just in time!” Namjoon says, adjusting the large frame of his glasses. “Right, as you may already know from the orientation, I’m Kim Namjoon, resident, and specializing in neuro. I’ll be guiding you all throughout admissions and reports this morning while I am waiting for my Chiari decompression scheduled in a few hours.” 

Namjoon gathers the rest of the surgical interns before proceeding to the wards to do rounds with the group. He partners with the head nurse and another doctor from the night shift, updating the patient’s condition before moving on to the others. 

As soon as his rounds are done, he leads the group back to the on-call room to brief the interns on using the EMR system to keep a patient’s chart updated at all times. To speed up the charting, he asks everyone to come up in pairs and update the patient records. 

True to the plan he’d come up with at the spur of the moment, Namjoon and the interns manage to get the job done quicker than expected. With the night shift’s updates already uploaded, the group disperses to carry out the orders and responsibilities.

Jimin, with his throat parched after having come up and down multiple flights of stairs, decides to return to the on-call room to get something to drink. He breathlessly pages Jungkook about it, telling him he’ll get back to his partner after drinking. 

He no longer waits for Jungkook’s okay, too thirsty to even think straight. As Jimin goes through his stuff, he realizes he must have forgotten his jug inside your car but having to call you about it would have been too bothersome for you and him both. 

There’s a water dispenser in the room but there are no cups or mugs free for him to use - and too unsanitary as well. Jimin searches the room in desperation and spots a carton of banana milk just behind some of the patient’s charts. 

He makes a grab for the small carton, checking if it’s got any owner. There’s none written on the carton and no note stuck to it to indicate that it belongs to someone. He spots Yoongi on his phone just by the other corner of the room and approaches the senior resident. 

“Excuse me, sunbaenim. Is this yours?” He points to the carton in his hands. Yoongi shakes his head no. “Any name written on it? Some note perhaps?” 

“I couldn't find any.” 

“Well, it’s yours then. All food on the table is communal unless it’s otherwise labeled.” Yoongi shrugs his shoulders as he explains, giving Jimin a thumbs up afterwards. 

“Alright. Thanks sunbaenim.” 

Throat as dry as the Sahara, Jimin grabs the drink and punches the straw in as quickly as he could before finishing the drink in a few gulps. ‘Thank god for free banana milk.’ He thinks to himself before throwing the packaging away, now more energized than ever.

© joontier 2021

[acnelli]

Coming Home

This is my little story for the HPRomione Discord Popcorn. @remedial-potions gave me the prompt “You can’t just keep pretending things are fine!” and I originally wanted to write some HBP angst, but then changed my mind and wrote this.

Up next is @dot-adsty and I give you the prompt “Flying higher than ever before”.

I also opened my Ask Box and accept prompts from this Prompt List.

Prompt: “You can’t just keep pretending things are fine!”

Ron comes home from a long Auror mission, and Hermione’s plans for the night don’t quite go as she imagined.

You can also read this story on AO3 and FFN.

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

She had it all planned out.

Every little detail, every single thing Hermione needed to buy or prepare for tonight had been neatly written down in handy list form, categorized and sorted.

Around noon it actually looked like everything would be ready when Ron would come home from his Auror mission this late afternoon. Behind half of the points on said list, Hermione had added a green checkmark. The sight of her lists, especially when some of her tasks on it had been checked off already, always had something oddly satisfying.

To have enough time to prepare everything, she left work early today, stopping by the grocery store on her way back home to buy the last of the ingredients she needed for the roast she planned to make for dinner.

Cooking wasn’t really Hermione’s forte. When Ron was home and didn’t have to work ridiculous hours, the flat was always filled with the scent of some delicious meal or another, and on weekends they often enjoyed a cake or some cookies fresh out of the oven. In the last two months, she sure did cook for herself every now and then but she got to admit that these meals mostly consisted of pasta and sandwiches.

When she planned this day she first considered going with take-away, which she was sure, Ron would’ve been more than fine with. But then she quickly dismissed the idea, figuring that following the instructions of Mrs Weasley’s cookbook couldn’t be that hard. It might not win a contest but she was sure to manage something eatable, at least.

Before she went into the kitchen to start preparing the roast, Hermione observed their living room, mentally going through her list again.

On their couch table Hermione had set up the brand new chess set she bought last week while shopping with her mother. Hermione had discovered the set in the display window of a small, cosy shop she would’ve completely missed it if weren’t for the unusually bright colours catching her attention when she walked by. As soon as she had seen the chess set, she made her way inside the shop right away because it practically screamed Ron Weasley. While not exactly the same bright colour of the Chudley Cannons, the usually white squares and wooden game pieces were painted orange. If she wouldn’t have purchased it from a Muggle, it could’ve been easily merchandise of Ron’s favourite Quidditch team.

Hermione walked over to the couch table and placed two tickets for the next Chudley Cannons game this upcoming weekend onto the chessboard. A smile split her face when she thought about his reaction later. Over the past six months the Cannons actually showed some kind of potential to not end up at the bottom of the league at the end of the season, resulting in the tickets to have gotten a little harder to come by. At least, for top games and derbies.

She knew it was probably a little over the top, considering they had been separated for much longer than eight weeks over the last years, but the constant worry and the almost non-existent possibility to talk or write to him during these missions, increased her excitement for Ron to come home ten-fold.

Yes, Hermione definitely felt slightly ridiculous when she placed a giant red bow around the TV and put the fancy Muggle beer into the fridge, but Ron’s absence caused a restlessness she had to overcome somehow. It also didn’t help that the few letters she got from him made Ron sound mentally and physically exhausted. Even though she knew next to nothing about this mission, she could tell it affected him more than usual.

That’s why today was all about distracting Ron from work, and what would hopefully be the start of a long, stress-free weekend.

But, of course, it would have just been too perfect if anything went according to plan. Because one hour before Ron was due to arrive at home, everything started to blow up in Hermione’s face. Literally and figuratively.

While she tried to research a way how to fix overcooked meat, Hermione cursed herself numerous times for not doing a test run first. Hermione had plans for everything but when it came to cooking she was obviously rubbish.

I should have just ordered Pizza. Ron loves Pizza.

Giving up on the meat’s consistency she quickly decided that spices and a good sauce could somehow safe this. Just as she was about to add all kinds of spices, she heard the fireplace roaring to life.

Ron was here. And he was early.

Forgetting all about the roast, she bolted out of the kitchen and into the living room, almost tripping over one of the loosened bindings of Ron’s ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron she borrowed. And there he stood, shaking the floo powder out of his hair and off the Auror uniform.

When he looked up at her she didn’t waste another second and jumped into his arms. Something between a sob and a laugh escaped her when Ron hugged her close and she felt him kiss the top of her head.

Pulling back, Hermione took Ron’s face between her hands and tugged him down for a kiss. She waited far too long for this.

When they finally broke apart to come up for air again, Ron softly kissed her forehead. “Fuck, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” Hermione said, “And I have a surprise for you!”

“So, you cooking isn’t the surprise?” Ron grinned at her.

“Oh, shut up!”

“Do I have time for a quick shower before dinner?” Ron asked as he shrugged out of his cloak.

“You do. And please take your time.”

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

Ron couldn’t decide if he was more amused or felt more sorry for Hermione as the 3-course-dinner turned into a small disaster.

With the soup, it had been rather easy. It was incredibly salty and he probably dehydrated this very second, but with a good amount of bread and large swigs from his beer, he was able to pretend he liked it quite easily.

But then Hermione served the main course. As soon as Ron took the first bite he wanted to spit it out right away. It was absolutely inedible and he wondered how he could pretend to eat something which wasn’t tasting like the sole of his trainers.

Very slowly he reached for his beer, figuring it would be easier if he swallowed the bite without chewing. Just as he was about to take a swig, Hermione gave up all pretence.

“Oh my God, this is a complete disaster,” she whined, spitting the piece of meat into a hand towel, “Ron, you can give up the act now.”

As he too spit the overcooked shoe sole out of his mouth, he couldn’t stop the chuckle escaping him, and reached for Hermione’s hand.

“Not all is lost,” he reasoned, a little bit surprised about her being so upset about this dinner. Hermione’s attempts to cook or bake usually made for a lot of entertainment for both of them. “There’s still dessert, isn’t it?”

“Yes, right! Dessert!” She jumped up from her seat and ran into the kitchen with a hopeful glint in her eyes.

“NO,” Ron heard Hermione cry from the kitchen and he immediately jumped up to join her, “No, Pig! No, no, no, no, no!”

As Ron got into the kitchen he saw Pig sitting in a bowl full of what looked like vanilla cream, happily hooting at Hermione who appeared to be on the verge of tears now. Of course, Pig chose this very moment to finish his bath in their pudding as he flew out of the bowl with wildly flapping wings, coating both Hermione and Ron with a good amount of vanilla cream; Hermione’s hair getting the worst of it.

Ron slowly lifted a finger and swiped some cream from his cheek, licking it off as he was wearing a thoughtful look. “That is pretty good, actually.”

“Oh, stop it!” Hermione let out a resigned sigh. “You can’t just keep pretending things are fine! You have some terrible weeks behind you, and then you come home to your girlfriend serving you food that makes you probably crave the tasteless snacks they feed you with on these missions. I should’ve just-“

“Oi!” Ron interrupted her, not quite being able to hide his amusement. “Stop the rambling, barmy woman.” He took her face in his hands and leaned down, so he was at eye level with her. “All I wanted for today was finally seeing you again, Hermione. You never before got upset about bollocking up some cooking. What’s the matter?”

“I- I just wanted to distract you from this mission and make this evening somewhat special, and by now, Pig most likely decorated the whole living room with our pudding.”

Ron simply kissed her. His hands went from her cheeks inside her curly hair, changing their angle a bit to deepen the kiss. As Hermione let her hands wander from his chest back to his shoulders blades and down to the hem of his shirt, Ron decided to make it very clear to Hermione that everything he really needed to feel better, was her. This mission forced Ron to see things he’ll have nightmares about forever, and the only reason he was able to power through all of it, was the prospect of coming home to Hermione. To her touch, to her kisses, to her ramblings about work, to the simple comfort of just having her beside him.

With one swift motion, he swooped her up in his arms. “For such a smart woman, you can be very daft sometimes, love,” Ron said as he walked out of the kitchen.

“I know,” Hermione sighed as she took advantage of her position in Ron’s arms, and left open kisses along the side of his neck and his throat.

Without bothering to clean up the mess in the kitchen and living room, Ron walked them straight to the bedroom, leaving behind a merrily hooting Pigwidgeon who hopped and danced on top of Ron’s new chessboard, coating it with the only eatable dish Hermione produced today.

[meepmorpperaltiago]

Slipping Through My Fingers All The Time

I started a marvel binge about a month ago and I’ve been hyperfixating on spideychelle for a while now – so I started this fic and then realised the last prompt of @mjweek fit perfectly! This is a crazy long fic by my standards but I hope you like it!

The first time May hears Michelle Jones’ name is after the Washington Incident. She doesn’t particularly register it, not with everything else happening in their lives at that point. She’s just another one of his classmates, only just edging into the category of “friend”, if something like that can even be categorised at all.

She doesn’t hear the girls’ nickname for a while either.

Until one day, when Peter casually asks: “Would you mind if MJ slept over along with Ned?”

“MJ?”, she questions, turning towards him with a puzzled look.

“Michelle Jones... you know, the new Academic Decathlon Captain? Her friends call her MJ and now I guess Ned and I allowed to call her that since we’re her friends”.

She seems to bond to their group increasingly after Homecoming and then after the Blip. She’s not rude by any means, but she doesn’t really say a lot in comparison to her friends, so May doesn’t ever particularly chat to her in any depth beyond polite greetings and queries about being picked up after late night study -sessions-turned-sleepovers.

But as a platonic trio, the three of them seem to be on good ground.

Looking back, she’s not sure she could pinpoint when exactly when the true shift happened.

Slowly but steadily, Peter mentions her more and more in a way he’s never talked about any other friend before, even more than he used to mention Liz. It reaches a point where she expects to hear about the latest “badass” thing that MJ did whenever she asks him how school was that day, right alongside tales of their gang’s usual exploits and the regular gossip of Midtown. It’s not to an unhealthy or obsessive extent, but it’s enough for her to realise that something must be going on between them, even if it’s just a spark.

Not wanting to put pressure on Peter to talk about it, she waits patiently for her suspicions to be confirmed, because she becomes more and more certain every day that there’s something there.

A few weeks before the big school trip to Europe and what they’re both hoping will be a much deserved break, she comes home to Peter furiously scribbling something onto a scrappy frayed bit of paper, his entire face scrunched into fierce concentration.

“Are you designing a new suit or something?”, she casually asks, that being the only thing she can think of in spite of her nephews’ lack of artistic talent.

“Oh no”, is his slightly shy response. “It’s just... a plan...”

That confuses her even more and she sits down beside him, finally looking at what he’s been writing down whilst asking him: “a plan for what? World domination? Have you decided to go all angsty hero turned supervillain on us?”

He laughs at that and then explains himself. “I really like MJ. I wanna tell her how I feel in Europe and I thought it would be better to just write it down rather than winging it. I tried to just be honest with her earlier today and after I said that I had something I wanted to tell her I kind of froze... and ran... very fast... and elephant like... a lot of people stared, it was very noisy and embarrassing.”

She sits with him for about an hour after that, helping him to develop his pretty loose plan into something more concrete. She also had the sad thought that if Tony was still around he would’ve been all over this situation, helping Peter. It’s yet another figure in his life who will never be there for the big moments, but all she can do is try her best for him, like she has done since he was 4 years old and they all realised his parents’ weren’t coming back from that damn plane crash.

In the end, the trip of course gets derailed by (what else?) more superhero stuff and even before what follows a few weeks later, she feels awful that he can’t take a pause from stress and danger for even two weeks, at the age of just 16. He’s still just a kid, but the weight of the world never seems to lift from his shoulders.

But the one positive is that it looks like he didn’t need the plan. When they’re driving home from the airport, the first thing he talks and talks and talks about is everything that happened with him and MJ. Apparently she loved the necklace even though it was broken, they kissed 3 times on Tower Bridge (and a few more times on the way home) and now they’re going on a date soon. She questions if swinging around New York might be a bit intense, but he shrugs her off, saying that it’ll be fine.

She finds out later that it wasn’t fine, but everything that follows after their date completely crashes into everything and makes that detail anecdotal.

Everything changes after Mysterio’s video – at first he runs for far too long and she’s so worried and it breaks her heart to read all the awful, untrue things that damn Daily Bugle keeps on pumping out. The physical copy would be better off used as toilet paper in her opinion (she can’t think of anything as witty for the more popular digital version, but she’s trying). They all meet with him undercover, sporadically, supporting him in whatever way they can.

After an adventure involving Dr Strange (she’s proud of the fact that learnt his name properly now) and weirdest of all several other Spider-Men, he finally comes home and even though everything is still completely uprooted and unstable, at least she has him back now.

For everything that still comes afterward, for every run in with photographers and crazed fans and every time the danger they’re all in now that the world knows becomes apparent, she’s there to pick him back up. And MJ and Ned are too.

She notices that he comes back from patrols even later and when she talks to him about it he admits with a shy blush that he’s been stopping by MJ’s room every night for weeks now. It all seems very Romeo and Juliet. She also chuckles when it’s brought up in conversation with MJ’s mother, because of course she knows he’s there when they think they’re being so sneaky and secretive. How he managed to keep his identity hidden for so long, she’ll never know.

Over time, she gets to know MJ pretty well too: she learns that she’s smart and fierce and sarcastic and cynical in a way that balances Peter’s eternal sunshine perfectly. They really do fit together like pieces of an extremely adorable puzzle.

Her usually mended heart breaks a little when she realises how well she would’ve gotten along with Ben. But eventually she puts that thought away in a precious mental box, carefully kept and full of now bittersweet memories. She simply allows herself to share in her nephews’ new found and long overdue joy.

She truly realises the depth of their feelings for each other in unfortunate to say the least circumstances. A hammering from the Green Goblin puts him in hospital unconscious for a week even with his advanced healing abilities and MJ won’t leave his side for a second, holding onto the broken black dahlia necklace like it’s the only thing anchoring her to reality even after Ned has finally been persuaded to go home to bed. They sleep in plasticky, slightly sticky and hard hospital chairs right next to each other and when Peter finally wakes up the next afternoon he looks so happy to see the 3 people he loves most in the world carefully watching him.

She’s never seen him more scared than the first time a bad guy kidnaps MJ. They were aware that something like this was likely, the girl even prepared herself with self defence classes and her boyfriend is a literal freakin’ superhero. But still, when he finds her, May can see through the security footage that her and Ned are nervously watching, that he holds her with such relief, like she’s the most precious thing in the world.

They of course go to senior prom together and take the classic photos before they go — it’s incredibly corny but their radiant smiles put a bright grin on her face too.

They go long distance for college and although they’re both worried about growing apart, they seem to just get closer, moving into a cramped apartment in their second year.

She comes over for dinner (Peter has always been a disaster in the kitchen, but MJ’s competent enough to keep them from completely living off take out) and the three of them chat and laugh together and they’re not even out of college yet but MJ already feels like family.

What she doesn’t expect is for him to call her at 2am, in floods of tears, barely able to explain to her what happened except “I’ve fucked everything up, oh my god, I’ve fucked everything up...”

Eventually May gets a bigger picture through his tears (“it’s so stupid”, he hiccups down the phone). Essentially it all boils down to a lack of communication and small things boiling over into a blow out fight. Now she’s walking out in sheer anger and he’s frozen in panic. May feels panicked too, feeling the pressure of giving Peter the right advice when she’s honestly not sure how she would handle the situation. He might be all grown up, at college with a long term living together relationship, but sometimes she’s reminded of how young he still is.

She ends up telling him to run after MJ and apparently he does just that, rushing out into the pouring rain and kissing her through tearful apologies from both of them in what sounds like something straight out of a rom com. After that, they get better at sharing how they’re feeling and their relationship seems all the better for it.

She gives him her old engagement ring just after their two year anniversary of living together, after he comes to her apartment with an excited grin, telling her that he wants to propose. An everlasting symbol of her old love, of the love her and Ben shared, that their child can now share with the love of his life.

“So what’s your big plan?” she asks him excitedly over coffee in the mug he bought her a few birthdays back.

“Well, she hates public proposals, so I can’t do that – I was thinking of doing something at home, something cosy...”

That’s exactly what he does.

May helps him with his plan, just as she did 5 years ago – except this time she’s a little bit more directly involved.

Luckily, May and MJ already have a regular rom com night every few weeks, so MJ isn’t too surprised or suspicious when she invites her ‘round for an afternoon of Bridget Jones. Just as the perpetually single heroine is giving birth to Colin Firth’s baby, she gets a thumbs up text from Peter, letting her know that he’s ready to go.

MJ took the bus here, so May suggests they go back to the apartment together, because she couldn’t bear the idea of not being around for what awaits MJ at home. MJ gives her a strange look but just rolls with it.

When MJ opens the apartment door after saying goodbye to May, the lights are dimmed, except for a glowing structure in the corner, which Peter comes out of grinning.

“I made you a fort!” he declares happily with his arms in the air. As MJ grins and laughs and kisses him as she jumps into his arms, she takes that as a cue to fully leave them alone.

She stands and waits and wonders what’s happening inside. She could see that he’d filled the inside of the fort with fairy lights and she knows that he was planning on ordering MJ’s favourite food (pepperoni pizza) and putting on a murder documentary she’d been talking about for weeks.

After what must’ve been the time for them to eat their pizza and watch the documentary, plus about 7 minutes give or take, they open the door. They both have tears in their eyes as MJ holds up her left hand to show May the newly placed ring on her finger.

They have placeholder seats in the ceremony, for everyone who’s not there, who would’ve been there. Who should’ve been there. Everyone lost isn’t forgotten and it’s as heartwarming as it is sad.

He goes back to May’s the night before the wedding out of superstition and tradition. She wakes him up pretty early and he complains until he realises what day it is. He shares a soft phone call with MJ as soon as he’s awake enough to hold a conversation, but May has no idea what’s being said, as she goes to the kitchen, wanting to give them both privacy.

She makes sure to tell Peter how proud she is of him when she’s helping him tie his tie like he’s back in high school and getting ready for Homecoming.

When he sees MJ walk down the aisle, they both look at each other like they’re being given the entire world.

Peter speaks first, nervously taking cue cards out of his pocket and saying: “MJ, I know that you hate clichés and corny lines, so I’m not going to use any. Instead, I’m just going to make a bunch of promises. I promise to support you and stand by your side, to have your back in the way that you always have mine. I promise to always be there to make you smile when you’re sad. I promise to watch scary horror movies with you, even if they really scare me. I promise not to spoil endings of things. I promise to love you forever.”

An already tearful MJ follows him with: “Peter, a long time ago, I told you that I don’t have much luck when it comes to getting close to people. But that’s not been true for a long time, thanks to you. Sorry to use clichés my vows after you cut them out of yours, but I feel so damn lucky to be marrying my best friend. I promise to stand by you and fight for you even when you’re being really stupid, I promise to support all of your nerdy stuff and most of all, I promise to always love you, dork”

May thinks back on everything her boy has suffered through, everything that has been put upon him for so long. Seeing him brimming with joy, gazing lovingly at his wife, surrounded by everyone who loves and supports them both, she bursts into tears herself.

It’s one of the happiest days of her life .It’s only matched by her both of her wedding days and the days that Benjamin Anthony Parker-Jones and Taylor-May Parker-Jones are born.

[pies-writes-and-more]

A French Kiss

Word Count: 7, 947

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: No warnings! Just some super cute fluff :) 

A/N: Dedicating this work to the lovely @wxstedhexrt​​!!!! Ps. Destiny if you thought i wasn’t going to dedicate this fic to you, you’re crazy lol. Thank you so much for being such a cute part of my writing process😉😘

(Not my gfif, creds to the original creator!!)

Y/N held her phone tightly to her chest, eyes scanning the crowd. Too old. Too young. Eh, maybe? Not that one. Maybe that one? Shit no, has a girlfriend. Has kids. Ugh.

“You’re not actually going to do this are you?” Wanda asked, taking a sip from the iced coffee she had bought earlier. She watched as her friend nervously shifted her weight, staring at different men who were around them.

“Of course I am. I need to do this.” Y/N’s hands were shaking a little. Here she was, at an amazing photo opportunity in front of the Eiffel Tower, and she wasn’t even looking at it. She could only imagine how stupid she looked to everyone else.

Nat sighed from her spot on the ground. She had known this was going to take a while so she had laid out her rain jacket on the ground and sat down, absentmindedly scrolling through her phone. “Just pick someone. Anyone.”

“I can’t just pick, Natasha,” Y/N huffed, hands on her hips as she turned to look at her friend. “I need someone who is far better looking than Jake could ever dream to be. Not to mention I need to make sure he’s not married or with his family or with his girlfriend because I can’t imagine how awkward that would be-”

“What about him?” Wanda spoke up, nodding forward.

Y/N followed her gaze to a group of guys gathered around a nearby bench, laughing and smiling together. Y/N couldn’t be sure which guy Wanda was referring to but her eyes immediately fell on the blond guy who was writing? maybe sketching? into a small notebook. They were loud enough for Y/N to catch glimpses of their conversation, making a small smile pull at her lips.

“God this is going to take forever. Why didn’t you just take a photo?” The long dark-haired one whined, popping a snack into his mouth.

“The more you whine, the longer I’m going to take,” Y/N heard the blond say. She bit her lip, finally turning to Wanda and shaking her head.

“No way, he’s busy.” Y/N tried to seem casual, as if this wasn’t the first guy that she felt like she was drooling over. He had such a great physique, and that quiet concentrated look on her face made her swoon. What kind of guy like that would be single anyways?

“Oh come on, what you’re asking for takes like two seconds. Just go ask!” Wanda insisted but Y/N just made whining noises in response.

“God, no. I can’t do this. This is too embarrassing. Forget this. Forget Jake. Let’s just take a group photo and get this over with.” Y/N fumbled with her phone quickly, getting ready to just take a selfie with her girls.

“Nuh uh. I did not just get comfortable here on this foreign floor for you to chicken out of what you’ve been planning on doing the whole trip here.” Nat insisted, sighing but getting up anyways. Instead of posing for the selfie, she grabbed her things off the ground and then tightly wound her fingers around Y/N’s wrist, dragging her over to the group of guys.

“Hi there! I’m Wanda, this is Nat and Y/N!” Wanda spoke up to them first, having skipped along Nat and Y/N (who was still protesting and pulling at Nat’s strong grip).

The guys stared at the girls for a moment, all three of them sharing a look before looking back at them. “Hey there. I’m Sam. That’s Bucky and Steve,” the one guy grinned, nodding towards his friends. His smile was lined with amusement, obviously trying to not laugh at how distressed Y/N looked. “You being kidnapped or something?”

“Please, if they wanted to kidnap me, no one would’ve noticed.” Y/N huffed but gave him a sheepish smile.

“What can we do for you, ladies?” The long dark-haired one, whom Sam introduced as Bucky, asked. His smile was sort of cocky looking, very cheeky, Y/N noticed. She tried to look anywhere but at the blond, who seemed to be eyeing her.

Nat nudged Y/N forward, raising an eyebrow at her like she was saying Go ahead. “Um.” Y/N bit down on her lip, glancing back at the Eiffel Tower. Maybe she could lie. Maybe she could just ask them to take a picture of her and the girls and it would be over lickety-split.

“Y/N needs to be kissed.” Nat stated simply, noting the hesitation in her friend. The bluntness in her tone shocked everyone but Wanda who just snickered beside her.

“Nat!” Y/N whined, eyes going wide as she glared at her friend. “That’s not- that’s not the whole story! You… It sounds weird if you say it like that!”

“Well then, you tell them the story.” Nat shrugged. She placed her jacket back down on the ground, sitting back down and looking up at her friend, as if becoming part of the audience for the story she knew all too well.

Y/N sigh and closed her eyes for a moment, wishing she could just disappear. “Uh.” Her eyes opened and they immediately locked onto Steve’s beautiful blue eyes. God he was gorgeous. A guy like that would make Jake insanely jealous. “I got… I got dumped by my boyfriend a few weeks ago.” She started, immediately realizing how pitiful that sounded.

“Actually, you dumped him. He cheated on you.” Wanda interjected as she squeezed onto the bench beside Steve. She gave him a smile as he shifted to make room for her. “But continue.”

All of the guys gave her empathetic smiles, but stayed quiet as if to urge her to keep going. Y/N wished her life wasn’t as tragic as this story sounded.

“Fine. Jake cheated on me. With a girl he’d been friends with for a while. But that’s besides the point. Kinda. I mean it’s the whole point of why we’re here and asking but it’s still besides the point,” she rambled nervously. Wanda rolled her eyes and stretched out her leg, kicking the girl in her shin and making her yelp. “Hey!”

“Come on girl, get to the point. I’m sure these guys have other things they need to do today.” Wanda teased, making Nat snicker.

“No no, please continue. If it leads up to a kiss, I’d much rather hear the full story,” Bucky grinned, making Y/N’s face feel hot. He gave her a playful wink and Steve reached over to hit him over the head.

“Let her finish her story, Buck,” Steve glared, looking back at her with a small smile.

Y/N smiled back nervously, chewing on the inside of her cheek, “W-Well. I just… Paris was supposed to be the place that me and my ex were going to go. We always talked about it. So now that I’m here…” her voice drifted for a bit and she glanced back at the Tower once more.

“Ooooh.” Sam chuckled, his dark brown eyes sparkling as he put two and two together. “You’re looking to make that son of a bitch jealous. Find a cute guy to take a picture with in front of the Eiffel Tower, make him regret what he did to you, amiright?”

Y/N blushed further but nodded. He had hit the nail right on its head.

“Honestly, you probably could’ve just asked us to kiss you and we would’ve said yes,” Bucky laughed, clapping a hand onto the shoulder of the blond guy, who Y/N noticed seemed to have tucked his notebook away. “Except for Steve here. He’s a proper old school gentleman.”

“Buck,” Steve groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose slightly. “Can you go like five seconds without embarrassing me?”

“Normally? Yes. But when there’s cute girls involved, it’s hard.” Bucky chuckled and turned to Y/N, “Well sorry your ex was an asshole. But on the plus side, you’ve got your pick of us three. Any of us you’d prefer?”

Y/N wanted nothing more but to faint. Here she was, actually doing the thing she wanted to do, with insanely handsome men who actually wanted to help, but it was all too much. She was overwhelmed with anxiety, her heart was pumping so fast she wasn’t sure she could actually form a complete sentence. It would be mortifying to say that she was already falling for Steve, even though she literally just met him.

“Cool it, Bucky, you’re making the poor girl sweat,” Sam smacked Bucky’s arm, who just turned to smack him back. “Just let her breathe, sheesh.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered over to Steve, who also seemed to be blushing a little. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe he was just embarrassed over his friends? Y/N could relate to that.

“Actually, Y/N’s got a think for blonds!” Nat piped up, only looking up from her phone to smirk at her friend.

“Oh that’s rightttt. Especially when they’re artists. You were sketching a little earlier, weren’t you? Steve, was it?” Wanda asked, nudging Steve slightly. She wiggled her eyebrows at him making both Y/N and Steve squirm shyly.

That’s it. Y/N was surely going to die. She looked up to the sky momentarily, wondering if Zeus would smite her just to help a girl out.

“Ooooh well lucky for you, our blond artist is a hopeless romantic still looking for love,” Sam chuckled. “He’s the complete package, so please take him so we don’t have to.”

Steve shot him a glare, moving his gaze back to Y/N and giving her that same sweet empathetic smile. She felt her stomach flip a little, quickly staring at the floor instead. God, if she couldn’t even look at him without feeling butterflies, would she really be able to kiss him?

“Okay enough eye fucking, you two.” Nat spoke up casually. “Wanda, go take their photo before they end up having babies.”

“Nat!” Y/N was going to kill her for that later but Nat, Wanda, and Steve’s friends laughed it away. Steve blushed a little more, standing up and brushing off the eraser dust from his pants. Y/N couldn’t help but feel small next to him. Not because of his height, but he just had this aura. A strong, protective aura.

He took her hand gently and Y/N bit her lip at the feeling of his callouses. Her mind went to all sorts of places, wondering how such a gentle man had such a hard outer shell. “We really don’t have to. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this. It’s a really stupid idea anyways, I don’t even know if he’ll see it.” She rambled nervously as the two of them walked to a good picture spot, Wanda and the others behind them.

“He’ll see it.” Steve stated firmly with a smile to her. “If I lost a girl like you, I’d be checking all your social media to see if you missed me too.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed again, staring at the ground nervously, “Yeah well, I can’t be all that great if he found someone else while he was with me.”

Wanda positioned them in a spot with good lighting, Steve turning to face Y/N as Wanda got her camera ready, “You ever been to an art museum? And some asshole just blows right by a piece of art, acting like there isn’t emotions poured into it, like there isn’t something deeper in it? Sometimes art isn’t appreciated the way it should be. Just gotta find that one guy who’s going to be speechless every time he sees you.”

Y/N looked up at him with wide eyes. How did this man go from blushing, awkward, and quiet to smooth and flirty? She couldn’t help but giggle as she raised an eyebrow, “You always talk like this? Or is it just the influence of the City of Love?” She teased, feeling a sudden ease in talking to him. He felt so comfortable now, when it was just the two of them a little ways away from their playful friends.

“I dunno, doll. I’m in a city filled with some of the greatest pieces of art, and right now I’d much rather be here. Looking at you.” He teased back with a smirk. He saw her face glow a little more and he reached out to brush her hair from her eyes.

Although Y/N’s face felt hot, a cool breeze pushed past. She pulled her arms to her chest, rubbing her arms gently, “Are you just saying all these because you pity me?” She asked with a small smile. “I’m okay you know. About the whole… getting cheated on ex boyfriend thing.”

Steve watched her for a moment and stepped back a little to pull his blue sweater over his head. Y/N tried not to let her eyes stare but it was hard not to notice the muscles hiding under his white undershirt as he stripped. “Here. You must be cold.”

Y/N flushed a little, stammering out some sounds as he helped her ease the large sweater over her head.

“And no. I’m not lying about all this. You really are beautiful, Y/N,” he leaned forward, whispering it into her ear. “I’m sorry that jackass hurt you… but I can’t say I’m all that sorry that I’m standing here with the opportunity to kiss you.” Steve’s fingers found their way under her chin, tilting it up gently.

Y/N almost forgot what they were doing here. Her brain suddenly went, Jake who?She already felt like she was hyperventilating with Steve’s poetry-like words and chick-flick worthy speech. The moment Steve’s lips touched hers, her whole mind melted. His lips were soft and Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the comparison to his rough hands. All the love songs, the poems, the movies… they all talked about that one kiss and suddenly, they all made sense. After a moment, Steve pulled away slightly but Y/N quickly filled the gap, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pulling him back.

When the fogginess of her mind disappeared and the two of them finally took a turn to breathe, their eyes locked momentarily. Y/N could’ve sworn she heard a “wow” escape from Steve’s lips.

Whoops and hollers from their friends were quickly becoming louder as the two of them returned to Earth from their makeout high.

“Damn Steve, you kiss all girls like that?” Wanda teased, having snapped numerous photos of the kiss, not to mention a ton of the cute interaction that happened before. She and Nat shared a laugh, knowing Y/N was going to love the cute picture of Steve stripping next to the picture of her standing in his sweater.

“What girls?” Sam snickered, him and Bucky high-fiving. “Steve’s a completely mess around most girls.”

Steve let out a groan as he shot a death glare to Sam. “Can you… I’m trying to be… ugh!” He huffed, flustered with both embarrassment and frustration, especially as he heard Y/N giggling next to him. Here he was, overwhelmed with endorphins from having kissed the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and his friends can’t stop making him out to be an anxious nervous wreck. He was an anxious nervous wreck around girls but this girl didn’t have to know that!

The four friends laughed nearby as they all got to know each other a little more, teasing the slightly awkward ‘couple’ as they stood there, unsure of what to do now.

“Y-You don’t have a girlfriend or anything to get back to do you?” Y/N asked as she blinked at him, realizing she hadn’t even asked him before.

Steve shook his head quickly, cheeks turning pink as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Naw, I haven’t had much luck in the love department for a while.” He admitted, mentally slapping himself as the words left his lips. Why is he telling her this??? He had been so careful in choosing his words before, wanting to make the whole interaction feel as romantic as possible. After all, this girl deserved to be swooned.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at how nervous he seemed. Before he kissed her, he was all smooth and suave, but he also seemed so soft and awkward.

Right now, Steve was looking like he was battling a war in his head. He shifted on his feet, watching her nervously, “Was… was it okay?” He blurted out, biting down on his lip as he watched her expression. “The kiss, I mean?”

Y/N wasn’t sure what to tell him. How could she put into words the way that his lips literally made her feel like she was floating? How could she tell this man, a man she would probably never see again, that he was like a drug and she was already addicted? Here he was, a stranger, and Y/N was falling in fucking love with him when she had only done this to get back at her stupid ex boyfriend?

“I-It was…” She hesitated, looking for a good word. “Perfect.” The word slipped from Y/N’s lips faster than she could comprehend it. The two of them shared another blush, an awkward silence falling on them.

“Hey Rogers, if you’re done fonduing, we gotta meet with Tony and Rhodey! Got that dinner reservation Tony’s been talking about!” Bucky yelled over. Steve’s heart fell a little and he looked over at Y/N, only to find the same slight downcast expression on her face.

“Thank you… for your help,” she smiled up at him. Steve tried to capture the image in his mine, the sight of her smile, gleaming in the sun behind them. This was the sight Steve wanted to die looking at.

“A-Anytime,” he quickly stammered, realizing that he was staring at her.

“Steve!” Bucky yelled again, glancing between his friend and the watch on his wrist. “If we’re late, Tony’s gonna kill us!”

Steve groaned a little, rolling his eyes at the sound of his best friend. “I should go.” He sighed, looking at her just once more. He leaned over and brushed her hair from her face, bending over to plant a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Have a great time in Paris, doll.” He murmured to her before rushing over to Bucky’s side.

The boys left, Sam and Bucky teasing him endlessly and loudly, drawing the attention of many people nearby. Y/N’s cheeks were still flushed as she slowly walked over to her friends, their grins as wide as their faces.

“Soooo. Steveeee.” Wanda sang with a giggle. “He’s much cuter than Jake.”

“He’s much cuter than any guy you’ve dated,” Nat corrected with a smirk. “You’re welcome. When you guys get married, I hope that you’ll thank me in your wedding vows.”

Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile, shaking her head. “I’m never going to see him again, you goose.”

Wanda and Nat’s wide eyes made Y/N feel like she had grown a second head. “W-What?” She frowned, feeling a little self-conscious with them looking at her.

“Um hello? You just shared the hottest kiss with a man in the most romantic spot in the world and you’re not planning on seeing him again?” Wanda asked, hands on her hips.

“How would I?” Y/N frowned slightly, giving a shrug.

Nat stared at her exasperatedly, “You didn’t give him your number?! What about your instagram? So he could be tagged in the photos?”

Y/N shrugged again, blushing now as she realized how much she now wanted to give him that info. “He didn’t ask for it,” she gave as an excuse, only worsening her slight pain. Her mind wondered for a moment about why... why hadn’t he asked for it?

“Wait, but you’re still wearing his sweater,” Wanda gaped, eyes wide.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she looked down to indeed find his blue sweater fitted on her body. “Shit!” She screeched, running towards the direction the boys had headed. Her eyes darted between groups, trying to find a sign of either one of the boys she had met. But she had no clue where they were headed, she didn’t even know what restaurant they were going to.

“Fuck...” she mumbled. A little piece of hope that had flickered in her heart died, realizing that she had lost her chance to connect with the one guy who made all the love songs make sense.

Y/N wore the sweater all night long, admittedly because she loved the smell of him on it. She could feel her heart grow a little, her chest tighten, her lips tingle, ever time she inhaled it again. God he smelled so good. But she also wore the sweater because she had hoped that whilst they were roaming around Paris’ nightlife, he would see her.

“Aw baby girl, chin up,” Wanda cooed gently, touching her arm as they got back to their hotel room. “Maybe you’ll see him again!”

“Where?” Y/N moped, sitting on her bed. “I had my chance and I totally messed it up.”

Nat and Wanda tried to stay positive for her but they all knew the chances of running into the boys again were slim. Y/N kicked herself mentally as she started getting dressed for bed for not at least asking him where he was from. Sure, he had an American accent but there was 50 states! What if he was Canadian? American and Canadian accents weren’t all that different were they? That means 50 states PLUS 13 provinces/territories in Canada… The thought pulled a sigh from Y/N’s lips. Even if she did manage to find him, there was no telling he’d actually want to see her again.

Y/N folded up the sweater gently, sighing as she pressed it flat into her suitcase. But as she did, her hand pushed against something harder than a bunch of fabric should be. Curious, Y/N reached into the large sweater pocket and pulled out a small notebook. Her eyes widened as she realized it was the booklet that Steve had been sketching in earlier.

Great, not only did I steal this man’s sweater, I stole his art too, Y/N thought to herself. She bit her lip as she sat down on the floor, carefully opening up the notebook, as if it might break if she were too harsh with it.

The first page made her laugh a little. It was Bucky and Sam, fast asleep on airport seats, both with their arms crossed and Sam’s mouth open a little. Y/N was surprised at just how much detail went into such a small drawing. No line was without purpose.

The next few pages looked like they were what Steve had seen out of the plane’s window, most of them having the wing in the centre and small clouds flickering around.

She thumbed through the drawings, loving each and every one of them more and more. Landscapes filled pages and Y/N felt herself get excited when she found something she recognized. It was like a little memory book of the places the boys had all gone together. She noticed two more figures in most of the drawings, figuring these were the other two that the boys were meeting up with when they left. Throughout all these drawings, at the bottom, there was Steve’s signature. In scribbled lines, she could make out S. G. Rogers. She let her thumb glide over for a moment, as if she was missing someone she knew well. She couldn’t help but laugh at herself, knowing she literally met him for not even an hour.

Y/N shook the thoughts from her head as she flipped to the next drawing. Her eyes blinked for a moment, taking in the beautiful sight of the Eiffel Tower that she had see earlier that day. He really was a talented artist, Y/N noted. Even in just sheer pencil, she could see details she probably missed in her momentary glimpses at the tourist site.

“What’s that?” Nat’s sudden voice made Y/N jump, realizing Nat had just come out of the bathroom.

“Uh Steve’s drawings… It was in the sweater.” Y/N explained shyly, handing over the book.

“Oooh more about Steve?” Wanda gasped, hopping over immediately. “Oh wow, he really is an artist huh?” She grinned, flipping through the pictures.

“So now you stole his artwork too huh?” Nat teased, making Y/N pout.

“Stop! Don’t say that! It wasn’t my fault!” Y/N huffed, hugging her knees to her chest. She couldn’t help but feel a little happy that she had his notebook and sweater. It would convince her that all of this actually had been real, and not a dream, like it was starting to feel like.

----------

Steve hadn’t even realized he was missing his sweater until after dinner. The group of guys had sat back in their chairs a little, sighing at what was a great meal when Steve noticed Bucky giving him a weird look. “What’s wrong? Got something on my face?” Steve asked, nudging his friend.

“No… something’s just different.” Bucky tilted his head slightly. His eyes squinted slightly, opening again slowly as he said, “Weren’t you wearing a sweater earlier?”

Steve’s eyes could’ve popped out of his head. He immediately stood up from the table, staring out the window in the direction that he had met Y/N and the other girls. He had only meant to give her the sweater for a moment, while they were taking pictures and talking. She seemed cold, how could he not? (His mother would’ve killed him if he hadn’t… not to mention he really liked seeing her in his clothes). How had he completely forgotten to get it back?

“I bet I know where it is,” Sam snickered as he watched the confusion on Steve’s face.

“Where?” Tony asked, looking between the three.

Rhodey rolled his eyes, “Tony, catch up. There was a girl. He kissed the girl-”

“-And being the ever so lovely gentleman we know and love Steve Rogers to be, he gave her his sweater,” Sam finished with a laugh, shaking his head. “Didn’t have your wallet in there did it? Any other important things?”

Steve shook his head, glad to feel the wallet-sized lump in his jeans pocket. “No… but my sketch book…”

“Not like you can’t just draw some more,” Rhodey shrugged and grinned up at him.

“Yeah but I was hoping to bring it all back and use it for my paintings,” Steve frowned tightly, looking at the boys who had met Y/N with him. “You don’t think she’s still around there do you?”

“Come on, Steve, it’s been hours! You can’t honestly think the girl waited around for you. Just give her a text or something.” Bucky’s amused smile on his face froze as he saw the blush appearing on Steve’s face. “…You did get her number or something didn’t you? I mean, that’s the most tongue-tied I’ve seen you with a girl in a long time!”

“Oh so there was tongue. Talk about a true French Kiss,” Tony snickered, making the other boys laugh and Steve feel like he could die.

“No, Tony, there was no tongue,” Steve rolled his eyes, sitting back down slowly crossing his arms over his chest. “I… I might’ve forgotten to ask for her number…” Steve muttered, knowing exactly what was coming.

“Steve!” Sam and Bucky both yelled, both swatting at his arms from either side of him.

“How could you forget?” Sam groaned, shaking his head. “Just like you to get all flustered over a girl, and have her get all flustered over you, just for you to completely forget to make sure she could get in contact with you!”

Steve looked up, his eyes suddenly beaming with hope instead of shame, “She was getting flustered over me?” He asked curiously, letting out a groan when both Sam and Bucky swatted at his arms again.

“Idiot,” Bucky shook his head devastatingly but he smiled anyways. He wanted to let Steve mope a little more, as a consequence for being an idiot, and then later, maybe he’d show him the pictures that he and Sam had taken of Steve and Y/N.

_______

Why Natasha and Wanda were dragging Y/N out on a Friday night, she had no clue. Normally, if they were going to go out on a Friday, it would be to a club. Not to some place that had a black tie dress code.

Y/N tugged on her dress slightly, feeling a bit uncomfortable all dressed up and not understanding where they were going. “Can someone please-” she started, but the two stern looks she got back from Nat and Wanda shut her up quick.

“If you ask one more time where we’re going, I’m going to knock you out. I really don’t want you to be unconscious when we get there, but don’t tempt me, Y/N,” Nat threatened with a playful smirk on her face. “Just be patient. You look fucking hot, you’ll love it.”

Y/N sighed and slunk back into the Uber seat, tapping her fingers on her knee. Here she was, hair perfectly set around her face, body fitted into a black evening gown, a touch of makeup done… she was picture perfect. But Y/N couldn’t figure out why. Wasn’t her birthday, wasn’t any sort of important date…

Y/N stared out the window as she tried to consider all the possibilities. This seemed to be the biggest event since their trip to Paris about a month ago. The small memory of Paris made her smile, thinking about all the fun the girls had had together, and of course… Steve. She hadn’t really thought about him for a while. She spent the days back home looking for a Steve Rogers online, but it was such a common name, she knew she was bound to never find him.

His sweater sat in her dresser, waiting for the day that maybe she would meet him again and he could take it back. But one month later and no such luck.

Nat and Wanda shared a look as they watched their best friend fade into her daydreaming state. They giggled together quietly, Wanda nudging her slightly. “You’re sure you’ve got the tickets?” She murmured softly and Nat nodded in response.

“Just have your camera ready. I want to capture the moment.” Nat reminded her and Wanda agreed, slipping her phone out of her small purse.

Y/N stared at the building the Uber driver pulled up to. The bright lights at the entrance made it look so regal, like it was some event that major celebrities were going to be attending. As the girls stepped out of the car, Y/N silently thanked both of them for not letting her come in the casual dress she had originally picked out for herself. Her eyes caught sight of the gorgeous evening and cocktail gowns that other women were wearing, the sleek and smooth looks of bowties and suits on the men.

Y/N almost forgot that they were here to attend whatever this was, standing completely frozen from where the car had once been.

“Come on!” Wanda laughed, grabbing her hand. “It’s an art show!”

Y/N blinked in surprise, looking at her friends with a confused look on her face. Neither one of them had really shown any interest in art before… so why were they here?

“Tickets ma’am?” The man at the front asked with a smile. Nat started to open her purse but the man held up his hand. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t realize you had a muse with you. Go right in, ladies.”

The girls looked at him and then at each other. Not wanting to hold up the line that was growing behind them, they started to walk in and Y/N raised an eyebrow, “Muse?”

Nat shrugged, pushing the tickets back in her purse. “Well damn, if I had known, I wouldn’t have bought these super expensive tickets,” she muttered to herself, making Wanda laugh. “What do you think he meant?”

“Um hello, you guys were the ones that dragged me down here, how should I know?” Y/N looked around as the three of them stood in the front halls of the museum. She wasn’t quite sure where they were supposed to go so she started to walk, so she started to follow a few people in front of her.

The decorations were stunning. Everything was black and white, so the colours on the mediums shot off the walls. People were walking around with trays of small horderves and other trays of champagne glasses. The girls each grabbed a glass, smiling at each other as they clicked the glasses together and took a sip. As the three of them continued to walk around, Y/N could’ve sworn that people were whispering as they passed, gawking at them.

“Is it… a private show?” Y/N whispered harshly to her friends as she noticed someone sneak a photo of them.

Nat’s eyebrows furrowed, noting the commotion she and the girls seemed to be making, and she shook her head, “No, it was a public event.”

“Ma’am, do you think I could take your photo?” A man asked with a smile, holding up his camera and press pass. “I’m doing a story on the artwork.”

Y/N had to look around for a moment, making sure that he was actually talking to her. “Sorry, I’m not… I don’t have a connection to this artwork?” She stated confusedly, stepping away and further into the exhibits with the girls.

“What the hell was that about?” Wanda mumbled, glancing back to see the man looking equally as confused.

Most of the people seemed to be in the on main section of the museum, whispers and murmurs filling the room. As Y/N and the girls walked in to see what everyone else was looking at, they were greeted with flashes of light. People with cameras yelling questions at them about how they felt about the exhibition and if she liked the pieces.

“Sorry I- I have no clue what you’re talking about-” Y/N tried to tell them, holding her hands up to protect her eyes from the multitude of flashes.

“I think I know.” Y/N turned to look at what Wanda was talking about, her jaw dropping for a moment.

There. In the middle of the room. On a large canvas, was her face.

Y/N had to take a moment, staring at the painting as if she were going to wake up from a dream any moment now. “N-Nat, what is this?” She looked over to her friend who seemed just as confused as she was.

“I didn’t think… I only saw his name,” Nat explained, her eyes wandering around.

“Whose name?” Y/N asked exasperatedly, her chest feeling tight. This room was suddenly feeling very small as she looked around. Everything else was of a landscape, gorgeous paintings of green landscapes, orange sunsets, beautiful cafe atmospheres… but this one painting was of her.

“What’s your relationship with the artist, miss?” A woman asked, holding up a voice recorder to Y/N’s face.

“S-Sorry?”

“The artist, miss. S. G. Rogers, what’s it like knowing that after being mostly known for landscapes, and other art that never has a specific muse, his new most talked about piece is the one featuring you?” The woman asked again and Y/N felt her whole body freeze.

S. G. Rogers.

Y/N stammered out an apology, rushing over to the nearest corner where the press weren’t, needing to breathe. Nat and Wanda moved with her, shooting glares at the reporters, as if daring them to follow.

She tried to focus her breathing, feeling all too overwhelmed with everything that was happening. Reporters’ voices started raising again, yelling loud questions again and Y/N winced, thinking they were coming back for more. Her eyes moved to the direction of the flashes, the sounds of the reporters, only to find a blond man standing with his back to her. He seemed awkward in front of all of them, attempting to answer questions and pose for pictures, though he didn’t really seem to want any.

“Can we get a picture of you and your muse?” A reporter asked out and all the others quieted, eagerly nodding.

The man held up an apologetic hand, moving it to rub the back of his neck, “S-She and I… well she’s not here.” He explained and more murmurs arose from the crowd.

“Isn’t that her? Standing right there?” Another reported yelped, pointing in Y/N’s direction.

She felt like a deer in headlights, the way that everyone seemed to turn on her. The man turned and sure enough… there was S. G. Rogers.

“Steve.” Y/N felt her lips breathe out, her eyes locking to those baby blue eyes.

“Surprise,” came weakly from Nat’s lips, who suddenly appeared next to Y/N. “This definitely wasn’t how I planned on it going though,” Y/N heard her mumble.

Y/N felt her brain tear into pieces over the next few seconds as she tried to make a decision. Part of her wanted to run. Run out of the museum and into fresh air, maybe that would make it easier to breathe. But she couldn’t help but think about how embarrassing that would be, for her to run and probably trip over her long dress and heels. The other part of her wanted to jump him, feel that ripple of sensations down her spine again like the last time he kissed her. Another part of her was confused and wanted to demand answers from him. Answers about why he hadn’t asked for her number if he was going to just paint her anyways!

“My lovely reporters, if you could all just take a step back for a moment. I think the lady needs a moment to breathe. You all can be very overwhelming as I’m sure you know. But I’m certain that once she has a chance to catch her surprise, perhaps Mr. Rogers and his muse will be able to stand for a few pictures later. Please, help yourself to the champagne and the food, they’re delicious-” a man spoke up, holding up a few pieces of food in his hand and plopping them into his mouth. Y/N recognized him vaguely and her mind connected his face to the simple sketches that had been in Steve’s Paris notebook.

The crowd dispersed, some hanging around close enough, as if waiting for more action between the two.

“Y/N?” Steve and the girl had barely stopped staring at each other, but the distance between them was still far. Y/N noticed Bucky walking over, as if casually walking across the room. But as he got to just behind Steve, he pushed him forward, sending Steve into a fumbling mess towards Y/N.

“S-Sorry!” Steve yelped out as he tripped over his feet, bumping into her slightly. He shot a glare at Bucky over his shoulder as he tried to compose himself but his gaze softened as it resumed on her. “Y-You’re here! How… How did you...” His cheeks were burning red. “How’re you here? How’d you find me?” He finally managed out, his hand reaching forward for hers but stopped, as if he thought better of his actions and pulled it back.

“I think Nat can answer that!” Wanda grinned from behind Y/N. “Sorry, we definitely weren’t expecting for you to have painted her and set her right in the middle of your exhibit, we probably would’ve prepped her for it if we had known-”

“We definitely would’ve prepped her,” Nat interjected with a guilty smile. “Sorry, Y/N.”

Y/N couldn’t find her voice as she studied his face. He looked the same as he did a month ago, that gorgeous nervous smile, his blond hair perfectly shaping those stunning blue eyes. She could feel her heart pounding out of her chest and was almost certain she was going to sweat all her makeup off.

“My notebook,” Steve guessed after a moment, giving the girls a small smile. He turned to Y/N with an apologetic look, “I’m sorry, I should’ve… I should’ve asked for your number or something. My mom was so upset with me that I just kissed you and left,” he admitted with a chuckle.

“You… told your mom?” Y/N squeaked out, making his cheeks turn a redder shade.

“I-I mean, I didn’t… I wasn’t going to but Bucky just blurted it out and then my mom just wanted to know more and you know, Bucky, he just keeps talking and-” Steve swallowed hard, pressing his lips together tightly as if trying to shut himself up. He looked over at Nat desperately, begging for her to start talking so he didn’t have to.

“Yes the notebook,” Nat clarified for him, smirking. “You left Y/N so lovesick she carried it around with her for a few weeks-”

“Nat!” Y/N whined, looking at her impossibly. “Really? Now? You want to embarrass me now?”

Nat laughed and patted her friend’s head, “Sorry sorry. Anyways, we saw your signature and Wanda pointed out that if you were this good at sketching, you must’ve gotten your training from somewhere. So we went looking for an S. G. Rogers and sure enough, we found that you were a part of a New Upcoming Artists Exhibit and we thought it would be a cute way for you to meet back up again.”

Cute was definitely not the words that Y/N would describe it. She was panicking inside, overthinking every single detail of what had led up to this night. She had spent the last few weeks thinking that Steve probably hadn’t wanted to get to know her anyways, or else he would’ve asked for her number or something. But here he was, telling her he should’ve and… his main piece of his exhibit was a painting of her. How was she supposed to take this? She hadn’t seen any other paintings of girls… was she the only one? What was that supposed to mean?

Wanda reached out and nudged Y/N’s shoulder, “Well you two should talk. Nat, why don’t we go and look at the rest of the exhibits?”

“Sounds brilliant,” Nat grinned and the two linked arms, giving little waves to Y/N as they disappeared.

Steve and Y/N looked at each other, both obviously unsure of what they should say. Y/N let her eyes drift to the painting in question, unable to help the blush growing on her cheeks as she admired it. Steve had painted her standing there with a bright smile on her face, as if she was smiling at the person looking at the painting. You could see the bottom of the Eiffel Tower behind her and Y/N blushed, realizing that she had taken the main spot of the artwork, rather than the Eiffel Tower like in his sketch.

“I know it must seem so creepy-” Steve stammered out nervously, clearly kicking himself for having it up as the centre of his exhibit. “I just… it was one of the few artworks that really evoked something in me and I just couldn’t let it sit in my room gathering dust-”

“It’s gorgeous, Steve,” Y/N told him with a smile. She looked up at him and almost regretted it, seeing those blue eyes again. He was so handsome and it certainly wasn’t helping that he seemed to fill out his tux so well. “You made me look really pretty.”

“I was only painting what I see, doll,” Steve chuckled. “While Wanda and Nat were taking pictures of us on their phones, Bucky and Sam had snapped a couple from theirs. I’ve been staring at them nonstop,” he admitted sheepishly. “You were all I could think about when I got back.”

Y/N was almost positive she was dreaming. She had dreamed about Steve before, sure, and he was usually doing this whole confessing attraction thing, so this had to be a dream right? She moved her hand to her arm, pinching it gently and wincing. Her eyes looked back up at him and she bit down hard on her lip. Not a dream.

“By the way,” Steve started, taking one of her hands and holding her at an arm’s length, “You look… like a work of art.”

Y/N wondered if he knew her whole body was heating up as his eyes examined the way the dress hugged her body. “S-Stop staring,” she swatted at him quickly, blushing. “We’re here to look at your art, not me.”

“I’d much rather look at you,” Steve laughed but led her for a closer view of his centrepiece of art. Y/N got so entrapped looking at it, she almost forgot the lurking press. “I’m sorry about them, by the way,” Steve leaned in and murmured to her. “Tony’s a part of a really wealthy family and his family are really into art… they’ve been really supportive of me and my works so they thought some reporters would help get my name out there.”

Y/N smiled and nodded, guessing that it was Tony then who had made the announcement to save her and Steve from the insane reporters.

“Sir, if you don’t mind-” one of the reporters spoke up, holding up his camera. They all flocked in eagerly, waiting for Steve to give the ‘ok’.

Steve looked down at Y/N with a shy smile, “You got all dressed up, doll. I’d hate to have no photos of it.”

Y/N smiled and nodded slowly, deciding that tackling these people with Steve by her side was a lot easier than doing it on her own. Steve gave a nod to the reporters, stepping in closer to Y/N for the photos. He let his hand touch the back of her waist, as if worried he would cop a feel and she would be uncomfortable.

After a while of smiling and posing, Steve made a couple of jokes with her about wishing his art got phtoographed this often, his eyes still fixated on each camera. She laughed and couldn’t help but look up at him, her gaze trying to memorize every piece of his face. Her lips tingled slightly, as if reminding her of the reason they had met in the first place.

“Steve?” She whispered with a smile.

“Mm?” Steve’s blue eyes moved to meet hers, flashes still going around them.

“I think it might make my ex-boyfriend very jealous to know that I was a muse in an art exhibition.” Y/N stated with a smile, trying to press down the giggles bubbling in her throat.

Steve let out a laugh, making Y/N’s heart skip a beat or two, “Oh yeah? You’ll have to get some of those photos then.”

“We could make him more jealous though,” Y/N hinted at, her mind racing at her sudden surge of confidence.

Steve blinked at her, a little surprised at the suggestion, “You mean-”

“Will you kiss me, Steve?” she whispered, biting down on her lip slightly. “I promise I won’t run away with your sweater and art this time.”

Steve didn’t need to be asked again. He turned to face her, his one arm wrapping around her while his other hand reached up for her chin. Y/N felt the memory of their first meet flood back to her, “You better give me your number after this. Or my mom will have a field day,” he whispered into her lips before kissing her deeply.

Steve felt all of his worries and nerves sink into that kiss, only to be filled with a sense of belonging. He barely knew the girl but Steve hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since Paris. He was so in love with this girl, he couldn’t help but feel like Fate had put them in Paris at the same time for a reason. Kissing her again in the museum, at this moment, Steve was sure of that reason.

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

I hope you guys enjoy this!! It’s probably one of my absolute favourites fics that I’ve ever written!

Masterlist

[baticorngirl]

Title: Scribbles of Love

Rating: General Audiences

Relationship(s): Talia Al Ghul/Bruce Wayne (Brutalia), Talia Al Ghul & Unnamed Child, Bruce Wayne & Unnamed Child,

Characters: Talia Al Ghul, Bruce Wayne, Minor Original Character(s),

Summary: Miraculously, Bruce and Talia have been married for quite a long time now. In fact, their first year anniversary is coming around the corner, and it's suddenly dawned on Bruce that he doesn't have anything to give her. He soon decides he wants to give her a love poem, but there's only one problem: Bruce sucks at writing poetry. As the anniversary comes closer and closer, will Bruce manage to write a half-decent love poem in time?

A/N: This fic is for @brutalia-week Day 1: “I made it for you”. It takes place in an alternate universe where Batman: Son of the Demon worked out. I think that’s all you need to know before you begin, so... enjoy!

(The fanfic is under the line below, but if you’d prefer to, you can also read it on Ao3(x) and FF.net (x)!)

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Talia was training, as usual. Her feet were planted to the ground like a tree's deep roots, with her knees bent ever so slightly to get a good stance. The smile on her face was soft, but she made sure her strikes were anything but. Like Ra's has taught her so many years back, her moves were smooth and fast, a bit graceful… but powerful. The sword in her hand would've demolished anything in its path, as it zoomed around the room…. if she had been aiming for anything but an imaginary opponent, that is. Her hair flew into the air as she abruptly bent down (while still attempting to keep her feet as well-planted as possible) to swipe her "opponent's" feet. She pulled up and jumped, imagining that they were doing the same move back to her. Continuing to imagine each move, her arm twisted and turned to hit their sword back every time, getting faster and faster and faster and faster and…..

Knock, knock. Talia pulled herself up, mentally clearing herself from the perilous fight, at the sound of knuckles softly pounding on the door. "Come in," She called, slowly trotting over to the door. Just outside the door, Batman stood. His cowl was casually flung back to uncover his real face, and as he began to pull on his gloves and belt, it became clear he was about to get out of the vigilante gear. He sighed, neglecting to look at her as the pulling became more of just fidgeting and less of actually pulling them off.

"I… have to go." He began, his eyes still looking off into the distance. "It's just… a… small errand. I won't be long. Maybe an hour or two, but….. I can't keep watching the baby while I'm gone so I figured I should let you know." He immediately turned and began walking away as soon as he had conveyed the necessary information. Talia's eyebrow rose, noticing the odd behavior, but quickly shrugged it off. Her husband always acted secretive, so she doubted there was anything to worry about.

"Okay, Beloved. Farewell!" She quickly leaned in to kiss him on the cheek a moment before he left. Batman turned back towards her, his classic vacant expression turning into a smile for a moment. It only took less than a moment to go back to normal, though, as he quickly continued walking and went into a walk-in closet to get ready for his "errand". Once he was out of sight, Talia made her own way over to the baby's nursery in the opposite direction.

She swiftly picked the baby up, watching as the baby's eyes lit up in a giggle. The baby continued to smile and laugh even more as she kissed his small, round little nose. Talia rocked her child in her arms, ambling around the nursery. Soon, the high-pitched laughter had faded into the peaceful squeaks of a sleeping infant. The baby was slowly set back down into his crib. Talia patted his little head as gently as she could, before setting up the baby monitor and going to a nearby room to train a bit more.

Meanwhile, Bruce had just arrived at what he had told Talia was just an errand. He went into the front door, and was greeted by a friendly-looking person, sitting on a lounge chair just a few feet in. They smiled at him, and motioned for him to sit down at one of the many desks spaced around the room.

"Welcome. You're a bit early, so we'll just be getting started in a few minutes." They explained. He simply nodded in return. Luckily for him, they seemed to be unaware of his fame back in Gotham. Talia had still been doing some work under Ra's, and so they hadn't been in Gotham for quite a while due to where her father wanted her. Bruce had been enjoying the lack of fame and the dreaded paparazzi through their whole trip, and this was no exception.

Silence followed for a few moments. They both looked down their laps, unsure what to do or say. Awkwardness plagued them both, but eventually, the person in front of Bruce decided to start talking again to get rid of it.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Riley, what's your name?" They asked, reaching a hand out to shake hands. Bruce put his hand out as well, and they shook for a few seconds before he answered the question.

"My name is B-" He quickly got interrupted by a flood of people coming in. The clock had finally ticked that it was 10:00, meaning it was the exact time to start. Everyone sat down quietly. Riley jumped up from their chair, rushing up to the front.

"Welcome to this poetry class, everyone. I assume all of you are here to improve your knowledge of poetry to a level beyond what you were taught in school, or possibly even to build up to a career as a poet. My name is Riley, and I'm your instructor." They explained, and a wave of nodding ran through their audience. Bruce nodded, but stared for a moment in awe of the fact that he hardly remembered even just what he had been taught in school about poetry. He looked down at the desk in front of him, the idea finally occurring to him that maybe focusing all his later teenage years on training to become Batman instead of paying attention to High School was a mistake.

But there was nothing he could do about it now. Poetry hadn't ever been necessary until this situation. But here he was, lying to Talia that he was just "going out on an errand", because there was absolutely no way he could write her a love poem without extra help. It was an embarrassment, really, but poetry just wasn't one of his strong points. It required so much emotion, so much expression of it, and expressing his emotions just wasn't something Bruce naturally did.

"Of course, this is more of a beginner class, so even though some of you may become poets some day, we'll be starting with the basics for today's class." Riley continued the class introduction. Bruce sighed in relief. Perhaps he would actually be able to follow what the instructor was talking about, and be able to give Talia a half-decent poem when it was over. "First of all, most good poems have a lot of figurative languages. These are things that stretch the literal meanings of the words you use, and create an image or effect using them. Some examples are how saying 'Your eyes looked like stars' is a simile, a type of figurative language. There's also metaphors, which are essentially the same thing, but without using the word 'like'."

Bruce thought about this for a moment, and got out a piece of paper to attempt to start his poem with some figurative language. "What's Talia like?" He mumbled, remembering everything about her that he loved so much. She was such a good fighter, and yet kind of graceful, which he was sure he could relate to something, so he took note of that. Her eyes were kind of jewel-like, shiny and beautiful, and her dark brown hair was like chocolate, so he wrote that down, as well.

But most of all, what he loved about her was how much she tried for love. Even though everyone would say that her fighting abilities are her greatest power, her secret weapon, Bruce knew none of those meant anything. Not without the love she used those abilities for, at least. He wasn't quite sure how to say this poetically, though, so he decided to get back to it later.

Eventually, the class ended, and Bruce came back home. Then, next week, he went back to the class and continued to work on his poem. Every week this continued, until their anniversary came around. By then, his poem was nowhere near perfect, but he had tried. There was no way he could back out now, after spending so much time working on it.

Bruce stuffed the poem inside his pocket, and went to their room to get Talia. She sat on a stool, brushing her hair nonchalantly. She had already gotten changed into a beautiful dress, going down to her ankles with embroideries. Bruce stared for a moment, thunderstruck. An embarrassingly goofy smile was on his face, but he quickly shook it off and returned to his default, impassive expression.

"Are you ready, Talia?" Bruce asked, reaching his hand out to help her up. Talia got up herself, but took his hand anyway, nodding. Both bringing along a present, the couple held hands as they made their way to the car. They were planning on going to a fancy restaurant for their anniversary, and exchanging gifts after dinner.

"I can't believe it's been a year since we finally got together, Beloved." Talia said once they were in the car, smiling, "It's been so happy. We were so sad, and we kept having to reject each other, but then this happened, and now… I don't think anything will ever get in between us again." She clutched her necklace, thinking back to the time, almost a year ago, that he had given it to her. For once, she could think about that kind of time with pure joy and hope, instead of longing.

"Yes… I don't usually consider myself cheerful, but you're right. I honestly don't think we could be happier." Bruce looked down at his lap, lost in thought. "That baby is going to have everything. Our love, a family, a home, and of course, happiness. We've really done it." He mumbled.

Talia nodded, right as they pulled up to the restaurant. She scooched out of the car, pulling Bruce along with her. They went inside together, got seated, and ordered their food. As they waited, they decided it might be fun to give each other hints about the presents.

"I'm going to give you two gifts, technically." Bruce explained, feeling his pocket for the poem, plus the earrings he was going to give her along with it. "One's just…. A fairly basic anniversary gift. But the other thing, well, it's a bit more from the heart… I suppose. I don't know, I tried to make it special." He sighed.

Talia smiled, "That sounds wonderful, Beloved. I can't wait to see it." Bruce gulped at the thought that he may have gotten his hopes up for his half-baked writing, but she didn't seem to notice his nerves. "I just got you something basic, too, but it's the sort of thing that's customized to be quite special."

"That sounds wonderful, too." He replied, reaching across to put his hand on top of hers romantically. She wrapped her hand around his in reciprocation. They both leaned in to kiss, smiling.

"Here is your food," They both got knocked out of their romantic moment by the sound of their waiter's voice. They both pulled out of the kiss, and leaned back on to their own chairs. "Oh, was I interrupting something?" The waiter asked with a chuckle, before setting down both their dishes in front of the one who ordered it.

The waiter left, and both Talia and Bruce ate dinner. They talked and smiled as they ate, both attempting to get the other one to slip up and tell them what their present was, with little to no success. Soon, both Bruce and Talia were finished eating, and they quickly got out their presents.

Talia picked up a bag that Bruce had noticed she'd been carrying along throughout the trip, and reached inside. Out she pulled a little box, wrapped in bright, colorful, wrapping. She pushed it in front of Bruce, grinning.

"Go ahead, open it." She insisted. Bruce slowly began to peel the wrapping off, and opened the box that was inside the wrapping. Inside was a beautiful pendant, covered in small gems of all kinds of shapes and colors. The jewels sparkled, almost like magic, and a smile grew on Bruce's face.

"It's… beautiful." He commented, flipping it over in his hands cautiously. He stared, mesmerized at all the jewels. His fingers clutched it tightly. Talia's grin only grew. He was even more happy with it than she thought he'd be, and he hadn't even opened it yet.

"Open the pendant, it's even specialer inside." She nudged, slightly impatient. Listening to her words, Bruce gently flipped the pendant open. Inside, there was a picture of their sweet little baby. Talia reached over, touching a little bump on the back. He flipped it over, realizing it was a knob. Talia turned it, and the image changed to a picture of herself. "There's quite a few different pictures in it, and the knob changes it. I tried to get all of your closest loved ones, plus a picture of yourself in case you're ever in the mood to be vain." She laughed.

Bruce pulled it closer to himself to see it better, and began switching the knob between them all. "I… I love it." He leaned over to her, quickly pecking her on the cheek. "It's perfect." Her smile grew even more than it already had as he opened it. Bruce adjusted the knob to be on Talia again, and put it on.

"I'm really glad." Talia reached over and squeezed Bruce's hand. "Now, would you like to get out what you're giving me?" She beamed with excitement, almost as much as she had beamed when he opened his own. Bruce pulled the earrings out of his pocket, and nudged them in front of his wife.

"I suppose I thought you might like those, but I put a lot more effort into my other gift." Bruce spoke cautiously, too focused to let himself smile anymore. Talia took the earrings, which were actually quite beautiful and expensive, and exchanged the earrings she was wearing currently with them. As she does that, he pulls his poem out of his pocket. "I wrote you something. I know you were probably concerned about how I kept going out at the same time each week without telling you where I was going, but that was just because I had to take a writing class if I wanted to make this even slightly decent."

Talia frowned, "You keep a lot of secrets, but it's nice to know that at least one of them was out of love, and not fear or mistrust. Either way, thank you for the earrings. They are more than beautiful." She let go of the frown quickly after getting it, and gestured for Bruce to go on. "Now, I'm more than excited to hear what you've made. Go ahead."

"When you are here, I can only think about you, But even when you are far, I simply do it with longing, too;

I love you all the time, Day… or night, In the ocean, ground, or even sky, And this why:

Your eyes look like jades, And your smile like beauty in a solid form; You hair looks like silky chocolate, Your entire body is something I adore;

You are stronger than you seem, But so very graceful, as well; You fight stronger than a demon, With an angel's good intent, and morale;

Yes, you move like a swan, But much, much, more than that:

You love deeper than anyone could ever know, Just something that you have taught yourself, Your intentions are more than just moral, But an emotion, in itself;

So with that much personality, It is my honor to be able to love you back."

Bruce spoke the poem as clearly as he could, trying not to stutter or chicken out. It felt odd, showing this much emotion, but in a good way. Once he was finished, he looked up from his poem, smiling. Talia was rubbing her cheeks, wiping away the tears that had formed. Bruce leaned over to kiss the unoccupied hand, desperately attempting to make the moment even more romantic.

Before he had leaned back on to his own chair, Talia quickly pulled him into a kiss, "I love it, Beloved. Almost as much as I love you." She took the paper from Bruce's hand, folding it up and putting it in her pocket. "If you don't mind, I want to be able to remember this moment. Forever."

"Of course," Bruce said, trying to pretend he wasn't surprised that she had liked his poem so much. Perhaps she was simply humoring him to spare his feelings, but if she was, she was doing an incredibly good job at it.

They quickly paid for the meal. Bruce and Talia both beamed as they rode off into the night, hand in hand.

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A/N: Okay, now that you're done, some disclaimers:

I am not necessarily saying Bruce's poem was actually bad. He views it as bad, and it's certainly not perfect, but... I'm not necessarily saying it's bad myself, if that makes sense, (although I definitely did purposely not spend too much time on it when I was writing this).

Also, I'm not sure where this fanfic takes place, lol. It's just not in Gotham, but the rest if up for interpretation.

Oh, and I'm aware this entire fanfic is quite boring. The plot isn't very interesting, I'm afraid, but... oh well.

[nooneelsecomesclose17]

Go to the ends of the earth for you - Part 4

Bet you thought I'd forgotten this didn't you? I have no excuses, except that it's been misbehaving and would not go right. It was meant to be the last chapter but they had a lot to say even though not much happens!

(AO3 link)

Fourteen months later

Aaron couldn’t stand still, never mind Seb. It was early, he’d left the village far too early in his excitement, but he hadn’t wanted to be late, that would’ve been unbearable. It’s two months since they’d found out his release date, it coming through the day of Annie’s funeral and now the day was finally here.

“How long Dada?”

“Not long mate. Do you want to sit inside the car? Are you cold?”

“No. I don’t want to miss Daddy.” He smiled and wrapped an arm round him, sitting next to him on the bonnet of the car. He couldn’t help wondering if this was how Robert had felt all those years ago, waiting, wondering.

“You won’t. Promise.”

“And he’s staying, not goin’ away again?”

“No, definitely not. He’s not going anywhere.”

“Not even if those people don’t like him?”

“What people?” He could sense a note of fear in Seb’s voice, suddenly quiet.

“The man with no hair, Granny Faith took me to get a cookie and I heard him, he was talking about Daddy.” Aaron let out a sigh. He’d had very little to do with Paddy or his Mum the past year but he knew their dislike of Robert hadn’t dimmed one little bit, and now it was affecting Seb. He crouched in front of him, ruffling his hair a little.

“Daddy’s not going anywhere, no matter what anyone says. So if you hear anyone talking about him again take no notice ok?” Seb nods and leans forward for a cuddle. Aaron doesn’t want to let him go so he just stays like that.

“Can I get in on that hug.” The voice startles him so much he almost drops Seb in shock. Turning he finds Robert standing there, familiar grin in place, and he laughs a little.

“Daddy!”

“Hi little man.” Aaron hands him over to Robert with a smile, content to wait for his own moment with him. “You’ve got so big!”

“I’m almost half the window!” Robert looks confused, looking to Aaron for help.

“We’ve been marking how he’s growing haven’t we? Every Friday night he stands next to the window and we put a mark on the wall.”

“That’s amazing.” He lets Seb chatter, eyes never leaving Aaron’s, eventually pulling him into a one armed hug, that would have to do as it seemed Seb was in no mood to let go of his Dad anytime soon.

The excitement is clearly too much and by the time they reach the outskirts of Hotten, Seb’s dropped off in the back of the car, head leaning against the side of his car seat, giraffe toy clutched in his hand. Aaron reaches over and squeezes Robert’s hand.

“You ok?”

“I am now. So, what am I facing back in the village?”

“Nothing much, I promise. Gran said she might pop in, and Vic wants you to meet Harry, at some point but I told her to leave it for today. I don’t think Paddy or my Mum will be hanging out any bunting, if that’s what you were hoping for.”

“I got that much…Seb heard him?” Aaron nods. “Great.”

“Hey, it was a one off. It won’t be long before we’re out of there will it?”

“You still want to leave?”

“I want what’s best for our family, and I don’t think that’s the village is it.”

Robert doesn’t answer and he’s quiet for the rest of the drive. Aaron leaves him to it, knowing it takes some adjustment when you first get out of prison. The village is quiet when he pulls the car to a stop at the house, Robert looking around seeing if anything has changed.

“You want to go inside?”

“No. I…can we go to the graveyard?” Aaron nods. “I just want to say goodbye.”

Aaron had hated going to the prison, telling Robert that his Gran had died, knowing he wouldn’t be able to go to the funeral, and say goodbye. Instead Aaron had stood next to Vic in his place, but he knew Robert felt guilty anyway, that he’d not been there.

Robert’s quiet as they stand there, the plaque on the wooden cross glinting in the sunlight. He shifted Seb in his arms so he could take his hand.

“Vic wouldn’t hear of sorting out a stone, not until you were here, same with her will.”

“I should’ve called more, should’ve visited, but I got so wrapped up in everything, and I suppose, I knew what she’d say about Chrissie, knew she’d see through me especially after I met you, so I stayed away. Then everything just kept getting in the way.”

“You called, I heard you. She knew you loved her Robert.”

“Maybe. I wish she could’ve met him,” He runs a hand through Seb’s hair, the little boy still sleeping, head resting on Aaron’s shoulder. “And you.”

“What would she have said about me then?” Robert chuckles.

“He’s a nice enough lad, Robert, but he could dress a bit more smartly. You know what I think of those hoodie things. She would’ve loved ya, known how much I love you.” He takes another look at the grave. “Come on, let’s go home.”

————

The next few days are quiet, the weekend allowing them the excuse to stay indoors away from everyone. The only people they see are Vic with Harry and his Gran who drops in with some supplies insisting she knew they wouldn’t want to go to the shop, full of apologies for what Seb overheard, which they wave away because it’s not her fault that Paddy just can’t keep his mouth shut.

After that Aaron has to go back to work. Cain probably wouldn’t mind if he took some more time but he doesn’t want to take advantage, and besides they have to try and get back to normality at some point.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take him to nursery?” Robert’s staring at a cup of coffee and has been the past twenty minutes, but he looks over at Seb who’s playing by the sofa.

“I can take care of him.”

“I know, but…I s’pose I thought you’d want to check in at the haulage firm. He’ll be fine there, he likes it.” He steps over, hands resting on Robert’s shoulders. “I can come with you if you want, Cain will give me an extra hour.”

“You think I can’t cope?” He doesn’t react, he’s gotten used to the defensive tone in Robert’s voice over the past few days, knows it’s not directed at him.

“No. Of course you can, but I know how strange it is coming back after you’ve been inside, and that’s without wanting to avoid my family.” Robert looks up at him. “I’m not daft Robert.”

“I know that.”

“So…why don’t we take Seb to nursery this morning, and you pick him up and the three of us will have lunch. We can’t stay shut in here for the next year.” Robert nods. “Come on monster, you ready for nursery?”

“What about Daddy?”

“I’ll pick you up at lunchtime, and then me, you and Dada are going to the…where are we going?” He asks as he tries to get Seb to stand still long enough to get into his coat.

“Pub?”

“Feel like living dangerously do you?”

“I’m not hidin’. We can do the cafe if you’d rather.”

“No, no, it’s been a while since I’ve felt the death rays, I almost miss them.” Happy that he’s brought a smile to his face, Aaron kisses him goodbye and hurries Seb out of the door.

————

The pub is about half full when they get inside and he points at the table by the fire telling Robert he’ll get their drinks while he settles Seb down. He can see his Mum by the bar, pretending not to look at them but he knows better. She’s next to Cain who lifts his pint and winks at him. He’d told him his plan that morning. He wasn’t going to let Robert feel as though he couldn’t go about the village because of his Mum and Paddy. Robert hadn’t said as much but Aaron wasn’t stupid. He goes to order but Robert’s hand on his arm stops him and he smiles.

Matty takes their order and everyone leaves them alone. There’s some kind of delay with their food, Marlon’s probably having one of his tantrums so he goes to order another drink. He knows his Mum has been watching the whole time.

He subtly waves Matty away when he tries to serve him, locking eyes with his Mum and staring until she comes over.

“Two pints and an orange for Seb please.” He bites back a laugh when she all but snatches the money from him without saying a word.

“Playing with fire aren’t you?” Cain sidles round the bar to his side.

“I told you, I’m not hiding away and neither is Robert. Are you going to throw the Dingle code in my face if I don’t stop?”

“Nah. I reckon it’s about time she got a taste of her own medicine.” He says seeing her going into the back, their drinks abandoned on the side. He looks over at his uncle, surprised. “Tried telling me I shouldn’t have given you a job not long after I took you on.”

“What?”

“Said I was going against the family. Told her it weren’t me doing that…she ignored me for a few weeks but I reckon she found not many people wanted to listen, so now she’s talking again but she’s frosty. Suits me. Less earache that way.” He snorts a little as Matty brings over the abandoned order. He gives him the rest of their order before going back to the table, not that surprised that Cain follows.

“Alright Sugden. Good to see you.”

“Er, cheers Cain.” He gives Aaron a look but he shakes his head. He’ll tell him later.

“Here.” He hands him his drink when Cain’s gone back to the bar without another word.

“Ta. What’d your Mum say?”

“Nothing. Literally. Guess it’s a good job she’s not like that with all her customers or her trip advisor rating would be rubbish.” He lays a hand on Robert’s knee at the look on his face. “Leave it, she’s not worth the trouble.”

“She’s your Mum.”

“Mmm, who can’t support my decisions. I’ve had a year to get used to this Robert. It’s better than her being in my ear all the time about you.” He looks down at Seb, thankfully engrossed in his colouring and not listening. “She can get as annoyed as she likes, this is our local for the next few months and I’m not avoiding it because of her.”

“I quite like this new you.” He laughs at Robert’s face as Marlon puts their food down with a smile.

“Eat your food.” He can’t help smiling to himself though.

————

“You ready?” Aaron can’t help pulling at his tie as they stand outside the solicitors office in Hotten, the sunshine making him feel hot in his suit. He supposed he didn’t really need one, it was only the reading of a will but Robert had put his on so Aaron had followed suit.

“I think so. Where’s Vic? She said half past?” Robert worrying about being on time was a new thing, probably left over from prison Aaron mused, you lived by timetables in there. He rubbed a hand up his arm to reassure him.

“She was taking Harry and Seb to Diane’s remember? She’ll be here.” Robert nods. He’s been quiet all morning. Aaron supposes he’s still grieving for his Gran and the fact that he couldn’t say goodbye properly. “See, here she is.”

Vic rushes up to them, complaining about Diane keeping her talking and then Robert’s ushering them inside, taking charge and the two of them let him. Aaron wants to laugh at how much time he’s spent in a solicitor’s office this past year for one thing and another and not once because he was in trouble. It made a nice change.

Thankfully they’re not kept waiting and then they’re sitting in this posh office and Aaron can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. He’s always thought of Annie Sugden as a typical farmer’s wife and mother, not well off, just comfortable enough for her old age. Neither Robert nor Vic seem surprised at the sums been bandied about so he keeps quiet.

“No.” Robert’s whisper drags him out of his thoughts, just catching the man in front of them mentioning a house, looking straight at Robert. “She can’t.”

“Mr Sugden…”

“No! She wouldn’t.” He’s out of his chair, all but running from the office before Aaron can stop him. He goes after him, hoping Vic will make their apologies, hoping he’s not got far. He’s right outside, leaning against the wall, breathing hard.

“You ok?”

“Did you hear?”

“Yeah. Your Gran left you her house.” He’s confused by the reaction because surely Robert knew he was in the will, he’d been invited to the reading after all. “That’s…good isn’t it?”

“I don’t deserve it. She…can’t. Not after everything I’ve done.”

“She knew all that, and she still wanted you to have it. She obviously loved you Robert, you were her grandson.”

“No, if she’d know I was in prison she wouldn’t…she’d be so disappointed in me, ruining the Sugden name.”

“Rob?” He moves aside to let the siblings hug each other. He feels out of his depth because he didn’t know Annie, has no idea if Robert’s right. He hopes she wasn’t like that, wouldn’t disown her grandson given everything, but he was so convinced. “It’s what Gran wanted.”

“Should’ve been for you, not me. You’ve been here all these years, I haven’t even visited or anything.”

“You called her, she told me how much she used to love hearing about Seb. Anyway she left me money which is better than a house. It’ll help me more.”

“Vic, did the solicitor say when the will was written?” Aaron can see that Robert’s gearing up for another bout of convincing himself he’s not worth any of it and he says the only thing he can think of.

“About a month before she died.”

“And she knew…about Robert, about what we’d done, everything?” She nods and he smiles in thanks before turning to Robert. “See? She knew everything and she still wanted you to have it.”

“But…”

“No buts. I didn’t know her, so you tell me, did anyone ever make your Gran do anything she didn’t want?” He snorts and Vic’s laughing, leaning against her brother.

“I suppose not. Still…seems unfair, that house is worth more than what you got Vic.”

“Maybe but Gran’s helped me out a lot over the years and not you. I’m not bothered by it Rob, so you don’t need to be.”

“Besides, if you keep it I expect Vic will be quite happy to borrow it every now and then, eh?” She shoves him playfully but his words have the desired effect, Vic’s love of the sunshine is well known and Robert teases her whenever she moans about the lack of it in Yorkshire. “Might have to up the rent mind or she’ll never leave.”

“Oi you! You might be my brother-in-law but I knew you long before he did.”

“Yeah yeah.”

“You didn’t you know.” Robert says as they’re walking back to their cars. “I met him at Katie and Andy’s wedding.”

“You did?” Aaron can just remember being dragged to some party because his Mum was working. He’d just been glad to be away from his Dad for a few days but he can’t remember Robert.

“Mmm. You were sat at the bar on some manky video game. Had a right face on you. Mind you, so did I. I wanted to be anywhere but at their wedding.” His face changes, memories coming all at once and Aaron takes his hand, knowing exactly where his mind has gone. “So…I fancy some chips.”

“Dressed like this?”

“Why not. There’s no law says you can’t eat chips in a suit.” With that he walks ahead leaving Aaron and Vic to catch up, smiling at each other. Aaron’s not blind, he can see just how Robert’s mood has improved from being out of the village, despite the circumstances.

————

“Seb, come on bedtime.” Robert’s in the bath so it’s his turn to try and get the little boy into bed. Just lately he’s become determined to stay up as late as possible even when he’s falling asleep on his feet. “I’ll read you two stories if you go up now.”

“No.”

“It’s already late and you have nursery tomorrow. You don’t want to be too tired to play with Isaac do you?”

“Not go to nursery.” He carries on colouring, despite the adamant statement.

“Why?” Aaron sits down beside him, instantly worried, because he loves nursery and hates leaving.

“Stay here with Daddy. So he’s not sad.”

“Why do you think Daddy will be sad? He knows you like nursery, he won’t mind mate.”

“Cos he was, other day.” Seb whispers, looking up at him with big eyes.

“He was? Do you know why?”

“The man. He saw him. Uncle Cain was there and he told the man to be quiet but Daddy’s still sad.” He crawls into Aaron’s lap, picture abandoned. Aaron doesn’t need to ask which man, Seb only uses those words for one person.

“Oh, well you don’t have to worry about that mate, I’m here now. I’ll make sure Daddy isn’t sad anymore.”

“Why doesn’t the man like Daddy? He’s fun, he plays with me when I ask.”

“I know he does. You don’t worry about any of that ok, I’ll sort it. That man won’t upset Daddy again, promise.” He hugs him tighter before tickling him to make him laugh. “Now, come on, bed. I’ll even let you stay awake until Daddy’s done in the bath, but you have to get into your ‘jamas first.”

He tries his best not to let Seb see how angry he is but he has to take a couple of minutes to himself in the kitchen calming down before going upstairs. He was going to pay a visit to Paddy the next morning because he wasn’t having the little boy upset, let alone Robert.

[coldflame96]

Lunch Break

Summary: Tohru skips lunch to avoid being an inconvenience. Thankfully, she has a loving huband to set her straight. 

Rating: G

Also found on AO3 and FF.net

Inspired by a RL situation with a friend of mine. 

The store was busy today. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and she was starting to get hungry. They had just finished with the last customer in line. 

“Hey, Tohru-kun,” Her supervisor got her attention, “I know it’s kinda late, but did you wanna take your lunch break?”

“Yes,” she sighed in relief. “Thank you, Kaori-san.”

She opened the mini fridge and felt her heart skip a beat. It was empty...She thought back to when she had left this morning and rested her head on the counter, groaning. She must’ve forgotten it in the fridge this morning.

“What’s wrong?” Kaori-san asked. 

“I was in such a rush this morning I forgot my lunch,” she admitted shamefully. 

“Oh, well that’s no big deal! Just go to the cafe around the corner. Kenji-kun is working and he likes me so just tell him I sent you and he’ll make whatever you want for free.”

“I can’t do that!” 

“Eh? Why? Will your husband get jealous? He doesn’t have to know.”

She shook her head. “Kenji-kun is always working so hard I can’t trouble him like that!”

“Trouble him?” Kaori-san laughed. “Man, you’re really funny sometimes, Tohru-kun.” She frowned. She was sure Kaori-san didn’t mean anything by it, but sometimes it felt like she was a small child being dismissed even though they were close to the same age. She didn’t really like it...

“Oh! Good afternoon!” Kaori-san greeted as the bell rung. 

Well...her shift was over soon anyway. Might as well just hold out until she got home. She would be fine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She wasn’t fine. It had been a rough day. She ended up having to stay three hours later than initially planned due to a coworker calling off sick. She clenched her stomach. She was so hungry! 

On shaky legs, she managed to let herself into their apartment. Thankfully, her and Kyo-kun had gone grocery shopping yesterday so there was enough there to make something easy. 

Just the thought of eating made her stomach yowl in protest. 

She set up two boiling pots of water, one for rice, the other for the potatoes. 

She mustered up whatever energy she could to start peeling the potatoes, arms heavy with fatigue. She was really tired. Hopefully Kyo-kun wouldn’t be too disappointed if she tucked in early after dinner. 

She heard the creak of the door. “Tohru?” Oh, so he was home already. 

“Kyo-kun!” she jumped up from the table, apparently too fast as it made her woozy, and tried to run to greet her husband but ended up tripping on the way, strong arms keeping her afloat from under her shoulders. 

“Whoa! Clumsier than usual, huh?”

This would normally be the time when she would defend herself, but her tongue was...stuck. 

Kyo-kun, always so perceptive, cocked his head in concern. “Tohru, are you okay?” he stroked her cheek. “You look pale.”

Say something. “I-I’m fine, Kyo-kun.”

He wasn’t convinced. “You don’t really look fine.” He put a warm hand on her forehead, brow furrowed. “You don’t have a fever..”

She pulled away, careful not to be too abrupt. “I’m fine, really! I just feel a bit faint. Once I get something to eat, I’m sure I’ll be right as rain!”

“What, did you take your lunch break really early today or something?”

She giggled nervously. “Yeah, something like that.”

“What time did you eat?”

She froze, blanching. She was never a very good liar, and with the way he was staring at her now, she knew she wasn’t getting anything past him. 

“Before I left,” she mumbled.

“Huh?”

She cleared her throat. “Last time I ate was...before I left.”

Kyo-kun gave her a steady look. “That was over 11 hours ago.”

She averted her eyes shamefully. His fingers crooked her chin up so they were facing each other. “Tohru, why would you not eat?”

“I-um-” she floundered, “I was in a rush this morning and I completely forgot to pack my lunch and I didn’t realize it until I was already there.”

“There’s a cafe down the street from you. Why didn’t you just order from them?”

“W-well, I-I thought about it but I didn’t really have time to go pick anything up.”

“So have someone else do it. You could’ve called me and I would’ve brought you something.”

She waved her hands. “Well, everyone was really busy and I didn’t wanna bother them and have them make food for me. It’s my own fault I forgot my lunch, not theirs and-”

He groaned, “Tohru, you’re not bothering anyone, that’s literally their job. They get paid to make food for people. Including you.”

She knew that. Of course she knew that. She’d been kicking herself for it all day. “By the time I had time for a break, I was already almost off anyway, so I figured I would just wait til I got home.”

He cupped her cheeks. “You should’ve eaten something sooner, a pack of crackers, anything. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

She jerked away. “I’m fine, really!” And then she swayed and soon enough she was in the air, tossed over her husband's shoulder like a sack. 

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” he asked nonchalantly, not even grunting with the effort of carrying her at all, which she vowed to file away for future use. “I’m taking my wife to bed.” Almost married for a year now and she still felt a tingle in her chest when he called her that.

“What?! But- but dinner!-”

“I’ll finish it.” And then he gently tossed her on their bed. “Last thing we need is for you to pass out while cooking.”

She wanted to argue, to protest, but the longer she sat, the more the energy left her. And all that was left...was shame. Shame at herself for not eating over something so silly, shame that Kyo-kun had to come home from a long day just to worry about her...Her throat got choked up and she felt her eyes go misty.

“Tohru?” He asked softly. He was always so kind, so much kinder than she ever deserved. Long fingers fanned her cheeks, wiping away the tears at the corner of her eyes and he was kneeling in front of her now at eye level. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m always being stupid and making you worry about me.”

“You’re not stupid and if I don’t worry about you, then who will?” She didn’t have much of an answer to that. “I’m not mad at you,” he sighed out, “And I don’t mind taking care of you. If you don’t want me to worry, then you should be better at taking care of yourself once in a while.”

She sniffed, nodding. “Right. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” He grabbed something out of his pocket. “Here.” 

She scrunched her eyebrow at the wrapped snack. “A granola bar?”

“You need something in your system before dinner. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”

He was always so rational. She smiled softly. “Thank you.”

He hummed in response, pushing her hair back to kiss her forehead. “I’ll come get you when dinner’s ready. Just sit here and relax for a bit.”

And then he was gone. 

She obediently opened her granola bar, chewing in slow, careful bites. She really would have to be more careful, wouldn’t she? It wasn’t like Kyo-kun could trail her around to make sure she wasn’t hurting. She smiled at that visual image. Cute. 

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, sinking into the mattress, slowly getting through her granola. 

“Oi,” she got a light bonk on the head and she jolted. 

“Oh, Kyo-kun! You’re back already?”

He raised an eyebrow and then burst into chuckles. 

“What?”

“I’ve never seen someone space out while eating a granola bar.” he stroked her hair. “You’re really adorable sometimes.”

She blushed and he just laughed some more and she felt her breath leave her a bit. He really was beautiful, wasn’t he?

“C’mon, come eat with me. I’ve missed you.” She knew he meant it. Kyo-kun didn’t just say things to butter her up. Before she could respond though, she was being hoisted from under her knees into the air. 

She squeaked in surprise and wrapped her arms instinctively around his neck. “Kyo-kun, I can walk on my own,” she protested weakly. 

He shrugged, smirking. “It’s more fun this way.”

He started walking out, effortlessly. Did she weigh anything to him at all?

“Nah, you’re pretty light.” he responded, and she stiffened as she realized she said that out loud. 

“Am I?” She’d always thought she was pretty average sized. 

“I’ve held kittens heavier than you,” he drawled. 

She pouted, huffing, “Now you’re just bullying me.”

He snorted. “You love it though, don’t you?”

Well, two could play at that game. “Of course!” she chirped innocently, “I love everything about you.” And then she kissed his jawline sweetly and watched with delight as his cheeks turned pink and his grip slackened enough that she could slide down to the floor gently. 

She saw the spread on the table and clapped her hands together. “Wow, Kyo-kun! It looks so good!” Then she grinned at him. “You’re so amazing!” 

His face almost matched his hair now. “It’s not a big deal,” he mumbled, “It’s just dinner.”

They’ve known each other for almost half a decade now and he still got so bashful over the smallest things. 

She threaded her fingers through his. “Thank you.”

The shy smile he gave her made it all worth it. 

“Hey, Tohru?” he asked as she sat down to eat. She looked up at him curiously. “Please don’t do this to yourself again. Just call next time. You’re never a bother. Not to me.”

Of course she knew that. It had been clear to her for a long time, but it didn't stop her eyes from getting watery. Her traitorous brain still sometimes told her she wasn't worth it, and here he was to tell her otherwise. She wondered if she'd ever get used to it. 

"Oi, don't get all weepy on me now," he scolded gently. "You need to eat." 

She rubbed her eyes. "Right." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’d been over two weeks since that incident and she’d been extra diligent to make sure she brought her lunch with her every day.

Kyo-kun had said she could call him if she needed to, but she still wanted to avoid doing that if she could. 

She felt the rumble of her stomach. She had finished with wiping the counters, cleaning the windows, and organizing the snack areas. She should ask Kaori-san for a break soon…

"Hey, Tohru-kun," oh! And there she was! "There's a super hot guy over there checking you out! I know you're married so you want me to send him away?" 

She scrunched her brow. Super hot…? She looked where Kaori-san was pointing and her eyes widened at the familiar copper hair. 

"Kyo-kun!" She gasped. 

"Wait, you know him?" But she was already running from behind the counter, only vaguely registering Kaori-san calling her. 

She only had eyes for the man in front of her, still in his gi and looking so effortlessly handsome. 

"Kyo-kun!" She grabbed his sleeve.

He smiled at her. "Oh, hey. That was quick." 

"Wh-what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the dojo?" 

"I'm on lunch. I wanted to see you. Have you taken your break yet?" 

"Uhh, no, I was just about to…"

"Take it now." He nodded towards the counter where Kaori-san was watching them with rapt attention. "That's your supervisor?" 

"Yes."

"Want me to tell her?" The woman in question narrowed her eyes. 

"No, that's okay!" She waved her hands. "I've gotten a lot done already so I'm sure she won't mind! I can..ask her." 

"Alright, I'll wait here then." 

His eyes lingered on her as she carefully made her way behind the counter to grab her lunch. 

"Sorry for the short notice, Kaori-san, but I wanted to take my break now if you don't mind." 

"Just a minute, Tohru-kun," Kaori-san stopped her in her tracks. And then she lowered her voice. "Who is that guy?" 

"Eh? He's my husband!" 

"Him?" Then she put her chin in her hands. "Wow, no wonder you're always talking about him. You hit the jackpot, didn’t you?" 

Tohru felt something warm in her chest and she whispered fondly, "Yeah, I did." 

"Does he have a twin by any chance? Brother, sister, it doesn't matter to me." 

"Sorry, Kaori-san," she said sheepishly, "he's one of a kind." And he’s mine, a tiny, possessive part of her brain whispered. "I'm going on break now so I'll see you later." 

And she left before Kaori-san could give a proper response. In the past, she would be worried about coming off rude and she would probably apologize later, but she had a wonderful husband waiting for her and he was first priority. 

And as they walked out hand in hand, she was reminded not for the first time and certainly not the last, how blessed she was to have him.

[thotsforvillainrights]

~Pivitol~

Summary: Things aren’t going so good...

Chapter: 17

Warnings: None

“Your phone is seriously bugging out. It buzzed so much you would think there was a fly stuck between the case. Is it your boyfriend?” Yuko reached over curiously and you smacked her hand away before grabbing your phone and hiding it in your pocket. “Um yes, and I’m not letting you step into the conversation this time either.” You huffed while continuing to work at your desk. Yuko sighed and rolled her eyes as she let her fingers fall back into line of the keyboard, meticulously tapping away at her work. “Chill, I wasn’t gonna pick it up and text him for you again. But anyway, I’m your friend right? Aren’t you gonna let me know what’s up? You seem off today.” 

You zoned out and debated whether or not to spill your guts to her upon this last hour before clocking out. It had been a week since you last saw Kai due to busying work schedule, and things were feeling a bit different lately. He was always texting or calling, trying to come over and hang out. It would’ve been fine but you needed to keep him away at the sake of focusing on your work and the important report due. Some big people were coming to the branch soon and everyone had to be on their toes or else there would be termination. Personally you needed this job to pay rent...or at least you needed it to feel accomplished for a bit. But that was just leading you into the thought of the issue at hand:

Kai was fully intent into getting you to move in with him.

“Yuko is it...I mean can you maybe...” You looked at the clock and sighed in relief. 5 minutes remaining. “Yuko can you take a 15? I’m about to clock out for today and I could use your company in the breakroom real quick.” That was code word for ‘please take a minute and I’ll explain it to you’. She nodded eagerly. Within the next 10 minutes you two were at the table munching on grapes and little fruit slices. “So the thing lately is that I’ve been feeling different with Kai. I mean, I love him and all but he’s been up my ass a little bit lately. My main concern isn’t really that though. I mean I know he’s been more of a loner until I came around so of course he’s gonna want to hang out often. My biggest concern is that he wants me to drop everything and move in with him. He wants to pay all my bills etc. yknow? He even told me that if I didn’t want to quit this job when I moved in with him that he’d literally buy me a car so I could travel to work and back.”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS!?” She smacked the table with excitement. You shushed her and looked around to make sure no one was coming in on the conversation. “Sorry but what the hell??? Y/N that’s like a dream come true right?! You don’t have to work, but even if you did then he would get you a new car AND you can live with him??? He’s going to spoil you!” While her eyes sparkled with excitement and the will to live vicariously through you, your eyes were dulled with a bit of annoyance and exasperation. “It’s not a dream world like you would think. Some of us would like to have time to function as an adult with ourselves without leaning on someone else for a while. I literally haven’t even been working here that long. And having someone buy me an entire car?! I could never think to return that kind of generosity. I couldn't afford to even if I tried and worked my whole life. I just wish he would give a little time to think about this mess and I wish he’d consider my feelings yknow? If I had some time maybe it wouldn’t be too big of a deal, but lately I’ve been feeling like I’m backed into a corner. I mean, look at these text messages from earlier!” You reached into your pocket and pulled your phone out, sliding it on the table for Yuko to get.

“Woooowwww...”

“Yeah, a bit much right?”

“No no not that! I mean wow, a Mercedes? Figure you can take one for the team and give it to me instead?” You reached to take your phone and bonk her on the head a bit. “Cut it out, this isn’t time to joke!” You groaned and gripped the sides of your head. Yuko sighed and rubbed the top of her head before moving her chair to sit next to you and hug you. “Do you want my honest opinion even if it hurts? Or do you want me to sugar coat it?” She asked you as she nestled into you tightly. You sighed and hugged here back, uttering your answer for the honest opinion. “I don’t think you’re worried about taking things to fast with him are you? I think you’re content and comfortable with him. I also think you really love him and care for him. I really don’t think the timing of your relationship matters all that much because speed is different for a lot of people in this world and we don't all go by one set time limit for everything. I think that you’re just too prideful sometimes. Maybe you come from an environment where you had to depend on someone for so long that now you cling to the thought of singularity and independence. I think that if you were ever in trouble that you wouldn’t think to ask for help at all because you’d want to get out of things yourself even if you drag yourself through the mud to do it. I think even when provided with a means to keep working here that you still don’t move in with him because you might be worried about leaning on him and the fear of him possibly holding his acts of kindness over your head to manipulate you later on scares you. Because maybe this happened before in your life with someone that wasn’t so kind? But at the end of the day Y/N you need to trust him and fall back on him a little bit. You’re not losing your independence or your sense of self just by moving into a house with your boyfriend yknow? And when someone offers you an entire car just to get you by their side everyday? That means he really must love you. He wants this moving in thing so bad that he’s willing to get you whatever you need to do it. Maybe just think a little bit harder on it and get him an answer okay?” Yuko pulled out of the hug and smiled gently at you before peeking down at her watch. “Oh shit! I’m like 12 minutes over for my break, gotta jet! Text me later and let me know if things get any better!” Just like a jet of lightning she was out of the breakroom and back at her desk, furiously typing away and trying to catch up to herself. You laughed lightly and put your phone away as you headed out of the office and back home.

When you got off the elevator to your floor, you gasped at Chisaki standing right by your front door. “Oh Angel! You’re a bit late today. I took the liberty of bringing in your mail from your box downstairs by the way. Oh here, let me get this bag for you. Oh yeah did you think about the thing we talked about the other day? Can you get back to me with an answer now? I was looking into some good moving services the other day when I figure why not just have Rappa and Katsukame come lug the heavier stuff. We can move your bed to  guest room or we can sell it if you want to. Oh and the extra Tv we can move to the-”

“Oh my God Kai please STOP. I’m literally begging you to stop this! You’re literally all down my throat with this shit. You’ve made plan after plan and I never gave you a yes for any of this just yet! I asked you for time and you’ve given me barely ANY to get my head in the right space for all of this! Why are you pushing me so damn fast like this?! You’re making plans to sell my stuff now too???”

“Y/N...I just thought-”

“YOU CAN TAKE A MOMENT TO CONSIDER MY FEELINGS PLEASE!??? What if I say no huh? What if I just never move in with you then what??? Will I be stuck for the rest of this relationship listening to you continue to make plans for me and beg me over and over and over until I say yes to whatever the hell it is that you want me to say yes to?”

“Y/N...”

“Kai please, I’m begging you to just give me some space.”

“...Understood...” He gently placed your mail on the table and headed out the door swiftly. You collapsed on the couch and sighed loudly, rubbing your temples and trying to navigate the throbbing of the oncoming headache. Worst of all, the overwhelming feeling of guilt was slowing trickling down and filling you up until you felt absolutely awful for everything you just dumped on him. You sighed and got up to trudge off to the shower where you could think and wash your worries away. Meanwhile, Kai wasn’t doing very good himself. After leaving your apartment in a hurry he was left in a state of confusion, sadness, and numbness wondering where exactly he went wrong. “Back so soon my boy? That was a quick trip! Is my beloved in-law out there with you? I assume you must’ve picked her/him/them up to come here instead yes?” Kai simply stared at Pops with annoyance before huffing and heading downstairs to his office. “Without a single word eh?” Pops sighed to himself and slowly stood up. “I suppose I had better go speak to him then.” The old man made his way belowground and went straight to Kai’s most likely location: his office. He knocked twice and listened at the door. 

“Whoever it is I suggest you leave before cleanup crew has to mop your insolent body from the concrete.” Pops held in his chuckle and shook his head as he entered the office. “Still haven’t changed all these years eh? You know you were quite like this as a child too. When you used to get upset you would have a very mean way about you, but you never scared me kid. You don’t scare me now either. So now tell me what’s got you so upset today? Lovers spat perhaps?” Kai immediately snapped his head up and stared at Pops. “How the hell did you know that.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday boy. I was married with a kid once. I know more about this stuff than you think. I’m going to go out on a limb and say you must’ve caused this. Judging by your prickly personality, what did you do.”

“Victim blaming when I’m your own son? You’re a very cold man you know.” Kai joked dryly and Pops smiled. “If you must know, I don’t know what the hell happened. I was just visiting Y/N since we hadn’t been with each other for a few days. I can’t begin to imagine what caused the argume-” Kai paused and thought about the words pouring from your lips. Aside from all the bitterness he felt from being chewed out for the first time he actually heard what you said and pieced it altogether. “I suppose I may be laying a bit much on Y/N right now. I just crave her/his/their presence more often and every hour not spent with my Angel is driving me insane. I’m damn near on the verge of wanting to kidnap but then I remember how that’s shunned on by society.” Pops laughed and shook his head. Yes the boy hadn’t changed much at all, even throughout the years. “I want Y/N to move in with me so much so that I’ve gone about finalizing things without permission. Which by the way reminds me, there’s going to be a new car in the driveway in another day or two. Don’t panic, I bought it for Y/N as a gift. I used the money from those drug dealings I was doing for that week. And BEFORE you lay into me about it, I shut it down and won’t be interacting with it any more in the future.”

“You say that and you had better run through it for real this time young man, or it’ll be you moving out of this house instead of Y/N moving in. Do you hear me?” Pops threatened with a scowl and Kai rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

“Now beside all that, I would be over the moon if Y/N were to move in with us! However, you have to be gentle and take your time with these things. You always tend to take things far past their limits and I can understand that Y/N must be feeling drowned in everything you’re bringing forward. Take a moment, give some time, and I guarantee everything will be just fine between the two of  you.” Pops stood up and placed a gentle hand on Kai’s head as he passed to leave out of the office. Once left alone, the young head stared at your contact in the phone debating on whether or not he would call you. He ultimately decided on giving it time to air out before getting in contact with you again. It was the hardest thing he would do, but he wanted to prove to himself he could take things slow. At least slow enough to let you calm down and make your choice. 

Still...the silence was killing him.