#or two years depending on how long you’ve been watching but I’m baby I’ve only been here for a year

[chaosinstigator]

ngl… my excitement for this weekend literally vanished last night

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook won’t tell you what’s wrong and you get emotional motion sickness.

> angst, fluff / wc: 2.6k

> warnings: poor oc is hungry but gets nauseous from watching jk play mirror’s edge, one (1) ass slap, tearsss but i just love this couple very much T_T

note: my last post for the year, a humble gift from my heart <3 i hope you carry even a tiny piece of it with you to 2023 and always remember to treat yourself with the same kindness you give to your loved ones <3 i love you all :]

—

you muffle a groan, burying your face into the pillow underneath your head. jungkook switched between five games in two hours, and it seems that he ended up settling with mirror’s edge because he’s been playing it for almost an hour already.

you can confirm that your boyfriend is stronger than you in many different aspects, because you genuinely don’t understand how he’s not getting motion sickness from playing this game while you, the lone audience, has been battling with it the entire time. but most of all, because it looks like he can hold out on you for a long time, and even if your life depended on it, you can’t do the same to him.

you turn your head just enough to take a peek. his back is facing you from the foot of the bed. it’s been your view since you arrived in his room, along with the 50-inch television infront of him. you argued that he’s sitting too close to the screen again, but he only brushed you off with a quick it’s just for today, and he hasn’t spoken a word to you since.

not being able to physically meet for periods of time is normal in your relationship, but the less frequent communication from your boyfriend for the past two weeks has been concerning you. you don’t like it. you don’t like the shorter phone calls, and the fewer to no text messages. you don’t like his avoidant eyes, his dismissive words, and when he dismisses you altogether. you don’t like the gnawing feeling of something is wrong and i need to fix this when you’re completely clueless, lying on his cold bed by yourself.

when you catch him taking a break to drink water, you seize the opportunity to snatch away his controller. your knees sink on the mattress, and you slightly lose balance as you fall back on your bottom.

he reacts quickly, trapping you in between his arms to steal it from behind your back, but the rough complaint melts on his tongue when your eyes properly meet for the first time in what feels like forever.

“are you mad at me? did i do something wrong?”

jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach, his facial features softening at the sight of your glassy eyes begging for answers. despite this, you still can’t get a good grasp on what’s running in his mind. and it’s killing you.

“no, why would i be mad at you?”

“i don’t know! that’s why i’m asking.” you answer frustratedly, gripping the controller in your hand tighter. “we haven’t seen each other in weeks and you’ve been acting like i don’t exist since i came here. it’s already dinnertime and i’m hungry and upset and i- i fucking miss you.”

you chase his eyes as you speak but he takes a step back to recreate distance between the two of you.

“it’s not like that. i’ve just been distracted with playing.”

a scoff of hurt and disbelief escapes your mouth, his words and actions only adding salt to your unattended wounds. “are you being serious right now? do you even want me here?”

when jungkook realizes the stupidity of the excuse he came up with, it’s already too late. he’s just been jumping from game to game, running around aimlessly, avoiding the root of your present argument like a fool. the foreign expression of hurt on your face sends him scrambling to fix what the damage he caused.

“of course- of course, i do. that’s why i agreed that you should visit. because i miss you too.”

his desperate hold on your arms gets shrugged off when the controller lands on his lap, with you muttering, “well, it doesn’t feel like it.”

“baby-”

“it’s okay. go play your games. just wake me up when you’re ready to have a real conversation with me, okay?”

you crawl back to your side of the bed, tucking the blanket up to your shoulders and burying your face in the soft cotton. it does its job in encaging you in your own little bubble, but the smell of cozy baby powder snaps the thread of resolve you’ve been recklessly balancing on. tears drip from your eyes and stain the grey blanket shades darker. and you silently pray he would just continue playing his damn game already so crying would feel less suffocating.

“but you said you’re hungry, baby. let me make you something.” he coos, his big palm stroking your calf lovingly to coax you.

oh, so now he wants to be sweet and attentive?

“does that mean you’re ready to talk?”

and you’re met by the silence that you’ve come to recognize all too well.

“then nevermind. i already lost my appetite anyway.”

“okay,” he responds after a few beats, his lips replacing his palm on your naked calf for a chaste, feather-light kiss. and you want to scream because the intimacy of it all only makes the yearning for his love, his attention, and god, his presence, swallow you whole.

it’s difficult to have a fight when you’re the only one fighting.

you take the opportunity to wipe away your tears and sniffle as quietly as possible when the loud footsteps and grunts of his character fill the room again. but you couldn’t bear to watch another second of the game. you quickly pull back the blanket over your eyes, the nausea creeping its way back into your system and rendering you imprisoned underneath the covers. soon enough, you slip into a slumber.

jungkook exits the game after fifteen minutes. after that small altercation, he just couldn’t get into it anymore. the little butterfly sticker you put in the middle of the controller made it impossible for his mind to focus on anything else but patching things up with you. you designed the controller because it’s the one you always use when you play together, claims it’s the luckier one, and these days he finds himself instinctively reaching for it when he plays alone.

you’ve been leaving these pieces of you all over his life. you already told him that you’re in this for the long run. what is he so afraid of?

“baby, are you really asleep?” he whispers with his elbow anchored on the bed and the heel of his palm supporting his head. after gaining no response, he carefully lifts off the blanket from your face.

his lips curve into a frown as he traces your puffy eye with the pad of his thumb. making you cry is exactly what he’s been wanting to avoid, but it seems that this served as a lesson on what not to do instead. he created another problem in the process of concealing existing problems, and he hates himself for not considering your feelings firsthand.

he kisses your forehead, creating a light smacking noise as he does so, before whispering once more. “would you get angrier if i don’t wake you up? i feel bad about disturbing your sleep.”

“i would.” your eyelids slowly flutter open, droopy eyes staring directly at his wide, doe ones. “now, care to tell me why you’ve been ghosting me?”

it’s only been over a month since you said i love you for the first time, and the paranoia of what if he realized that he doesn’t want this relationship anymore will continue to keep you up at night unless you confront him about it today. as much as his answer scares the shit out of you.

“i messed up. i’m sorry. that wasn’t my intention.”

jungkook sighs heavily, sitting up on the bed and resting his back on the headboard to gather himself together. you’re always straightforward— you’re not afraid to ask for what you want. he knows he already said it before, but ultimately, this was the reason why he gravitated towards you. you’re a breath of fresh air. but on the other hand, he’s used to putting his best foot forward. it’s always about what they would be pleased to see, because if he shows them something they don’t like, he would get eaten alive. that’s just how he makes a living and how he keeps his passions within reach.

“then what were you trying to do, jungkook?”

but now that you’re sitting by his side, the anxiety he’s been fostering in his mind is starting to look ridiculous. how could this lovely human being wrapped in a blanket, adorably scowling at him, ever eat him alive? if anything, you would share the blanket with him and build a fire to keep him warm.

“things at work are just- they’re really a mess right now. it’s always been like that but it’s a different type of overwhelming and i’m scared because . . .” he pauses when he feels his voice faltering due to his emotions crashing like tidal waves along the rocky shore. he may not be able to look at your eyes right now but instead, he holds on to your hand resting on his thigh.

“what if we’re flying too high too fast because we’re being set up to crash? i didn’t- no, it’s just . . . if i talked to you in the past two weeks, i would’ve just complained about how i’m having a hard time over and over again and i would cry, or worse, make you cry.”

“yah! what’s wrong with complaining and crying?” you scold him in a whiny tone, wiping his tears away with the back of your hand while your own freely stream down your face. “you’re a human being above everything else. you have the right to feel your feelings. if you don’t, they will pile up and the weight of it will break you.”

jungkook’s head falls on your shoulder. he sobs softly as his tears soak through the material of your shirt, and the scene breaks your heart so painfully that it’s difficult to breathe. your fingers comb through his hair tenderly, and your hand pulls away from his to wipe off the tears on his chin.

“don’t treat me like a stranger. please. i love you. i know i won’t fully understand everything you’re going through because we lead different lives, but we can still share the weight of it, and we can cry it out together. won’t you let me do that? won’t that make you feel even a little better?”

when he lifts up his head, you’re surprised to see a small smile playing on his lips. you blink at him blankly in confusion.

“you’re not pranking me right now, are you?”

“no! why would you think tha-”

“if you want to break up, just tell me directly like a real man would!”

he panics. “no, no, no!” he catches your furious fists pounding at his torso, holding them securely to his chest to calm you down. “baby! listen- that’s the last thing i want!”

you cease your attack, chest heaving as you wait for him to explain himself. alright, you may not eat him alive but you sure can fight him.

“it’s just funny because i remembered that the hyungs said i should talk to you because you’re the only person i listen to.”

you look at him suspiciously, giving up your futile attempts on escaping from his firm hold. “well, were they right?”

“they were. they tried talking to me too, but i couldn’t shake off the fear of breaking down infront of you.” his grip on your wrists loosens. he peppers your knuckles with kisses before releasing you altogether. “turns out that’s exactly what i needed. my heart feels so much lighter. thank you.”

you climb on his lap quietly, hanging on to him like a koala bear, with your limbs wrapped around his waist and neck. you’ve been dying to embrace him again since the moment you watched him drive away from your apartment more than two weeks ago. you regret that you didn’t stay in his arms for at least ten seconds longer despite knowing that he wouldn’t have the time to meet up with you again in the near future.

“are you crying again?“ he asks worriedly after hearing you sniffle.

“i really thought you were trying to break up with me. i had no idea what i did.”

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry-” your cheek is granted with an apologectic kiss. “it was an asshole move.” and then your temple. “i wasn’t thinking straight. i’m sorry, baby. i promise all my free time is yours again.”

he gives a final kiss on the top of your head before resting his cheek on it, rubbing your back with gentleness. he blinks them away when tears also start filling his eyes again, but he only made it easier for them to fall.

“lean on me. use me. i want to be there when you need me the most, okay?” you pat his cheek softly, connecting your lips with his but it doesn’t even last for five seconds because-

“i can’t even make out with my boyfriend in peace.” you grit your teeth in irritation as you tug your bag closer by its straps. you lazily dish out your ringing phone from the pocket. after seeing who the caller is, you opt with setting your ringer in silent to let the call remain unanswered.

it’s the group leader in one of your on-going school projects, and you’re 100% sure he’s going to beg you to do another groupmate’s share of work because he’s not satisfied with them again. unfortunately, you’re not in the mood to be compassionate today.

“my love?”

“hmmm?” you hum absentmindedly as you scroll through the notifications from the group chat.

“why is my shampoo in your bag?”

“oh-” you smile hesitantly as scrunch your nose, eyes landing on the two bottles of shampoo nestled in the corner of your unzipped bag. “please forgive me. i wasn’t thinking straight either.”

“that doesn’t really explain anything.” he rolls his eyes jokingly.

“well- uhm- when i went to pee earlier, i thought there was a big chance i would walk out of your house broken up with you. then i remembered that you went to like ten stores to look for that shampoo when you ran out ‘cause it’s the best one you tried when you had bleached hair . . .”

the smile on his face gradually fades as the realization dawns on him.

“and you also told me that the production already got discontinued-“

“so if we broke up and you were angry at me, you would’ve stolen my shampoo?!” he exclaims, flabbergasted by your simple yet deliberate plan on delivering revenge. “how is that not thinking straight-”

“but for the record, i realized that i would feel guilty since you bleach your hair a lot so i wasn’t going to go through with it!” you abruptly defend yourself, taking out the bottles of shampoo and handing them over to him to strengthen your claims.

he tosses them aside to hold your waist, chuckling in amusement when you cutely pout at him. that’s what you always do when you try to get away with something. oh my god, he missed your face so much.

“why? if i was really planning to ghost you into a breakup then i would’ve deserved worse.”

“but you won’t do that to me.”

“mhm-mm. never.”

“and from now on you’re going to complain and cry to me when you’re struggling.”

he eagerly nods in agreement. “i promise. i love you.”

“i love you.” you give him a kiss on the lips before climbing off his lap to reach for the controller he left on the edge of the bed. “now i want to play fifa.”

he playfully slaps your ass, which doesn’t elicit a reaction from you because honestly, you expected nothing less.

“sure, but shouldn’t we eat first? it’s almost 7pm.”

you groan internally when the thought of food, and your boyfriend’s exquisite cooking at that, remains unappetizing. “you can eat first, babe. watching you play mirror’s edge really made me feel sick.”

—

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[olympians367]

How can one minor change affect the future?

One morning, Severus Snape wakes up to find an infant on his doorstep with only a note to explain its appearance. A friend of his - one that had gone missing after Hogwarts and presumed dead - was begging him to care for her daughter, a girl who had caught the attention of the Dark Lord.

Unbeknownst to him, he has just been entrusted with the responsibility of raising the daughter of Poseidon, a child whose powers transcends that of Heracles; a child who has been fated to either save Olympus . . . or destroy it. A child like this being raised and taught by a cold and emotionally reserved man, who knows the Dark Arts and potion-making like the back of his hand, could have a less than favorable outcome.

After eleven years of being isolated from the wizarding world, Evangeline is starting her first day at Hogwarts, and is about to make a shocking discovery.

[Chapters are between two to five thousand words long.]

Chapter Four - Flying Lesson Disaster

“I hear you’ll be having flying lessons tomorrow,” Snape said, taking a sip of his tea. 

Evangeline was in her father’s office, serving her “detention”. Her punishments consisted of sitting in his office and sharing a cup of tea with him, while having a conversation on several topics. Now, Snape could just send his daughter invites to come see him, but he wants to avoid the scenario of someone questioning why she was always coming to his office and him explaining why, seeing as everyone believes him to be a cynical loner. 

“Yeah, with the Slytherins,” Evangeline replied, rolling her eyes as she took a bite from her blue chocolate chip cookie. 

“Do I sense some irritation in your tone, young lady?” Snape gives his daughter a disapproving stare, visibly telling her to watch what she says next. 

Over Evangeline’s childhood, she quickly learned when she should push her father’s buttons, which was why she didn’t watch what she said next. “Yes, you do sense some irritation because I am irritated. No offense, father, but your House is filled with snobby, racist, and entitled kids - no wonder the Sorting Hat didn’t place me there! I’m now glad it didn’t.”

Snape wanted to argue, but had no leg to stand on. Most of Slytherin’s reputation was well-deserved, and with their parents affiliation with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named and his own experiences with them, they’re not the right influence for his daughter. A part of him was also glad the Sorting Hat hadn’t placed her into Slytherin. Snape had promised her mother to keep her safe from the Dark Lord’s clutches, and he can’t easily do that if Evangeline is constantly surrounded by people who would try to convince her to join the Dark Lord. 

“I’m aware you’ve had experience flying a broom, but are you excited to learn how to fly?” 

Evangeline’s lips curled into a joyful grin as she nodded. “Very.”

A rare smile graced Snape’s lips, one that he only showed to his family. His daughter was always an adventurous, free-spirited girl, and frankly, was unlike any witch he’s ever seen or heard of. As a child, if something sounded interesting to her, she’d try it. Evangeline has done soccer, swimming, baseball, jiu jitsu, taekwondo, boxing, gymnastics, skateboarding, surfing, baking, violin, piano, horse-riding – she was a very active child. Snape has asked why she never tried wizard sports, and her answers ranged from “They’re not my thing” to “You won’t let me” to “When you wizards stop relying on a small ball to end Quidditch and acting like a bunch of babies, then I’ll play your sports” depending on her mood. Allowing her to do these things stopped her from running around the house like a cat at 3AM. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask, Evangeline, but why didn’t you sing during the school song? Frankly, I was disappointed when I didn’t hear you - it would’ve started off my year just right.”

“I did sing,” Evangeline’s voice became quiet and slightly high-pitched, and she did her best to hide it by sipping her tea. However, her father was no fool. 

“I know what my daughter sounds like, and mouthing does not count as singing.”

“You know I don’t like singing in front of people.”

Snape furrows his brows in confusion. “Why? You have a lovely singing voice, my dear. You never had much trouble singing in front of your mother, Theodore, and me.”

“You have a nice smile,” Evangeline retorted. “Why don’t you smile for people other than mom, Theodore, and me?”

Snape and Evangeline stared at each other, her defiant eyes standing their ground against his strict ones. Despite wanting to scold her for her backtalk, Snape decided against it as she had a point. “Touché.” 

The two talked a bit more, changing the subject to the art they had been sent by Theodore, who spent every minute of every day sketching, drawing, painting, and sculpting, if he felt like it. This led to the eight-year-old boy to become a prodigy, and Theodore had said multiple times that he planned on creating his own graphic novel with a set of interesting characters. Snape always wanted to tell his son that his stories might not be accepted in the wizarding world, but he never could go through with it. 

As dinner neared, the two began cleaning up, making the office look as though no bonding had occurred. Before leaving, Snape gently ran his hands through his daughter’s hair, messing it up a bit. Evangeline’s hair would always get messy after she played sports, and somehow it looked natural on her - showed off a bit of her wild side. Now, whenever Snape sees her hair even a tad messy, he knew that she had been having fun. Snape brushed his finger at the base of Evangeline’s neck, causing her to flinch and giggle; he smiled. He tenderly kissed her forehead, whispering, “My beautiful child.”

Evangeline was certainly a beautiful girl, a fact not lost on Harry. 

The moment his green eyes caught her walking into the Great Hall, he couldn’t help but watch her every movement. Most of the students, and a few staff, watched as she strolled towards the Gryffindor table with an air of confidence, her robes billowing behind her as she sat down, filled her plate, and began eating. 

This was a common occurrence. 

The majority of Hogwarts felt Evangeline was a different breed of witch. It wasn’t because of how talented she was in her classes, it was everything else. She commanded attention and respect without needing to ask, and people regularly parted for her like the Red Sea in the halls. Her intense black eyes that shone with a fierce determination were like two onyx jewels, standing out against her pale skin that was so well-defined it had to have been created by one of the greatest sculptors of the century. Her hair, that was braided on certain days and messy on others, was parted right down the middle and framed her face like a silk curtain with soft curls. When she spoke, everyone could hear the exotic accent mixed in with the British one; it sounded like Spanish, but they weren’t sure. She was a girl that was hard to ignore. She had this thing about her, this strange aura that grabbed people’s attention. 

Harry has talked to her a few times. She was a friendly girl, but weirdly, she never spoke about her family, especially her father. 

All of Gryffindor felt bad for her as the Potions Master, Snape, would harp on her every Potions class and constantly give her detentions. Sometimes, the professor would get so angry that he’d start making weird hand gestures that would force Evangeline’s ADHD to focus on, resulting in him getting more angry. It was a surprise she hadn’t broken down crying yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry hated Draco Malfoy more than he hated his bully of a cousin, Dudley. It was partially because the first-year Slytherin had a massive crush on Evangeline, a fact he didn’t keep quiet. Thankfully, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with first-year Slytherins, so Harry didn’t have to hear or see Draco terribly flirt with Evangeline. Though, he did enjoy seeing the color drain from his face once he noticed the murderous glare Snape gave him as he vibrated with fury, which was a weird reaction to have when one student flirts with another.

Until . . . 

Professor McGonagall had posted a notice in the Gryffindor common room, informing the first-years that their flying lessons started on Thursday. The first-years excitement quickly diminished once they realized they’d be flying with first-year Slytherins. 

“Typical,” said Harry darkly. “Just what I always wanted, to make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy.”

“You don’t know that you’ll make a fool of yourself,” Ron reassured. “Anyway, I know Malfoy’s always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that’s all talk.” 

Malfoy spoke about flying a lot, often complaining loudly about how first-years never getting placed into House Quidditch teams, and boasting about the many times he narrowly escaped Muggles in helicopters. Evangeline called him a liar as not even his father had enough money to bribe the newspapers from headlining: WEALTHY PURE-BLOOD’S SON STUPIDLY TRIES TO EXPOSE THE WIZARDING WORLD MULTIPLE TIMES. 

Although, her words were much more harsh. 

When questioned, Evangeline had confessed that she wasn’t very good at flying a broom, and the moment the magical boys heard that, they offered to teach her. Seamus Finnigan felt he was more qualified to teach her as he had spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick, whereas Ron didn’t have his own broom and almost hit a hang glider. Evangeline firmly turned them down because, “If my father found out I was alone with a boy, he’d blow a gasket!”

Hermione Granger was just as nervous about flying as Neville was, and as expected, she went into the library and grabbed a book called Quidditch Through the Ages to learn everything she could about the subject. Evangeline tried to convince her that learning how to fly a broom is like learning how to ride a horse, just because you have the equipment and knowledge doesn’t mean you can control the horse. However, no convincing could stop the bushy-haired girl from lecturing her peers to boredom during breakfast on Thursday; Neville listened to her with keen ears, desperately wanting to avoid having an accident in the air and would take any form of advice.

Thankfully, for the first-years, Hermione’s lecture was interrupted by the mail. 

Harry hadn’t received a single letter since Hagrid’s note, something Malfoy was quick to notice and he was very quick to gloat about the packages of sweets he got from his parents. 

Evangeline received plenty of things from her family. Sweets dyed blue and uplifting notes from her mother, detailed drawings from her eight-year-old brother, and for some reason, her father sent her cryptic messages. 

Neville excitedly opened a small package from his grandmother, removing a glass ball the size of a large marble that was filled with white smoke. “It’s a Remembrall!” He explained, showing it off to them. “Gran knows I forget things – this tells you if there’s something you’ve forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red – oh . . . “ At the sight of the Remembrall glowing scarlet, Neville’s face fell. “You’ve forgotten something. . .”

Neville furrowed his brows, staring inquisitively at the Remembrall as he tried his hardest to remember what he had forgotten. This was one of the things he didn’t like about himself, how he could hardly remember anything. He hoped this object would be of some use, but it wasn’t! It didn’t help at all! 

He had been so busy trying to remember that he didn’t notice Malfoy, who had just happened to be passing by, leaning in to snatch the Remembrall out of his hands. Without even looking up from the letter from her father, detailing what potion she’d have to poorly brew, Evangeline’s hand shot up and grabbed Malfoy’s wrist. 

Malfoy jumped, not having expected Evangeline to do such a thing. Her grip was tight enough that he couldn’t pull back his hand, but gentle enough that there was little to no pain. Harry and Ron, who had jumped to their feet, Seamus, whose mouth was open and about to gulp down a spoon of porridge, the Weasley twins, who stared with a look of amazement, and everyone else - except Hermione, whose nose was stuck in her book - stared at Evangeline, who still didn’t look up from her letter. 

“Let. It. Go,” was all she said. Her normal cheerful tone was gone, replaced by a casual sentence with an underlying threat in her words. 

Malfoy’s face paled, a shiver running down his spine at how she said those words. He looked around the Gryffindors closest to them and his friends, looking for reassurance that he wasn’t seeing or hearing things. Everyone was quiet, both confused and alarmed by Evangeline’s sudden change in demeanor. Malfoy jumps as Evangeline’s grip on his wrist tightens, and he immediately lets go of the Remembrall, stepping back and massaging his now free wrist. 

Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble faster than any professor, rushed over and asked, “What’s going on?”

Before anyone could say anything, Evangeline looked up towards Professor McGonagall with a sweet smile and calmly explained, “Nothing, professor. Malfoy had simply come over to ask where we’d be having our flying lessons today, and Harry and Ron had offered to show him and his friends.”

Professor McGonagall’s stern expression softens and her lips curl into a small smile. “Oh, well, that’s very kind of you boys.” She nodded her head towards Harry and Ron before turning around and walking off. 

The moment the professor was out of earshot, Evangeline’s smile turned into an annoyed frown and her eyes became cold as she turned to look at Malfoy. She looked the boy and his friends up and down, almost inspecting them as they felt her stare into their souls every time their eyes met, before she asked, not-so-nicely, “Why are you still here?”

Immediately, the boys scampered off. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At three-thirty that afternoon, the first-year Gryffindors and Slytherins were standing on a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds that led to the forbidden forest, whose trees swayed darkly in the distance. In front of the students, laid in neat lines, were twenty broomsticks. 

Their professor, Madam Hooch, arrived shortly after them. She had short, spiky, gray hair and yellow eyes like a hawk. “Well, what are you all waiting for?” She barked. “Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.”

As the students hurried to stand by a broom, Harry and Ron made sure that they got to stand by Evangeline. Despite the earlier hostile display Evangeline made, Malfoy did feel a tad jealous, especially since he couldn’t even stand in front of her. He kept looking over at her, hoping that she’d make eye contact with him, but she never did. 

Harry glanced down at his broomstick, and upon seeing how old it was and how its twigs stuck out at odd angles, he became upset at having to ride it. 

The thought of embarrassing himself in front of Evangeline sounded much worse than embarrassing himself in front of Malfoy. Harry wanted to impress her, and he’s not sure if he can do that on this broom. Although, she did say that she wasn’t the best at flying a broom, so maybe she won’t even notice. Hopefully. 

“Stick out your right hand over your broom,” called Madam Hooch, “and say ‘Up!’”

“Up!” Everyone shouted. 

Harry noted his broom was one of the few that jumped into their rider’s hands. Hermione’s had rolled over and Neville’s didn’t move at all; Evangeline’s jumped straight into her hand, and she gripped it firmly with that same fierce determination in her eyes. Her eyes watched Neville as he tried to get the broom to jump into his hand, and after a few minutes, she leaned forward and quietly advised how to command the broom. After finally managing to do it, Neville flashed Evangeline a thankful smile. 

Madam Hooch showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off at the end before walking up and down the rows, correcting their grip. While Harry and Ron were happy to hear her tell Malfoy he’d been doing it wrong for years, they were stunned to see her not correct Evangeline. They thought she would, considering Evangeline herself said she wasn’t good at flying a broom. 

“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard,” Madam Hooch instructed, lifting her whistle to her lips. “Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle – three – two –” 

However, a thought sparked in Neville’s mind. What if he didn’t kick off on time? He might hesitate, and then he’ll be left behind. If he kicks off too late, then they’ll laugh at him, won’t they? He doesn’t want them to laugh or taunt him. He’s been making too many mistakes the past few weeks, and he’s not going to let this be another one. 

Letting his fear of being left on the ground get the better of him, Neville pushed off the ground before Madam Hooch even blew her whistle.

“Come back, boy!” she shouted, but Neville had forgotten how to come down. 

He kept rising and rising, his face losing its color as he watched the people below get smaller and smaller. His mind was swirling with voices; one scolded him for pushing off too early, another kept talking about how high they were getting, and the last freaked out about what everyone would think of him. Neville could just hear Professor Snape’s voice insulting him. “Idiot boy!” He’d say. “Thought you’d look good if you kicked off first, did you? You’re an arrogant fool. You don’t deserve the name Longbottom.”

At the slightest slip of his grip, Neville gasped, his heart skipping a beat as his eyes darted to his hands. Sweat. His hands were sweating. His eyes grew wide with fear, his breathing coming in hard and fast, and his heart skipped another beat as he lost his grip and slid off the broom.

The length of time it took for Neville to reach the ground felt like days, when it was really a few seconds. The wind rushed through his hair, cooling his face as eyes opened and closed rapidly to avoid seeing the ground and seeing how close he was getting to it. 

Fortunately, he had a soft surface to land on. Evangeline. 

With a loud thud, Neville landed on Evangeline and made her feel like she had been crushed - albeit by something that weighed as much as an apple. 

Madam Hooch rushed over to the two, pulling Neville up to his feet and quickly assessing him. Evangeline slowly sat up, being offered a hand by Malfoy. She had only raised her arm a few inches before letting out a pained cry and doubling over, clutching her side as her eyes water. A sharp sting had erupted on the right side of her chest. Like a fire in a dry forest, the stinging sensation spread and flared with each breath Evangeline took. She was too afraid to stand up, much less move; she’s broken enough bones to know this had to be a cracked rib. 

“I think he cracked my rib,” she muttered hoarsely. 

Madam Hooch knelt down, putting her hand up Evangeline’s jumper and shirt and inspecting the injury. “I think you’re right,” she says, glancing at her student who was finding it difficult to breathe without wincing. Madam Hooch helps her up, being careful to not aggravate the injury, before turning to the rest of the class. “None of you is to move while I take this girl to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say ‘Quidditch.’ Come on, dear.”

Evangeline limped back up to the castle, putting most of her weight on her left side as Madam Hooch kept her arm around her, making sure she didn’t fall. 

The second the two were out of sight, a scowling Draco Malfoy pushed Neville to the ground. Standing over him, he shouted, “You clumsy idiot! Just wait until Professor Snape hears about this!”

Harry and Ron immediately got in between Malfoy and Neville, not caring that Crabbe and Goyle, who were tall and strong-looking boys, had come up to defend Malfoy like a pair of bodyguards. “Leave him alone, Malfoy!” said Harry. 

“And why would Professor Snape care about what happened to Evangeline?” Ron inquired, smirking as he found the threat to be a poor one.

“Haven’t you heard, Weasley?” Malfoy’s tone was filled with derision as he spoke to someone he thought less of. “Evangeline is Snape’s daughter.”

There was a long pause. 

Everyone was stunned, with a few whispering, “His daughter?” “What is he talking about?” “Has Malfoy gone mad?” But then they started thinking. 

The two had the same black hair, pale skin, hooked nose, and dark eyes, except with slight differences. Snape’s hair was greasy, Evangeline’s was smoothly disheveled; Snape had sallow skin whereas Evangeline’s is practically porcelain; Snape’s hooked nose was large and Evangeline’s was barely noticeable; and lastly, Snape’s dark eyes were as cold as an ice storm, and Evangeline’s were warm like a campfire. 

They had seen it with their own eyes, but had never connected the dots. Even now, they still couldn’t believe Snape and Evangeline were father and daughter.

“Y-you’re lying,” stammered Neville, his eyes wide and his voice quivering with fear. He looked to be on the verge of tears. 

“My father saw them in Diagon Alley,” Malfoy proudly told everyone. “My father has known Professor Snape since Hogwarts, and he said that Evangeline looks exactly like him when he was young.”

Harry and Ron wanted to believe Malfoy was lying, that this was another one of those things he boasts about, but they couldn’t see anything other than the truth in his words. Neville was connecting the dots as well. He had hurt Professor Snape’s daughter. He had sent her to the Hospital Wing. 

“Professor Snape’s going to kill me,” Neville breathed out, crawling back into a tree.

Malfoy smirked, taking a step forward, his voice dropping to a foreboding whisper. “I also heard he loves his daughter more than anything in the world, and that he’d kill anyone who dared to hurt her.”

Neville whimpered. 

Without even thinking, Harry shoved Malfoy. It wasn’t a very hard shove, it only made Malfoy take two steps back. The other Slytherins moved forward, ready to pounce if need be. However, Malfoy had another idea. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he had spotted something shiny glistening in the afternoon sun. It was Neville’s Remembrall. Quickly, he snatched it up and held it high for everyone to see. “Look what we have here.”

“Hey!” Neville shouts, standing up and getting close. “That’s mine. Give it back.”

“You want it? Come and get it.” 

 Malfoy picked up his broomstick and flew off, hovering next to the topmost branches of a nearby oak tree. He threw the Remembrall in the air and caught it, taunting Neville, challenging him to pick up a broomstick and fly up after him. Except, it wasn’t Neville who picked up the broom and went after him. It was Harry. 

“No!” Hermione Granger shouted, trying to stop him. “Madam Hooch told us not to move – you’ll get us all into trouble.” 

As always, she was ignored. Harry flew up towards Malfoy, blood pounding in his ears, the breeze rushing through his hair and making his robes whip out behind him. In a split second, he realized he knew just how to maneuver his broom - it was easy, and being up there, with the wind encasing him and the rush of adrenaline flowing through his veins, he felt . . . wonderful. Like he could do anything. And right now, he was going to get Neville’s Remembrall back. 

Malfoy had a stunned look on his face as he watched Harry come towards him, the screams and gasps of the girls plus an admiring whoop from Ron echoing below. He couldn’t believe his eyes. This was Harry’s first time on a broomstick, and yet, here he was. Flying like a pro. 

“Give it here,” Harry called, “or I’ll knock you off that broom!”

Malfoy did his best to not look worried as he sneered. “Oh, yeah?”

The next thing Malfoy sees is Harry grasping his broom tightly with both hands, leaning forward, and then shooting toward him like a javelin. He managed to move out of the way before Harry could crash into him. With wide eyes, Malfoy glanced down at the Gryffindors who clapped at Harry’s spectacular display, and he felt his heart racing. 

“No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy!” 

The same thought just came to Malfoy. He looked down so Harry wouldn’t see the worry in his eyes as he did his best to put on a brave face. The Gryffindor was right. Even if Crabbe and Goyle picked up their brooms, they’ve never flown. They wouldn’t make it up. They probably wouldn’t even get one foot off of the ground before crash landing. Malfoy needed to think of something, and he needed to think of something fast. 

As his ice-gray eyes darted in every direction, they finally landed on the Remembrall in his hands. Malfoy didn’t need to think very long before he shouted, “Catch it if you can, then!” and he threw the Remembrall high into the air, and rushed back to the ground. 

Harry’s eyes latched onto the Remembrall, and for him time slowed. He could hear the single breath he exhaled, the way the wood felt beneath his tightening grip, and his heart returning to a steady beat as he leaned forward and pointed the broom handle down, and then like a torpedo he dove, following the path of the Remembrall. Harry could hear everyone screaming, but their screams sounded distant, as if they were much farther than they truly were. He stretched out his hand, reaching for the Remembrall. Less than a foot from the ground, he pulled his broom straight, toppling gently onto the ground, Remembrall grasped tightly into his fist. 

With a proud grin, Harry stood up and walked over to Neville, handing the Remembrall back. “HARRY POTTER!”

The grin was wiped off of Harry’s face, his heart sinking as he watched Professor McGonagall running towards them. “Never – in all my time at Hogwarts – how dare you – might have broken your neck –” 

“It wasn’t his fault, professor –”

“Be quiet, Miss Patil.” 

“But Malfoy –”

“That’s enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now.”

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had a triumphant look on their faces as they watched Harry numbly follow closely behind Professor McGonagall back to the castle. Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest, his triumphant look turning into a smug smirk; Ron glared at the back of his head, scenarios of what he’d do to the arrogant rich boy if he didn’t have two large boys protecting him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Great Hall was abuzz with activity. The incidents that occurred between Neville and Evangeline and Harry and Malfoy had spread across the school, but not as much as Malfoy’s statement that Evangeline was Snape’s daughter. No one could believe that a kind girl like her could come from someone harsh like him. Many tried to disprove it, citing how different the two were, but others pointed out the similarities in appearance and mannerisms. The rumor had spread to the staff, and they were just as quick to shut it down before taking another second to think.  

Professor McGonagall stated that during the Sorting ceremony, before she called out Evangeline’s name, she felt that there was something off about it. There was a space between Evangeline and Prince, which was why she paused. The others confessed that they had noticed the change too, but weren’t sure if it was a mistake or on purpose. It was then that Headmaster Dumbledore remembered Snape’s mother’s maiden name was Prince. Professor Quirrell hypothesized that Evangeline was his sister, but with her age and the time Snape’s parents died, it was unlikely. 

“Wait, if Evangeline is his daughter,” started Professor Sprout, the realization hitting her like a sack of bricks, “then, this means Snape had sex . . . with a woman.”

The others were hit by the same realization. One of the professors suggested Evangeline was born from a one-night-stand and the woman was extremely drunk, but Nearly Headless Nick chimed in that Evangeline not only has a mother but a younger brother named Theodore. 

“He has a wife?” Professor McGonagall exclaimed in shock. 

“And a son as well,” said Professor Sinistra. “Why is this the first we’re hearing of this?”

“Severus was always a bit secretive,” said Professor Flitwick.

“Yes,” said Dumbledore, “but you’d think he’d share something important as having a family.”

They knew the majority of rumors they heard from the students were false, but Evangeline was solid proof that they were right this time. Still, they couldn’t imagine it. Snape with a wife and two kids. Flitwick always thought women were too scared of him, while Trelawney thought he was too shy to even approach a woman. They wanted to ask Snape himself how true these rumors were, but he hadn’t arrived for dinner, which was strange.

As the Great Hall wondered what Severus Snape’s wife and son looked like, with some commenting that his wife was just as bad as him and surmised the two were just as harsh with their children, the doors burst open and a salty smell filled the air.  

They all looked up, craning their heads to get a better look at the tall man with light-green skin, blue eyes, and short dark hair that stood in the doorway. A white cloth was draped around his athletic body and over his left shoulder, being held up by a golden medallion. 

“Hello, my name is Konstantinos,” he proclaimed, his eyes scanning the room with great excitement and eagerness. “I am a Tritone, a member of the God of the Seas court. I am here for his daughter.” 

[surveysandthings]

7.

Do you have a specialty dish that you're really good at making? I have lots, actually! I’m a really good cook.

What video games did you play when you were growing up? Video games weren't a huge part of my childhood but I did play a lot of Sims when we had a computer that would run it and I remember playing Mario Kart and Crazy Taxi with my cousins.

Are you good at making big decisions alone or do you tend to seek approval from others? My husband and I make big decisions together. If it’s something I’m unsure about, I’ll consult different opinions online but it’s very, very rare that I’ll talk to a real life person about it. I just think its better to make your decisions privately rather than getting everyone you know’s input.

Does your town or city have good public transport, or is it easier to drive? You have to have a car here. There’s a very limited bus route and no taxi service.

 What was the last cocktail you drank? Oh god, I don’t know. I don’t drink very often.

Are you good at keeping running counts and tallies in your head? Um...depends on the thing I guess?

Does your country have its own edition of Big Brother? I assume so? I’ve never watched it tho.

How often do you take a nap during the day? I’ve been napping a lot more frequently lately (which isn’t saying much as it used to be never) but it’s still pretty sparse. I would say once every couple weeks?

What social media platforms do you use? Instagram and TikTok are my two main ones and then I check Facebook every so often but I have notifications turned off and I don’t post anything. I only ever use Tumblr for porn and surveys.

Are there any foods you hate the smell of but like the taste, or vice versa? Those two things go pretty hand in hand. If I don’t like the smell of something, the taste is gonna make me wanna puke.

Do you have a dishwasher? Ugh no, I wish.

Who do you live with? My husband and our pup!

Are you listening to anything right now? My husband is playing Pokemon so I can hear that!

What is one of your favourite sitcoms? I never know what does and doesn’t count as a sitcom??

Do you make to-do lists? Oh yeah. I’m a huge list maker...a list doer tho? Not so much.

If you could magically become fluent in any language, what would it be? Spanish would be the most helpful I think.

Have you ever tried vegan ice cream? Yeah and not a fan. Everyone talks about how amazing it is and how you can’t tell the difference but I just find it to be so grainy with a weird aftertaste.

What pet names do you use for your friends/loved ones? I call my husband honey or beebs most often. I don’t think I have any nicknames for my other friends besides like ‘my love’ or an abbreviation of their name.

What pet names do you like to be called? As long as it’s not ‘baby’, I don’t care. Baby is so cringe.

What was the best concert you've ever seen? Greta Van Fleet was pretty awesome but Paramore was my favorite.

Do you have any hobbies? Oh yeah, tons. I love sewing, embroidery, photography, typing, baking, coloring, making collages, doing puzzles...just anything where I can be creative!

What is your favourite pasta shape? Radiatore (sp?)

Have you ever developed your own film? I mean I'm old enough that when I was a kid, our cameras still had film that had to be developed. But I've never physically done it with my own hands.

When was the last time you stayed in a hotel/motel and where was that? We saw Greta Van Fleet in the next town over back in the fall!

What breed was the last dog you saw? A yorkie!

Do you watch the Super Bowl? Nah.

What's your favourite Disney movie? Encanto was my favorite from this year!

What's the most stressful job you've ever had? I worked at a now defunct department store for like 6 months and my boss was a literal nightmare.

What was the last text message you received? A ‘YESSSS.’ from my sister in law.

Should you be asleep right now? If so, go to bed! Nope! It’s 1:43pm.

[onsunnyside]

✎ 𝐒𝐚𝐝 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | dark!bodyguard!Lloyd Hansen x reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | DARK, AGE GAP, manipulation, sensitive!reader, SMUT - minors DNI, dacryphilia, unprotected sex (p in v), anal (just some thumb action), dirty talk, daddy kink, spitting, slight size kink, breeding kink, licking tears, degradation, dumbification, choking, overstimulation. implied: murder. 

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | He planted the seeds of doubt and you watered them with your tears. Based on this ask.

𝗪/𝗖 | 1.36K

𝗔/𝗡 | Lloyd is a lot in this… sadistic-ish perhaps, you’ve been warned. All mistakes are my own. This was written for my 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲? 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲… 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲? 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲. all hail the dilfs !!

˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Why are you crying, sunshine? I’ll take care of you, just like I always have. None of them deserve you.” His words break off into a hiss, “Leaving you at home while they handle business, abandoning you.” 

“Didn’t… leave.” 

“They did.” Lloyd pulls you into his chest, thrusting balls deep into your cunt. He groans deeply as your walls flutter around him, milking him, “They always leave. Haven’t you noticed?” 

You sniffle wetly, tears streaming down your cheeks in a cruel result of pleasure and awful self-awareness. You clutch the sweater tighter, burying your face in the soft cotton that smells like Lloyd because he was wearing it before he came into your room—and one thing led to another and you’re stuffed to the brim with his length once again. 

Lloyd was always with you, either at home, the mall or on-campus, and even when you walk around the garden outside. Unlike your family who you haven’t seen in months. 

He was right, they did always leave—abandon you. 

Your family were elites and ridiculously wealthy. Always taking trips around the world for meetings with their various partners and expanding their company. Even your older siblings were old enough to go by themselves without supervision and since your parents never left each other's side, that left you all alone on the family estate. 

Lloyd phrased it like they craved freedom from you—and you started believing him a long time ago. But sometimes, like today, you’re in poor pathetic denial. 

“That’s it, let it all out.” He fucks you harder, his nails digging into your hips. He loves seeing you cry, there’s nothing like watching the sadness bleed onto your face in hot tears. “You’re doing so good—I’d never leave you, pumpkin, daddy will never leave you like them.”

You cry out his name, trembling against his body as he lightly taps your clit. You’re still so sensitive from his mustache rubbing you raw, but you loved that overwhelming sensation more than anything. “D-Daddy—please, don’t stop.” 

A hard kiss is pressed to the side of your head before his bicep hooks around your throat, making your back arch as he splits you open. “I’m not stopping until I’ve filled all your stupid little holes. I’m going to knock you up tonight, baby, and you aren’t going to stop me.” 

He’s warped your thoughts into a twisted puzzle that only he can solve and put together for you. He made you into who you are today, a fresh university graduate with a heart of gold who can’t make any choices for herself. A sad girl with all of this dependence on him, and it only took two years. 

When he met you that first day, he could easily see your potential. It didn’t take long for him to start planting doubts about your family, your lifeline and how they always left you all alone at home with no one but the staff to keep you company. 

He planted the seeds, and you watered them with your tears. 

You missed your family dearly, and can’t even remember the last time you all had dinner together. Your whole life has passed in flashes, but you can only remember a few snapshots, and all of them were spent with your family’s most trusted bodyguard.  

Lloyd was your everything, you couldn’t breathe, let alone function without him. And, that’s why you’re facefirst on your bed, dress flipped up as your bodyguard stretches you open around his cock. 

“I-I miss them…” You weep, biting the sweater as he straddles your ass, the thick head of his cock slams into your cervix, and forces his last load out in a sloppy mess. He wass truly fucking you stupid. 

“Yet they treat you like they don’t know you,” Lloyd growls, spreading your cheeks and spitting on your puckered hole. He circles the rim, collecting some of his seed with his thumb before pushing it, listening to your cries turn into needy moans. “Like they don’t love you, baby, and you’re worth all the fucking love in the world.”

On his call, the guards currently with the rest of your family will take care of them. And far too many times Lloyd has resisted calling it in. Perhaps your father shouldn’t pay him as much as he does—or foolishly offer him a fraction of your family’s wealth when Lloyd was already robbing them blind.  

And with you, he’d have it all. Not that he only wanted the money but it was a great plus.  

“I’m here for you, sunshine, I’ve always been here for you.” He grunts, “And, you know what?” He asks, cocking his head as if he isn’t rearranging your guts, “Daddy will take care of them for you, right after I fuck all the sadness out of your beautiful body.” 

You convulse so roughly he has to hold you down, ramming into your tight hole with abandon and dragging out your high. Your cream coats his length, creating a ring of white around the base of his cock and smearing down his heavy balls. He curses as you squirt all over him and your bed, your poor pussy is crying—just like you. 

“Will they even miss you?” Lloyd groans, not letting up with his thrusts, sickeningly grinning as you try to escape, he just pulls you back and stuffs you full on his dick. “Poor baby, look at me when you cry, remember?”

With raw bitten lips, you crane your neck, barely seeing him through your teary vision as fresh streams of tears shimmer on your face. 

Lloyd grips your chin, prying your mouth open to spit onto your tongue. You quickly swallow his saliva and mewl as he hits deeper, filthy wet noises fill your bedroom. This time, you don’t try to hide your face and whimper when he leans down to lick your cheek and growls through clenched teeth, “Fuck—you’re so pretty when you cry. And, those tears taste almost as good as your pussy.” 

He’s watched you pout and cry, he can read you like an open book and knows exactly when your golden heart turns a sad shade of blue. And every time he has to fuck you silly. 

“Daddy—”

“Don’t you only want me? Only I can make you happy, make you feel like this.” He hoists your hips off the bed to reach your clit, roughly rubbing it with his fingers, even swatting your puffy folds too. “Don’t tell me you can’t even speak, pumpkin, you know daddy loves hearing you cry.”

“Too much, fuck—too much!” You squeal, twisting and turning as he tortures your cunt like a damn toy, slapping your nub until you scream, “L-Lloyd!”

“Tell me, pumpkin.” He demands, tearing the sweater from your grip to yank you into his front, keeping you locked on his fat cock, his sack flush against your slit. He grinds slowly, and the bulbous tip presses into your sweet spot, making your eyes roll into the back of your head. “Say it, and I’ll keep you forever. I’ll never leave—like them.” 

You hiccup, senses in overdrive with even the slightest move of his hips. “O-Only want you, daddy.” Tears stream down your sweaty cheeks, seeping into the corner of your parted lips, “forever, please—” don’t leave. 

Lloyd has to restrain himself from making the call right then and there, but he’d wait until you’ve fallen asleep to get rid of your family. 

How considerate. 

“Good girl, it’s okay, you’re okay.” He flips you around to climb over you again, glancing at your stretched hole as it clenches around air. He caresses your cheeks, rubbing your tears into your skin with a groan, “I’m not going to leave, ever.” He promises, sliding back into you with a single thrust, his abs tense as you claw down his back, “No one will take you from me, got that? I’d do anything for you, pumpkin, just name it.”

Die, kill—he’s already going to do the latter, but you won’t know until tomorrow. He can only imagine how sad you’ll be then, how many tears you’ll cry. It’ll be a fresh feast for him. 

After all, the sadder you were, the better your tears tasted. 

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: well. this was filthy.

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! This was written for my 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲? 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲… 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲? 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲.

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3

☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

[waitimcomingtoo]

The Hint

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Synopsis submitted by @jasmine11685: Peter gets jealous when you have to flirt with someone on a mission

Masterlist

“Wow.”

That was the only word Peter could say as you descended the staircase in a form fitting black dress. The slit up the side added an elegant touch, something needed for the ball you were going to.

“You look pretty “wow” yourself.” You smiled shyly as you lifted the hem of your dress to walk towards him. “The suit is a nice change from the flannels, though I do love those.”

Peter opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no words formed in his brain. As soon as you put your hands on his collar to tuck it under his suit jacket, his name was lost on his and all he knew was yours.

“So this is what it’s like to be speechless.” He chuckled nervously as you straightened his jacket.

“Shut up.” You giggled as your face flushed. “Your ties a little crooked.”

“Thanks.” Peter whispered as you adjusted his tie. “You look beautiful. Like, the kind of beautiful that makes you want to cry when you look at it.”

“Thank you.” You laughed again, out of habit. You looked at Peter through your eyelashes as your shaking hands slid down his jacket.

“Nervous?” He asked softly when he noticed your unsteady demeanor.

“A little.” You smiled weakly. “It’s uh, it’s a shame I’m gonna have to waste all this beautiful on some douche who won’t appreciate it.”

“Well I appreciate it.” Peter assured you. “All of it. What is your mission exactly?”

“I just have to get some information out of Harry Osborn. Apparently he’s the only one who knows what’s his father has been doing up at Oscorp. We have to find out his plans before he does something dangerous. Could you help me with this?” You asked as you handed him a diamond necklace. You turned around and Peter carefully moved your hair off of your back.

“Oh.” He said in surprise as he clasped the necklace around your neck. “And how are you planing on getting that information?”

“I’m gonna flirt with him like my life depends on it.” You said confidently as you turned back around. “Because who knows? It might.”

Peters face twitched in confusion as his eyebrows knit together. He felt a white hot jealousy run all the way to his scalp when he learned about the plan.

“You have to flirt with that asshole?” Peter laughed nervously and cleared his throat. “He’s a total playboy. He’s probably never done his own laundry a day in his life.”

“I think I can handle him.” You winked at him as you touched your your lipstick. “And his laundry.”

“I have no doubt in your abilities. I just wish you didn’t have to use them on him.” Peter said, mostly to himself.

“It’s fine, Pete.” You assured him. “I’m actually excited to do it.”

“Excited?” Peter began to sweat.

“Yeah.” You grinned in excitement. “This is the biggest role I’ve ever had in a mission. I really want to do a good job so I can impress my dad. That means I’m gonna have to pull out my best flirting.”

“Your best flirting?” Peter was really beginning to panic now.

“Yup. I need this boy to fall in love with me.” You told him. “Watch, by the end of the night, he’ll be putty in my hands.”

“I don’t think you should do this, Y/n.” Peter blurted. “I think we should get Natasha or someone else to do it. You shouldn’t have to be the shiny object we use to distract the enemy.”

“I’m fine with it, Pete. My dad didn’t give me this role because I’m pretty. He gave me this role because I have good communication and manipulation skills. Plus, I’m closest to Harry’s age. It all works out.”

“He could be really dangerous.” Peter protested. “You could get hurt.”

“I’m really dangerous.” You stated. “And he’s definitely gonna get hurt.”

“Just be careful, okay?” Peter sighed, making you look at him. You walked over to him and cupped his face in your hands, making his breath hitch in his throat.

“I got this, Petey.” You said gently. “I know you’re worried about me, but you have no reason to be. I can do this. And you, Sam, and my dad are gonna be listening the whole time. We’re gonna catch this guy. I know it.”

“I just don’t want you getting hurt. If things go wrong-“

“They won’t.” You cut him off. “Go ask my dad. He drew up every possible outcome of this plan and they all end with Harry getting his ass kicked.”

“Okay.” Peter nodded and gave you a smile. “I’ll go talk to Mr. Stark.”

~

“You just had to believe in her.” Peter grouched as he barged into Tony’s office. “You just had to recognize her talent and trust her enough to carry the mission.”

“I’m sorry. Is that anger directed towards moi?” Tony touched a hand to his chest. “Are you mad at me?”

“Yeah, I am.” Peter said. “You know I like Y/n and sent her off to flirt with the richest playboy in New York City?”

“Hey.” Tony said sternly. “Playboy is my thing.”

“Why did you have to make her do this job?” Peter whined. “She’s gonna fall in love with him and forget all about me.”

“He’s a criminal, Peter.” Tony reminded him.

“So? Girls love that!” He protested. “You remember how she acted around Loki.”

“Don’t remind me.” Tony rolled his eyes. Peters face shifted back to his forlorn expression and Tony saw how much this was hurting him.

“Look, kid, don’t sweat this mission.” He said as he put a hand on Peters shoulder. “She’s just gonna get the information she needs from Harry and you’ll never have to worry about him again. You can go right back to your little will-they-won’t-they bullshit or whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I have a plan.” Peter insisted. “And Harry is going to put a serious wrench in my plan, thanks to you.”

“You have a plan?” Tony doubted. “Ive been watching you pine after my daughter for years. When is this plan going into action exactly?”

“I’m just going to think really hard about how I’m in love with her and wait until she realizes.” Peter mumbled as he adverted his eyes.

“Yeah?” Tony cocked his head. “And how’s that going for you?”

“I think she’s just about to get the hint.” Peter said and Tony let out a groan.

“Kid, just ask her out.” He reasoned. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She could hear me.” Peter stated. “And then say no.”

“She’s never gonna take the hint unless you actually give her the hint.” Tony reasoned. “Why don’t you try tonight? She’ll be all giddy from successfully completing the mission. Perfect time to confess those bottled up feelings.”

“I don’t know.” Peter sighed. “Maybe.”

~

An hour later, you were making eyes at Harry from the bar. After locking eyes a few times, you signaled for him to come over.

“Hey.” Harry knocked on the bar twice and looked down at you. He sized you up before smiling in approval and sending you a nod.

“Hey.” You gave him a sultry smile as he sat down.

“You all by yourself?” He asked as he drummed his fingers on the bar.

“I was.” You took a sip and looked at him through your lashes. “Until you came along.”

“Mind if I stay?” He raised an eyebrow as he flagged down the bartender. You made a face as he ordered a drink before smiling at him.

“I prefer it.” You flirted.

“Good.” He accepted his drink and took a long sip. “I don’t like being told no.”

“Then you better give me something to say yes to.” You leaned on your hand and leaned towards him. Inside, you were gagging at his arrogance. On the outside, you were eating it up.

And that made two of you.

“Oh God.” Peter gagged as he listened to the banter through his ear piece. “This is torture.”

Sam, who was standing next to him as they both kept an eye on you, gave Peter a look.

“Relax, kid.” He sighed. “She’s just doing her job.”

“You’re a pretty bold girl. I like that.” Harry cupped your chin before releasing it. “Just not as bold as me.”

“Oh yeah?” You raised an eyebrow, grabbed his drink, and downed the rest before slamming the glass down. “How about now?”

“Oh, you are going to get me into trouble.” Harry chuckled and he scooted closer to you. Peter watched in disdain as the jealousy coursed through his veins again.

“That doesn’t sound so bad.” You crawled. “Don’t you like trouble?”

“I love it.” He insisted as he held out his hand. “My names Harry Osborn. You’ve probably heard of me.”

“I have.” You smirked as you shook his hand. “I’m Y/n.”

“Why is she talking like that?” Peter whined upon hearing your flirty tone. “She never talks like that.”

“Because she’s not trying to sleep with you, dummy. Thats why.” Sam snorted as he continued to watch.

“What?” Peter snapped his head towards Sam. “She’s not trying to sleep with that guy. She’s just getting information out of him.”

“Yeah well, guys tend to talk a lot more once you’ve tired them out.” Sam shrugged as he sipped his own drink. Pete’s face fell as he stared Harry down with daggers in his eyes.

“She wouldn’t do that.” Peter mumbled.

“Shhh.” Sam waved his hand. “I’m trying to listen.”

“So,” you took another sip from your drink, “Whats it like being the son of one of the most powerful men in the city? Wasn’t your dad like, 25 when he founded Oscorp.”

“23, but who’s keeping score.” Harry shrugged as he looked around the room. “I’ll probably do something like that soon. Maybe something even bigger. I already have a lot of ideas. Pretty impressive, huh?”

“Totally.” You egged him on but rolled your eyes when he looked away. “Do you ever get to watch his experiments?”

“Baby, I’ve seen just about all of them.” Harry bragged as he played with your dangling earrings. “He’s done things you wouldn’t believe. Things that aren’t even legal.”

“Yeah?” Your eyes widened in excitement and you leaned in closer. “Like what?”

“I can’t tell you here.” Harry pulled away suddenly and sighed. “I don’t want anyone hearing.”

“Alright.” You purposefully took the bait. “Then let’s talk somewhere else.”

“Do you know a place?” He played nonchalant as he put a hand on your knee. Peter watched the scene in front of him and looked away.

“Yeah. My bedroom.” You smirked and stood up. “Let’s go there.”

“Bold.” Harry rubbed his hands together and stood up as well. “You’re dangerous.”

You took his hand and lead him towards the elevator, feeling the gun that was strapped to your thigh brush against your leg as you walked.

“You have no idea.” You mumbled. You passed Sam and Peter and gave them a nod as you lead Harry towards his interrogation. Peter looked like he was ready to fight someone and Sam looked entirely amused. You gave them a thumbs up before leading Harry upstairs.

~

“What’s the craziest thing your dad has done?” You asked as you sat down on the bed. You flicked your leg out and pretended to examine your heels to draw his attention. Harry took the bait and held your ankle in his hands, admiring the fancy shoes Mr. Stark had given you for the mission.

“Why do you want to know?” He asked coyly as he looked up at you.

“Because I like to get a little crazy myself and I want to know how much you can handle.” You shrugged as you shook your hair out. Peter gulped as he listened, feeling his jaw tighten in anger. Tony joined him and Sam at their post and looked around for you and Harry.

“How’s the mission going?” He asked when he didn’t see you anywhere.

“Horrible.” Peter grumbled.

“She didn’t get him to the secondary location?” Tony worried.

“She did.” Sam cut in. “Peters just mad that his girlfriend just found herself a boyfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Peter snapped. “Maybe she would have been if Mr. Stark wasn’t a destroyer of young love.”

“Parker, quiet.” Sam commanded. “I’m trying to listen.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” Harry folded his arms as he looked down on you.

“You can trust me.” You told him as you reached up to grab his tie. You used it to pull yourself up and off the bed before planting a kiss right on his mouth.

“What was that?” Peter touched his fingertips to his ear piece when he heard silence from your end.” Why did she pause?”

“She didn’t pause.” Sam shook his head as he checked his watch.

“Then what-“

“She kissed him.” Tony cut in while giving Peter an apologetic look.

“She kissed him?” All the color drained from Peters face and Tony felt he was to blame.

“You know the Green Goblin?” Harry asked once you pulled away.

“Yeah.”

“That’s my dad.” Harry admitted, and Tony and Sam quickly wrote it down.

“No way.” You pretended to be impressed. “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true. He was dying so he invented this serum to keep himself alive. It ended up giving him all these crazy abilities.” Harry boasted, incriminating himself further. “And he’s got this glider that he can fly around on. You’d love it. It’s very shiny.”

“Wow. I love shiny.” You gushed, fighting the urge to punch him in the throat then and there. “How much serum did he make?”

“He has one more vile that he said he’d give to me when I’m older.” Harry tweaked his eyebrow as he smirked.

“So you’re gonna be the next Green Goblin? Isnt he a bit of a bad guy?” You continued to draw information out of him as your fingers danced around his collar.

“Maybe I am bad guy.” Harry shrugged. “Like father, like son.”

Harry leaned in to kiss you again but you dodged it and laughed as you moved away.

“Bad, huh?” You composed yourself so you wouldn’t be suspicious. “What else has he done?”

“He gave one of our scientists these metal arms. They can rip a person in half. Ive seen it happen.” Harry continued to brag and you recorded every word of it.

“Dr. Occtavius.” Tony realized. “That’s how he got his weapons.”

“Thats crazy.” You gasped and played with his hair. “What’s your dad gonna do?”

“He’s basically forming a league of bad guys.” Harry shrugged like it was no big deal. “Guys way worse than the Avengers.”

“Does he have a problem with the Avengers?” You wondered.

“My dad hates them. I hate them too.” Harry scoffed and you held back a laugh. “That’s why we’re gonna wipe them out. New York can’t rely on a bunch of guys in dress up, and we’re gonna show them that.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“With an attack on New York City on the 8th.” Harry told you, and Tony immediately wrote it down. “The Avengers won’t know what hit them.”

“That sounds pretty scary. Will you keep me safe?” You batted your eyelashes at him and he ate it up.

“I can’t listen to this.” Peter took out his earpiece and slammed it on the counter. “I’m going in there.”

“Parker! Stay where you are and - you know what? I don’t care.” Sam shrugged it off and continued to listen to your conversation.

“Of course baby.” He cupped your face in his hands. “It’s gonna be a direct hit on the Avengers tower. A pretty thing like you won’t be anywhere near there.”

“Actually”, you took his hands off your face and dropped your smile, “I will.”

“What?” Harry’s face faltered at your sudden mood change.

“Did you get that guys?” You touched your fingers to your ear piece and waited for the confirmation. “Copy that, dad.”

“What?” Harry’s face twisted in anger. “You’re an Avenger?”

“Look at you! So smart. You figured it out.” You said sarcastically.

“No.” Harry shook his head. “I don’t believe you. There’s no way you’re an Avenger. You’re my age and a chick.”

“Not just an Avenger. I’m a Stark too. Want me to prove it to you?” You asked casually.

“How?” Harry raised an eyebrow. You gave him a swift punch to the throat that knocked him on his back.

“Like that.” You blew your hair off your forehead as you checked your nails.

“You bitch.” Harry wheezed from the floor.

“You see, I can’t have you and your father attacking my friends.” You crouched down beside him and shrugged. “I’m gonna have to take you in.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Harry swiped at you but you dodged it.

“I know. But this cute little microphone recorded everything you said and sent it to the police.” You pouted and pointed to your mic. “They should be here soon. You might want to wipe the lipstick off your face before the get here.”

“I’m not going to prison.” Harry grumbled as he sat up.

“Aw, but you are.” You said as you pulled him off the floor and put his hands behind his back. “Daddy can’t bail you out of this one, like how he bailed you out of your 17 parking tickets.”

“How do you know about that?” Harry asked as he looked over his shoulder at you.

“I know everything, bitch.” You leaned into his ear to growl.

“No. I’m not going down for this.” Harry broke out of your hold and swung at you. You dodged the first one, but he got you right in the jaw with the second one. You stood up and got ready to fight him as he put his fists up.

“You’re not even that pretty.” He exclaimed as he swung at you again. Right as his fist collided with your face, Peter burst in the door.

“Yes she is!” Peter shouted as he jumped on Harry’s back. Harry threw Peter onto the bed and lunged for you again. You close-lined him with your arm and dug your heel into his back once he was on the ground.

“Peter? What are you doing here?” You asked as you stepped on Harry’s back harder with your heel. “I got this.”

“There’s something I have to tell you.” Peter panted as he got off the bed.

“You won’t get away with this. I will sue!” Harry writhed around beneath your heel.

“Can it wait?” You asked as you pulled Harry off the ground. “I’m a little busy.”

“It can’t wait.” Peter shook his head as you shoved Harry against the wall. “There’s something I’ve been holding in for a long time and I need to tell you.”

“I wouldn’t even bother dude.” Harry said with his face squished against the wall. “She’s a total bitch.”

“Was I talking to you?” Peter growled before shooting a web at Harry’s wrists to handcuff him.

“Ohhh I see.” Harry laughed humorlessly. “Spiderman is mad that I stole his girlfriend.”

“Can you shut up? I’m trying to have a conversation here.” You barked at Harry. “I’m sorry, Peter. Please continue.”

“I didn’t want you to flirt with Harry tonight because you can do a lot more than just sit still and look pretty.” Peter began.

“I know that, Peter.” You nodded.

“I also didn’t want you to flirt with him because I was jealous.” He confessed.

“Jealous?” You asked as you put Harry in the hotel chair and began to tie him up.

“He likes you, stupid.” Harry grumbled. You shot Harry and angry look, but when you looked back at Peter, he was nodded.

“He’s right.” Peter admitted , taking you by surprise.

“You like me?” You lips twitched into a smile as you tightened Harry’s rope. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was scared you wouldn’t like me back. You’re my best friend, Y/n.” Peter said softly. “If you didn’t like me back, everything would change. We’d still be friends but it wouldn’t be the same. I didn’t want to risk that.”

“I’m sorry.” You frowned. “I should’ve been more clear then.”

“Do you seriously have to do this here?” Harry whined and you smacked him on the back of the head.

“Clear about what?” Peter wondered.

“That I like you too.” You smiled sheepishly at him. Tony listened to the confession over the ear pierce and smiled to himself.

“There you go kid.” He mumbled to himself. “She got the hint.”

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[dancingazaleas]

eren yeager | best friend’s brother (smut)

ok i’m sure this is kind of surprising since i don’t really speak of eren

also no i don’t want to talk about how this is based off of victorious

warnings/notes: cursing, mikasa and eren are brother and sister, drummer!eren, modern au, secret relationship, everyone is 19, nsfw, eventual smut, slight dubcon, slight vouyerism, spanking, clit slapping, degradation, slight praise, choking, tummy bulge, edging, overstimulation, breeding kink, minors dni with this post pls, tell me if i missed anything

you know exactly who’s all going to be home whenever you call mikasa. but you still ask, like you always have, in order to lessen suspicion.

“it’s just me, eren, and zeke. i think zeke has pieck over tonight,” she sighs in slight annoyance, “wanna watch a movie when you come over?”

you tell her yes just as you turn on mikasa’s street. you both hang up with a goodbye, and you feel excitement bubbling in your gut as your car drives you closer and closer to eren. you practically jump out of your car whenever it’s parked on the curb of mikasa’s house.

you squeal while skipping up to the front door, punching in the numbers on the keypad lock without looking. you shut the door quietly after you enter the home, taking in the multiple smells from all three siblings living in the house.

you’ve got to hand it to zeke, he’s got amazing taste. whenever grisha and his mother died, he inherited a lot of money from them and decided to buy himself a home. however, it changed when he found out eren’s mother died and that eren and their adoptive sister, mikasa, would be going into foster care. and with zeke being 19, a legal adult, he managed to fit the roll as a guardian for the two of them. they’ve all lived together for a couple of years now, and you’ve come to enjoy the dynamic between them all whenever you’re staying there for a while.

“oh hey, (name). when’d you get here,” zeke asks whenever you walk into the kitchen, he’s probably getting himself those finger sandwiches he buys himself.

“just now. mikasa in her room,” you stretch and peek over zeke’s shoulder to see what the fridge contains.

“should be. can you get out of my fridge,” he nudges you back with his elbow, which you ignore.

“do you have any baby belle cheese,” you shove him aside with your hip.

“yeah, we do,” you turn to look over your shoulder to see eren walking into the kitchen.

you have to stop yourself from running into his arms, instead starting to rummage through the drawers of the big refrigerator. zeke leaves the kitchen, but you only know that because eren’s front his pressing against your back and warm arms wrap around your waist and his head head rests on your shoulder to whisper in your ear.

“didn’t tell me you were coming over tonight,” he mocks disappointment while you take a baby bell cheese.

“wanted it to be a surprise,” you smile, stepping away from the fridge and opening the packaging of the cheese. eren still clings to you.

“it was a nice surprise,” he kisses at the back of your ear while he squeezes you tight.

you turn your head to look at eren, puckering your lips for a sweet kiss.

eren, not being able to say no to you, obliges and gives you a sweet and lingering kiss on your lips. he pouts whenever you pull away and plop the cheese in your mouth, moving away from him to throw away the wrappings.

“ask mikasa to watch a movie with me,” he requests—more like demands.

“sure,” you nod, “i’ll see you in a few minutes.”

you trudge out of the kitchen and up the stairs, barging into mikasa’s dark room. you watch her jump in her bed, obviously frightened with the abrupt entrance.

“hi hi,” you chant while closing the door behind you, jumping onto her bed next to her.

“you scared me.”

“i know,” you roll your eyes, “wanna watch a movie downstairs?”

“depends... what movie?”

you hum, “maybe the addams family, something like that.”

“yeah, if it’s the addams family then i’ll watch,” she says, scrolling through instagram.

“wanna see if eren will watch,” she asks you while she likes a post by sasha on her phone. the picture was of her, jean, and connie.

“sure, i’ll text him,” you pull out your phone, immediately pulling up eren’s contact and messaging him.

luckily, you’re able to hide the lovey dovey messages sent from eren. you text that mikasa does want to watch a movie and to be downstairs in three minutes.

“he said yea,” eren hadn’t even replied yet.

mikasa and you get off of her bed, making your way down the hallway and down the stairs while talking.

“popcorn?”

“yea, sounds so good right now,” you sigh happily, “we gonna cuddle?”

mikasa snickers at your question, “of course.”

you laugh a little before pushing her in the direction of the kitchen, settling yourself down in the middle on the long sofa. you pull up the addams family on the tv, smiling gently whenever eren comes in the room with his phone in his hands.

“sit at my feet, i’m cuddling with mikasa,” he scoffs at the claim, but puts your legs in his lap.

mikasa comes back into the room with a bowl of popcorn in her hand and some sodas in her hands. she manages to flip the light switch off in the living room while on her way to put everything on the coffee table in front of you. mikasa sits down when you lift your head, welcoming the weight of your head coming down her clothed thighs.

before you start the movie, mikasa asks eren, “do you have rehearsal tomorrow?”

“yeah. jean and annie’ll be here at like 11,” he sighs in slight frustration just as you start the movie.

“sucks for you,” you snort absentmindedly, pulling the bowl of popcorn into your body on top of your stomach.

eren flicks your leg with his fingers while mikasa ignores the both of you and continues to watch the movie.

during the movie, you notice a text from eren that asks you to stay with him after his rehearsal tomorrow, claiming that mikasa and zeke should be out of the house.

you turn off your phone with a giddy smile. you have a good feeling about tomorrow.

————

you’re laying in eren’s bed while he practices his drumming with his band in a few rooms over. you text mikasa the whole time, who’s telling you about some drama between zeke and her cousin, levi. well, it’s not really drama, levi and zeke just have a love-hate friendship. it makes you laugh, especially since the usually cocky and narcissistic man known as zeke was usually getting his ass chewed out by levi.

“i’m so horny,” eren groans while he walks into the room. menace.

you roll your eyes at him, continuing to text mikasa. eren’s pouting as he flops down next to you, face pressing against your neck.

“didn’t you just get out rehearsal? how do you have energy after drumming for an hour and a half,” you ignore the nipping of eren.

“‘dunno,” he sighs against your skin, sending chills up and down your spine.

you shut off your phone, throwing it to the side and pulling eren from your neck. you kiss him, to which he reciprocates happily, while he goes to straddle your waist.

his hands are already groping at your chest and his breath is already heavy against your mouth.

you pull away, “have you been horny since the beginning of rehearsal??”

he grumbles out a yes while he bites and sucks at your neck. your laughter is interrupted by a gasp when eren bites particularly hard on your neck. his hands creep up under your shirt, only to find a surprise.

“you’re not wearing a bra,” he asks, pushing the shirt up over your boobs.

“didn’t feel the need to,” you mumble with embarrassment as eren’s eyes stare at your chest.

without a second thought, his lips are attached to one tit, sucking hickies onto the skin around your areola. you whimper when he punches and twists a nipple with his fingers, chest slightly bucking up and burying his face further into your tits. eren feels like he’s in heaven.

when eren pulls away, he takes a moment to admire your tits. bruised and abused, glistening with his saliva under the lights in his room.

“pretty,” he mumbles, finally pushing your shirt entirely off of your body.

you wiggle your hips as a signal that eren takes. he’s ridding himself of his shirt and pants before he takes off your own pants. his fingers just barely swipe across the outsides of your thighs, giving you goosebumps.

eren’s spreading your legs apart, staring at the wet stain on your panties. you try to push your hips in his face, but eren swings his left arm around your hips to hold them down. his right hand is teasingly stroking your clit through the thin fabric of your underwear. each swipe of his thumb has your whole body tensing, something that has him smirking.

“please,” you bite your lip while you stare into his eyes.

instead of indulging in your desires, he’s pulling his body away from the spot between your legs. only to take off your underwear, and then settle between your legs again.

“you’re all wet and i’ve barely done anything,” he comments, running a fingertip against your slit.

you whimper whenever eren shoves two of his fingers inside of you unexpectedly. he doesn’t give you time to adjust to his fingers, immediately setting himself a tempo as he fucks you with his fingers.

moaning and acting without thinking, your hand tugs at his long hair. he almost immediately pulls his fingers outside of you, fingertips slapping at your needy clit. your hips buck while you apologize.

“pull my hair like that again and you won’t get to cum,” he resumes his finger fucking, slightly smiling at how your hands immediately go to grip at the sheets now. he’s trained you so well.

“do you hear that,” he snickers while curling his finger, squelch sounds following after.

“cumming! cumming,” you pant a few moments later, eyes squeezing shut.

eren immediately pulls his fingers out of you, resulting in a cry from you. he laughs sadistically as he repeats the process over and over and over again, so much that you’ve lost count, tears now running down your cheeks. he lets you come this time, admiring the blissed out look on your face as you moan wantonly.

but his hand moves to your clit now, listening to your pleading that you’re too sensitive.

“shut up and take it,” he stops his maneuvers on your clit to slap your clit again.

you yelp and buck your hips, starting to open your mouth to plead until he starts rubbing your clit again. you orgasm quickly, back arching against eren’s mattress.

“eren,” you whimper, legs shaking while eren pulls his hand away.

“what do you want, pretty girl,” he sits on his knees, looking down at your crying face.

“more,” you sniffle, small hand reaching out for him.

“more of what,” he raises a taunting eyebrow, catching your wrist in his hand, “c’mon, use your words, you’re a big girl.”

“you... more of you.”

“that’s not an answer,” he reaches down to wipe away a tear.

“want you inside me,” you pout and wiggle your hips again.

“you want it or need it?” he smirks while tilting his head.

you whine, “need it. need you here, ‘ren.”

you guide his hand to your tummy while you speak and eren feels his cock throb in his boxers.

“fuck,” he groans, roughly flipping you over to lay on your stomach.

you yelp, reaching out to hold onto the pillow your head was just laying on. he’s forcing you to arch your back, and the way he forces you to do it is almost unrealistic. he’s tossing his boxers across the room for him to search for later, reaching down to pump his cock in his hand.

his hands lay heavy on your ass, spreading your plump cheeks apart to get a better view.

your cheek squishes against the pillow as you stare at him over your shoulder, needy pout on your face. he chuckles at your eyes closing whenever he finally shoves his huge cock inside of you.

“so big,” you sob, “so big, ren.”

he ignores you, pulling him cock out of you until the tip before slamming his hips against your ass. you yelp as soon as eren starts to thrust in and out of you ruthlessly. so hard that you’re sure you’ll have bruises on the back of your thighs for a few days.

however, his hips still whenever he hears the front door of the house creaking open and a voice calling out.

“eren! i’m home,” mikasa calls out while she shuts the door behind her.

you reach your hand back to shove eren off of you, not wanting to risk the chance of mikasa even hearing you. eren grabs your wrist with one hand while the other slaps your asscheek harshly.

“okay, i’m about to take a nap,” he replies to mikasa, knowing full well she’s already making her way up the stairs.

“okay,” she replies, going into her room. her room that’s right next to eren’s.

“eren,” you whisper, “she’s gonna hear.”

“don’t act so innocent,” he growls, “i bet you want mikasa to hear. to hear just how you’re getting fucked like the slut you are.”

you whimper, “no... no.”

“want her to hear how good you’re feeling,” eren smiles sadistically as you turn your head to bury your face in the pillow.

he hears your whining faintly whenever he starts to thrust his hips again. your moans are being muffled by his pillow, and even so, you’re sure that mikasa knows what’s going on by the sound of eren’s skin slapping against your own.

he puts his hands onto your shoulders, leaning his weight onto you as he speeds up his thrusts. you’re almost screaming in his pillow now, nails clawing at the sheets under you.

“gonna come,” he groans breathily, “you gonna come when mikasa’s in the next room over?”

he watches you nod your head, which makes him bite his lips while releasing a groan.

he whispers in your ear, spitting out a command for you, “go ahead. go ahead and cum like the slut you are. give mikasa a show.”

you moan loudly into his pillow, pussy fluttering around his fat cock as you orgasm.

he fucks you through it, not slowing down his fast and vigorous thrusting.

“hurts,” you cry.

“don’t care,” he says, reaching a hand around your body to grip onto your neck.

he’s pulling you up with him, back flushed against his front as he thrusts wildly. you look like a mess, saliva dripping down your chin along with your tears, eyes glossed over.

your hand touches against your tummy gently, whimpering at the feeling of the bulge that is eren.

“feel you,” you mewl quietly, “feel you here, ‘rennie.”

he presses the hand not wrapped around your neck against your tummy, groaning out. his thrusts speed up at full speed, something he does not do often, but eren’s eager to fuck his seed inside of you.

“gonna cum, gonna fuck my kids into your slutty pussy,” he grumbles, slapping a hand over your mouth whenever it opens to moan.

“you want that, huh? w-want me to fuck a kid into you? maybe then mikasa’ll get the hint,” his voice is shaky when he feels you tighten around him.

he snickers, “fuckin’ slut. tightening around me whenever i spew that shit. you want her to hear you being fucked stupid, huh?”

you shake your head while you shut your eyes again. another orgasm is approaching, and you’re not sure that you can handle holding it in.

eren notices and decides to take pity on you.

“go ahead, cum,” and you do. you gush all over his cock and sheets, hands scratching at his wrist as you scream into the palm of his hand.

“fuck,” he hisses whenever he feels his balls tighten.

he comes not too long after you, finally slowing his pace down to a grind. he lets you drop onto the bed on your tummy, spreading your legs open to admire how his cum leaks out of you.

you’re absolutely sure that mikasa heard, but you’re too fucked out to care. she’ll confront you if she knows, and that’s when you’ll worry.

but then again, your best friend’s brother is irresistible.

[myherowritings]

PART 3. ACCIDENTAL SUGAR DADDY?

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.4k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. none in this chapter

A/N. happy new year y’all! :3 i hope you have a good 2021 and here is some flirty ceo!shouto for u to enjoy as we enter the new year hehe ;) thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy! xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

© myherowritings — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, copying, or translating of any kind is not allowed. do not read my writing as asmr. do not plagiarize.

“I heard you dropped by this weekend,” you said as a greeting, a playful smile on your lips. “Looking for me?”

If the tips of his ears didn’t tinge pink, you would have guessed Shouto was completely unaffected by your words. 

“Mn.” He drew his attention away from your gaze and pointedly adjusted his cufflinks. “Good morning to you too.” 

You laughed, accepting you wouldn’t get anything out of your attempt at teasing. “Morning, Shouto. How was your weekend?” 

The cafe was quite busy this hour, but Miyazaki took over the other register to alleviate the stress (though, what she really said was so you and pretty boy—who happened to be rich rich—could talk). Whatever the reason, you were glad for a small break whenever you could get it.

“You could say it was busy,” he replied, sounding a bit tired. For the first time since you met him, you actually noticed how exhausted he looked. You wanted to put cucumbers on his eyes and lay his head down on your lap to coax him to sleep. Nonetheless, he smiled softly at you. “And yours? I hope you were able to have time to rest and relax.”

You nodded. “I just slept a lot and caught up on the shows I missed throughout the week.”

“The real way a weekend should be spent.” 

His voice was teasing but he didn’t sound mocking. Just...somewhat playful. There was something about his tone that made you want to hear it again.

“Something tells me you need a weekend away where you could just relax and do nothing,” you commented, tapping the back of your pen to your chin. “Do you not have any days off at work?” 

He considered this. “Depends what you mean by day off.” 

“If you have to ask that, that probably means you don’t have a day off, huh?” you said with a frown, holding your hand over your chest as you sighed dramatically. “You poor thing. Overworked and tired. Maybe I should steal you away one weekend and get you to just relax.” 

You were only half-serious.

“Maybe you should,” agreed Shouto, sounding full-serious.

“Maybe I will,” you blurted before you could stop yourself. Maybe you could if you actually had his number… Then, feeling shameful you said, “But, ah, anyway, what can I get for you today? We actually have cheese danishes again!”

His face brightened. “You do? I’ll take five dozen.”

With a laugh you took down his order. You really weren’t sure where all these pastries were going when he bought it, but judging from his expression, you figured it must be somewhere good. 

“And for your drink?”

“This time I’ll have a large green tea with almond milk, please.” 

You nodded but tilted your head to the side in question. “No coffee with extra shots of espresso today?” 

“I add too much sugar and creamer to my coffee,” he admitted sheepishly. “And with all the baked goods I’ve been eating I realized I may have had an excess amount of sweets lately.” 

With an understanding laugh you patted his hand that was resting on the counter woefully. “I can definitely relate to that. If too many sweets are bad for you they shouldn’t have made it taste so good.”

Shouto glanced down at where your hands touched, an expression you couldn’t quite discern on his face. Averting your gaze, you quickly pulled your hand back. Was that inappropriate of you? Did he find it too pushy?

“Oh— Sorry about that,” you said, rubbing your elbow with your opposite hand. “Got a bit ahead of myself there.”

“No, it’s fine.” He blinked once. “I didn’t mind.”

Unsure if he meant anything by that and unsure if you were reading too much into things, you simply brushed the topic off and moved on to getting his order in telling him the price. 

“Paying by card again, I’m assuming?” you asked before hitting the appropriate button on the screen.

“Correct.”

By now the sight of the sleek and pretty credit card was one you grew rather fond of as he scanned over the payment terminal and signed his name. Was it weird you wanted to examine his signature more closely? Shouto seemed like the type of person who would have a fancy signature that somehow looked like art. 

As per routine, you told him his order would be ready for pick up at his right and, before he left the register, he thanked you and gave you another $100. 

Did it feel any less strange than the first time he tipped you? Not really, no. But you still weren’t going to complain about a generous tip from a willing customer.

Before he left with his cheese danishes and cup of tea in hand, he stopped by next to you with a small smile. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

You grinned back. “Can’t wait, Shouto!” 

— ✩ —

This went on for a whole other week. By this point, he had given you over $1,000 in tip and you were starting to feel like you should give him something in return despite him assuring you he didn’t expect anything. 

When you told your friends about the nice guy you met while you were working and they asked for the details, the first thing they said in response to your situation was, “Sugar daddy?” 

Before they planted that thought into your head, you just took it as a rich businessman who hated the rich and believed in redistribution of wealth—you couldn’t complain about that. That made him even more appealing, if you must say. But once Kaminari and Ashido whispered those two words, you couldn’t help but see the comparisons. 

You had no issues with sugar daddies or sugar babies; as long as they were two consenting adults, what did it matter to you? It just wasn’t something you were looking for at the time and you didn’t want Shouto to get the wrong impression or involve yourself in something you weren’t ready to. 

As you commuted to work for your next morning shift, you told yourself today was the day you’d thank him one final time for the tips, but tell him you couldn’t accept anymore. You were sure he’d be understanding but you also hoped it wouldn’t deter him from coming to see you. That was the last thing you’d want. 

“Mrs. Miyazaki,” you said between customers. “When Shouto comes in, do you think I can step away from the register to talk to him for a little? I promise it’ll be brief!”

She waved her hand dismissively. “That’s not a problem. Are you finally going to ask him out or something?”

You scratched the back of your neck. “Or something, yeah.” 

Thankfully, by the time Shouto arrived today, it was later than he normally came, meaning rush hour was almost dying down. 

“Good morning! Someone’s a little late today,” you teased. “Overslept?” 

“I wish,” he sighed wistfully. “I had a meeting early this morning and it just ended. Didn’t have a chance to pick up some coffee or pastries beforehand.” 

You frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope whoever was hosting the meeting at least provided you guys drinks and snacks!” 

He paused. “He did, but… I just thought yours were better.” 

Smiling at the compliment, you preened. “Well, I can’t say I’m not surprised. And I’m glad you were able to drop by still. Would’ve missed you too much otherwise.”

Again, you were only half-serious.

“Hm. I would’ve missed you too.”

And again, he seemed full-serious. Not that you minded. 

After taking his order and watching him pay, you pulled him to the side, looking over at your boss so she knew what was going on. She gave you a brief nod as you turned your attention to Shouto. 

A lapse of silence went by and he spoke up, “Did you have something you wanted to say?” 

“Yeah, actually.” You wrung your fingers nervously, hoping you wouldn’t say anything to offend him since you knew his actions were coming from a kind place. “I just wanted to say… I’m not really looking for a sugar daddy right now.”

He blinked once. Then twice. “Pardon?” 

You stared at him, unsure what to say. 

“I— Sorry. I wasn’t… It’s not my intention to be a...sugar daddy either.” Shouto’s face flushed a bright pink that made your own cheeks warm up in response. 

“But the—the money? I just… I guess I thought…” You winced.

So he wasn’t trying to pick up a sugar baby… Well, this was awkward. But regardless, you think you’ve gotten close enough to him to the point where it would feel weird accepting money from him. 

“I’m sorry if I was unclear. It really is just a tip to show appreciation for your service here.” 

You shook your head. “No! Sorry, that makes sense! My friends just said… And then I…” you trailed off, feeling a million times more flustered than when you started. “Sorry about that. The sugar daddy mishap aside, I still wanted to say that I really appreciate the tips you gave, but I don’t think I can accept them anymore.” 

Slowly, he nodded, adjusting the collar of his dress shirt. “I understand. Did something happen?”

“No, nothing happened!” you were quick to assure. “I really am thankful, but… I think we’ve gotten too close for me to be comfortable accepting that much money, you know?”

Shouto tilted his head to the side, listening intently. 

“Like,” you tried to explain, fiddling with your apron, “over the past few weeks I just think we’ve gotten to know each other more and I think of you as a friend of sorts now.” You peered at him through your lashes, hoping your words were making sense. “I think as a relationship develops—for me, at least—adding money into the mix can cause weird power imbalances if not communicated properly. And I just don’t want that for us.” 

He thought through your words for a while before agreeing. “I get what you mean. I wouldn’t want to unintentionally make you feel like you owe me anything, so if you’re not comfortable with it, I can stop.” 

“Thanks, Shouto,” you said with a beam, glad he was so receptive. Really though, what else did you expect? From your interactions with him you took him to be kindhearted and open. Of course he wouldn’t be upset over this. “But just to be clear, this doesn’t mean you should stop coming! Right? I don’t want to stop being your friend or anything!” 

With a small laugh, he nodded. “Sure. I wouldn’t want to part with my favorite cafe. And I’d like to keep being friends as well.”

Those words warmed your heart. You really were nervous about this confrontation earlier; you didn’t want voicing your opinion to mean ending your friendship. (Although, if you sharing what you were comfortable with was enough to end a relationship, then you supposed it was bound to be a toxic and stifling one in the long run and it was good to know in the beginning to end it before it could grow.) Turns out, however, that you didn’t even need to worry about that. He was understanding and sweet and you were glad to have gotten this out of the way.

“Well, as new friends,” you said, gently nudging his side, “maybe we should get to know each other more? Exchange numbers… Hang out outside of this cafe…” You ran through some suggestions, almost bouncing on your feet in excitement. “I mean, I know you’re always so busy and might not have much free time to hang out. But— If you’re ever free one weekend…” 

“I’d enjoy that,” he cut in, saving you from blabbering your mouth off and accidentally embarrassing yourself. “Didn’t you say you’d steal me away from work to relax? I’m still holding you to that.” 

The beginnings of a smirk formed on his face as he looked at your flustered expression. Was he teasing you?

You huffed, pretending to be insulted by his playful mocking. “Guess I’ll really have to do it then.” 

“Guess so.”

“Maybe you should give me your number first so we could plan it.” 

“Okay.”

He handed you his phone and you handed him yours, both of your adding your numbers to the contact list. Smiling, you held the phone in front of the two of you to take a contact picture of yourself for Shouto’s phone. To your complete surprise, he laughed before promptly following suit and taking a selfie for his contact image. 

“Cute,” you said when he handed you back your phone. 

“You too.” 

Placing your device back in your pocket, you looked at him, hand on hip. “Since when did you become such a smooth-talker? Am I going to have to guard my heart now?” 

His only response was a shrug, but you could see hints of a smile playing on his face. The two of you seemed to be smiling a lot lately, you couldn’t help but notice. 

“I should probably let you go to work now—and I should go back to mine.” You gestured to the growing line at the front of the store. Your manager looked like she had things under control, but you didn’t want to take advantage of her kindness. “You should text me later though. If you want.”

“I’ll do that,” Shouto promised, picking up his drink and pastry boxes from the side counter. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N. And… I’ll message you soon.” 

As you watched him leave the store, you were certain you had a silly look on your face as you stared in a trance. 

“I’ll turn my phone off silent just for you!” you said to his back, hoping he understood what a momentous occasion this was. Your phone was always on silent (unless you were playing a game, of course). But for Shouto, you could handle hearing the obnoxious ringtone and text tone. 

With an amused expression he nodded before waving goodbye.

Later on that day, at the end of your shift, you noticed a new message from a certain someone that made your stomach flutter.

Shouto: Hi there. It’s Shouto :)

You never knew those four simple words would be enough to keep the grin plastered on your face up until the moment your head hit your pillow to fall asleep. But, damn— Were you glad that happened to be the case. 

a/n: whY WAS SHOUTO AND Y/N EXCHANGING NUMBERS SO CUTE idk that scene got me all blushy and :DDD HFJDKSF like taking a selfie with shouto and getting his number? only goal in life BFHFGF,, also y/n said no more tips how we feeling? ;o 

what to expect in the next part:

an unwanted visitor ಥ_ಥ

shouto has a...proposition for y/n 

FLIRTING FLUFF SO MUCH CUTENESS U MIGHT CRY

y/n struggles with their fEeLiNGs~

[ptergwen]

love is more than a word

w/c: a very ouch 3.6k

warnings: so so so much angst and an unhealthy (ish) relationship

summary: after nearly four years together, peter has stopped trying

a/n: listen y’all i don’t know what came over me when i made this but i think it’s the saddest thing i’ve ever written? uh try to enjoy tho

-

you never thought this would happen, but you’re getting tired of peter. it isn’t your fault. that cliche it’s not you, it’s me line doesn’t apply here.

at first, you actually did find yourself believing the it’s me part. you’d came to the conclusion that you expect too much from peter. he goes to class, he works, patrols, sometimes parties, takes you out when he can. he’s got a lot going on for a full time college student, which is a busy life to lead on its own.

it’s why you don’t complain when he wants to spend the night in and order a pizza instead of cooking together like you’ve been wanting to try. it’s why every time your friends ask you two to hang, you have to reluctantly explain that peter is passed out at eight o’clock on a saturday.

there’s a lazy “wanna make out?” some nights, if peter isn’t yawning when he steps through the front door. even that has lost its enjoyment. kissing peter doesn’t give you the rush it used to, the taste of his strawberry chapstick not flooding your senses and intoxicating you. it’s become predictable. comfortable. boring.

peter is boring.

you’ve slipped into unspoken routine. say your hello’s, work on separate assignments in different rooms. peter eventually yells something like “babe, you hungry yet?” across the apartment, his passive way of asking you to make dinner. you usually order takeout because why make an effort if he doesn’t?

you might watch one of the ten movies peter has liked since before the start of your relationship. he’ll usually fall asleep during it. no surprise there. his overpacked schedule exhausts him, which you’ve talked to him about spreading himself too thin. peter is too nice and can’t say no, so this is where it leaves him.

the main reason you’ve stayed with him is that he can’t take care of himself. he’s clueless about paying the bills, sorting his laundry, simply remembering to drink water. peter wouldn’t be able to go a week without you. he even says it himself.

“crap, i totally forgot about these,” when you picked up his special ordered textbooks from your school library. “can food go in the garbage disposal?” a rare time you didn’t wash the dishes. “thank you, y/n/n. you’re literally a lifesaver,” whenever you do a task for him that someone in their 20s shouldn’t need assistance with.

you didn’t used to mind much. he watches over the city every night. you felt you should return the favor. spider-man could use some help, too. after the almost four years you’ve been together, peter has become completely dependent on you. it only got worse when you moved in together your junior year. you’re concerned how he’ll manage later in his adult life.

you’d think he’d be a little more passionate about your relationship considering how much he needs you. you know peter still loves you, of course he does. that’s not what the problem is. he’s become content with the mutual feeling, so he doesn’t try anymore. he expects the spark to keep itself lit.

no more random joke of the day texts that he used to send you. he stopped surprising you with your coffee order in the morning, the one that he memorized the first time you two went to a starbucks. what you initially found most endearing about peter was that he remembered every little thing you told him.

he put whatever energy he had into showing you that he listened. he’d do it all with rosy cheeks and that toothy smile of his. it seems now like he’s under the impression that being in a long term relationship means none of that matters anymore. there’s no need to impress you, keep you guessing, make you feel special.

tonight is your breaking point. as you go over all of this in your head while peter lays peacefully next to you, you can’t take it. you’ve been making so many excuses for him. you lie to yourself. you’re desperate to believe this is okay and normal and you can work this out, and you can love whatever version of him this is.

but, you can’t. you can’t do it. you need to tell him now because if you sleep on this, you’ll end up feeling bad and be stuck under these suffocating blankets forever.

“peter?” you whisper his name, your back turned to him in bed. you haven’t cuddled each other to sleep in a while. his arms don’t make you feel held now, they make you feel trapped. you’ve been forcing yourself to ignore his look of hurt when you reject his open embrace.

“peter?” you speak louder after a moment of silence, except for his occasional snores. a loud one escapes him before they stop altogether. his eyes stay shut as he mumbles out a, “uh... huh?” your heart is thudding through your entire body. you take a breath in from your nose. “i wanna break up.”

the breath you let out next is one of relief, those three words that have been scratching your throat for months finally out. peter slowly turns his head over his shoulder. he blinks rapidly at your motionless figure. you’re still not facing him.

“what?” is all he says. his voice is surprisingly steady, the confession not yet registering with his sleepy mind. his eyes are burning into you. “i wanna break up,” you repeat and squish your face further into your pillow. peter suddenly sits up, flicking on the lamp on his side. he tries to sling an arm around you. you move further away until you’re at the edge of the bed.

“i’m serious, peter. everything we had, it’s gone.” your words cut through him harder than literal knives he’s been stabbed with. “i- i don’t understand. where is this coming from?” he rakes a hand through his mess of curls. you turn onto your back, looking up at peter. his eyes are fixed on your lower half.

he’ll most definitely cry if he meets your eyes. he really doesn’t want to cry, not ever again when you won’t be here to make him feel better.

“it’s been coming,” you almost scoff at him as you prop yourself up against your pillows. peter’s teeth tug at his lower lip. “all we do is this.” you gesture to your bed, slapping your hand down at your side. “i get tired,” he speaks quietly, refusing to look at you. “i know you do, peter. i know, but you’d be a lot happier if you ever listened to me.”

your statement comes off as condescending to him. he works up the courage to look you in the face. “are you kidding? all you do is boss me around, and i take it. i’ve never once complained.” anger is coursing through his veins and voice. at the situation, that he’s about to lose the one stable part of his life. you’re getting pissed, too.

“that’s because you can’t do anything yourself!” you throw the blankets off you and swing your legs over the bed in one motion. peter hops out of bed entirely. “my whole life, i’ve been on my own half the time,” he spits as he comes over to stand in front of you. “sorry for taking you up on your offers to help.”

your peter would never spew that shit out. he wouldn’t guilt you for something he’s in the wrong about. this peter takes you for granted. he has no clue how fucked he’d be without you.

the first time you spoke to peter was on your way to history 227. you’d recognized him from your class, much more interested in the pretty boy taking notes with his tongue stuck out than whatever war your professor would lecture about.

he was carrying some books, a pencil case that didn’t fully zip, and a five subject notebook. you watched him do his balancing act through the halls until his legs started to wobble. a knowing smile on your face, you tapped his shoulder. it was a gentle one so you didn’t scare him and make all his things fall over.

“can i carry something for you?” you laughed out and pushed one of your backpack straps up on your shoulder. peter only stared at you, his doe eyes prompting you to reach for his pencil case. “uh, no, it’s fine. i got it. see?” he proved that to you by hiking everything up in his arms. he gave you a smile of his own.

“are you sure? we’re going to the same place,” you’d checked again and pointed at his impressive pile. “i’m not gonna steal your sharpies.” “really, i’m fine,” peter insisted with a heart clenching chuckle. “you can have one, if you want,” he offered and attempted to unzip his case, one handed. you put your hand over his to stop him.

“wait until we get to class,” you let go of him, leaving the tips of peter’s ears a shade of pink you’d later fall in love with. “i’ll sit with you.”

peter was once determined to do things on his own, to be self-sufficient. it used to be something he was proud of. now, he’s completely incapable of holding his independence.

“we’re done, peter.” your tone is short, you getting to your feet. “you’d probably forget how to fucking breathe without me, but call it bossing around, i guess,” you laugh bitterly and go over to your drawers. peter’s face falls as he grabs your wrist, stopping you when you pass by him. “where are you going?”

no answer. you pull yourself out of his grasp with your lips pressed into a stern line. peter follows you step by step over to the dresser. “wait, wait. don’t leave, baby. please,” he begs you, getting onto his knees beside you. you’re pulling random clothes out as quick as you can. a science t-shirt peter outgrew is in your hands.

peter used to give you all his old clothes. the signature smell of his cologne lingered no matter how many times you washed them. they kept you calm on nights he was out late patrolling or away on missions. peter would sport a smirk whenever you wore them out in public, pulling you closer to him and complimenting the look.

it started when he was packing for his first mission since you two had begun living together. he’d realized he became too buff to fit in some shirts. remembering how many times you’d giggle at their funny sayings, peter gave them to you. you threw one on and thanked him with a peck on the cheek. it became your tradition.

peter would set off for a new continent, but a piece of him would stay home with you.

the stretched out hoodies and ripped sweatpants just sit in your drawer now. another meaningful thing discontinued. whatever he doesn’t want goes to may for donations now. the memory of what they used to mean to you makes a fit of rage burst through you.

you slam down his ‘find x’ shirt in the space between his knees and yours. you’re on a mission of your own this time. you aren’t going anywhere until you get rid of all the stuff that went from him to you.

“y/n, don’t do this. i- i love you. i love you.” peter chokes out, tears filling his eyes. his vision is clouded while you toss more clothes to your side. “i love you, y/n/n,” he whimpers again, and this time you briskly push the drawer shut. the whole dresser shakes. this is the most emotion either of you have shown in the past few months of your relationship. it’s a little too late.

“love is more than a word, peter. you have to back it up with actions.” you’re doing your best not to cry. the memories of how loved peter made you feel play in your mind. he briefly wipes under his eyes and shakes his head. he’s so oblivious. “i thought i- i did.” “exactly, you did. you gave up at some point.” your voice gets weaker as a tear drips down your chin.

you didn’t plan on breaking down when you imagined this moment. part of you wishes you could give him another chance. most of you knows it wouldn’t do any good for you or peter. you’re not right for each other anymore. he outgrew some sweatshirts, you outgrew him.

that takes you all the way back to it’s not you, it’s me. it’s really both of you.

for the last time, you pull peter in for a hug. the two of you need this. he loops his arms around your back, keeping them loose around you as he tucks his face into the side of your neck. you’re a mix of tears and sharp breaths with your chin on his shoulder. you bring a hand up to the back of his head, grabbing a fistful of curls.

he sobs right into your ear, effectively destroying whatever composure you had left.

even though you’re not in love with peter, you haven’t stopped loving him. somewhere inside of him is the goofy boy who asked you out on a post-it during class. the kindhearted man who gave so much of himself to the world and saved enough for you. the one whose fingertips left goosebumps on your skin with every touch.

seeing him like this, having caused it feels like a dull pain rippling in every part of your body. you’ve been there to soothe him during countless breakdowns over the years. you managed to stay strong for all of them. this is the only exception. he lost people, felt down about life, made mistakes. you were there to pick up each piece and put them back together.

the one mistake peter made that you can’t fix is not loving you right. you became his rock, his anchor whenever he let grief and sadness rule over him. you’d get him back to himself. he could’ve at least bought you flowers once in a while, or done anything that showed his gratitude. every iteration of awful put together isn’t enough to describe how he feels.

“i’m so- i’m so fucking sorry, baby. i don’t deserve you. i never have,” peter murmurs as he cries, wetting your skin that his face is still pressed into. your fingers pull roughly at his hair. hot tears overflow from your own eyes. “i should’ve done more.” his voice cracks on the last word. “that’s all i wanted to hear, pete,” you breathe out and pull away from him.

“does that mean you’ll stay?” he croaks, arms still wound around your body. his eyes are hopeful when they lock with yours. a frown pulls at your lips. “only for tonight. i should... one of us should sleep on the couch.” “oh,” his voice is gravelly, so he clears his throat. “i’ll do it.” you’re not going to fight him on it for once.

peter removes his arms from your waist, you sitting back down on your thighs. you give him a blink and you’ll miss it smile because you can’t keep one for long. it’s to let him know you’re not mad. you were at the start of this conversation, then he took accountability. you also came to terms with the fact that the downfall of your relationship was a joined effort.

there are more factors than peter not giving you what he should have. time, different goals, new outlooks on life. you can’t hate only him because a whole bunch of things lead to this.

instead of a smile, since he physically can’t put one on his splotchy face, peter brushes the pad of his thumb over the corner of your lips. he gets up to leave the room, but you stop him with a “wait!” he freezes in front of you. you get out a hoodie from his pile of old clothes and stand up. “it’s cold.” you put it in his hands, earning a grin that he didn’t think was possible.

“thanks, y/n,” peter sighs and holds the hoodie against his chest. “goodnight. um,” this is the part where he’d usually say i love you. “sleep well, okay?” the replacement stings for both of you. you’ll have to learn to fall asleep without hearing that phrase first. as much as you didn’t feel it anymore, you’d become used to it. “you too, peter. night,” you say softly.

you head back to your bed while peter walks out the door. he glances at you once, and you’re already settling under the covers. he shuts the door behind him before finding his way to the couch.

your bed has always seemed too small. it’s gigantic without peter. you aren’t sure how you feel about that yet.

peter lays across the couch, the hood that doesn’t quite fit him pulled over his head. he’s only wearing it because you gave it to him. you doing that not even five minutes ago was how you backed up your love with actions. it’s so easy. silent tears spill from his eyes at the realization.

he wishes on every star that he could’ve figured out he wasn’t doing enough sooner. you’d be together right now, had he just caught on. there was a time he prided himself on knowing you fully and completely. how to turn you into the shy one with certain combinations of words, what your schedule was each week so he could plan his free time around it.

your relationship became something he thought would last unconditionally. if only he was able pinpoint the exact moment he went wrong.

you’re right in the other room. he can go in there and bawl, plead for you to take him back. how could he do that and claim to love you, though? you’ve made it clear you‘re over him.

the best way for peter to show you he loves you is by letting you live your life, without him in it.

-

you don’t see peter again for weeks. he moved back in with may, and you got to keep the apartment. you were the one who took all the care of it, anyway.

your semester ended at the perfect time because peter isn’t in any of your new classes. the city is too big to bump into each other. you’re free from the hold he had on you, which would’ve been four years long since yesterday. you’ve been good at picking up his broken pieces for too long, and now it’s time to pick up your own.

for all the hangouts you missed on his behalf, you made up for it. you called mj the day after your breakup and met for lunch. she never explicitly said it, but she took your side. peter had a feeling because when he had the same idea as you, to lean on his friends for support, she never reached out.

betty is indifferent, ned stays cordial with you. his real loyalty is to peter. you can’t blame him.

peter hasn’t been doing well since you broke up. he’s not eating enough, he can’t focus on work of any kind. you were right when you said he would forget how to breathe without you. he often wonders how you’ve been.

he finds out today.

you’re walking around campus, heading in the direction peter just came from. he has a class in the building your last one was. the two of you are on the same sidewalk, opposite sides. he almost doesn’t recognize you.

mj is on one side of you, a guy he’s never seen before with an arm around your shoulders. you’re all laughing about whatever dumb thing your professor said during the lecture. your hair, which is done in a new style, flows behind you in the spring breeze. a smile takes place on your glossy lips. the smile is directed towards that guy. your new boyfriend, peter assumes.

you look amazing, and not only physically. you seem happy with your small group of people. peter hadn’t been able to give you that happiness in years, so it’s nice to see you got it back somehow.

he must have stared too long because you notice him. you fall behind mj and your potential boyfriend, both of them wrapped up in discussing your next project. peter stops walking. you do the same. he’s not sure if he upset you, or what’s going on. his instincts tell him to apologize. his mouth stays closed.

that infectious smile of yours appears once again. you thought about peter yesterday, it being your anniversary and all. you’d only let yourself remember the good things. they outweighed the bad ones when you look back on everything.

“aye, grandma! get over here!” mj calls to you, your boyfriend nudging her side. “take your time, y/n/n. i’m not in a rush to write seven long ass pages.” you laugh to yourself at the two of them. peter fiddles with the zipper on his jacket. it’s from the drawer of things you used to wear. “one sec!” you yell back.

“hey,” you turn to face peter, who’s giving you a tight lipped smile. “how’ve you been?” “i’m okay. just, you know,” he shrugs and clasps his hands behind his back. there’s a short silence before peter says, “you seem good. really good.” he smiles for real this time. “yeah, i am. i hope you are, too,” you tell him and genuinely mean it.

you’d like to catch up soon, but it’s not right yet. you both need more time. “i’ll see you around?” you’re already starting to walk, backwards so you can see peter. “uh, sure. bye,” he gives you a quick wave and continues on his way.

you get back to mj and your boyfriend, his arm returning to your shoulders. they waited for you by the stoplight. “what’d ya get up to over there?” he teases, mj suspiciously watching your face for any tells. you carefully think through your answer with a grin. “love.”

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 119: Hope

Harry was always alone.

It sounded a bit dramatic, a little pitiable, and more than a little untrue.

Because he was always out with friends. He had pub nights with large groups of people, he went and took those wine and paint classes with Luna and Ginny every other week, and a cooking class with Ron and Pansy on the off week. He met George, Ron, and Seamus for lunch on Thursday afternoons. Hermione dragged him to a book club with Draco once a month. He met Hermione for breakfast on Tuesdays and had dinner with Ron and Hermione every Monday (and often Fridays, too). Neville invited him for tea every Sunday and there was always someone different there with them.

Still, there was something that always separated him from his friends. All of his friends were buying houses, getting married, having babies, getting pets (or in Neville’s case carnivorous plants). And he was just... stuck.

“Well, well,” a smooth baritone voice said behind him, interrupting his sulk at the bar of the Leaky, and a smile tilted up the corner of Harry’s mouth against his will. “If it isn’t the savior himself.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Are you going to sit down?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at the other man.

Silver eyes gleamed in amusement, “that depends.”

“On?”

“Whether you’re going to buy me dinner. It has been a long day.”

(Read more below the cut)

“Oh?” Harry said, nudging the chair next to him back with his toe. “Well it’s a good thing I ordered the shepherd’s pie, then. You and I both know that’s always big enough for two.”

“Were you expecting me then?” Draco asked with a pleased grin as he plopped down in the chair next to him.

“Nope,” Harry said. Strictly speaking, this was true, he’d been hoping the other man might show up but not expecting him to. “I just like to have leftovers.”

Draco laughed at Harry as the bartender slid an old fashioned across the counter to him, “thank you,” Draco said, nodding to the man who all but ignored him.

Harry inhaled to say something about the man’s rudeness (an action he knew was futile since he’d done it several times) but Draco put a hand on his arm and took a sip of his drink. “Not worth it,” he said.

Harry sighed at him, “Tell me about work.”

Draco grinned, it was a sort of grin that Harry used to hate when they were younger. It was a grin that meant Draco had been particularly vicious in the courtroom today. With relish he began telling Harry about the woman and her child whom he had defended against a powerful, abusive husband. How he’d eviscerated the man on the stand and freed the two of them from his grasp.

“It was brilliant,” he finished with a sigh.

“Sounds like it,” Harry replied, resting his cheek in his hand.

Draco gave him a little smile. It had taken a long time to get here, even a year ago Draco would have been looking at him, trying to work out if Harry had meant it sincerely. “Tell me about your day,” he said.

“Oh, you know how it is,” Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sitting around in board meetings, trying to make sure that the people who actually know something get heard. Watching people who only want what’s best for themselves trying to make people believe they want what’s best for everyone.”

He laughed and took a sip of his drink, “I don’t understand how or why you do it.”

“Well someone’s got to, don’t they?” he asked. “Might as well use my fame to some advantage. Help people. You know,” he said, shrugging one shoulder and picking at the label on his beer.

“Come away with me,” Draco said suddenly.

“Sorry?”

The other man grinned at him, “I’m going on vacation. I’m leaving tomorrow for a week on the beach on an island. Come with me.”

“What? Why?”

The smile that had been so bright a moment ago started to dim, “Nevermind. It’s a stupid idea. Forget I said anyth-”

“Draco,” Harry said, realizing he’d misunderstood. He put his hand on his forearm. “I’d love to. Seriously, I would love nothing more than to go and spend a week on the beach with you. I just,” he trailed off, “why would you want me to?”

“Because you’re always moping. And you’re always doing things for everyone else. And you’re bloody lonely.” He shook his head, “And no one sees it.”

“Except you, apparently,” Harry huffed.

The corner of Draco’s mouth tipped up, “Except me. Come on,” he said.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, Potter. Fucking seriously.”

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

The beach was fantastic.

Harry had never been to the beach for a vacation and he enjoyed every sun soaked minute.

Draco watched him with an expression that Harry couldn't entirely parse out. It was amused, and fond, and exasperated, and something else entirely all at once. "I don't get you," Draco said eventually, after they'd spent half the day by the ocean; lounging, swimming, drinking, and laughing.

"What do you mean?"

Draco shrugged and took a sip of his sangria before he continued, "You're wealthy, you have time, you obviously enjoy it here; why haven't you done this before?"

He frowned, "Well who wants to go on a vacation alone?"

The corner of Draco's mouth tipped up, "I'd planned to go alone. I have actually taken several vacations alone."

"Sorry, I didn't mean-"

Draco waved him off, "It's fine. I'm not offended I just," he shrugged helplessly, "I find you fascinating."

"You find me fascinating?" he asked incredulously.

"Haven't I always?" he replied wryly.

He huffed but couldn't argue considering that he'd been equally obsessed with the other man for most of their lives at this point.

"You could have done anything," Draco said, "There's nothing that the wizarding world wouldn't have given you. If you'd wanted to go on vacation and not be alone you could have had your pick of witches or wizards who would have gladly gone with you. If you wanted to be married with half a dozen children all you would have needed to do was pick the person." He shook his head, "You could have done anything you wanted, been anything you wanted, had anything you wanted but you've chosen a career that makes you miserable and you've chosen to be alone which makes you miserable." He shook his head again, "I don't get it."

"But how can I know if I'm actually good enough?" Harry asked. "How can I know if I'm good at my job or if it was just given to me because I'm Harry Potter? How can I know if the person who agrees to marry me is with me because I'm me or because I'm Harry Potter?"

"All this time I thought that you weren't on to me," he teased.

He rolled his eyes, "You know what I mean."

"You know what I think?" Draco asked as he leaned back in his beach chair and slipped his sunglasses back in place.

"I couldn't possibly guess," he replied.

The corner of Draco's mouth tipped up, "I think you're just scared."

He frowned at the other man even though Draco wasn't looking at him, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me perfectly," he replied, "You're scared."

"Of what?" he asked incredulously.

"Of being loved," he said simply. "Afraid that if you let someone love you, you'll have to let them in. You'll have to let them see all the dark, broken, twisty bits because it's not love if it's not honest."

"Oh and I suppose you're so much better at that," he snapped.

Draco snorted, "Hardly. I'm just willing to live my life until I've found someone who I'll be able to share those jagged pieces with."

He glared at the leg of the other man's chair, "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Alright," Draco replied agreeably.

"I'm going for a walk."

He nodded and yawned, "I think I'm going to take a nap, the sun feels nice."

Harry got up and trudged away without another word, trying to decide if Draco Malfoy was full of shit or if he might just know what he was talking about.

The longer he walked and the more he turned what Draco had said over and over in his head, the more he knew that the only person whom he would trust to see his dark bits was Draco Malfoy.

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

When he got back from his walk Draco was reading a book.

"You might be right," Harry said.

He hummed, "Not to brag but I usually make a point of being right."

Harry collapsed into the sand and stared out at the waves rolling in. "Can I ask you something?"

"Nothing has stopped you so far."

He huffed, "Have you ever been in love."

"Yes," the other man replied.

"How did you know?" Harry asked.

Draco hummed thoughtfully, "I woke up one day and realized that I loved his imperfections more than I loved the perfect image I'd created of him," he said. "I realized that I'm happiest when I'm with him, that he makes me feel brave in my fear and strong in my vulnerability."

"He sounds pretty great," Harry said, swallowing down the bitterness.

"He's also completely oblivious," Draco added. "And normally that would irritate me but his humility is part of his charm."

His heart beat a little quicker, "Is that so?"

Draco grinned, "Yes. And he's not too bad on the eyes, either," he added. "He's got a lovely complexion, fantastic long, dark hair. And his eyes," he let out a low whistle, "A bloke could get lost in those eyes and he wouldn't mind staying in the lovely green of summer."

Harry's mouth went dry and he couldn't quite find any words or summon any courage. Hope blossomed dangerously inside of his chest, expanding and expanding until Harry feared there wasn't room for a shred of doubt.

"He's rather fit, too," Draco continued, giving Harry a once over that even he wasn't oblivious enough to have missed. "And you wouldn't believe his arse," he added, "exquisite."

Harry laughed at that, "You're ridiculous," he said as he bent toward the other man. "I like you, too," he whispered.

"Took you long enough to figure it out," Draco teased.

He reached up and pulled Draco's sunglasses off his face, "I'm going to kiss you," he murmured.

"Took you long enough," he repeated before reaching up to cup Harry's cheek in his palm and draw Harry in.

With a sigh, Harry happily gave himself over to the kiss, over to Draco; knowing that his heart was finally in good hands.

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

Day 118: Glass | Day 120: Tough

[libraryofloveletters]

Love Delivered To Your Doorstep

Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of cheating, break ups and killing/serial killers. (<in a joking context) 

Category: fluff for the most part. 

Word Count: 3.9k

Author’s Note: Doesn’t follow canon, it has a little of buck begins in there but it doesn't follow a strict timeline. It also is written like Buck moves to LA and has his apartment from the moment he moves there while trying to figure out what he wants to do. 

-----

Texting and calling was never your choice method of communication. 

Letters had always been more of your thing. 

Truthfully, they hadn't been your thing until your boyfriend moved halfway across the country for university. The two of you met in high school, freshman year and became inseparable since. Growing together and promising to always love each other no matter what -you always knew that couldn't be true but it never stopped you from telling him. 

When he told you that he was going to be applying to UCLA during your senior year of high school, it came as a bit of a shock to you. The plan was always going to college together, get engaged when you were done school and then married with a house by 30. 

You held out the hope of that being possible until the day he showed you his acceptance letter. 

You were incredibly proud of him but it was real now, he was leaving. 

You watched him pack up his entire life and uproot himself from New York and moved across the country. You sent the first letter to him at what was supposed to be his apartment. 

September 30th.

‘Hi baby! 

Just writing to see how you're settling in. How’s UCLA ? Have you gotten a chance to go around and get to see the place ? I know you’re there for school but you've got to live a little too. Hope your neighbours are sweet, your mom told me it’s a pretty nice place and it’s got a good view, sounds like your type of place. Hopefully I can come visit you soon. 

I started my classes last week. My chem professor is a pain in my ass already, he expects us to read an entire textbook in a week - well not exactly an entire textbook but you get the point. My biology professor is a sweetheart, she showed us pictures of her kids and talked about them for an hour, I didn't realize being a mother was so interesting but she was cool. Also showed us a video of an appendectomy that one of her colleagues performed last week. How are your classes and professors ? 

Did I mention I bumped into Sam at the grocery store ? Yeah, he’s back and he’s not fine to tell you the truth. He seemed like he was ready to snap but that might just be my judgment. He said to tell you hello if I spoke to you so- hello :) 

I’m going to sign off here, I know this one is short but I don’t have much to update you on. Life’s been pretty dull without you. Hope you’re having fun out there, soaking up the sun for me.

Write me back soon, I love you. 

Yours always, y/n’

You mailed the letter the next day, a few weeks had passed before you received a letter back. Except this letter had a different sender name but the same address.

October 22nd. 

‘Hi y/n,

This isn't your boyfriend. (I'm assuming that’s who you're writing too based on the context of the letter) I’m Evan, I live in the apartment you thought belonged to your boyfriend or maybe you got the address wrong, I’m not sure.  I know you were waiting for an update on all these exciting things that are happening at UCLA. I do not go to UCLA nor can I update you in anything exciting that’s happening there, sorry.

Anyways, the reason I'm writing you back is because I figured you’d want to know that this isn't the correct address and the person you were looking for isn't here before you send another letter and get no response. I was debating if I should have even written you back, but here I am, writing you back. 

Your professor for chem seems like an ass to be honest (hope that’s not rude) and your biology professor sounds great, is she hot by the way ? because bonus points for that. Anyways, are you studying medicine ? I'm guessing yes because of the classes you're taking. I'm thinking of signing up to become a first responder but I haven’t decided yet on what yet or if I'm actually going to do it. Anyways, good luck on your classes and the shitty chem professor. 

Hope you find your boyfriend (again, assuming) 

Peace out, 

Evan.’

To say you were shocked would be an understatement. How could the letter you sent to your boyfriend’s apartment belong to someone else ? Why was there someone else living in his apartment ? You dug through your apartment, searching for the paper he left you with the address, you finally found it buried in a drawer.

The address on the paper was identical to the one that Evan sent to you and to the one you sent prior to that. Either your boyfriend was lying or you were losing your mind. 

November 4th. 

‘Dear Evan, 

I'm sorry that I sent the first letter to you and as you guessed, I was looking for my boyfriend who seems to be a bit MIA right now. His mother says that’s the right address and the place that she helped him move into. So I'm not really sure what’s happening there. Anyways, sorry for unloading all of that on you. 

To answer your question, yes, I am studying medicine and no, she isn't hot. My bio professor is a 65 year old woman who loves her college aged kids very much. If that’s your definition of hot, then yes - she's got milf status

Have you decided yet if you’re going to sign up to be a first responder ? That’d be pretty cool. Imagine all the girls swoon over you and how many girls you’d pick up just for being a paramedic or a firefighter. 

Wait, are you into girls ? Or guys ? You know, whoever you're into, just imagine how many of them you’d pick up. 

Also, you’re not a murderer or anything right ? because I rather not answer questions when the police come asking about why I've been sending letters to a serial killer. 

Anyways, signing off for now. 

Yours always, y/n. 

ps. if you do end up bumping into or meeting a guy that looks like my boyfriend, (tall, brown hair, brown eyes. he’s got a pierced ear and a little butterfly tattoo by his collarbone- though not sure why or how you'd see his collarbone) let me know or tell him that his girlfriend is looking for him.

Double ps, what size shirt do you wear ?’

Buck laughed at your absurd question. A person he didn’t even know was asking what size shirt he wore. The letter was set on the coffee table with the rest of the mail, getting buried under all of the stuff he had on there. It was almost the end of December when he realized that he hadn't written you back yet. 

December 21st. 

‘Hey y/n, 

Sorry I've taken so long to get back to you. Things have been hectic over here. I’ve been doing some ‘soul-searching’ - I guess you could call it that and honestly, I don’t think if this whole first responders thing is for me. 

I tried out bartending or well, the technical term is mixologist and I’m liking it so far, I think i’m going to stick with it for now. 

How have you been ? How’s school ? Surely, you’re on break for the holidays right about now or at least when you get this letter. I hope that you're spending the break doing something fun. 

I’m not going to make this very long, I’m sure you’ve been busy with whatever you’re doing right now. 

Also, I’ve been meaning to ask. Have you located the mysteriously disappearing boyfriend yet ? I haven't seen anyone that fit your description. 

well, that’s not true- I did and just to be sure I asked to see his collarbone, he looked at me like I was a mad man so I guess it wasn't him ? 

Anyways, I hope you have a good holiday and you're probably gonna get this sometime between holidays, so merry belated (?) Christmas and happy New Years y/n. 

Peace out, 

Evan. 

ps. medium or large, depending on what it is. Hopefully that answers your question weirdo.’

January 13th. 

The morning of the 13th, he went down to check his mail. A box was there with his name on it, the return address was one he had only seen on an envelope. The box returned upstairs with him, setting it on the counter before opening it. 

Upon opening it, there was a letter and some colourful tissue paper with what seemed like a sweater under it. He opened the letter first.

‘Dear Evan, 

Happy New Years! How was your holiday going ? Did you do anything fun ? 

I’ve been good and school is good too, I'm almost done my first year, isn't that crazy ? Just a few more months to go. 

How’s your job as mr. mixologist going ? I'm sure you’ve met some wild people and heard some interesting stories. 

As for the boyfriend situation, that's over. I’m not surprised to tell you the truth but it still kinda sucks. Anyways, so what happened was that his older brother had come home from college last year and brought a friend with him. She went to the same school as his brother but transferred to UCLA- anyways long story short, they hooked up while he and I were still together and he moved in with her after his mom helped him move into the apartment I thought he had. 

But! I’m single and chilling now so it’s all good. (bonus, she cheated on him and left him so yeah) 

I got you a little something for Christmas and as a “sorry for unloading all my boyfriend drama on you” present. I was in the gift shop and it made me think of you. Do you celebrate Christmas? I forgot to check oops. If you don't, count it as a just a “sorry for unloading all my boyfriend drama on you” present? 

I got a large because I wasn't sure if it would fit. I hope you like it. That’s all for now.

Yours always, y/n.’

He unwrapped the tissue paper to see a blue sweater with the letters NYU on it. He smiled, he assumed that’s where you went. It was sweet that you took the time to get him something, even if it was a by the way thing. Not a lot of people would send something to a person they had been talking to via letters and halfway across the country. 

February 12th. 

2 days before Valentine's Day, your least favourite holiday of the year. You weren't looking forward to watching all your friends going on with their boyfriends and girlfriends. The mail had arrived while you were out, you picked it up and headed in. There were two envelopes with your name on it,  a plain white one and a red one. The red envelope was more squared than rectangular, you assumed it was a card- both had the same sender name. 

‘Hey y/n!

Thank you for the sweater, it was nice of you to think of me and get me something. I didn’t know we were doing gifts or I would have sent you something as well and yes, I do celebrate Christmas. 

My job as ‘mr. mixologist’ was going well until I quit. It just didn’t feel like the right fit for me you know ? I'm going to see what else is out there for me. 

Sorry to hear about your boyfriend, he seems like a douche. Who would cheat on you ? You seem great I mean at least you are on paper (did you get my joke, it’s hard to tell) 

Also, remember how I was thinking I might actually give that first responder thing a try? Imagine me as a firefighter, that’s pretty cool right ? 

So I kinda did a thing and signed up and then I got in. I started two weeks ago and it was kicking my ass at first but I've gotten a hang of it and things are going pretty well. There's three other Evans in my class so everyone calls me Buck-I kind of like it. 

The other envelope, hopefully you opened this one first, is a little something for you for valentines. Hope you like it. 

Peace out, 

Buck’ 

The red envelope was on your lap, you pulled the edges carefully not wanting to rip it. Inside was a plain white card with bright red letters that made you laugh. The cover read ‘I’m not sick of you yet!” Opening the card, a $20 fell onto your lap. There was a little message inside that went along with the cash. 

‘Since we aren't together and can’t spend valentines together, there’s some cash to get yourself a box of chocolates and a teddy bear. Happy Valentines Day y/n

Love, Buck.’ 

You smile, this was the first time that Buck had signed with ‘love, buck’ it had always been ‘peace out, buck.’ You tucked the card into the drawer, one you didn’t use very often so you knew it’d be safe there. 

*4 years later*

A few weeks had passed since Buck had last heard from y/n. His last letter to her was at the end of June, telling her all about the day he had spent at Hen and Karen’s. He always described every little detail so vividly that it made her feel like she was there with him- but it was now July, end of actually and moving into August. 

4 years had blown like nothing.

It felt like just yesterday he got the first letter in the mail. 4 years and they still had no idea what each other looked like but they knew every intricate and intimate detail about each other, their lives and the people in it. 

Y/n and Buck had grown rather close over the last few months- more than they already were. Y/n just went through a pretty shitty break up and Buck wasn't exactly big on relationships as of right now. 

He had just gotten home from work, his keys set on the counter when he realized that he forgot to check his mail. Stepping back out, there was a woman in the hallway and boxes scattered across her, leading into the apartment down the hall. 

She must be his new neighbour.

He wanted to go over and introduce himself but she was busy telling the movers where to set her couch so he decided that he would check the mail and then introduce himself when he returned so he did just that. 

Except, she was still busy. 

She leaned against the wall, watching the movers move what looked like a coffee table. She glanced up to see Buck walking by, she smiled and he returned the smile. 

Buck reaches his apartment, the mail in hand and steps in. He sorts through the pile, bills, ads, coupons and no letter from y/n. 

---

Your new apartment was a mess. You decided it was time for a change. You applied to a few hospitals after your break up and the one in LA hired you. So you dropped everything and moved- no family, no ties. 

A fresh start. 

It was a nice neighbourhood and the building was quiet. The neighbours you met were pleasant and welcoming. When you were having the furniture moved in, there was a blonde man who smiled at you and you assumed he lived in the unit down the hall because that’s where he stepped into. 

It was almost 11pm when you finally sat down. You had been on your feet all day and just wanted to eat something. The box with the dishes was beside the couch, you pulled the tape off and opened it. There was an envelope sitting on top of the stack of plates. 

Buck’s last letter to you. 

You must have tossed it into the boxes while packing and you forgot to write him back. Tumbling through the boxes, you find a sheet of paper and a pen from your bag. Sitting on the floor, the paper resting on an unopened box, you begin writing. 

‘Dear Buck, 

I’m sorry I've taken so long to get back to you. I quit my job, and uprooted my entire life. The break up sucked major ass as you know, so I decided it was time for a change. 

Guess where I decided to go ? 

Did you guess yet? 

No, not Canada, why would you guess Canada ? 

LA! 

Yeah, isn't that crazy that I ended up here of all places? Maybe we could get together one day (if you haven’t turned into a crazy serial killer that is.) 

Anyways, that’s why I've taken so long to write. I was packing when I got your letter and I tossed it in a box and just found it again. Anyways, I hope you’ve been good, how have things been at the station ? 

I promise I'll write again with more details soon, I just have to get settled in first. 

Yours always, y/n.’ 

Folding the paper, you slipped into an envelope. The address being scribbled into the back of the envelope. You were about to seal it when the building number caught your eye. 

It was the same number as the place you moved into. The same address, the building number, the same floor. 

The unit number was the only difference. 

There was no way you moved into the building that Buck lived in. 

You knew the address felt familiar when you saw the listing but you didn’t think anything of it nor did it occur to you that you knew the address. 

Stepping out of your apartment, looking at the number on the room and back down at the envelope in your hand. Buck’s apartment was down the hall. 

Part of you just wanted to mail it and keep things as it was but another part of you wanted to meet him, to see what he was really like in person. So there you were walking down the hallway at a quarter past 11 in the dead of the night to meet a man you had been sending letters to for the last 4 years. 

The end of the hallway, you stared at the black wooden door in front of you. Your brain weighing the options right now: he’s a sweetheart and welcoming and makes you feel comfortable or he’s a weird guy who’s been lying to you this whole time and you told him everything about you and now he’s going to kill you. 

Before you could register what you were doing, you knocked on the door. 

Glancing down at yourself, you were wearing a pair of old shorts and a t-shirt from high school that you found in a drawer while packing. Not an ideal outfit, maybe he’s sleeping and you can go home and change- the door opened, a man wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt stood there. He looked like he had just woken up. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” 

“It's alright,” he yawned, his hand covering his mouth as he blinked away a few tears. “What can I do for you ?” he leaned against the door. 

“Um, this is an odd question-” you shifted, glancing down at the envelope in your hand. “Are you Buck ?” 

“I am, who are you ?” 

“Y/n.” 

You had never seen a man wake up that fast, he seemed surprised, confused and concerned all in one. “How- uh, are you- What ?” he mumbled. 

“I found your letter in the box after I moved, I moved into the apartment down the hall” you point to your left, Buck sticks his head out of the doorway and looks at the door you were pointing to. You were the woman in the hallway that he saw earlier, he knew you looked familiar. 

“I just wrote your letter and I noticed that the addresses were the same, just a different unit number so I decided to come check. Sorry if I bothered you, we can talk another day- it’s late and you probably have work” “Would you like to come in?” he opens the door a bit more, looking to you for an answer. 

“Um, okay sure.” stepping in, you can’t help but glance around. The apartment was similar to yours, the layout was a bit different though. “Can I get you something to drink ? Coffee, water ? A beer ?” he rounded the kitchen counter, you took a seat on one of the chairs by the counter. 

“Water’s fine, thanks” 

He reached for a bottle from the fridge, sliding it over to you. You gave him a smile, he leaned against the counter and was now looking- studying you. 

“I know we’ve talked to each other for 4 years but this is kinda strange” you chuckled awkwardly, Buck can't help but smile. 

“Yeah, it is, isn't it? but can I ask why you moved to LA?” 

“Well all of that was in the letter” you slide the envelope across the counter and he picks it up, opening it. Giving him a few moments to read, you watch his expression like you were hoping for some insight as to how he was feeling or what he was thinking. He let out a laugh, “how’d you know I'd guess Canada ?” you smiled at him, a small wave of relief washing over you for some reason. “Lucky guess I suppose” 

“Do you-” “What are-” the sentences cutting each other off, the two of you awkwardly smiling at each other. “You first” looking at him, he hums. 

“Do you have work tomorrow or are you busy ?” His eyes meet yours, you found yourself leaning forwards towards the counter- towards him. He made you feel comfortable, you’d go as far as to say safe, in a way you’ve never felt before. 

“No, I don't start until the 21st. Why ?” 

“I was thinking - if you're not busy and if you want to, of course. Maybe I could take you out for breakfast and I could show you around ? Or lunch or dinner ? Whatever works for you actually” he rambles, fiddling with his fingers to avoid eye contact. 

A small laugh slips past your lips causing him to look up, his brows furrowed as he studies your face, looking for an answer. 

“Breakfast sounds good, what time should I be ready for ?” 

“Uh, is 10 okay ?” he asks, you nod. “I’ll be ready for 10 then.” 

“Okay, I'll pick you up” he smiles. 

“Buck, we live in the same building.” 

“Oh right,” he chuckles, “well I'll be by yours at 10 then” the two of you smiling at each other. 

“Okay.” 

----

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[yelena-bellova]

Safe Haven: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Chapter One

Chapter One: The Other Wilson Sister - chapter two

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n grew up with Sam and Sarah Wilson in the bayou of Delacroix. During the Blip she stayed with Sarah to help run the family business. With Sam back and trying to save the day, Y/n’s perfect opportunity to confess her long-kept secret to her best friend presents itself.

Warnings: tfatws ep.1 spoilers, language, suicide mention, undertones of racism, lots of Wilson sibling arguments, tragic backstory

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: As I wrote this first chapter out I realized it’s most definitely also a Sam Wilson x platonic fic. Bucky doesn’t come in till next chapter but rest assured, it’s gonna be a wild ride...Also I didn’t know till now how difficult it is to plan out a series in its entirety when the show isn’t completed lol. Hope you enjoy! (I may or may not change the title depending on how I feel about it later today lol)

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Delacroix, LA 2024

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One of the only things I was certain of in life was that blood didn’t make a family.

I had no official tie to Wilson family, I wasn’t a daughter or some distant cousin sent to live with them. We shared no DNA and they had no reason to love me as much as they did. But throughout my life I had known no kinder people than them and I doubted that would change. As I stood on the family boat helping to unload the catch of the day, I thought of how our corner of the Louisiana bayou felt more like home than any place I’d ever been.

“Hey,” Sarah said from the dock, “Head out of the clouds and down here helping me.” “Sorry,” I shook myself out of my thoughts and hopped off the boat, “Not a bad catch if you ask me.”

Sarah sighed as she bent over a large bucket of fish, “It could’ve been better.” I came to stand in front of her and held my hands out for a bucket, “Take the wins where you can get ‘em, Sar. Lord knows we don’t get enough of them.” Sarah Wilson was the only superhero I’d ever aspire to be like. She was a widow who had raised two kids and run a business all by herself with no family for support. The past five years had been challenging with so many people gone and while I had moved in with her to help however I could, I could take no credit. She was one of the strongest women I’d ever known.

“You had that look on your face again,” she said as we worked.

“What look?”

“That look that lets me know you were thinking real hard about something,” Sarah imitated the expression in question by thinning her eyes slightly and furrowing her brows, “Like this.” I laughed heartily at her impression, “So what was it?” I gazed out at the bayou waters before turning to the boat and finally Sarah, “Family.”

She nudged me with her hip, something we’d done when we were young and an affectionate gesture we’d carried into adulthood. A half hour went by with us and the boys unloading and sorting the fish we’d caught. I was too wrapped up in the task to notice the sound of a vehicle approaching until AJ and Cass announced the arrival. 

“Blue for the snapper, orange for the whitefish.”

“Uncle Sam!”

My head shot up upon hearing his name, as did Sarah’s. I used my hand as a visor against to sun to spot the familiar rusted truck parked a few hundred feet away, with my best friend standing outside it hugging his nephews.

“That’s right, Uncle Sam,” Sarah called, “You’re back early.”

I grinned as I shucked my gloves off and made a beeline for him, slamming my body into his for a tight embrace. It had been a few weeks since I’d seen him, having spent the only weekend he was off away, and I’d naturally been worried sick about him. My best friend and un-biological brother may have been an Avenger for years, but after losing him in the Blip I didn’t think I’d ever stop worrying about him.

“Every time I come home, you act like I’ve been gone for five years,” he joked over my shoulder, resulting in me pulling away and slapping his bicep.

“Not even a little funny,” I pointed a finger in his smug face, he slung an arm around my neck as we walked over to Sarah.

“What’s goin’ on? You got Mom’s sneaky look on your face.” “How you gonna try to read me when you know I’m the one that reads you?” Sam smiled, passing by and greeting a long time customer of ours. “That look is permanently glued to his face, Sar,” I chuckled, “I learned that in grade school.” Sam shook his head at me and laughed before making his way up the dock to the Wilson family boat. “You gotta marvel at it, baby’s being held together by duct tape and prayers.” I leaned into Sarah, “Are you telling him or am I?” She took the initiative, “It just needs to float long enough for me to sell it.” “I thought we were gonna discuss if we were selling it,” Sam replied as he helped unload another bucket of fish. “We did, and then you were off fighting Doctor Space Cape or whatever while we,” Sarah gestured between us, “Were holdin’ it together for five long years. Now that the world is going back to normal, this thing’s gotta go.”

Sam looked to me with a look of displeasure, “Were you in on this?” “Don’t drag me into this,” I waved my hands as if wiping my involvement away, “This is a Wilson sibling discussion.” “Uh-uh,” Sam called me out, wagging his finger, “Don’t do that. Dad said every chance he got that you were one of his own, you’ve got a say in this too. What is it?” I scrunched my face up, dreading the argument that was knocking on our door, “It’s dead weight, Sam. The money we could get for it would be enough to keep us comfortable for a little longer without having to worry.” “We grew up on this thing. It’s not just Mom and Dad’s name on it. This thing is a part of our family.”

I sighed as Sarah stepped forward, “You know the situation we’re in. This is why I prefer not to dwell on it in front of everybody.” “Well what if we don’t need to sell it?” Sam said. “Can we talk about this in private?” I suggested, tiring of having to convince Sam that we were in the right when he hadn’t been around to witness our struggles. A long time friend of ours called out to Sam and he willingly took the distraction, opting out of having the inevitable difficult conversation. Sarah and I trudged back, totes of fish in hand and tried to get through the rest of the work day without worrying if we were approaching our last.

————

During golden hour, when the clock had struck five and we’d started packing it up for the day was the only time to get Sam to actually listen. I knew how much the boat meant to him, it meant something to us all, but he wasn’t living in the reality that Sarah and I were.

“Sam, the boat’s gotta go,” Sarah finally said, breaking the silence we were working in on the vessel. “Wait-“ “No, let me finish,” she said, “Y/n and I are doin’ everything I can to keep this business afloat and every day we’re making $5 and spending $10.” Sam looked between the two of us, “So why won’t you let me help?” 

“Sam, don’t…” I winced, knowing Sarah’s reaction would be strong.

“No, don’t start with that. We made a deal before Daddy died,” Sarah carried a few buckets to the center of the deck, “You’re out there, I do things my way here. Y/n agreed to it too when she went off to school.” “Right, but you tangled the house into this when you took those loans,” Sam finished tying off one of the ropes, turning around and giving Sarah the perfect opportunity to punch his chest, “Forgot how hard you hit.” I sighed as I passed him by to follow Sarah, “Low blow, you deserved it.” 

“Sarah, Y/n, c’mon,” he chased after us, “Look, and don’t hit me again…What if you had money to fix it up? Make it nice so you can charter it when you’re not out working the waters?” “Sam, do you think this was an easy decision for us?” I faced him, leaning against the doorway next to him, “I tried every tactic I learned in business school and got nowhere. Anything I thought up, we needed more money to do. This is our only option.” As he always did with the things he cared about, he fought. “We can take a loan and consolidate everything, it’ll take down your monthly,” he looked confused as he watched Sarah laugh, “What?” “You think I didn’t try the banks? They’re in with all that big business now.” I followed them like the little sister I’d always been as they moved their fight towards the cockpit of the boat. Sam blocked another doorway, “Yeah, but now you have me.”

“Don’t, Sam,” Sarah shook her head, “I just got good with this.”

“All right…”

“Maybe it is time for us to move on,” Sarah sighed. “Either way, just let me help,” Sam offered, “I’ll set the appointment. Look, I won’t let you guys down. We can turn this shit around. Trust me.” I peered over at Sarah, wishing I could see the calculations going on in her brain. It seemed pointless, but any shot at changing our luck was an avenue worth pursuing.

“It can’t hurt to try,” I shrugged.

Sarah finally relented, “To the rescue, huh?”

“Always,” Sam smiled, “Now, let’s get some dinner. I’m hungry.” ————

Sarah was taking AJ and Cass back home while Sam and I took his truck to go pick up food.

“So how was Tunisia?” I asked, sticking my hand out the window and letting it rise and fall with the wind.

“Hot, but the mission went well,” he answered, looking out of the corner of his eyes at me, “And that’s all you need to know.”

I snickered, “C’mon, it’s our thing. I ask you detailed questions about your confidential missions, you tell me you can’t reveal anything, I keep asking…You’ve gotta honor tradition.” “I flew, I fought, I rescued. Boom, mission explained.” “Ugh, you’re impossible, Wilson,” I waved him off, “How was the museum dedication?” The atmosphere changed as the subject of conversation changed from easy to complicated. “It was nice to see Steve’s accomplishments celebrated. Got to see Rhodes which was nice…” “You’re avoiding a red white and blue topic,” I said, trying to coax his true feelings out of their shells, “Seriously, are you really okay with this? Giving up the shield?” Sam inhaled deeply and exhaled, gathering his thoughts. “I don’t think it was ever meant to end up in my hands. I did the right thing, it belongs with Steve and the museum is the closest to Steve I can get.” I respected my friend’s choice but I knew there was so much more to his decision and I wished he would just say it. He had an enormous amount of respect for Steve Rogers and what the shield represented, but Steve Rogers never had to face the issues that Sam Wilson did. Steve Rogers could follow a government and be respected in return with no problems whatsoever. Sam Wilson couldn’t, not always. There was an elephant in the room and if neither of us wanted to talk about it, I wouldn’t push it.

“You’d have looked good in that uniform though,” I smiled as we turned into the take out place’s parking lot.

“Damn right,” Sam waggled his eyebrows and unbuckled his seatbelt. Laughter rang out in the truck sending me on waves of nostalgia. The memories that me and him had in this truck still were infamous between us. As proud as I was of the Falcon’s heroics, I was prouder to call Sam Wilson my best friend.

————

Just as he’d promised, Sam made the appointment with the banker. He and Sarah were already on their way as I made the hour long drive in the opposite direction to New Orleans. I’d told them I’d be back in the evening to discuss how it went, but I had my own appointment to keep.

Sam and I had met back when we were just a couple of first graders. I’d always struggled with making friends as a kid, but Sam never had an issue when it came to connecting with others. It was one of his strongest qualities. And so he used his gift on his desk neighbor, the loneliest kid in class, and pulled her out of herself. We were inseparable until college and adulthood forced us apart, but we’d never lost our bond. Even when he was a pararescue, he wrote to me as often as his work allowed him.

All the Wilsons had taken a liking to me after Sam brought me home one day after school to watch cartoons. Darlene had told me I was welcome to come over any time I wanted, an offer Sam and I accepted till I became a permanent fixture in their house. Paul and his wife had frequently tried to get the rest of my family over for a crawfish boil or a barbecue. They’d send me every few weeks with a verbal invitation to my parents and the next day I’d always come back with a polite decline and excuse as to why we couldn’t make it. Mom was busy with spring cleaning, Melanie had a recital, Dad was feeling under the weather…

The only one that had ever been true was about my dad not feeling well. He was never well. But as a child, how do you explain that your father is a ghost around his own home who drinks himself to sleep and wakes up each night screaming from nightmares? There was no polite way to phrase circumstances that dark. Sometimes I felt like my dad had never returned from the military and though there hadn’t been a war at the time of his service, he still came back with his share of trauma. Mom did everything she could to try and help him. She found support groups for veterans, she took him to the best psychiatrists, she created a safe space for him within our home to retreat to. There was no amount of help that could kill my father’s demons and that was proven the night he’d said we were out of milk and he was going to the store. A few hours later, with my sister and I fast asleep upstairs, my worried mother answered the door and was informed by the police that my father had crashed his car and was dead. After speaking to Mom about what his mood had been like before he’d left and if he suffered from any mental illnesses, it was ruled as an undoubtable suicide.

My mother didn’t get much time to mourn after the funeral, she had two children to provide for. She took three jobs just to earn enough to move us from our house in New Orleans to a dingy apartment in Delacroix by the bayou. When the Wilsons heard that Mom needed to scrape enough money in the budget to hire a baby-sitter for me and Melanie, they put a stop to her efforts immediately. The insisted that Mel and I would be happier spending the time my mom was working with them and their kids rather than a stranger. That was how the Wilsons and the Y/l/ns had ended up so tightly knit. While Sarah and Melanie had bonded as the older sisters and were often off doing their own thing, Sam and I caused havoc of our own in classic younger sibling fashion. By the time we were in high school, both parents called the other’s children their own.

When Paul and Darlene passed away, it was incredibly hard on all of us and it was equal when Mom had a fall and the doctors suggested she move into a facility. Sam, Sarah and I had worked hard to get her into one of the best nursing homes in the city and she hadn’t stopped raving about how much she loved it. Pulling into the parking lot was like muscle memory now, I never missed a weekend visit with her. This one was special because Melanie, her husband and brood of children had come too. I grabbed my visitor’s sticker at the front desk and made my way down the familiar hallways. The sound of laughter and cooing echoed out of my mom’s room, bringing a smile to my face.

I knocked on the door and heads turned, my nieces and nephews being the quickest. “Aunt Y/n!” I embraced Sophia and Max tightly, “The twin tornados! I missed you guys,” separating from them was difficult as they clung to me but I made it to Stephan, giving him a kiss on the cheek and doing the same to Mel, “You look hot, mama.” “I certainly don’t feel it,” she remarked as she cradled their newest addition, baby Alexandra, close to her chest, “I spend more hours of the day covered in glitter glue and spit up than you could imagine.” “You wear it all well,” I patted her shoulder before coming to my mother’s bedside and hugging her, “Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” she kissed both of my cheeks and looked to the door, “Sarah and Sam couldn’t come?” “No, but they send their love. They had an appointment at the bank,” I set down my purse and pulled up a chair, “We’re trying to get approved for a small business loan.”

Glen took Alexandra from Mel so she could tend to the twins, “I wish we could help out, Y/n. I’ve looked at the budget over and-“ It warmed my heart that my brother-in-law cared so much about a problem that wasn’t his to bear. “Glen,” I held up a hand, “You guys are stretched thin enough. This isn’t me asking for charity, it’s our problem and Sam’s confidant we’ll find a fix.” “How does he have enough time to be a member of the Air Force, an Avenger and save the family business?” Mel asked.

“Well, the Avengers are kind of off doing their own thing right now from what I understand and he’s home for a little while from the Air Force,” I explained, “So his main job at the moment is to get us our funding and annoy the snot out of me while doing it.” After earning some giggles from Sophia and Max at the expression, Glen announced that they were going to go and grab lunch for everybody. My mom took my hand once it was just the two of us and I settled into my seat, “How are you, sweetheart?”

“Hanging in there,” I sighed, running a hand through my hair, “Tired, stressed, I smell like fish most of the time…We need this loan or else we’re going to have to sell the boat. You should’ve seen Sam’s face when Sarah told him…”

“I’m sorry, I know how much that boat means to you kids. I could’ve offered you the moon and stars and it still wouldn’t have been enough to get you off it.” I smiled at the memories of summer nights spent laying on the deck stargazing, dance parties on the stern and early mornings spent with Mr. Wilson teaching us how to fish. A childhood with so much sadness had also contained so many joys. To part with a tangible one killed me more than I’d let on to Sam.

Sensing that the topic was making me emotional, my mother was kind enough to change it. “How are things otherwise? Have you been getting out there?” I dropped my head back dramatically and groaned, “Mom…” “I’m just saying,” she dropped my hand and held up hers in surrender, “You should get out there, meet someone. There’s no shame in trying those online dating services. What’s the one…the…Tinder?” “Oh my gosh, Mom,” I buried my face in my hands and moved my fingers so she could only see my eyes, “Please stop talking.” “You know who I ran into the other day? Jack’s mom, from high school. She lives just down the next hallway, she says that he’s still single. You could get in touch with him.” “Y’know, for a woman who advocated for her daughters to lead such independent lives, you’re sure quick to try and marry us off,” I chuckled, “The second Mel started dating Glen you were practically booking the church.” “And I’m very proud of both my girls for being such strong young women,” she smiled proudly, “But finding love doesn’t mean losing your independence so long as you’re with the right man. I love that you’ve been helping out Sarah these last few years but honey…I see how lonely you are. In those big y/e/c eyes you think I still can’t read after all these years.” The y/e/c eyes in question started to fill with sadness at hearing my pain verbalized. It was true, I was lonely. More so than I would ever let on to anybody. I was a shy enough kid who only withdrew further after Dad passed away, that kind of introversion wasn’t one that you outgrew. But I’d given up the idea of finding someone to spend my life with a long time ago for a bevy of reasons.

“Sometimes it’s better to be alone, Mama,” I nodded as if to force myself to agree with my statement, “No chances of getting hurt…or hurting somebody.” “You couldn’t hurt somebody even if you tried,” my mom argued sweetly, “You couldn’t even kill spiders when you were a kid.” “And now there’s a Spiderman out there so I’m glad I didn’t,” I shot back with a laugh.

“I’m serious, honey,” she took my hand once again, “Don’t let your heart’s wounds keep you from finding someone who could help soothe them.” 

I was convinced my mother was both a poet and a therapist at some point in her life, she gave advice in the most beautifully phrased way. And while I’d loved to have taken her words to heart, tell Mel to fix me up with one of Glen’s friends and put an end to my loneliness, I feared that I was just too broken to give love to someone.

————

I arrived back home late, shedding my boots and bag at the doors. I’d expected to hear a triumphant chorus of Sam shouting ‘WHO DA MAN?’ as he typically would when heroically proving me and Sarah wrong, but there was only silence. When I walked into the kitchen and saw their glum faces, it wasn’t hard to guess the outcome of the meeting. “You’re kidding me…” “Said that things had tightened up,” Sam said, leaning against one side of the island and taking a swig of his beer, “Had the balls to ask me for a picture afterwards.” I groaned and grabbed the beer bottle Sarah had extended to me, “Okay, we’re out of options. It’s time to move forward-“ “Don’t say it…” Sam tiredly warned.

“Someone has to, Sam. We can’t keep searching for solutions when the right one is sitting out on our dock,” I gestured to the window that looked out on the road we took each day to work.

Sarah set her beer down and held her hands up in surrender, “I’m not having this argument again tonight, I’m going to bed. If you’re gonna kill each other, do it quietly.” She left as me and Sam silently stared each other down, waiting for the other to speak. I was too frustrated to play the game, “What’s this really about?” “It’s about the damn boat and that you and Sarah are throwing in the towel too-“ “What,” I elongated the single syllable word, “Is this really about?” Sam set his drink down and rubbed his hands over his head before looking back up at me helplessly, “You guys were on your own for five years and you’ve done an amazing job. But now nothing’s working and I just…I just want to help because I couldn’t for so long.” It all clicked as to why Sam was being so insistent on trying to eliminate the whole matter. He was used to saving the day and finally meeting one that he couldn’t save was a wall he thought he could still find a way to run through. He’d been like that ever since we were kids, always trying to help the people he loved even when it was impossible. He had the biggest heart of anyone I’d ever met.

“I love you,” I set down my bottle and crossed the island to come next to him and wrap my arms around his shoulders, “But this may be one problem that the Falcon can’t swoop in and fix. The Avengers work hard, but a business graduate helping to run a struggling seafood business works harder,” I succeeded in getting him to crack a smile, “Believe me, I’ve run all the numbers and consulted with anyone who would listen. The boat’s gotta go.”

“Yeah, well, humor me and give me a little while longer.”

“Fine, a couple more days,” I grabbed my beer once again and clinked it against his, “But it’s not my fault if Sarah smacks you again.” Sam laughed, slung an arm around my neck and kissed my temple. “You coming up soon?”

“Yeah, I’ll be up in a few minutes,” I answered, watching as he finished his drink before leaving the kitchen and heading upstairs. Once I’d heard his bedroom door open and close, I exited out to the back porch. I took in the late night sounds of the bayou, the crickets chirping and the wind rustling trees had always soothed me. I wished they could touch what I was feeling right now, but the noise didn’t do a thing to drown out my worry. For the business I feared we may lose, for Sam as he ran himself ragged trying to help and for myself and what him and Sarah would think of me once I confessed the secret I’d kept from them for so long.

I held out my hand and watched as the blue energy flowed from my fingertips. Would Sam ever forgive me for not telling him I had powers? They had manifested when I was young, my parents said. I couldn’t remember a day where my body hadn’t produced a magical energy that when harnessed incorrectly could be destructive. It had been a sad day for my mother’s garden when I’d discovered that bit…According to her, she’d wanted to take me to a school for people like me run by a man named Charles Xavier but my father had said no immediately. He’d been so insistent on keeping my powers a secret that my mother said she’d only seen that type of fear in his eyes when he had a war flashback. So I was instructed to never show my powers to anyone under any circumstances and I’d done just that. I’d thought about revealing them in 2012 after the Battle of New York, but my dad’s fear rang in my ears. Three years later when Sam became an Avenger was when I began to feel guilty that I was keeping a secret from him. I’d wanted to join him and find somewhere where I didn’t feel so out of place, but I’d decided against it again. Now with their team so broken and Sam off with the Air Force, I’d finally gathered the courage to confide in him and Sarah. I should have done it six months ago, but I’d chickened out too many times. Tomorrow, I decided. Tomorrow was the day. But would they still see me the same way once I showed them? ————

The next morning, after dressing and running over what I wanted to say three times, I hesitantly headed downstairs to face the music. With there being nobody in the kitchen, I followed the sounds of the television to find Sarah and Sam staring at the screen intently. I stood to the side of the room and watched a suited man give a speech out front of a government building. “We need someone to inspire us again, someone who can be a symbol for all of us. So, on behalf of the Department of Defense and our Commander-in-Chief, it is with great honor that we announce here today that the United States of America has a new hero. Join me in welcoming your new Captain America.”

My jaw slackened as a man marched out in front of the gathered press, dressed in a variation of Steve Rogers’ patriotic uniform and carrying the iconic shield. The shield that had only weeks ago sat upstairs in Sam’s bedroom in a case. I dragged my gaze away from the screen to look at my best friend, hunched over in his seat with his eyes shut in sorrow. Sarah looked just as distraught, her eyes trained on her brother as well. We waited in silence until the breaking news broadcast switch back to regularly scheduled programming before Sarah switched the box off.

“I thought you said it was going to stay in the museum,” I finally spoke, my voice choked with emotion.

“It was supposed to,” Sam ground out, his grip on his own hands tightening. Without any warning, he rose from his seat and left the room. My instinct was to follow him and try to comfort him, but there was nothing I could say to ease the deep pain he was feeling. I wasn’t even sure I could form words that weren’t doused in raw shock. The two things I was sure of were that a) the government had fucked up royally and b) now was definitely not the time to tell Sam about my powers.

————

It was a few days later and Sam still hadn’t spoken much to Sarah and I about the situation. It was unnatural for Sam to suffer in silence especially around us, but we both gave him the space he needed. 

I was taking laundry to AJ and Cass’ room and had to pass by Sam’s, surprised to see him packing a bag. “Thought you were sticking around.” “Something big came up,” he replied as he set a stack of t-shirts in his duffle bag, “I need to go check it out.” I leaned against his doorway, “Air Force big or Avengers big?” “The second one.” “And you’re going by yourself?” I asked with raised eyebrows.

Sam looked over his shoulder at me finally, “Don’t have anybody to else to call. Besides, I can handle myself.” I hummed in response before setting down the stack of laundry, an idea forming in my head that could solve both of our problems. I folded my hands together and dug my feet into the carpet, “What if you didn’t have to go by yourself?” He looked confused, “What are you talking about?” My folded hands began to make circles in the air as I struggled for the right words, “What if I came with you?” “What, like take your family to work day something?” Sam scoffed, “That’d be fun.” “I’m serious.” “Are you crazy? Of course you can’t come.” “Hear me out,” I looked to his bag and the pair of jeans he had next to fold, “Actually watch.” He folded his arms and waited for my demonstration. I took a deep breath and extended my hand, forcing my energy outwards to levitate the jeans. “Whoa!” Sam exclaimed as he watched me maneuver the clothing inside his duffle, “W-w-what…What was that?” I shrugged and pulled my hand back to my side, “The reason why you should take me.”

“How long have you been able to do that?” “Since I was a kid,” I moved out of the doorway and closed the door, the last thing I needed was AJ and Cass knowing their aunt could move things with her mind, “My parents told me never to tell anybody. I’ve thought about telling you for years since you’re used to this kind of thing but I was scared…Then you were gone and when you came back, life was moving non-stop and I lost my courage. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” Sam stood with his jaw hung for a few seconds before shaking his head back into reality, “Why are you apologizing? You never had to tell me, but I’m glad you did,” he pointed a finger towards me, “But you’re still not going.” “What are you talking about? I’d be an asset to whatever it is you’re fighting! And I love you but c’mon bird boy, you may be able to fly but I can do it without any tech.” “Oh, so that’s how you wanna play?” Sam gestured between the two of us, “You think insulting me is the way to get me to let you come?” “Come on,” I moved to sit on his bed, “Tell me what the problem is and I’ll prove that I can help.” “Alright, alright,” Sam took a stance in front of me, “You wanted to hear the tea on my missions, I’ll spill it. There’s an online group called the Flag Smashers, their MO is to get the world back to the way it was during the last five years. My military contact, Torres, went undercover in Switzerland when they robbed a bank. Knocked him unconscious when he tried to fight back.” I balanced my elbows on my knees and tapped a finger against my lip, “So kind of a Robin Hood deal, right? Stealing things from the rich and giving it to the poor. In this case, the poor being those who never disappeared.” “Exactly, except the guy that knocked Torres out was strong. Too strong. I’m thinking they could be a part of-“ “The big three.” Sam’s neck snapped back, “How do you know about the big three?” I shrugged nonchalantly, “The little you do tell me about your avenging always ties back to either androids, aliens or wizards. Though I think you’re being a little dramatic with the term ‘wizard.’”

“Are you seriously gonna correct the guy who’s actually there doing the fighting?” “Are you seriously gonna deny yourself valuable help against either an alien or an android?”

Sam sighed, I was successfully backing him into a corner. “Can you even fight?”

Extending one hand, I levitated Sam and gently slammed his back into the ceiling before reversing course and lowering him onto the carpet. He moaned as he rolled over to face me, “Could’ve given me a concussion.” “Maybe that would knock some sense into your head,” I stood and gave him my hand to pull him up, “Sam, I know that I don’t have any experience but I am more than capable of defending myself. I want to actually do something with these powers instead of sitting on my ass. I’d rather do it with you than on my own. Please?” I watched the cogs in his mind turn through his eyes, I knew he was only fighting this hard because he wanted to keep me safe. But he was in way over his head if he thought it wasn’t worth taking me with. He accepted my hand and stood to his full height, “Pack a bag, we’re leaving for the air base in an hour.” I smiled and threw my arms around him, “Thank you, you won’t regret this.” “I’d better not,” he warned, his arms stayed straightened in displeasure of my enthusiasm, “If you take some stupid risk and put yourself in jeopardy, I’m putting your ass on a plane home.” Quick footsteps could be heard coming down the hallway until the door opened to reveal Sarah, “What was all that noise? It sounded like you were throwing each other into walls.” “Busy,” I quickly dismissed her, using my energy to shut the door in Sarah’s face from a distance.

“Um,” her muffled voice rang through, “What the hell was that?!”

--------

Taglist: (open)

[christ0pher-evans]

Healed Heart

Final Part of the Shattered Heart Mini-Series

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader Warnings: 18+ Minor Smut / Angst / Cheating / Arguing / Mentions of Divorce / Swearing Word Count: 2.9k A/N: So here is the final part of my mini-series. I honestly cannot thank you so much for the support on this, it means a lot to me and I love you guys for it!!! Please let me know what you think. I hope you’re happy with the ending because it took me a really long time to decide how I could finish off this story with justice. Thank you again, truly😘 Please reblog and like🖤

Part One: Shattered Heart Part Two: Troubled Heart Part Three: Bewildered Heart

 ♡

Three tortuous days had passed since you had last seen or spoke to Chris, three days since you kicked him out your home. You’d had nightmares about being in a loveless and hateful marriage, steamy dreams about your recent rendezvous and nights where you just felt so alone that you had cried yourself to sleep. It was safe to say that the past three days had been exhausting. 

Although fucking Chris in the kitchen during a harrowing argument probably wasn’t the smartest thing you’ve done, it led to some realisations about how you wanted to proceed with your marriage. You definitely didn’t regret anything you said, or did with Chris that day and that was what you found important amongst the disaster. Not regretting your decisions meant that you knew you wanted to move forward in your marriage, and not look backwards; something you would consider a big first step in repairing your marriage. You knew you couldn’t forget what happened and would have to address it before moving forward but you knew you had the desire to push through the hard times. 

You’d called Chris that morning and told him that you wanted him to come home, not that he could or should but that you wanted him at home with you. Emotionally, it felt like the right decision, because at the end of the day he was your husband and you missed him. Practically, it is his home as well and it was the only place you could both be to sort out your marriage with privacy. You didn’t want to be surrounded by the media or by prying eyes. Hell, you didn’t even want the opinion of family or friends, this was between you and Chris only. 

As you tidied up the house a bit and thought about the moment Chris would walk through the door, it was clear to you that no matter how angry or hurt you were, Chris was your endgame. You had played all the variables over and over in your head loads of times, societal rights and wrongs about cheating when you realised, fuck society. You would never leave your husband over this, and that was okay. This was your story and who cared what anyone else thought, because you didn’t want to give up. You owe it to yourself, to your marriage, to try and fix everything before throwing it away. 

For the first few days, Chris slept in the spare room and you danced around each other, trying to find your new normal whilst you navigated the mess that was your marriage. 

Once the first week passed, Chris continued to sleep in the spare room and you finally plucked up the courage to address the problem that had been plaguing your marriage for weeks, months if you consider back to when the problem initially started. 

The day you decided to bring it up, you had finished work early and Chris was already at home when you arrived back around 3pm. 

Walking through the house, you finally found Chris in the home office. 

“I thought you were filming today?” Chris looked up at the sound of your voice. 

“Oh hi sweetheart. I didn’t hear you come in? Um, yeah I was but, uh.. she turned up to re-film some scenes so I came home.” 

You winced at the thought of her and Chris together but was quickly calmed by the effort Chris had made to avoid her. 

Clearing your throat, you found the courage to reply. 

“Oh, er, did you not have to keep filming?” Leaning against the door frame, you settled in for a longer conversation. 

“It wasn’t anything that I can’t just do another day when she isn’t there. I’ve got some scripts to read over anyway so it’s fine.” 

You sighed. This seemed like an appropriate time to bring up the unspoken topic so you could start moving forward but your anxiety felt crippling in that very moment, you didn’t know if you could face it. 

“Sweetheart..” Chris whispered, “Y/N, sit down, please..” 

You moved to sit down on the small sofa by the window, tucking your feet up and under yourself. Chris moved to join you, sitting fairly close but not touching you as you hadn’t crossed that boundary since he came home. 

“Look baby, I’ve been home a week now and we’ve just walked around this house like we are two strangers. I need you to talk to me, tell me what you’re thinking because you’re the one that told me you wanted me to come home?”

You looked up from your lap and straight into Chris’s eyes, “You do feel like a stranger to me.”

You heard his voice hitch in his throat, clearly caught off guard by your blunt answer. 

“I’m still me, sweetheart. I’m the same person you met seven years ago and I’m the same person you married four years ago. Please don’t think I’ve changed.” 

A lone tear falls straight from your eye, as you whimper, “I miss him.” 

It takes Chris no longer than a second to pull you into his lap, all boundaries obliterated, as he hugs you like his life depends on it. As you cry all you can hear is Chris repeatedly whispering, ‘I’m here. I’m still me. I love you.’ 

You shudder at the softened and sweet contact, something you hadn’t felt for weeks but you embraced it, leaning further into Chris’s chest for comfort. 

Once you had basked in the feeling for a bit longer, shutting the world and your problems out, you knew you had to move away. It would have been unfair to give Chris mixed signals as your marriage was still clearly on the rocks. 

Sitting back up on the sofa, you composed yourself. 

“I know you are still you Chris, but you’ve changed to me now. This you..”, you sigh before continuing, “..you’re tainted and untrustworthy, you’re the man that cheated on me, you’re not my husband. I need to get to know you again, and I need to learn to love our marriage again, and learn to trust you again. It’s going to take time.” 

“B-but you want to try?”

“Of course I want to try. Endgame right? That hasn’t changed for me but other things have to change, we cannot continue like this otherwise if something else were to happen, I don’t think we would survive it.” 

“I am infinitely yours sweetheart. Forever.” You watch Chris smile sweetly. 

Feeling slightly more confident and feeling like Chris has really been listening to you, you knew it was time to talk about her. 

“Okay, well whilst we are here, I think we should talk about her. It’s the biggest hurdle for me, and I can’t move past it. I just can’t deal with you seeing her right now, not whilst I’m learning to trust you again. I’ll never trust her so I need to 100% be able to trust you again.” 

Grabbing hold of your hand, Chris nods in understanding.

“That is completely fine sweetheart. For now, how about I just work my schedule around when she isn’t there and wait until you are comfortable before I finish filming my scenes with her? I don’t care if it postpones the film, or they replace me, you are more important to me than any film and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you!” 

You nod feebly, shocked and relieved with the instant commitment Chris was happy to make to save your marriage and earn your trust back. 

An awkward silence falls over the room at the monumental conversation you just had. Needing a moment to yourself, you decide to make a quick exit. 

‘Um, I think I’ll go and grab a shower before dinner.” Quickly leaving, you rush to your ensuite. 

The shower provided a solace to digest what just happened, a few tears falling as you feel overwhelmed. But you left the bathroom with a renewed sense of hope. 

It was another week of tough conversations and private marriage counselling before you felt you had reached another milestone in fixing your marriage. 

You were in the ensuite of your bedroom when Chris came in to say goodnight. He was merely wearing a pair of pyjamas bottoms that amusingly you were wearing the matching top of. 

He chuckled as he leant against the wall, “I was looking for that top.” 

You giggled lightly and blushed, using all your self control to not drool over seeing Chris topless. Unfortunately, you had never been good at hiding any of your emotions from Chris and you saw him smirk slightly at your flustered state. 

“Okay, well, I just came to say goodnight, so uh- night I guess..” 

You mumbled a goodnight back as Chris turned to walk out the room. A rush of affection from the interaction washed over you causing you to shout back towards Chris to catch his attention. 

“Um, stay..” 

You saw the startled look on his face as the words left your lips. 

“Stay with me tonight..”, you repeated as if you were confirming your own words. 

“Yeah, course I’ll stay, if that’s what you want?”, he shuffled back towards you. 

“It is what I want.” 

You smiled at him sweetly before you brushed past him and moved towards the bed, leaving him a bit stunned in the bathroom. 

Weeks passed with no problems. You and Chris had gone back to sleeping in the same bed and you often woke up snuggled together. At first, you’d wake and quickly move away from him however, slowly, you became comfortable with it and you were finally starting to feel at peace in his arms. 

You had woken up early this specific Monday morning as it was Chris’s first day back filming with her. You felt sick to the stomach at the thought of him seeing her again and had slept terribly. You knew this day would come and thought you would be, at least slightly prepared, but as the day dawned, you were scared. Nerves caged around your heart as your mind could only replay the moment Chris told you that he had kissed another woman.

Chris had to go back to work, you understood that. He had already put it off for a while and sacrificed enough of his job to try and reconcile your marriage. You almost felt obliged to let him go back to work, who were you to hold your husband back from his job? 

You were sitting in the kitchen, slowly nursing a very strong coffee when Chris came down, ready for his day. You glanced up at him briefly, barely acknowledging his words to you. 

“Y/N? Sweetheart, are you okay? You’re up really early?” 

Glancing at the clock reading 7:30am, you shrugged and mumbled, “Woke up at 5:30am.”

You stared in the abyss, thoughts whirring through your mind. Thinking about being frightened to death about the thought that your marriage wasn’t even halfway back to where it should be. Knowing that Chris would see her today, spend all his time with her whilst you were waiting back at home for him. It felt like some sick and twisted de ja vu. 

It had been almost two months since you’d last been with Chris in any form of intimacy, almost four months since you were truly a happily married couple and now he was going to see her again, were you really debating that history would repeat itself? 

“Baby, will you talk to me? I can see something is on your mind”, Chris gently rests his hand over yours, bringing you out your nightmarish daydream. 

Looking up at Chris, taking in all his handsome features, you thought, how could anyone ever resist him. The thought panicked you even more.  

Learning from previous mistakes, you knew it was best to communicate to him how you were feeling. 

“I’m scared you’re going to see her again today and history could just repeat itself. Nothing is fixed yet Chris, and it feels like we are already going backwards.”

Just when you thought that being honest and communicating with Chris was the best option, it backfired in your face. Chris scoffed, a look of disgust on his face. 

“Huh, you’re not kidding?” Watching him run his hand through his hair, he turns away and slams his coffee mug down on the side. You jump at the aggressive action. 

“You really think I’d do that again? You really think that little of me? Have you not seen all the work I’ve put into this fucking marriage the past couple of months?”, he shrugs and turns back to you, “What else do you want from me Y/N?” 

You wince at his spiteful words. 

“I know you’ve put a lot into this marriage Chris, so have I! We’ve been doing really well, but can you really blame me for having doubts on your first day back with her? I thought you’d understand!” 

“No, I don’t blame you, but I thought you’d trust me more that this by now.” 

You chew on your lip nervously as you both stare at one another, terrified of the silence. 

“I’ve got to go to work Y/N, see you later.” You hear Chris huff before he walks straight out the house, leaving you sitting dumbfounded and anxious at your kitchen table. 

Trying to do any work from home was useless as you just felt panicked and couldn’t stop thinking about how Chris’s day was going. You hadn’t heard from him since this morning at it was now 6pm. 

After developing a painful stress headache, you decide to lay down in bed. Believing you can block the world out and briefly pretend that nothing is wrong in your marriage, you shut your eyes momentarily. 

FLASHBACK. 

Waking up so softly, you barely blink your eyes open as you feel tender kisses dancing their way up your back, following the line of your spine. You flutter your eyes open carefully, aware of the vibrant sunlight gracing your face as you try to focus your eyes, gradually making out the floor length curtains gently blowing through the breeze from your open balcony doors. You can hear the soft crashes of the waves and can see the soft, baby blue sky from your place on the bed as you stretch out all your limbs from an energetic night. You let yourself surrender to the feeling of Chris’s lips grazing against your bare body.

As he gradually makes his way up to your neck and cheek, you hum in utter happiness and contentment as he places one final kiss on your cheek as he leans over your body. You can feel every line and shape of his naked form as it presses up against you. You think about how you’ve never felt so happy and loved in this moment, knowing that this is exactly how you’ll get to feel for the rest of your life. 

“Good morning Mrs. Evans”, Chris roughly whispers, his voice hoarse from minimal sleep. He nibbles on your ear teasingly before grinding his core over your ass. You whimper at the feeling his movements evoke from you. 

“Mhm, I like how that sounds”, you mumble before smiling happily. The use of that name giving you butterflies. The one that now belongs to you, the name that now proves you belong to each other forever.

END OF FLASHBACK.

You wake with a start as you hear the front door slam slightly. You sit up too quickly, as you feel light-headed and your vision blurs slightly. You breath deeply, gaining your bearings before looking at the bedside clock. 7:30pm; you had slept right through dinner. 

Not that it mattered because you would have been eating alone anyway, you thought. 

Your body adjusts to being awake, your stomach fluttering slightly at the memories and feelings that the dream provoked. Momentarily caught in a fever dream. 

Back in reality, you brain registers that there was a slam at the door. Quickly, you get up and rush downstairs to see what is happening. 

As you halt at the bottom of the stairs and look out into the open plan room, you see Chris standing by the breakfast bar. The very same breakfast bar that holds so many recent heartbreaking conversations. But this time, it doesn’t bring you sadness. 

There Chris stands, holding takeout food in one hand and in the other, your favourite donuts. Behind him, on the wall, hangs the framed photo from your wedding day. Your matching smiles beaming on both your faces, almost as if they are lighting up the room.

You look back at him, standing here in your house. Bringing home dinner to you. Coming home to you. 

Your breath catches in your throat, “It’s you Chris, it’s always going to be you.”

You watch him place down the food on the side, before he begins striding towards you. Stuck in your spot, you can’t do anything but smile at your husband as he reaches you. 

“Forever yours”, you whisper before Chris’s lips crash onto yours for the first time in months. Your lips work together as your hands grip as his waist and his grasp your neck and face so you can’t move away. So you can only feel Chris, so you can truly remember the raw intimacy and passion between you. 

As your lips melt together, it feels as monumental as the moment he kissed you as you became his wife. It feels as if your story is beginning again; with a fresh start and a new-found hope for your marriage. 

 ♡

Forever Tags: @itsscottiesstark @patzammit @partypoison00 @cynic-spirit @n3ssm0nique @sohoseb @madbaddic7ed @moonlacebeam @ilovetheeagles  @beautifulrose0809 @lovelyladymayyy @tenaciousperfectionunknown @mysticapples17 @whxre4cevans @firoozehmoon @spookyparadisesheep @mytbel0st @thatonelatina @snowy992 [Please drop me a message if you’d like to become part of the taglist for this series or any of my work]

[watchmegetobsessed]

ANOTHER TITLE

a/n: personally i’ve been waiting for this part to come since the beginning lmao, so here is the proposal finally!! it’s like so fluffy, almost disgustingly, but i just couldn’t help myself

pairing: Sebastian Stan X Reader

word count: 1.8k

This fic is part of the LITTLE ONE series, but can be read as a simple oneshot as well! Find the masterpost of the series HERE!

masterlist

(gif is not mine)

You’ve been eating like a hormonal teenage boy these past weeks and you know it needs to stop and held under control, but you just can’t help yourself. It’s like your stomach has become a black hole that needs to absorb any and every food that’s home, you’re constantly snacking beside the large portions you eat three times a day, there’s always something you’re craving, the shopping list on the fridge is changing every hour because you think of something else to eat.

Luckily, you haven’t gained that much weight besides the noticeable bump that’s your baby in your belly, seems like your little girl does need all the food and she uses it instead of letting it all get stuck on other parts of your body, so you’re fine for just now.

Sitting on the couch, watching some kind of soap opera, you’re snacking on an entire jar of Nutella this time, shamelessly stuffing your mouth with the sweet, thick stuff, pretty sure that nothing will be left of it by the end of the day. Sebastian is away again for his second filming that was scheduled even before you found out you were pregnant and he messed around with it a little, shortening it once again and you just visited him last weekend. Now that you are pushing the end of your second trimester, your bump is quite evident, not something you can hide easily, so when you showed up on set with your boyfriend, you didn’t even try to cover it up, knowing well someone would spot it sooner or later. However everyone on the team has been so respectful, keeping the news to themselves, because no headlines have been made about your pregnancy just yet, keeping the secret even longer. To be honest, you’re surprised it hasn’t been discovered sooner, you thoughr someone would catch you out and about and see right through your baggy clothes and sell the news to the tabloids, but now you are in the sixth month and no one knows a thing.

Your phone chimes next to you, a text from Seb and you hum to yourself happily, putting the jar aside to grab the phone and see what he wrote.

“How are my two favorite girls doing? Miss you a lot!”

He even attached a silly selfie of himself in hair and makeup, he looks adorable with the clips in his hair and some kind of patches under his eyes. Like a real beauty guru.

Grabbing the Nutella, you place it on top of your bump as you move the phone to a lower angle and take a selfie that makes your bump look even bigger, the jar on top and you grinning widely at the camera as you snap a picture and send it to him with your reply.

“Enjoying our third snack of the day at 11 am! Miss you too, can’t wait to see you next week!”

He reads the message right away, his reply coming just seconds later.

“Look at that bump! You look gorgeous, baby! Can’t wait to see you too, have fun with your sister today, love you lots Xx”

Since he has left you’ve been trying to keep yourself busy so you don’t miss him too much and you’re also using these weeks to spend as much time with your friends and family as possible, knowing well once the baby arrives you won’t be going out that much for a while, nestled up in your home, learning the ropes of being a mother. Today you are meeting up with your sister, she is taking you out to this alleged new, quite fancy restaurant you haven’t heard about before. She claimed that it’s really exclusive, so you don’t have to worry about being photographed or bothered, but she also told you to glam yourself up for the occasion. It’s gonna be some nice sister time, something you haven’t been able to do in a long time.

You take the assignment seriously, doing your hair and makeup the best you can and you decide to put on a flowy maxi dress with a soft, knitted cardigan, very much going for a kind of cottage core vibe. Leaving just in time you text your sister that you’re on your way, putting the address into the GPS and heading out of town, because the place is near the beach. She texts you back that she’ll meet you there and so your short little road trip begins. Sitting in the car you’re listening to one of the many playlists Sebastian has made for you and the baby, he likes to play them at home, humming the songs under his breath, hoping to start educating your little girl in the field of music as early as possible. You have to admit he has a good taste, so you don’t mind it at all.

As you follow the instructions of the GPS you find the place that’s supposed to be your destination, but it doesn’t seem like a restaurant at all, more like a mansion of some kind, a very expensive looking if you are being honest. There are no other cars, no sign of other people so as you park at the front you call your sister.

“Hey, I’m right outside, but I have a feeling I’m at the wrong place? It doesn’t look like a restaurant.”

“Oh, don’t worry! You’re at the right place! I’m a little late, but I’ll be there soon, just go inside, they are expecting us!” she assures you, but you’re still not convinced.

Ending the call you approach the entrance and for your surprise the heavy doors open before you could even knock or find the bell. A man in a tuxedo appears in front of you, smiling warmly at you.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

“Uh, yeah,” you nod, a little shy and confused.

“Please, follow me,” prompts as you walk inside and the two of you start crossing the grandiose hall of the building.

At this point you are sure it’s not a restaurant, but you have no idea why your sister wanted you to come here. You want to ask the man if you’re even at the right place, but he called you by your name so he was expecting you, this has to be the place where you’re supposed to be. More and more questions pile up in your head as you follow him out to the backyard, a gigantic, flower-filled garden that’s straight out of a fairytale, a path leading down to the beach where there’s a dreamy little pergola with even more flowers and fairy lights and as your eyes fall on the figure standing in the middle of the pergola, you immediately gasp.

Because surrounded with all the flowers and lights, there is Sebastian standing in an elegant suit, smiling widely at you as the man next to you helps you down the stairs before you start walking down the path to him.

Tears are flooding your eyes, because you already know what it is, but you can’t believe it’s really happening. He was so sneaky, he got home from filming earlier and even made your sister play along to surprise you, he is such a romantic soul, no one can change your mind about that!

“You’re not in Atlanta!” you tell him when he is finally close enough to hear you. He chuckles sweetly, taking a few steps forward to meet you sooner, his hands finding your waist as you cup his face in your hands, pulling him down to kiss you right away.

“No, I’m not, baby,” he smirks, his hands sliding to your belly, gently stroking the sides as you wipe your tears away, but there’s no use, because the next moment, he steps back a little, just enough so that he can get down on one knee and you’re crying again when you see him pull out a little velvety box from his pocket.

You were expecting it. You knew he would propose before the baby arrives, but you just didn’t know when and how, but he surely outdone himself with his little surprise.

��My Love, Y/N,” he starts after a deep breath, his hands finding yours and you can feel the shaking, but you’re not sure if it’s coming from yours or his. Probably both. “I’ve spent the best years of my life with you and I haven’t been the same man since the day I met you, but in the best way possible. You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met and I’m so lucky that you did not only choose to be with me, but you are now carrying our baby under your heart as well, out little one who is equal parts of you and me, though you’re doing ninety percent of the job here,” he adds with a chuckle, making you laugh through your tears. “I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you the moment you were so badass on your first date, kissing me when I didn’t have the balls to do the first step, but I’m glad you did. I fell in love with you right then and there and the same thing has been happening every day, over and over again since then. I know we went a little out of order with everything we had planned,” he smirks, glancing down at your bump before his blue eyes find yours again, “but that doesn’t change the fact that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, so I have a question for you.”

He pops the lid of the box open, a gorgeous, brilliant diamond ring coming to your vision, sparkling in the warm afternoon Sun so perfectly, it takes your breath away.

“Y/N Y/L/N, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?” he asks, clearly nervous, even though there’s no doubt about your answer, you’ve told him plenty of times before that you want to marry him, but still, it’s a huge moment in both your lives.

“Yes, yes, yes!” you nod eagerly as you both start laughing in relief, his shaky fingers tagging the ring out of the box and sliding it to your finger gently, before he brings your hand to his mouth and kisses the ring.

Then he finally stands up and you basically throw yourself into his arms, kissing him like your life depends on it as he kisses you back with just as much force.

“I love you and I can’t wait to call you my wife,” he sighs pleased against your lips.

“Mm, another title in the line? Girlfriend, baby mama, fiancé and then wife,” you giggle giddily.

“You missed one,” he cocks an eyebrow at you slyly.

“Which one?”

“Love of my life.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[nanaminokanojo]

[7:06 PM] Oikawa X You

LOG #8 OF MY HAIKYUU!! TIMESTAMP DRABBLES

CHARACTERS: Oikawa Toru X You WORD COUNT: 1,200+ GENRE: fluff | comfort TRIGGER WARNING: mild separation anxiety SPOILERS: n/a

collection masterlist

A smile unconsciously drew itself across your lips at the feeling of Oikawa's hair between your fingertips. You've always liked his chocolate locks, even more when you were carding your hands through them. You sat on the couch while he was on the floor, shoulders between your legs. He's busy watching a volleyball match on his phone, no doubt knit-picking details from the players he could possibly go against. He's in the zone, and you know he could not be bothered when he decides to concentrate on this particular endeavor.

You didn't mind the stretches of silence between the two of you, satisfied with just being a latent presence moving around him. You understood the pressure that was on him being an international athlete, and if he wants time for it, you weren't going to stop him. It makes him happy. And if he's happy, you can rest easy.

But that wasn't always the case.

You hummed as you bent down slightly, catching his scent in the air as you inhaled deeply. He smelled like summers of old, faded roses and candy floss, the distinct hints heightening over the others depending on the circumstances. At that moment, he was a direct line to things which reminded you of happiness and easier days under the warmth of the sun just as summer gives up to fall.

Unable to hold back, you placed both your arms on his shoulders, burying your nose at the back of his head. You luxuriated in the smooth strands of his hair tickling your cheeks, the scent of his shampoo filling your senses. You nuzzled his nape, lightly brushing your lips on the side of his neck before wrapping your arms around him and propping your chin on his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" he asked, feigning annoyance except that you could hear the smile in his tone.

"Clamoring for your attention?" you offered to which he chuckled. You weren't one to do that, not even where he was concerned, knowing how independent you are that he felt useless where taking care of you was involved. Instead, you took care of him.

"And you think you're succeeding by…sniffing me?"

"The fact that you noticed means I am," you countered. "I love smelling you."

Oikawa reached up, patting you on the head, his eyes still glued to his phone.

You pecked him on the spot just below his ear. "I want my boyfriend back."

"You're holding onto him."

As if on cue, your eyes started to feel hot from behind, that tight feeling pervading your chest as you thought of how limited your time with him is. Most of his days were spent halfway around the world, the chances you could be with him, holding onto him like that, was when you felt dread the most. He will leave again, and you will have to adjust to his absence once more, the phase lasting for a rather long time before you're sure you are back on track again.

"Not for long." You withdrew, holding back the sobs that wanted to break free from your throat. You spoke in a steady tone because you didn't want him to worry. You want him to be happy by doing what he wanted, and you wanted nothing but to support him. But after all is said and done, you're only human, and you craved his presence constantly.

"Y/N, I wouldn't be leaving for another two weeks," he told you gently as you moved out of the couch, your feet hurriedly carrying you to the direction of the bedroom. "Baby, where are you going?"

You did not reply to his query, making a straight path towards the bed where you finally collapsed, curling into a fetal position as your tears silently fell. When you heard him enter the room, you grabbed a pillow and covered your face with it as if it would hide the evidence of your misery. You felt him sit beside you, tugging at it, but you held on tight, refusing to let him see your tears.

Instead of prying it off you, he laid down behind you, molding himself to the shape you've assumed. It was his turn to bury his face into your hair, doing as you did earlier as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him and planting butterfly kisses on your nape and shoulders.

"As much as I hate seeing you cry, I'm relieved you feel that way at the prospect of me leaving," he told you then, his pretty voice ringing into your ears over the blood rushing to your head.

At that, you tossed the pillow away and faced him. You sniffed. "What's that supposed to mean? I always feel miserable when you leave."

Oikawa's lower lip jutted out at the sight of your tears. "You never show me. The last time I left, you hugged me, turned away and left."

"I didn't want to upset you. You're the one who's going to be on a long flight. You think I want you to see me crying beforehand?"

He cupped your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs, his touch tender and warm. "I upset you this much, huh?"

You shook your head. "Not you. Never you, Toru." You snuggled closer to him, relishing his warmth. "This is why I don't want you to see me like this. I will support you no matter what even if it means we need to be apart. But I do get crazy sad when you're away."

Your words were followed by silence from his end. He started planting kisses on the top of your head, his arms tightening around you.

"I've been meaning to ask you something for a while now," he broke the silence.

Looking up at him, you waited for him to speak further. He met your gaze, his bright eyes swirling with conflict.

"I would like you to come with me if you want to," he began. "I've been wanting to tell you that since the second time I came home, but I don't want you to just leave everything for me. I don't want you to think I don't support your endeavors."

Your eyes widened. "Move to Argentina, you mean?"

He nodded. "I thought it would be nice if we can spend more time together. It's kinda tiring not being able to see and hold you for long periods of time. And I thought it'd be a good way to take our relationship a step further."

You just blinked at him, unaware that he had such thoughts going on inside his head when you've had this agreement before, that if things didn't work out, you would both go your separate ways.

"You have the absolute say on it. I don't want to –"

You cut him short by seizing his lips with yours, hoisting yourself up to run your fingers into his hair and kissing him slow and gentle but with all the feeling of gratitude and love you felt for him. You held onto him, glad that you did for the last four years.

You withdrew, smiling when you saw the dazed look on his face. "I'll gladly leave everything for you, Toru. Hell, I'll learn Spanish for you."

"Yeah? You'll do that?" The eagerness and joy blooming into a smile on his face was unmistakable. That's all you wanted, his happiness. "I promise we'll come home as much as you want. I'll arrange it."

You snickered and hugged him, settling your head on the crook of his neck while your hand reached for his, twining your fingers together. "No need for that. As long as you're with me, I'm home."

-end-

God, that GIF!!! I'm like Fiona in "Shrek" with her little pink diary repeatedly saying, "Mrs. Fiona Charming" except my head goes, "Mrs. Oikawa *insert my name*." お願いだから、寝かせてください 、徹ちゃん。

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY FURUDATE HARUICHI’S “HAIKYUU!”. [20210825]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[xmalfoyweasleyx]

Two empty years - F.W (smut)

Summary: Y/N is like a sister to Fred, but when he sees her again after two years, things change, a lot.

Warnings: 18+ smut, but also fluff and a plot, also briefly choking and praising. (to be clear, they talk about her being little but she's absolutely 18+ in this story!)

A/N: This is my first story but I worked VERY hard so I hope you like it. Let me know if you see mistakes or have tips x

2,3k words

27 July 1997

I felt sick when my feet landed on the soft grass next to the Burrow. I wasn't a big fan of appareting. I ran as fast as I could to the door. Molly and Ginny already waiting for me. "Are they here yet?" I asked, not able to hide the fear in my voice. Ginny fell into my arms and hugged me. "I missed you Y/N" she murmured. Molly gave me a smile full of sympathy and sighed: "Hello dear, no they're still not here."

Alll of this, just for getting Harry here safely. When did the upcoming war get this far? A month ago I was at Hogwarts worrying about an essay for potions. And now. Now I'm here. Worrying about my friend’s life. I wanted to help too but they didn't let me.

"Who's there? Who's helping?" I asked, nervously playing with the hem of my shirt. "All of them, Hermione, Ron, Tonks, George, Fred,..." Ginny answered but I stopped listening at Fred's name.

Fred. I haven't seen Fred in 2 years. Two.

It was my own fault. I used to visit the burrow every summer. The Weasleys were like a family. But that was the problem. I've been Ron his best friend since my first day at Hogwarts. I got sorted into Y/H. It was a dream coming true. And since then I visited the burrow every summer. Oh and don't forget the Holidays. Even getting the sweater with my initials on it.

But I never came back, since the day it happened. The day I fell in love with Fred Weasley. It's been two years. I saw him with a little boy. The boy was crying. It was something about the way Fred comforted that boy that made me melt inside, it made my knees weak. I promised myself I couldn't let this happen. I. was like a little sister to him after all. There was no way Fred could ever see me like this, like... a woman. I was a sister, I was his little brother's best friend. He probably loved me. But he would never be in love with me. And it got worse because I started fantasizing. I couldn't get my eyes off him playing quidditch. Watching him move with the sweat on his face. He made my stomach tingle in a way I've never felt. But I was young, and I knew that. I couldn't be that sexy girl, the woman I had to be to make him notice me as something else than an innocent, cute friend. Because we were friends too, good friends, always joking together.

So I never visited again. I just couldn't see him. And I didn't, because he left Hogwarts, I didn't even visit their shoppe once.

"Come inside dear" Molly offered "I haven't seen you in so long! But Ginny told me you still talk a lot with her in school, I'm happy to hear that. And I'm also happy you joined The Order!” she smiled wide like always. And then we heard something. It was Harry and Hagrid. Suddenly a wave of anxiety hit me. I was going to see Fred. If he was okay... Fuck, what if he wasn't okay?

I was ripped out of my daydreams when I heard a scream, it was Molly. I turned around quickly. Seeing a redheaded tall boy. That's when my heart skipped a beat. Blood all over the boy's face.

Oh no.

After one minute I noticed it wasn't Fred. It was George.

"George!" I gasped while kneeling in front of him laying on the sofa. "Y/n? Is that you?" he mumbled. "Yes it's me, what happened?" I gulped.

Before he could answer someone stumbled next to me. Grabbing George immediately. "George!" he panted. It was Fred. I knew it without even looking. He was sitting right next to me without even releasing I was there.

"Y/n is here" was the only thing George answered.

That's when our eyes met. For the first time in two years. After two years of purposely ignoring him.

It was silent. Something flickered in his eyes but I didn't know what it was. He grew up. Even more. He was an adult now. But so am I.

Change of POV

Fred didn't know what happened. Y/n, he missed her. He always knew she was pretty but he never really thought about it. And now, she was... she was older? She was a woman now. He couldn't really describe it, how she was just exactly the same sweet little girl who was like family to him, but how she still changed so much. How she was actually... hot now? She was so damn hot now. Of course she was. There’s always been something about her that he couldn't really describe, this feeling. But he didn’t want to feel that way, he couldn’t, she was younger, she was his brother's friend. She was y/n.

"Fred? Hellooo??" he heard his mother scream, waking him up from his thoughts. He didn't realize he was staring at y/n the whole time. "We have to heal his ear" he shot, trying to make up for his recent stare incident.

"I can do it" y/n said calmly. "What do you mean?" George whimpered. They all looked confused now. "I've studied about it, I want to become a healer and I'm studying already. I know how to but never actually performed a healing spell" she admitted. "I think you should try" Fred said. Making y/n smile at him while biting her lip unconsciously. It made Fred gasp a little for air while his stomach tingled again. She turned her head back to George causing a wave of her scent filling up Fred's nose. He didn't even know the smell would be so familiar to him. He had missed her, that's when he realized. God he had missed her and she was finally back.

A few hours later it was calm again. Most of them already asleep after the exhausting day. Y/n couldn't sleep. She sat in the sofa near the fireplace listening to the rain on the window while sipping from her coffee. "Seriously. Are you still drinking coffee at this time of the day?" she heard Fred saying. "I always do" she pointed out.

"I know" Fred sighed. "So, why is it so long ago since I've seen you? You didn't even visit our shoppe. I've told you so much about it back at Hogwarts."

Y/n sighed not knowing what to answer now. Because I love you and keep having dirty fantasies about how you would rail me.

She couldn't answer that, that's for sure. "Just... stuff... Lot of work with the healer thing" she lied. Fred sat next to her. "You've changed" he said. "Of course I did Freddie, it's been a while" she laughed. Giving Fred butterflies because of the nickname.

"Yes, but I mean, your lips and hair and .." he almost said what he wanted to. But lucky for him, he could control his straightforwardness for once. It even made him blush. What the fuck did he just blush?

Not going unnoticed by y/n, she laughed mockingly. "Is Fred Weasley actually blushing? Are you Fred?" she mocked while standing up and hovering over him. He was speechless. Something he never was. "Did you wanted to say boobs? That I have more boobs now? Or were you talking about my ass?" she smiled. Obviously trying to mock Fred. He sighed deeply, trying to be himself again.

It worked. He stood up, now standing very close to y/n. Hovering over her because he was still so much taller. "I know what you're trying y/n y/l/n" he smirked. "I know you just got shy because of me" she answered feeling bolder than ever. Their faces were close, a sexual tension that would be clear to every person, even Ron Weasley. "So tell me" y/n added, coming closer and closer. "Were you looking at my ass Fred Weasley" she whispered in his ear.

Suddenly the floor beneath her disappeared she couldn't process what happened. And then she saw it, they appareted. Standing in a room that was probably Fred's apartment.

"Fred?" she gasped. And before she knew it his lips were on hers. Moving perfectly together. The kiss was full of passion. She grabbed his head and pushed him even closer, slightly tugging his hair. He grabbed her hips and she moaned lightly. And suddenly the kiss was over. She saw a confused boy standing before her. Trying to process what just happened.

"I-I'm so sorry" he sighed. Her heart felt like it was about to break into a million pieces. How could she forget the fact that she was still... well... herself. "I know, I'm like your sister, you don't see me that way" she whispered, hating herself for letting her voice crack. "I shouldn't have done it" he said. Suddenly a boiling anger grew inside y/n.

"Am I that unattractive! Am i?! You know, I didn't see you in that long because I'm in love with you. That’s why! But you don't think about me like that. I'm 0 % sexy to you. I...I..." it all rambled out of y/n's mouth. "Hey hey" Fred sighed grabbing your hands to comfort you. "That's not true, when I saw you today, I was speechless, you're not 0 % sexy, god no, you're so sexy y/n" he admitted. "Why did you say it was a mistake." she questioned. Fred was still astonished by the fact she confessed her feelings to him. "I've just never been so confused. The girl I've known for years suddenly makes my stomach tingle. I don't I don't..." Fred tried to explain but y/n cut him off: "then fuck me"

"What?" Fred asked more confused than ever.

"Fuck me Fred Weasley". she breathed.

They stood like this for a few seconds. "Fuck it" he hissed, grabbing her hips again and pushing her against his wall, kissing her like his life depended on it. Y/n jumped folding her legs around his hips pushing his core closer to hers. Slightly grinding up and down. He grunted into her mouth.

"Can I take your clothes off?" he asked. Y/n nodded and with one little spell her clothes were all gone. Fred's eyes widened. Attacking her with open mouth kisses on her neck. "God you're so sexy, so fucking sexy" he sighed in between the kisses. Making shivers go through y/n's body. His lips attacked her nipples passionately, making her moan his name. Fred swore it was the most beautiful sound ever. A sound he would never forget.

"Please Fred" she sighed. "Patience baby, patience" he hummed in her ear. Slowly rubbing his finger through her folds teasingly. Kissing her lips softly. He went down on his knees and suddenly y/n felt his soft lips attaching to her wet core. "God" she moaned. Fred sucked gently and moaned while y/n ran her hands through his red locks.

This must have been heaven. It was the best feeling they've ever had. Fred thought it couldn't possibly get better, pleasuring y/n being the best thing he ever did. The way she tugged his hair and moaned his name... But then she pulled him away. In a second she was on her knees before him. "What are you d-" he tried. "Shut up. I'm showing I'm not that innocent any more. I'm yours now Fred" she breathed. Before Fred could answer she pulled his pants down. Revealing his throbbing cock. Making him whine.

Y/n kitten licked his tip and heard him sigh loudly above her. She looked up through her lashes, looking at the tall guy with innocent eyes, taking his cock in her mouth. "God y/n, you're going to be the death of me princess" he grunted. She bobbed her head and swirled her tongue, trying to put as much as possible in her mouth. Little moans left Fred's lips. "Y/n I'm going to cum if you keep doing that” he said between grunts. Y/n grabbed his thighs and gagged while tears formed in her eyes. "Good girl" he moaned. Leaving y/n proud but still waiting for her own release.

Fred didn't want to cum yet. In one move he grabbed y/n delicately by her ass, pushing her against the wall. His tip touched her core softly. "Fred" she moaned. "Are you sure about this baby?" he asked. Y/n nodded eagerly. "Make me yours Freddie" she answered.

That was it, Fred pushed slowly into her. Leaving them both moaning in synchrony. After a while Fred started moving slowly. His sweaty forehead resting on y/n's. Looking straight into each others eyes. "Faster Freddie" she groaned. He started pounding into her mercilessly. Making them both moan even louder. The sound of grunts, their skin slapping and her body banging against the wall filled the room. His fingers dug into her skin while she grabbed his back firmly.

"Good girl, you feel so good around me" he whispered into her ear making her moan louder. Suddenly he grabbed her neck gently, but still firm. His long fingers fitting perfectly around her skin, making her gasp at the sudden pleasure. Feeling his cock rubbing her g-spot faster and faster. "I'm gonna cum" she almost screamed. "Me too baby". Fred went even faster while they looked in each others eyes, seeing the passion exploding. "God I love you, I've always loved you" he sighed. "Me too Freddie, I love you" she moaned.

And with one last sloppy trust they both came. Moaning each others name while riding the orgasm out. Looking at each other with eyes full of disbelief but mostly happiness. "Well that wasn't what I expected to happen today when I woke up this morning" he joked. Making y/n laugh while planting a soft kiss on his lips.

That night they fell asleep in each others arms. Still sweaty and exhausted from before. Just like two empty years without each other, never really happened.

***