#quietly whispering my biggest secret is that if i go too long without full days of drawing i get angsty

[freebooter4ever]

jeff sent me a few photos from yesterday - i like my pink bow ^_^

[broadwayandnetflix]

i have a request for bo burnham!!:) maybe like the reader and bo watch the special when he gets done editing it and doing all the other stuff he has to do for it, and he records her reaction to the whole thing and that’s how he announces the special?? i know that’s weird but it’s been stuck in my head, so you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to!

Test Run - Bo Burnham x Reader

Warnings: Language

Theme: FLUFF (angst if you like squint)

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: y’all I wrote this so fast, like kachow. I hope you enjoyed it, and got a break from all of the angst. but angst is still good. but this fic is not me fangirling over inside. never, couldn’t be me. I hope you enjoyed the fic though @bos-a-feminist I had sm fun writing it.

It had been late one evening when Bo had practically burst into the door of your bedroom. You sat puzzled as you gave the man time to catch his breath, as he gave you an eager look.

Trying not to giggle as Bruce yipped at Bo’s feet in pure excitement, it seemed he too was trying to figure out what was going on.

“What? Are we finally gonna have sex again?” you say humorously, causing the man to break composure for just a second.

“No! I mean what the fuck? Yes, yes, and to answer your question, yes. But not right now.”

You giggle as he looks at you with an expression you couldn’t fully decipher. In any constellation, it had been months since you had seen the man this energetic.

Usually, when Bo would come back from his long days in the guest house, he’d tend to be exhausted. Often just giving you a quick kiss before collapsing onto the mattress.

His blue eyes softening towards you as he extends his hand for you to take. Which made you realize that there was an ounce of seriousness in his actions.

Your hands fitting perfectly in his as he pulls you up from the bed, one hand making sure to hold the small of your back.

“Where are we going?” you breathe out.

Bo remained silent, but you found out soon enough as he led you outside to the guest house.

You had stopped dead in your tracks, causing him to do the same. Eyes widening as you realized what was gonna happen, turning to Bo and giving him the biggest grin you could muster.

From the minute he had set foot in the guest house to begin his special, he had been very secretive about it. Something about how it helped him to create something that no one really knew about.

I mean, you had some idea when the UPS trucks kept delivering camera equipment. Or when he had asked if he could take some of your clothes. Other than that, though, top secret.

It had been about roughly a little over a year when he had started the special. A year of emotions and hard work, and by the looks of it.

It seemed as though he had finished.

“Wait are you doing what I think you are doing?” you say, looking at him expectedly.

“Shit babe you catch on quick. Yes, if we are on the same mindset. I think we are, now hush, or I’ll never get to show you it.” Bo instructs before leading you inside.

In all honesty, you didn’t know what to expect. The last time you had seen the guest house had been roughly two years ago. Now? It looked completely different.

Wires and different camera equipment lay waste on the floor, making it almost a hazard. Other lights of various types and sizes filled the room like mini metal trees. It looked disorganized and yet organized at the same time.

Yet Bo walked through the maze of equipment with ease, almost as if it wasn’t even there. You smiled before tiptoeing to the clearing that Bo had made for you.

“Yeah apologies, I wasn’t expecting company.” Bo smirks as you break into laughter.

“It looks…well it looks well used.” you reply, getting comfortable on the chair he had provided.

In front of you sat a projection on the wall of what seemed to be an editing software. You looked back at Bo with an eager grin; he gives you a slight wink.

Anticipation settling in the air as you watched him mess around with the monitor. Until his cursor finally presses on a folder and a video screen pulls up.

You half expected him to sit beside you. Still, instead, he remains behind the computer, amongst his sea of technological instruments and cameras.

“Y/N, I’m showing this to you. Simply because you deserve to see why I’ve been so busy for like a year or more. Plus, you mean the world to me and I wanna know your input.”

Bo says softly. You can detect a hint of nerves in his actions and tone; you practically melt, realizing that was he anxious. Regardless you knew without a shadow of a doubt you were gonna love whatever he puts out.

You open your mouth to reply before he presses play, and an eerie ringing fills the room. Music filling your senses as the special, titled Inside, plays before you.

The next hour or two fills you with a multitude of emotions that you can’t quite place. It seemed like Bo was making you laugh seconds ago, and now you can’t help but feel tears well up in your eyes.

Cinematically it was stunning, breathtaking even. It was hard to believe that Bo had turned the little guest house into a studio. Or at least to the extent that it became, with its gorgeous displays and production.

Performance-wise, it was a completely different ballpark. Bo fucking delivered in more ways than one, whether in humor or just pure raw emotion.

Acting or not, it broke your heart to see the man you loved so dearly in the state that he was in. Of course, you could tell something was up even then when he was filming, but he never gave away the extent of it.

Just hearing him cry made your stomach twist in knots; you wanted to comfort him. Only to be reminded that it was just merely a video of him.

Even at the moment, it took you everything not to look back at Bo; you knew how much he valued your attention. Plus, you wanted to experience the special in full, just as you would if he were on stage.

The special wasn’t the same as his others, but it was well needed for a time like this. It felt personal and introspective, but it was also oh so clever and in-depth. You adored it and the time and effort that he had put into it.

As the credits rolled out and you saw an acknowledgment for your name, your heart soared.

You knew that the two of you had worked hard to be there for each other the past year. Especially with everything that was going on and Bo working most of the time.

To know that you had helped him in any shape or form. It just meant a lot, in more ways than he’d ever know.

The lights in the room flickered on as if he had made a make-shift movie theatre. You wiped away any stray tears, and before he could even say anything, you ran into his arms.

Bo jolting back in surprise before accepting the embrace and holding you tighter into his chest. His head resting gently on top of yours due to his taller stature.

“God I love you so much, more than you’ll ever know. I seriously don’t know if I would’ve made it out alive this past year if I didn’t have you.” he croaked into your hold.

It took you a second to realize that the man was crying, and you pulled away to meet his eyes. Your fingers brushing away his tears before reaching up to give him a kiss.

His figure bending down just a tad to meet your lips as he kisses you back sweetly. It’s light and yet so filled with passion for making up for what time that had been lost.

Yet as he looks down at you, a smile etching across his lips. As he asks you about what your thoughts are on his special, he already knows your response.

Unbeknownst to you, he had recorded your entire viewing experience. Of course, if he were to ever share it anywhere, he’d ask your permission, but it was apparent.

Even as you told him how much you loved it and how much you enjoyed it. You knew that he knew that you understood the special the way he had intended it.

It was one of the many things that made him adore you endlessly. You meant the world to him.

“We should celebrate babe! Maybe order a pizza or something.” you exclaim, arms still wrapped around his neck in your embrace.

“We definitely should, but what pizza places are open at this hour?” Bo smirks as you give him a slight frown.

“I don’t know, that’s a good question.” you hesitate.

“Actually I do know one place that’s really good and delivers.” Bo whispers seductively up against your ear.

You giggle and gesture for him to continue as he swiftly pulls away from your hold. His hand outstretched for you to take once again as he leads you towards the house. Or, more importantly, towards your bedroom.

“Me.”

——————————————————————------------------------------------

Bo sat anxiously beside you as his fingers lingered over the ‘post’ button on his different social media accounts.

The post in question was a video that he stitched together of you watching the special. With your consent, of course.

It had been edited together to be vague enough that he wouldn’t spoil the special. But nonetheless, it was sweet, and he totally made sure to include you tearing up in it.

You made it a priority to tackle him for that one.

The video was sweet and short, but it got the intended message across, and you personally loved it, just like you loved Bo and the special.

“Any-day now Robert.” you tease as you hold his one hand in yours.

“Do you think that they’ll wanna watch it?” he whispers quietly.

“Of course they will, it’s you. Baby you are so talented, your fans will be so excited.” you reassure.

Bo sighs before squeezing your one hand tightly before pressing the button. And letting Inside out into the world.

[tbmaybank]

Hi, I was wondering if you could write an imagine with Jj where the reader is Topper’s little sister and she’s friendly with everyone. (Rafe could have a crush on her or something if u want to spice it up a bit) Well, she is starting to date Jj ( with a little bit of help from John B and Sarah) and Topper and Rafe find out about their relationship at a party or at midsummer because they catch them almost doing the dirty. I hope this isn’t wierd and I hope you understand cause English is not my first language.

Here you go, doll! I hope you like it :)

Warnings: drinking, smoking, smut, and violence

Requests are open!

——————————————————————————

You sat at the dinner table, mindlessly pushing your food around on the plate, ignoring the on going conversations. You hated coming to the Cameron’s for dinner. Rafe was always making comments or trying to find excuses to be alone with you. You kind of felt bad pushing him away, you were once really close. He was your brother, Toppers, best friend, and at one point you had a huge crush on him. But now, with how much he’s changed lately, you couldn’t stand being around him. Plus, you were now secretly dating one of the boys he hated most, JJ Mayfield. All you wanted to do right now was to get through this dinner so you could sneak away to see him.

You hadn’t meant to fall for the Pogue boy, but after the infamous Sarah and Topper break up, you ended up seeing a lot of the group, as Sarah was more of a sister to you than a friend. After seeing how horribly everything went when everyone found out about John B and Sarah, you decided to do everything you could to keep your relationship a secret. As much as you hated having to hide the boy you loved, you had to admit it made everything more exciting.

A buzzing from your pocket pulled you out of your thoughts. You pull the phone out, seeing a text from JJ.

-Is Rafe behaving himself around my girl?

Smiling at his obvious jealousy, even though he would never admit that he’s jealous.

-More or less. Nothing too bad. I’d much rather be getting annoyed by you though ;)

-Oh don’t worry, I fully plan on being extra annoying tonight. Can’t wait to see you.

“Y/n, are you listening at all?” Your father asks. You quickly put your phone away, turning a little pink.

“I’m sorry, I got lost in my own head. What did I miss?” Adding a sweet smile, which always got you out of trouble with your dad.

He sighs as he says “I was saying your mother and I will be leaving with Ward and Rose tomorrow morning for a couple days. You are to listen to your brother while we’re gone, understand?” Internally you roll your eyes. I’m 17. I don’t need a babysitter you think to yourself. But nows not the time to argue, especially when this can give you an excuse to spend more time with JJ.

“Yes, dad. I understand.” Everyone was finished eating by this point, but you knew this meant you still had about another hour of after dinner drinks to sit thought. However, your parents were okay with you, Topper, and Rafe going to sit outside on the dock. Almost as soon as you guys sit down, your brother is pulling out a joint. He lights it, takes a hit, then passes it to you. You immediately start to pass it over to Rafe, on the other side of you. You didn’t like being high around your parents, so you never joined in these after dinner smoke sessions.

Rafe throws his arm around you, “come on y/n, have fun for once.” Trying to hand the joint back to you.

“I have plenty of fun all the time, I think I’ll survive being bored for an hour.” He rolls his eyes and takes a hit.

They start talking about throwing a party the next day at your house. “Are you actually gonna join us this time?” Rafe asks you, moving his hand to grab your hip.

“Sure, but only if I get to bring my friends.” You respond while moving his hand off of you.

“You mean those pogues? Hell no. Why are you even friends with them?” Topper says.

“They’re nice, plus if they come, Sarah will be there.” Knowing that the chance to talk to Sarah would make him agree.

“Fine. But you better tell them to not start shit.” Smiling, you hug your brother.

“ Thank you Topper!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

———-

Later that night, you were finally on your way to see JJ. Sarah had picked you up down the street from your house after you snuck out your window. Sarah was the biggest help to you being able to hide JJ. She was always willing to give you rides to see him, or covering for you and saying you were with her.

Once you guys park the car, JJ is instantly at the car opening your door for you, pulling you straight into a deep kiss.

“You guys literally saw each other this morning.” Sarah says, laughing at his eagerness to kiss you.

“Yeah, but if y/n was your girl, you’d miss her this much too.” He says as you guys start walking to join the others.

Everyone’s in their own conversations when you walk up, and you and JJ sit on a log, his arms going around you. You all start talking while drinking beer, a couple blunts being passed around. This time, you happily took hits as they came to you. You tell everyone how there’s a party the next night at your house, and how you got Topper to agree to them coming as long as they promised not to start anything, making sure to shoot your boyfriend a look as you say the last part.

“When have I ever started anything with them?” JJ asks, prompting everyone to start listing examples of when he most definitely started problems with them. “Okay, okay fine,” he throws his hands up “I promise not to start anything, but if Rafe starts touching you I will-“

“You will do absolutely nothing and let me handle it so everyone there doesn’t find out about us.” You interrupt, giving him a quick kiss at the end. He finally agrees, but not without pouting.

————————————————

The next night, the party was in full blast. You sat in your room though, until you got the text from JJ that they were here. And when you did, you rush to meet them at the door, determined to keep them away from Topper, and more importantly, Rafe.

As the night progressed, you found it easy to keep everyone separated. Other than a few nasty looks exchanged, nothing bad happened. You and the Pogues stayed in a corner drinking and having a good time. After awhile, you were definitely drunk.

“Can we sneak away?” JJ whispers in your ear. Giggling, you nod. Carefully, making sure no one sees, you lead him up the stairs to your room. As soon as he closes the door, his lips are on yours. His hands on your hips, pulling you as close to him as you can get. He backs you up, til you softly hit the dresser. Without breaking the kiss, he lifts you up and sets you on the dresser, sneaking his hands under your shirt. You pull away to your shirt off.

“God you’re beautiful.” He whispers before attacking your neck with his lips, letting his rands roam your body. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer against you. You lift his shirt and yank it off him, and pull his lips to yours again. His hand going under your skirt to rub you through your panties. “You’re so wet for me, baby.” Moaning at the feeling of his hand, and his words, and whimpering when he pulls his hand away.

“JJ,” you pant breathlessly, “I need you. Please..” he smirks at your words before lifting you just enough to pull down your thong. His thumb returns to rubbing your center while he kisses your neck again, slowly moving to your chest before his fingers enter you, causing a gasp. His fingers thrusting, as he sucks at your nipples, makes moans fall out of you beyond control. You start to feel the warm feeling build up in your stomach, before the bedroom door swings open.

“Hey y/n, where’d you- WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO HER!?”

You guys quickly pull apart, you covering yourself with your arms as soon as you hear Rafes words.

“Rafe, get out!” You shout at him.

He ignores you, and goes straight for JJ, throwing a punch. You quickly throw your shirt on and start trying to pull them apart, which you knew was a useless effort. You instead ran downstairs to find Pope and John B. Your eyes scan the people in the party. The music covering the noise from the fight upstairs. Finally your eyes spot the boys your looking for. You run up to them, not even realizing your crying and try to say what’s happening, but the words won’t come out. All you can manage to say is “Rafe. Upstairs.” Luckily, they understand and run up. You follow behind and watch as they successfully get Rafe and JJ apart. Each still trying to get at each other, though.

“Don’t ever tucking touch my girl again!” Rafe shouts at JJ, but before he can respond you cut in.

“I’m not your girl, Rafe. Just because you have a crush on me, and try to act like my boyfriend, doesn’t mean you are. JJ is my boyfriend; not you.”

He looks between you and JJ for a minute, before smirking “so you’re a pogue slut now? I should have seen that coming.” JJ tries to go for him again at this comment, but Pope keeps him back.

At this point, Topper makes his way upstairs, noticing all of you missing. He walks in and sees Rafe and JJ being held back from each other, JJ still shirtless, in your room. He looks to JJ, and asks “were you fucking my sister?”

“Topper, Rafe, get out of my room.”

“Are you seriously with him, y/n?” Topper asks.

“Yes, Topper. I am.” You sigh.

“Get out.” He says.

“Topper, you can’t kick me out. Mom and dad would kill you.”

“No, they’re gonna be thankful when I tell them why. Now pack your shit and get out.”

You felt your eyes getting filled with tears. You knew it would be bad if he found out, but you didn’t expect him to look at you with such hatred. “Topper..”you say quietly, walking towards him.

“No, y/n. It’s them or us. And you need to choose right now.” The tears falling fully now. No body in the room dares to say anything or move, all watching you two, waiting to hear your answer. Suddenly anger rises back up in you, before you turn away from him, snatching up your old book bag, and stuffing as much as you can from your dresser in it, and walking out without a word to any of them. Your plan was to go wait by John Bs van, but then realize it was pretty bold of you to assume he would be okay with you coming back to his place tonight. So, here you were, aimlessly walking down the street. You walked like you had purpose, a goal in mind, but really you had no idea where you were going. You hear footsteps running up to from behind, and suddenly your arm is grabbed and your spun the other direction. You were about to scream, before you saw JJ standing there.

“I’ve been shouting for you,” he says out of breath, “didn’t you hear me?” You honestly didn’t, your head full of so many thoughts at this time. Looking into his blue eyes, seeing the cuts and bruises from Rafe, you feel the anger melt away, and instead all the other emotions hit you, and you just start sobbing. He pulls you close to him, “baby, y/n, it’s gonna be okay, okay? You can come stay with us, if you want?” You just nod against his chest, unable to stop crying enough to actually talk. He starts leading you towards John Bs van, continuing to tell you how it’s gonna be okay, and you guys will figure everything out together.

When you reach the van, Kie and Sarah rush to hug you. “I think this officially means your a pogue.” Kie says while hugging you, getting a small, but sniffly, giggle out of you.

“I’m sorry guys, I should have known this wasn’t gonna go well.” You say, trying to wipe away tears with the back of your hand.

“Hey,” John B says while lightly grabbing your shoulders and looking into your eyes, “it’s not your fault. At all. Rafe is a psychopath.” Nodding; you thank him.

You all pile into the van, riding in silence back to John Bs house. JJs arm around you as you try to clean his wounds in the bouncing van. You guys finally arrive, and climb out. JJ dramatically holding his arms towards the house, “Welcome Home, y/n!” He says smiling.

Home. You liked the sound of that.

[marsbutterfly]

ymir x shy!reader

The Confident Girl's Delight

Summary: Ymir spends day and night teasing you so nobody will ever find out about your secrets meetings.

                                      Warning: NSFW!

                                           Wattpad! | AO3!

“Come on, Y/N” Ymir purrs, her fingers resting on your chin as she eagerly brings your eyes to hers.

The chilly breeze hits you but it is not the reason why your hands begin to shake. You desperately start to look for a way to escape her but her arms block any chances you might have.

“Stop it, Ymir.” You say, feeling as your cheeks burn hotter than the fiery pits of hell. You don’t mean it of course and she can tell by the tone of your voice.

“Do you really want me to?” She asks, placing her lips against your ear before biting your skin gently and you wonder how the hell did you find yourself in this situation.

It wasn’t unusual for Ymir to flirt with you, she did it as you were walking into the shower or even when you had some kind of food in your mouth. Her biggest delight was making your cheeks burn and you knew it.

Nothing too serious, always a compliment here, a smack on your ass there. You know if you ever told her to stop with a serious tone in your voice, she would listen without a second thought but the question was: did you want her to stop?

No.

The truth is that between training and Krista, receiving Ymir’s attention was a privilege not many people could have.

Of course, along with the flirting came a bit of teasing: about your accent from the interior of Wall Rose or the way your hair doesn’t stick to your ponytail for too long before turning into a mess.

During one uneventful night, you sat in the dining hall by yourself. The voices around you were loud and yet you somehow managed to tune them all out.

Your thoughts race through your mind, the images of Ymir’s sweaty face after exercising still fresh in your head. The drops of water that come from her bottle and drip down her abdomen contrast with the light from the candles.

Your face burns and you use your left hand to fan it, hoping to cool yourself down. You chug on the water as if your life depended on it.

Suddenly, you are pulled away from your thoughts when a pair of hands make their way down your shoulders stopping an inch away from your breasts. You gasp, knowing exactly who those hands belonged to.

You silently beg for her to never stop touching you but sadly she sits by your side taking a massive bite out of your apple.

“Why do you always eat my food?” You whisper while looking down at your nearly empty plate. You move your lips around, your fingers won’t stop fidgeting and you can’t quite breath anymore. Her face comes close to yours, too close.

“Because everything that comes from you is more delicious.” Ymir says, a smirk creeping on the corner of her lips.

“Ymir, leave her alone!” Krista says while pushing the taller one away from you. She can’t help but laugh at the state you find yourself in and you feel her fingers brush against your chin.

“Meet me in the closet by the Commander’s Office in one hour.” She says, pulling the petite, blonde girl alongside as they walk away towards the exit of the massive room.

You sigh, scared of what she could possibly want. But alongside the fear comes a brand new feeling: excitement.

The minutes go by slowly, almost as if the clock feels bad for you but eventually the time has come to face her in the closet.

The torches illuminate the otherwise dark hall and your steps echo quietly but to you it sounds much like a titan’s sprint after humans: ground shaking.

You knock on the door only to realize she isn’t there yet and a wave of relief washes over your body. Of course the feeling doesn’t last long since suddenly you feel Ymir’s hand on your back as she pushes you inside gently. In a more gentle manner than usual at least.

The lock clicks behind her and she pushes you against the wall, her arm wraps around your waist as she spins you around prompting you to face her. Her nose brushes against yours gently and you can’t hold back a little moan.

A delighted smile on her lips as she plants them on your neck, her hand moving up from your waist to your breasts underneath the shirt. When Ymir’s cold fingers brush against your nipple, you feel your heartbeat pulsating on your clit.

“I missed you.” She whispers before you feel the tip of her warm tongue tracing the outside of your ear. She pinches your skin and you cry out, squirming against her touch while silently pleading for more.

“I missed you too.” You say in response, your voice dying in your throat.

You cross your legs in hopes of keeping yourself from getting soaking wet but once Ymir’s hand enters your underwear, you are done for. You feel like at that moment you could melt faster than butter above fire.

“Ask for it, baby.” She says, her lips meeting yours for a split second before she resumes the attacks on your neck. Your body reacts to her actions immediately and you know the marks tomorrow will be bad.

“I…” You stutter quietly, “I want you to touch me.”

“Where? Here?” She asks, sliding two fingers inside of you barely in but deep enough to pull all the wetness you attempted so hard to keep locked in.

“Yes. Fuck.” You respond, digging your nails on her skin. Her now slippery fingers rub circles on your clit, dragging quiet sobs out of you.

“Oh to hear you curse is such a blessing.” She giggles and you hiss in response. “Hold onto me.”

You do as you are told, holding onto her for dear life in such a way not even a higher power would be able to bring you two apart. Her fingers slip past your clit making their way down towards your entrance. They slip in with ease and you gasp, biting Ymir’s shoulder in an attempt to keep yourself quiet.

With her free hand, she pulls your mouth away from her skin and brings it close to hers. She bits the right corner of her lips gently before going in for a sloppy kiss. The tip of her tongue brushes against yours as it asks for permission to deepen the action.

This isn’t the first time you’ve had a moment like this with Ymir, in fact she has fucked you in places you could never have imagined: during dinner with all the other soldiers around, in the showers after practice.

Ymir moves her fingers in and out gently while her thumb brushes circles on your clit. It doesn’t take long for her to find your g-spot and she takes full advantage of the situation presented to her.

Uncertain, you decide to be bold and with one of your hands you reach underneath her shirt. You can feel every little bit of her abs and you decide to stay there for a moment. Sweat drips down her skin as the room begins to feel stuffy.

Once you touch her breast, your hand shakes slightly as if you don’t know what to do from here on out. So she gently places her free hand above yours, never taking her fingers out from inside of you, in fact, she begins to speed up her actions.

“Squeeze it, like this.” She says, applying a bit of pressure to your hand. You do as you are told once again and your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

Once she curls her fingers inside of you, it doesn’t take long for you to reach an orgasm. The tip of her middle and ring digits brush against your g-spot while her thumb never stops contact with your clit. She always knew exactly how to touch you to make you melt quickly so nobody would ever find you.

You moan against her lips, feeling as your body spasms and your legs close shut, her fingers still inside of you. It’s involuntary and you feel bad because you don’t want to hurt her but for once she doesn’t make a comment about how tight you are when you come so you simply stay quiet.

She pulls out from inside of you, gliding her wet fingers above your lips. You try to look away but in the end you open your mouth, tasting yourself on her skin. You make sure to lick it clean before she pulls it out, drying them on her shirt.

“Same time tomorrow?” You ask with a bold expression on your face and she snorts.

“Sure.” She replies, planting one final kiss to your lips before opening the door. She looks over her shoulder one last time, shooting you a deadly smile and you can barely hear it but she says “I love you”. The air around you smells like your pussy and all you want to do is bury your face in a pillow, hoping no one would know where it came from.

After a few minutes, you exit the room only to find the hallway to be completely empty and you thank God for it. As you walk back to your room, you still dream of Ymir’s touch on your skin and how it feels good to have her undivided attention.

Once you pass through the doors to your dorm room, a voice enters your ears and someone’s hand grabs your ass.

“Why are you blushing, Y/N?” Ymir asks, knowing damn well she is the reason why. You don’t say a word and simply hurry to your bed, pulling the covers above your head.

Her words are still fresh in your mind, even if you didn’t get to say it back. “I love you.” First you think it’s because she is scared you won’t reciprocate her feelings, which is not the case but eventually you realize she left in such a hurry because she was trying not to embarrass you.

You hear Krista’s disapproving voice but the words are muffled. All you can make out of it is “Leave her alone.”

But Ymir will never leave you alone, she loves to tease you in every possible way and you are grateful for it. Even if it’s the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to you.

[anyoneseenadam]

That fenrys fic was divine 😭🔥 can I request something for him having a nightmare for the first time since he found his mate and she comforts him and reassure him ?a tiny bit of angst maybe 💔🤧

pairing: Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

warnings: blood, violence, nightmares, character death (kinda), mainly fluff with a lil bit of angst

a/n: I completely stole the first half of this from a short story I wrote about Achilles lmao, also THANK YOU FENRYS IS AN ICON AND DESERVES ALL THE LOVE WHICH I AM HAPPY TO GIVE, hope u enjoy <3

(I did not proof read this because I am tired :))

——————————————————————————

Fenrys hands shook as they refrained from touching her, from pulling her in and wrapping himself around her, drowning in her hair, her skin, her clothes, her laugh, eyes, smile. She turned with a smirk and a cheeky eyebrow raise, beckoning him in. He lunged, grabbing her, ready to make true on his wish, staring in wonder as her solid form turned to mist in his hands as she moved further away. Her laugh drawing him in. And of course, he followed like the lost puppy he was, begging, and whining to return to comfort, home, safety. She was his home, and he would follow her to the ends of the world if it meant she stayed that way.

 She had moved again, this time into a series of winding corridors, the maze he called his heart, a maze she owned. He chased after her, but she was quick, twisting and turning through corridors and secret doors, the map laid bare for her to see as he stumbled blinding, led only be the light she left in her path and her infectious laughter. Finally, she reached a dead end, casually bracing herself against the cold walls, releasing an exhale of laughter through her nose. He slowed his pace to a walk as she smiled up at him through curling lashes, nothing but the faint smudge of rouge high on her cheeks concealing her natural face to him, which he proceeded to wipe with his thumb when he reached her, his build towering over hers.

 “Finished running, are you?” he mused quietly,

 “I knew you wouldn’t let me get too far,” she whispered back, lips tracing his jaw.

 “That’s because you hold my leash,” he allowed himself to concede, “always have, always will my darling.”

 She let out a sigh of agreement, before leaning to his ear, their bodies pressed so tightly together he could feel her heart beating in his own chest, as if they had swapped hearts giving the other all they were, all they could be.

 “There is no me without you.” She uttered the vows they had made that beautiful day, where she dressed as the angel he was sure she was. He leaned down to express his love, but she did not allow him to rest in her arms for long, pulling away with a giggle.

 “What?” he asked with a smirk, but she was already gone giggling behind him, the chase beginning again.

 But as he turned, blessed by the smile she gave him, all pearly white teeth and rosy cheeks, the warning shout he cried was not quick enough as a wash of deep red replaced the once pure and untainted white of her smile. Her mouth filling with blood, the sword protruding from her stomach like a handle. She stared at him questions not asked soon enough as she splutters up blood onto her previously fresh clothes, eyes full of fear, splitting his heart in half, the ground crumbling beneath his feet.

 He tried to run to her, hands grasping at air as he fell through the cracks in his own heart, a scream tearing from his throat as she was pulled from him, skin draining of colour and eyes turning black, full of hatred and contempt as she stared him down.

 His own scream woke him up, sweat and tears blending on his face like paint on a pallet, as he gripped her pillow and sobbed on their bed. He herded himself into the far corner of the bed, afraid when he realised she was not lying next to him, comforting words, and gentle hands ready to lull him back to sleep. Fear and sadness battled in his heart, the heart he had given her during the war, the heart she had held safely as she cut her way through armies to reach him again. The heart she had put back together with soft kisses and words of undying love. The heart she had tied to her own the day they wed and had kept pressed safely in her chest since.

 He looked now, tears blurring the image he was presented with, bookshelves filled with stories you promised you would read eventually, tubes of lipstick on the floor next to the frame of their mirror, tea left to go cold in mugs dotted around the room, sketches left to be forgotten on desks and ribbons tied haphazardly around bed posts.

 He saw all these signs of you, the clues you left him as he navigated your shared life. His eyes darted around the room, breath picking up when he couldn’t see you, pressing a hand to your side of the bed and finding it warm, his breathing only slowing a little.

 He stood, pulling on a pair of boxers, and grabbing two daggers he kept next to the bed as his mind filled with the worst possible scenarios. He slowly padded out the room, moving silently through the house and thinking of a million different ways to torture whoever had dared to touch you. The tears on his face had dried uncomfortably but it was the least of his worries as he stalked through his own home, fear clouding his judgement that argued you were probably safe.

 He heard movement in the kitchen and walked that way, footsteps light as he rounded to corner to a beautiful sight. His arms dropped as he took in the sight of you in nothing but his shirt, sipping from a glass of water, illuminated by the moons glow. You turned when he walked in, smiling at his but furrowing your eyebrows when you saw his facial expression and the knives in his hands.

 “Fenrys, what happened?” you asked, moving over to him as he threw his daggers down, arms encircling your waist as he breathed in your scent. “Fenrys please, you’re scaring me.”

 He pulled away from you and you reached up, stroking a hand down his face and looking up at him with nothing but concern in your eyes, eyes that were searching his for any clues of why he was acting this way.

“I though you were- I thought someone had,” he struggled to get the words out, pulling you even closer, one hand tangling itself in your hair as you furrowed your eyebrows at him, kissing his sharp jaw.

 “Slow down love, tell me what happened,” your soothing voice calmed him, his breath coming easier as you moved a hand to his shoulder, your loving grip grounding him.

 “I had a dream, then I woke up and you weren’t hear and I- I thought someone had taken you,” he whispered, eyes filling with tears as he pictured your lifeless eyes and limp body.

 “Oh my love, I’m sorry,” you pulled away from him, clasping his large hand in your smaller one and pulling him to your shared bedroom, “But you know I’m not easy to kidnap, I make too much noise.”  You joked, holding his hand to your mouth, and kissing it lightly as you walked over to your bed.

 He sat down first, and you stood between his legs, his arms wrapping tightly around you again. “Don’t joke about that,” he muttered into your stomach, but he couldn’t resist the smile forming.

 You pushed his head back and climbed into his lap, arms resting on his shoulders. “I mean honestly, if I ever got taken hostage I’m pretty sure I’d annoy them into letting me go, I’d just start explaining my top three reasons why every Jane Austen novel contains gay subtext.”

 “Or you could explain to them the tier list you and Aelin made of all the men you know.” Fenrys laughed as your eyes lit up.

 “I forgot about that!” you exclaimed and Fenrys laughed, lying down, and pulling you with him as he tickled your sides, revelling in your squeals as you batted your hands at him.

 When you calmed down, breathing quickly you rolled off Fenrys as he nestled himself between your breasts, holding you close.

 “Please never leave me,” he whispered into your chest as he listened to the steady beat of your heart as it created a song just for him. The vulnerability in his voice broke you and you moved a hand to his head, stroking lightly.

“Never.” You spoke with such surety that Fenrys let out the exhale he had been holding in. “I am never going to leave you, I’m always going to be by your side.”

“I love you so much, so much when I thought you were gone, I felt sick. I can’t do this without you.” He whispered into your skin. “Sometimes I’m scared that one day I’ll wake up and all this will have been a dream. And I’ll have to lie with Maeve again and kill for her and watch her hurt Conall and it will be so much worse, because I’ll remember this softness, I’ll remember you and maybe one day I’d find you and you wouldn’t recognise me, and for the rest of my life I’d think of you, of the woman I never got to love.”

“This is real.” You whispered, kissing his head, and ignoring the tears welling in your eyes, “I’m real, you’re real. We’re real Fenrys.”

He didn’t reply, just buried his face deeper into your chest, addicted to the feel of your heartbeat. The constant reminder that you were here, you were alive. After he lost his brother you noticed Fenrys had become clingier, you initially presumed it was just because he was in mourning and needed comfort but one night he had drunkenly confessed his biggest fear to you. The nightmares he would have where you left him, told him you hated him, and the worst of all, the nightmares in which he watched your life be cruelly ripped from you. He could live with you hating him and leaving him, knowing that somewhere in the world you were safe and breathing, but everyday he feared your death.

The mornings he would wake up and find you wincing, a hot water bottle pressed into your lower stomach, the thought of you in any form of pain ripping into him, making his heartbeat faster and his palms sweat. The powerful warrior brought to his knees for you, but you were always quick to reassure him with kisses and promises of staying in bed all day.

As he breathed in your scent now and listened to your heartbeat, happily surrounded by you and only you, he allowed himself to relax under you soft touch, his own heart slowing to beat with yours as the fear slowly melted from him.

He needn’t fear your death, as he knew that he would never let you die. No, instead he would always fall before you, sacrifice his own life, any life if it meant you survived. You were a Goddess sent to bless him and he would fall to worship before you, always.

[avatarmerida]

Walking Home

This is inspired by @buggachat’s Bakery AU. I hope this is okay because I love this idea so much and I loved the winery arc. I wrote this assuming Adrien also lives at the bakery, though I don’t know.

——————————————————————————

“Okay no, no first of all they did NOT kick us out because I spilled. But IF did they did then that’s your fault!” Marinette exclaimed as the four of them left the restaurant.

“I didn’t mean that time,” clarified a bubbly Adrien as he ran ahead. “I meant when you kept turning the glasses into microphones and trying to get everyone to sing when they were still pretty full.”

“No! No! No!” she insisted, running up to him and giving him a gently tap on shoulder. “It was because you kept making chicken noises and they were awful!”

“They were amazing.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever heard a chicken,” she said smugly as she attempted to suppress her laughter at the memory. “It was so high pitched.”

“Bawk bawk bawk,” said Adrien quietly. Seeing Marinette suppress more laughter, he kept going and got louder. She couldn’t stand still, the laughter causing her to bend in half unable to catch her breath. Making her laugh was somehow so addicting and so he kept doing the awful chicken noise, getting higher and louder and faster. Passerbys gave them strange looks and rolled their eyes. Alya couldn’t help but smile at the thought that everyone who saw them must assume they were lifelong friends. Maybe even more than that.

“Oh wow I didn’t realize how late it was,” announced Alya, pretending to check her phone. She was fairly certain the two forgot her and Nino were there. “Ugh, I’ve got an interview scheduled for the blog at 8am.”

“Yeah and I’ve got to wake her up otherwise she’ll never get there on time,” added Nino with a laugh, catching on quickly. Adrien and Marinette snapped out of their bubble, seeing suddenly how ridiculous they must seem.

“We should do this again soon though,” said Alya. “All of us,” she added, looking at Adrien.

“Yeah, this was fun,” said Marinette, sneaking a glance at Adrien (though he didn’t notice) before turning back to Alya. “Are you okay to get home?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna grab a taxi,” said Alya. “What about you two? Are you okay? You didn’t switch to water when Nino and I did.”

“That was water? I thought you guys just switched to white wine,” asked Adrien. Nino chuckled and handed Adrien his phone so the two could make plans to hang out later in the week.

While the boys talked, Alya pullled Marinette into a hug to supposedly say goodbye.

“No girl, for real are you okay to get home? We can drop you off,” she whispered.

“No it’s okay you guys live the opposite way and you need to get up early,” whispered Marinette back. “The bakery isn’t that far and It’s not like I’m walking alone.”

“Exactly,” said Alya, pulling away but making sure the boys were too distracted by their conversation to hear theirs. “I know tonight was fun but you didn’t start the day being Adrien’s biggest fan. You’re okay walking home with him?”

“Yes Alya I’m fine,” she hiccuped. “I’m not even that drunk.”

“Marinette!” Adrien called suddenly, very excited. “Can we make pizza at the bakery?!”

“Oh my god pizzaaaaaa!” She exclaimed far too loudly, throwing her hands in the air. “Yes, yes let’s go! Bye Alya!”

She ran ahead and Adrien excitedly and instinctively followed her, the two a collection of giggle and hiccups stumbling between the street lights.

“Text me when you get home!” Alya called after the pair. They were quite a sight. She couldn’t help but smile at the fact that this morning Marinette couldn’t say his name without grimacing and now they were rushing off into the night. She wondered how Marinette would feel about the blonde boy tomorrow.

“Pizza, pizza, pizza!” The two exclaimed as they trudged down the sidewalk.

“Okay I know we have dough and cheese I don’t know if we have any pizza sauce,” said Marinette raking her brain. “Do we want toppings? Because I think we just have sprinkles, maybe we-ahhh!” Suddenly the ground came rushing at her, but before she had time to process what was happening she was stopped inches from the pavement. She looked up and saw Adrien had caught her in the knick of time. His hands were on her waist as if he was dipping her in a some eleaborate dance. The streetlight above him reflected on his golden hair like a halo.

He really was a good model, she couldn’t help but think as she found herself drawn to his light like an innocent moth.

“Sorry,” he said realizing the position they were in. “Force of habit, I guess. I didn’t mean, I mean I-.”

“Don’t apologize,” she breathed, not attempting to remove herself from his grip. “You’ve just got like catlike reflexes.”

“Yeah, I maybe??” He laughed. He couldn’t even explain her own pun to her as he pulled her to her feet. “Hehe, uh sorry if I distracted you again.”

“No, no it’s my own fault, I’m extra clumsy when I’m drunk,” she explained, bashful suddenly for some reason. “I’m a regular public menace. But thanks for not letting me fall on my face.”

He smiled. “Anytime,” he stood up straight and offered her his arm. “To ensure you don’t fall again,” he explained.

The logic of his reasoning negated any objections her former view of him held at the ready. He didn’t have to be kind to her when it was just them, and this must be why she held onto his arm so firmly and allowed herself to be so close as they walked. She suddenly felt guilty for her ulterior motives in inviting him out. The skeptic in her wanted to point out that maybe he was faking being drunk, or was so well versed at deception that alcohol had no affect on his ability to lie. But a larger part of her just wanted to rest her head on his shoulder as he led her home, contently listening to him ramble.

“Okay but why isn’t pizza a pastry?” he continued. “Like a lot of baked goods have cheese, they all have dough. Is it the sauce? But donuts have filling and the tomato is a fruit, I think-?”

“Maybe pizza can be your menu speciality,” she murmured, following the voice that told her to rest her head. “But you can give it a fun name and make it look different so they won’t know it’s pizza until they taste it. You’d think of a good name, you’re funny.”

“I’m funny?” he asked, genuinely surprised and flattered.

“I’m drunk, who knows what I’m saying,” she joked. “I’ll deny it but yes you are funny. I like when you write puns on the specials board.”

“Really?” He chuckled. “I didn’t think you’d be a fan of bad puns.”

“I’ve heard worse,” she murmured, her mouth moving faster than her mind. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Like what?” he tried, trying to careful in this new territory, but fighting his catlike curiosity . “Are you a secret comedian?”

“No, no but I was in love with a boy who made puns a lot,” she said quietly, almost just to herself. “It seems so silly but now whenever I hear a good one I write it down so I don’t forget. So I can tell it to him. But I’m never gonna see him again. That’s so stupid isn’t it?”

He saw tears forming in her eyes. “I think it’s sweet,” he said. “Is he someone you meet in New York? On your internship?”

She stopped, her mind had brought up another similarly between him and Chat Noir and that was extra confusing right now. But she hadn’t had anyone to talk to about Chat and it felt nice to share something about him aloud. She had to tread carefully though.

“I’m sorry if you don’t wanna talk about it,” said Adrien before she could find the words. “It’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” he continued, gently removing his arm from her. “You’ve already done so much for me, helping me at the bakery, letting me into your home, inviting me out tonight . You’re a very kind person Marinette and I’ve invaded so much of your space already, I shouldn’t be invading your privacy.”

“No, Adrien please it is okay,” she insisted. “I brought it up. And I... I’ve never brought it up to anyone before, to be honest. And it must be because... I like talking to you. Because-.”

“-of the wine?” He offered.

“-because we’re friends,” she finished, looking up at him with soft, truthful eyes.

“I think it is the wine,” he joked, only half certain.

“Here, I’ll prove it,” she said, keeping her purse and rummaging through its contents. Finally she found what she was searching for. “Here,” she said, placing something in his hand.

“What is this?”

“My lucky charm,” she said proudly, as he opened his hand to reveal a simple keychain composed of colorful beads. “I made it during my internship, it helped me when I had deadlines or a creativity block. I take it everywhere.”

“And you’re giving this to me?”

“Well I still plan on needing it and having it close by, so I wouldn’t just entrust it to someone I don’t want in my space would I? It’s probably not as flashy as the friendship bracelets Chloe made you but-.”

She was cut off as Adrien pulled her into a tight embrace. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

She hesitated, but returned the gesture. “You’re welcome,” she said as the two stood in the middle of the sidewalk, embracing for probably a little too long. “Adrien, since we’re friends, I think I should be honest with you.”

He pulled back to face her, his face still holding a smile despite her dismal tone. “What is it?”

“Today, when I invited you...” she began, her pride almost too big a pill to swallow. “Well, I had ulterior motives for inviting you.”

“Really?”

“I thought, oh god I’m so embarrassed,” she pushed through. “I though you had ... a secret.”

“A secret?”

“Yes,” she buried her face in her hands, utterly embarrassed. “Ugh, and I thought it you got drunk enough you would blurt it out. And that’s so awful of me and I know it’s dishonest, but I promise you it’s not like that anymore. I was paranoid, I guess. I don’t know. But I’m so sorry. really do enjoy spending time with you-.”

“What kind of secret?”

“Huh?” She said, surprised he wasn’t mad. “Oh, i-it doesn’t matter. It was still wrong of me.”

“Well why couldn’t you ask me about it before?”

“I didn’t have any sort of proof,” she admitted. “Only a hunch.”

“Why?” He asked. He wasn’t mad but she couldn’t place his tone. People must have accused him of this before. She knew now he wasn’t his father, he was more than whatever his past held, and he didn’t deserve another faker. She knew he’d ask what she suspected and it would ruin everything but maybe she could make it less awful if she kept apologizing?

“Nothing major, just because of how you acted around me-.”

“I see.”

“-but I know now I was completely wrong,” she quickly went on. “Getting to know you tonight and spending more time with you at the bakery, I know I was wrong.”

“Oh,” was that all he could say? Oh?!

“Because you’re just so nice!” She went on, her drunk brain turning to rambling. “You’re actually a really great guy, and you’re just quiet at first, you’re ... a friend...”

“Just a friend?” He asked, the word holding his attention tight.

“Yes,” she said, hoping he was considering accepting her apology. “And I- oh darn it.” Suddenly, a raindrop fell onto Marinette’s cheek. Then another. Without warning the sky began to pour, and the pair sought shelter. Adrien took off his jacket and placed it over Marinette’s head to attempt and shield her from the rain, a fruitless attempt as the jacket immediately became soaked and heavy and helpful to no one.

As they made their way through the waterfall that claimed the sidewalk, an abandoned umbrella leaning against a building caught Adrien’s eye. He swooped in to grab and quickly opened it over Marinette’s head. “Ugh, I can’t see,” she cried, the rain causing her eye makeup to run and sting her eyes. She wiped it away, only to smudge it and give cover her face with a charcoal color. Adrien laughed.

“Mademoiselle Hamster, you look more like a raccoon now,” he wheezed. Before Marinette could offer a clever response, she saw the rain continued to fall on him as she was safely covered.

“You’re going to catch pneumonia,” she stated angrily.

“It’s not a very big umbrella,” he said, still laughing.

“Nonsense,” she said, yanking the umbrella handle to spin him in. “I’m not about to let you get sick and stick me with all the work at the bakery.”

But the umbrella was very small. And in order for them both to be covered, they had to stand very close together.

“Fine by me,” breathed Adrien, looking down at Marinette. She stood in front of him, her hands landing instinctively on his chest as if they were slow dancing. She was aware of this, but did not remove them. Her eyes went to the ground, not being about to handle the closeness with eye contact. In one hand Adrien held the umbrella, the other one slowly went to removed a strand of wet hair from her face. A bolt of lighting graced the sky.

“You were right you know,” he said quietly, the rain almost drowning him out.

“About what?”

“About my secret,” he said with a chuckle. “I thought I hid it well, but I guess I made it really obvious.”

“What?” Said Marinette, looking up at him is disbelief, her hands trembled. “No, no you’re still drunk, you don’t know what you’re saying. No, no I know now... after everything that happened it can’t be true.”

“Do you... not want it to be true?”

“I guess it doesn’t really matter what I want,” she admitted, bowing her head again. “Either it’s true or it’s not.”

“I promise you, it’s very true,” said Adrien, his voice softer than she had ever heard but somehow insanely familiar. He placed his free hand under her chin and lead her to meet his gaze.

“Wait, what did you think I-.”

“Marinette, I’m sorry that I couldn’t be more direct with you,” he began. “But I didn’t think I’d ever feel this way again since... you’re so amazing and I- I’m done keeping secrets; I do have feelings for you.”

“W-what kind of feelings?” she asked, a tiny portion of her intoxicated little mind convinced he was angry with her.

Adrien closed his eyes and leaned in close to her and his lips stopped mere inches from her own. Hesitating. Waiting. Silence. She looked at him, no streetlight caught his hair now but the shine remained. The glow was just him. He wasn’t a spy, he wasn’t a traitor, he wasn’t a villain. Her mind ran with things he was not until suddenly she realized what he was. Kind. Handsome. Funny. Charming. She had taken these things for granted before and thought they were lost and locked away forever. It was like they were reincarnated, her heart fluttered in an nearly forgotten familiar way as if to say she had been here before. As if to say this is exactly where she was meant to be.

Lighting crashed in the distance.

She chased the feeling and eliminated the space between them, drawn to him like he was magnetic. She could could blame it on the wine. She could blame it on the rain. She could blame it on the way his eyes were so gentle and vibrant at the same time like a lush green forest she wanted to explore until she was hopelessly lost. But she crashed into him like a she was a tidal wave, her arms wrapping around his neck as she pulled herself up to kiss him. He stepped back, surprised but pleased and tossed aside the umbrella in favor of having both his arms around her as he eagerly kissed her back. He lifted her off the ground, perhaps a little too overzealous, and the pair found themselves on the ground in the middle of a puddle. Only then did they break apart, like a dream they were rudely awakened from, and Marinette found herself laying on top of him.

Adrien looked at her, eyes wide and curious, awaiting a sign of how she felt. Even now, with her eyeliner smudged and her hair soaking wet, his heart skipped a beat in way it hadn’t done in years. What was she thinking? Should he say something? His mind raced with what to say next, he had imagined this confession thousands of times since he realized his feelings, but none of his scenarios went quite like this. He didn’t want to risk ruining anything, if there was even something to ruin. He played the last minute over and over in his head like a romantic film scene. He smiled a wide smile and if Marintee didn’t know any better, she could have sworn he was purring.

Marinette took that as her signal to lean forward, slower and more graceful than the first attempt and kissed him again. It was less rushed and more gentle, but also more certain. The umbrella was carried away by the wind, the two seemed to have forgotten about the rain or any storms between them.

The next day, Marinette awoke feeling sicker than she had ever felt in her life. Not only did she have a massive hangover, but being stuck in the rain had given her a terrible cold as well. Her body couldn’t decide which unpleasant feeling to focus on so she remained in bed, cursing the world.

“Hey girl,” came Alya’s voice from the doorway. “Heard you weren’t feeling too good.”

“Alya I’m dying,” moaned Marinette.

“Were you so busy dying that you couldn’t text me that you go home safely?” laughed Alya, removing the pillow from her face. “Omigosh you didn’t even wash your face last night. You really were trashed.”

“Ugh I don’t even remember it raining last night, but I woke up soaked,” complained Marinette.

“Wait, you don’t remember it raining?”

“No, after we said goodbye to you and Nino the night it a total blur.”

“Oh, does Adrien remember the rain?”

“I don’t know, we don’t talk,” Marinette reminded her, covering her head with a blanket. “I don’t know what I said to him on the walk home, but my throat is killing me so it feels like I was yelling.

“Wait, you don’t remember anything from the walk home?”

“No,” repeated Marinette. “Why? Did I drunk dial you or something?”

“Uh, no,” said Alya with a mischievous smile. “But when it started to rain I told the cab driver to drive by your place to see if you guys got caught in the rain and I’m so glad I did because I saw something very interesting.”

“What?”

Alya simply handed Marinette her phone and braced herself for the reaction she knew was coming. Marinettte had to do a double take at first. But there was no mistaking this was a picture of her. And Adrien. Kissing.

“WHAT?!” She exclaimed, giving herself a worse headache. “Ouch. Ugh, Alya please tell me this is photoshopped, this is a joke right?”

“Not this time, I am an eyewitness,” assured her friend. “I saw everything.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe he kissed me,”

“Well you shouldn’t because if you go back a little bit you see it’s clear as day who kissed whom,”

“What?” But it was true. She swiped back and forth and there was no arguing that she pulled him in, she reached up, she kissed him. Twice. “Oh no.”

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed,” said Alya taking back her phone. “If kissing a former model in the rain is the worst thing you’ve done after drinking, that’s nothing to be ashamed of. I don’t see why you don’t like him anyway, you two got along so well yesterday.”

“Oh no no no I just thought it was another dream!”panicked Marinette.

“Another?” Teased Alya. “So you often dream about kissing Adrien?”

Only when he’s working with his supervillain father “I’m never drinking again,” vowed Marinette, burying her head in her hands. “Please tell me no one else saw those photos.”

“Just me and Nino, but I’m keeping them for blackmail,” confirmed Alya as she headed for the door. “Or to show at your wedding.”

Marinette threw a pillow at the door, just missing her friend as she took her leave. What had gotten into her? Besides copious amounts of wine, that is. She prayed that Adrien’s memory of last night was even foggier than hers. She wished she had Tikki with her to talk her through this without any judgment but she just had her. And all she could do was panic.

“Hey, are you up?” Came a small voice accompanied by a knock on her door. “I just saw Alya leave and I wanted to check on you if that’s okay.”

It was Adrien. “Um yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, I guess,” she replied. He didn’t come in, she didn’t invite him. He was still wary of her. That must be as good sign, right?

“A headache?” He chuckled knowingly. “I had one too. I made a smoothie and that kind of helped. I can bring you one. Or leave it in the kitchen for you.”

“Thanks,” she said awkwardly. Silence stood between them for what felt like hours.

“Listen, about last night,” Adrien said at last. Marinette braced herself for the worst.

“Yeah?”

“I wanted to say thank you,” he said outside the door. “It meant a lot, you guys inviting me out. I had a lot of fun, well the parts I remember anyway.”

“Do you... remember walking home?”

“Hardly,” he admitted. “Apparently it rained?”

She laughed. “Go figure,” she said. She cousins sent he was right: she did enjoy the parts she remembered. “But um thank you too for helping me get home safely. You’re a good friend.”

The sound of the word made him blush, he was grateful she couldn’t see his face. “Anytime,” he said. “Feel better, I guess I’ll see you later?”

“See ya,” she said, as she heard him walk away from the door and flopped on her bed in relief. Crisis averted.

Adrien made his way down the stairs, Marinette’s keychain in hand. The moments of last night replayed in his head. It was blurry to him as well, but a few moments stood out to him. Mostly, the way she said ‘lucky charm’ and the way her smudged makeup resembled a mask.

[tlcwrites]

Two Hearts Make a Whole

Prompt: “Kiss me again, like you mean it.” Photo prompt below.

Summary: NYC Pride is for celebration, and occasionally, long-overdue revelations.

Word Count: 2,001

Tags/Content warnings: Marvel. Stucky. If you have a problem with it, there's the door. SFW. Slight TFATWS spoilers so read at your own risk. Platonic Reader. Two idiots in love. Technically canon-divergent because I'm still in my everyone-is-alive-and-in-this-timeline happy place that I will never ever leave fuck you very much Russo brothers but not AU. Found family. All the feels. Complete and total LGBTQ+ support. Lots of bad language words because #me. Un-beta'd.

Author’s Note: Okay so yes this is technically 4 weeks late for @autumnleaves1991-blog's Writer Wednesday weekly challenge. BUT, it was incredibly important to me to finish this one before Pride month is over. Made it by the skin of my teeth.

Happy Pride, y’all. If you’re out, you’re amazing. If you’re closeted, you’re amazing. However you identify is valid and important. Trans folx are LGBTQ+. Bisexuals are LGBTQ+. Ace folx are LGBTQ+. Anyone who identifies or thinks they may be as queer is LGBTQ+. All are welcome in the family. You have the right to choose your pronouns and we have the responsibility to use them. Live whatever your truth looks like to you and love each other. Love is love is love is love. If your family doesn’t accept you for you, I’m your mom now and I’ve got mom hugs available on demand. Homophobes and TERFS can fuck off and roll in poison ivy. Always punch Nazis. Pride shouldn't be limited to the month of June. And don’t you dare forget that Black and Brown trans women were the ones who rioted at Stonewall, and we owe everything to their bravery. Don’t forget that much of popular ‘gay’ culture was appropriated from Black women. And for more facts about Pride that you should absolutely know, Rawiyah Tariq (@ mammyisdead on Instagram) has a phenomenally good overview.

“Oh my god.” You gasp loudly. "Oh my GOD. Is that-"

“What?!” Instantly in First Avenger Protective Mode™️, Steve surveys the crowd, wishing he had an actual shield instead of the screen printed one on his shirt. “What is it?”

You gasp again, smacking Sam’s arm repeatedly. “OHMYGOD IT IS HOLY FUCK.”

“First; ow.” Now-Cap rubs his bicep. “Second; clue in the class before Steve has an aneurysm, please.”

Vibrating with excitement doesn’t begin to describe your current state. “HER ROYAL HIGHNESS MISS LEMON MERINGUE IS STANDING RIGHT FUCKING THERE.”

With the finesse of a shampoo commercial, Bucky's dark locks fly as he whips around. “What?!”

“RIGHT THERE RIGHT THERE RIGHT THERE.” You abandon a relieved Sam and latch on to Bucky’s vibranium arm. “Oh my GOD I love her so fucking much.”

“She was robbed, absolutely fucking robbed,” he agrees, craning his neck to get a better view. “Divine Tension’s lip sync was shameful.”

Sam glances at Steve, who is slowly coming out of protector mode. “What the ever-loving hell are they talking about?”

“RuPaul’s Drag Race.” Nat flicks more confetti at both Cap-the-former and Cap-the-current. “They watch it every week.”

“Really, Steven, for a guy with enhanced super senses, you miss a lot.” Tony hefts a bedazzled Morgan higher on his back. The toddler, accompanied by Scott playing air-piano on the ground, sings along with the ABBA song being blasted at full volume through the street. Tony continues as if this is an everyday occurrence. “Why do you think both of your People disappear every Friday evening?”

Ears pink, Steve mumbles something.

“What?!” The only other one with hearing enhanced enough to hear a murmur over the cacophony of several thousand people belting out the chorus of ‘Dancing Queen’ at the top of their lungs, Bucky turns to stare at his friend. “You thought we were datin’?”

Steve’s blush extends down his neck.

You and Bucky stare at each other for a moment before you both collapse on each other, exploding into stomach clenching, thigh slapping laughter.

“I’m gonna guess that’s a ‘no’?” Clint confirms with Nat.

“Oh, a big ‘no’.” She watches affectionately as you and Bucky calm down enough to look at each other, breathe for a second, and both promptly dissolve into hysterics once more. “Like, the biggest ‘no’.”

Sam crossed his arms across his chest, his stoic stance so reminiscent of Steve it’s amusing (as well as a beautiful disparity to the sequined crop top he’s sporting. Oof, those abs.). “How do I not know about this?”

“Because you’re not a former super spy?” The usually-Black-but-today-Rainbow Widow tosses the last of her confetti at Tony, who spins a jubilant Morgan into it. “Or because you and that leggy barista from the lobby coffee shop are too busy playing hide-the-“

“-Baby Shark!” Morgan suddenly shrieks, flailing towards a guy on roller blades wearing a fin and tail (and not much else).

“Yeah,” Nat finishes with a smirk, “Hide-the-Baby Shark.”

Sam flips her a gesture that makes Clint laugh and Bruce sigh.

You and Bucky have finally managed to pull yourselves together. “Oh my god, Steven Grant,” you gasp, wiping tears from your eyes. “That’s the funniest fucking shit I’ve ever fucking heard.”

“Language!”

Steve glares at Tony. “One. Time. It was one. Time.”

Bucky slings his flesh arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Oh, punk. You may have perfect vision now, but sometimes you’re still as blind as you were before.”

Visiortn himself nods sagely. “Humans can be quite unperceptive when it comes to matters of the heart.” Vision casts a fond smile at Wanda, who is using her powers to make Pietro’s tinsel wig fly on and off. “Sometimes you have to look harder to see what’s right in front of your nose.”

A confused frown on that handsome face, Captain Clueless looks at Bucky. “Why do I feel like everyone else knows something that I don’t?”

His bestie sighs deeply. “Because, Stevie, almost everyone else on this planet knows that my tastes tend towards tall, blonde, blue-eyed knuckleheads who have zero sense of self-preservation.”

“And an ass you could bounce a quarter off of,” Scott helpfully supplies.

“And that,” Bucky agrees.

Steve frowns.

You press your palms to your eyes in vexation. “You, Steve. He’s talking about you.” (Seriously, how has this idiot survived for over a century while being so dumb?)

Whatever he was expecting, it was certainly not that. “He-“ The Man With A Plan gapes as he turns to his oldest friend. “You-“

“Me,” Bucky says gently.

Even though you’re slightly surprised that Bucky is going to do this in such a public forum, you can’t help but be so proud of your friend. It has taken a long time for Bucky to believe he deserves to be happy. There are days he still sinks into that dark place, where his inner demons whisper that he should have fought harder against his Hydra captors, and that his past actions were still somehow his fault. Those are the days no amount of baking or Modern Marvels will bring him out of his funk. You, Steve, Sam, and Nat have all held those strong shoulders as they shook with sobs, overwhelmed by the shame and horror at what his hands had done without his consent.

But he’s here. He’s free. And he’s smiling nervously at his best friend.

“I-” Steve is short-circuiting. “Me?!”

“Stevie.” With the kind of tender patience that can only be born of a lifetime of keeping (or attempting to keep) an idiot such as one Steven Grant Rogers from flinging himself headlong into every fight he comes across, Bucky moves his flesh hand to the back of Steve’s neck. His face is full of such soft affection that you almost want to look away for fear of intruding on this suddenly intimate moment. “What do you think ��til the end of the line’ means, you idiot? You’ve been it for me since I was thirteen-years-old.”

Blue eyes are locked with blue eyes as Steve processes this revelation. “I-” He shakes his head as if to declutter his thoughts. “This whole time?”

“Since the first time I saw that asshole knock you down, and your scrawny ass climbed right back up.” A wry chuckle escapes as Bucky reminices. “You were ninety pounds soaking wet, and you stood there, against a guy who was three times your size, and never waivered for a second. It was magnificent.”

“I don’t like bullies,” is Steve’s quiet response.

Bucky’s grin is adoring. “I know, sweetheart.” He gently strokes the back of Steve’s neck with his thumb. “You’ve always had a heart way bigger than your brain.”

Steve is still back on the first part of Bucky’s admission. “If you’ve felt- if you-” He’s practically pleading. “Why didn’t you say anything then?”

Bucky shrugs, attempting and failing nonchalance. “It was a different time, you know?” He’s uncharacteristically unsure of himself, the subtle waiver in his voice revealing the anxiety born of a lifetime of being forced to hide his truth. “I mean, you remember how it was; you didn’t talk about, no one talked about- about being- about people like...” He swallows thickly.  “And I was so scared you didn’t, that you weren’t-” His voice breaks.

Even though you’ve all been emotionally invested in this love story for years, the entire team respectfully pretends not to listen as the former Winter Soldier quietly admits his deepest secret to his closest friend. It’s enraging as Bucky confesses yet another way he's been a victim of his circumstances, and denied his right to live freely without derision. Once more, you’re awed by his resilience.

“-it was a risk I couldn’t take,” Bucky finally gets out, that stubborn fire back in his eyes. “I couldn’t lose you, Steve. I couldn’t chance it. I could live with just being your friend and only your friend so long it meant you were in my life.”

Stunned silence meets the end of his confession. Steve’s face is impassive, those cerulean eyes uncharacteristically inscrutable.

You can all tell Bucky is heading steadily towards dread and heartbreak the longer Steve takes to respond. You and Sam exchange a look, both ready to intervene if Steve demonstrates any of the abhorrent attitudes that were so prevalent in the society of his youth. It would be completely out of character for him, but...

Finally, Steve speaks. “You’re telling me,” he says, his words slow and deliberate, “that you made me wait ninety-three years to tell me you’ve felt the same way about me as I have about you since the day you picked me up out of that alley?!”

The whole found family breaths a collective sigh of relief as Steve pulls Bucky even closer, broad chest to broad chest.

“Okay, to be fair, you were an ice cube for most of that time and I wasn’t exactly available for a relationship.” Bucky’s grin stands in contradiction to his mullish defense. “But yeah, that’s the gist of it.” There’s the Bucky you all know and love, biting his lip with those perfect white teeth. “Now, punk, I’d really like to kiss you now, but first I need you to say you want me to.”

“You-” Steve’s throat works as he attempts- and fails- to rein in his emotions. “You jerk.”

And then the Star Spangled Man seizes the president of the Sometimes-Former-Assassins Club by his ridiculously perfect face and crashes their mouths together.

At any Pride event, seeing two men kissing is, obviously, to be expected. But seeing The First Avenger and The White Wolf attempting to swallow each other’s tongues is not at all routine. As people realize what is happening, the crowd is whipped into a frenzy the likes of which is usually reserved for the aftermath of sporting events and elections that defeat fascists.

Watching the two men embrace, Scott sniffles loudly. “I’m gonna cry, I’m so happy.”

He’s certainly not the only one. Wanda has a watery smile as she wraps her arms around Vision and Pietro; Pepper, Tony, and Bruce are watching with fond parental energy; you and Sam sandwich Peter between the two of you, grins practically splitting your faces. Even Nat’s eyes look suspiciously shiny and she and Clint sling their arms around each other with platonic affection. And that’s not counting the several thousand people who are cheering for love being love being love being love.

When they finally break their embrace, the Centennial twins are startled to see they’ve collected quite an audience.

“Uh, so…” Suddenly bashful, Steve glances back to his- partner? Boyfriend? Soulmate? Is there a word that can accurately describe two people who have found each other time and again in a world that seems hell-bent on keeping them apart?- his ears practically maroon with embarrassment. For a guy with one of the most-recognized faces in the world, Steve is still incredibly and endearingly uncomfortable with attention. “Buck?”

Bucky seems just as stunned as Steve.

Thankfully, the masses demonstrate the usual support that’s the hallmark of Pride. “LOVE IS LOVE!” someone screams in the crowd. It’s quickly echoed, and chants fill the park.

The attention momentarily off them, the former Winter Soldier and his giant himbo of a soulmate look back at each other. You pretend not to watch through the happiest tears as they embrace again, bringing their foreheads together. The relief they share is palpable, as they’re finally able to show the world- and each other- the love they’ve each hidden for so long.

Bucky’s voice is so soft you have to strain to hear it. “You have no idea how much m’in love with you, Stevie.”

“Pretty sure I do,” Steve answers, bringing a hand up to carefully wipe the tears from Bucky’s face. “‘cause it’s as much as I love you, Buck.”

Bucky's answering grin can only be described as saucy. “Then kiss me again, like you mean it.”

And Steve, for once in his long life, does exactly as ordered.

---

A/N: “The Sometimes-Former-Assassins Club” is from Starry_Emerald173’s BRILLIANT The Avengers Wrangler over on AO3. If you haven’t read it yet, drop what you’re doing and do so immediately. Make sure you're not drinking any liquids, or your keyboard/phone may be in peril.

[mrsalwayswrite]

Filthy Tease (Eugene Roe x f!reader)

I meant for this to be a spicy Roe piece but it kinda of took a different route than anticipated... oops? Anyway, i wanna dedicate this to @saritanotserena for giving me the idea but also cuz she is amazing! (sorry if this is awful, i still think i’m terrible at smut) also, not super edited cuz we die like men, alright?

Warning: sexual content- teasing & fingering & my poor attempts at dirty talk

Words:3700

Tag list: @happyveday @saritanotserena @sydney-m @evelynshelby

 There were many things most people were not aware of in regards to Easy Company's Eugene Roe. For example, he was terrified of bees. But instead of running away screaming, he would freeze and not move, barely breathing until he felt safe enough to move. Also, the man was obsessed with strawberries. He would pick them any day over chocolate or any other kind of dessert. When alone, he enjoyed quietly quoting poetry. He never did it in front of the men, for fear they would mock him. The biggest secret that would surprise people though?

 Eugene Roe was a filthy tease whose lips dripped sin and hands brought you to heaven with their touch. 

 And you were well acquainted with this side of him. 

 In Albourne, the replacements had begun calling you 'mama bear' shortly after you punched a Sergeant from a different company, who was picking on one of Easy's replacements. You also had the habit of checking up on them and trying to teach them extra things that training left out. You did not mind the nickname. Honestly, you thought it was sweet how all the boys took to you so. Since most of the Toccoa guys did not want anything to do with the replacements, you stepped up. 

 Unfortunately, all this extra attention from the replacements seemed to spark unnecessary jealousy from Roe. In the quiet moments you two managed to sneak away, you always tried to remind and show him how he was the only man who caught your eye. You would shower him with words of affection, hold him close and kiss him until he forgot his worries. You both hated that you had to keep your relationship a secret. You tried to remind him that this was only temporary. One day you could kiss and hold hands in public. One day you could stand before him in a white dress. One day you would make others jealous with the overwhelming love you had for each other. 

 But that was not today. Or in any sense of the foreseeable future. So you kept your relationship secret and tried to keep your affections on a slow simmer as to not alert the rest of the company. 

 After you started gaining more attention from the replacements, after you started spending more time with them…. Roe changed his tactics in reminding you of who always stole your breath and made you feel like a goddess on earth. 

 And that was how you learned he was a filthy tease. 

 It started off with simple things. He would walk past you and let his hand caress your ass for a fleeting moment before moving on to avoid drawing notice to the pair of you. Or if you sat next to one another to eat, he would place his hand on your knee or thigh underneath the table, giving you an occasional squeeze. If your hair got in your face, he would tenderly tuck it behind your ear or adjust your cap if your hands were full. It was sweet how tactical he was. Always seeking for a way to subtly touch you. 

 Then one day, you were walking with a couple of replacements back from the firing range, having been helping them with their accuracy. You saw Roe approaching, hands in his pockets, his eyes focused on you. He commented how he needed your advice for something and so you innocently followed him towards the small aid station set up in Albourne, having waved goodbye to the replacements. 

 As you passed a huge stack of empty boxes next to a brick building, he pushed you off the road and behind the boxes. You slammed against the brick wall, shock making you unable to cry out or demand about his actions. He had never been rough with you before. Concern and anger warned in you, unsure if something was wrong with him or he was being an asshole. When you leaned back, ready to demand what was going on, your words were cut off by his mouth covering yours and his tongue slipping between your lips. His body pressed against you, pinning you between him and the brick wall behind you. His mouth and touch dominated you, bringing you to the brink and turning you into a puddle of desire. Just as a whine left your throat, desperate for him to touch you where you needed him most, he pulled back. Through the haze of lust, you could see his lips swollen, eyes dilated, and chest rising and falling rapidly, matching your own. 

 "What…?" You stumbled out, your mind and body quaking with need. 

 "That's so ya don't forget." Even his voice was affected, more husky than normal. God, it sounded delicious and you wanted to taste it from the source again. 

 "Forget… forget what?"

 "Who makes ya feel good. Who can please ya… and who always wants ya." He stepped back, a smug smirk tugging on his lips. "See ya later, chéri." Then he walked away, back onto the road, hands in his pockets as if nothing had happened. As if he had not left you aching in need and obscenely wet. 

 You stayed there against the brick wall for longer than you would ever care to admit. Your heart hammered in your chest, the ache in your belly at an almost painful level, your breathing heavy in anticipation for what you thought was to come. But now you stood there… alone… and horny. 

 You thought maybe this was just a one-time thing. He had never done anything like this before. 

 Oh, how wrong you were. 

 A couple days later you sat in the back of a lecture room, Nixon at the front talking about something very important. But you could not hear a word he was saying. Oh no, because Eugene Roe was sitting next to you, whispering in your ear about all the dirty things he wanted to do to you in quite explicit terms. Half the stuff he whispered, you wondered where he even got the ideas. Soon enough, his words seeped into your mind as he painted such lewd images of the two of you. You had to press your thighs tightly together to deal with the growing ache. Something you were positive he noticed and delighted in. At one point, he even drew his finger slowly up from your knee to your hip as he whispered about sneaking into Sink's office and letting him fuck you over the man's desk. Once the lecture was over, Roe just gave you a wink and easily got up to walk away with the others heading out. You had to sit there for several minutes, taking long, deep breaths to try and will away the flush over your skin and suppress the pooling desire in your belly. 

 You could not decide if you loved or hated this new side of Roe. 

 Another time he asked for your help, that he might practice a new technique he read about in one of his medical books. You laid down on one of the beds in the aid station. The quiet chatting of a couple of the other medics behind the half-wall curtain filled the otherwise silent air from the other side of the station. Roe snuck a quick kiss to your lips making you giggle quietly and the two of you easily fell into a light-hearted conversation about a party being set up for the enlisted. Though as you two kept talking and he practiced wrapping and unwrapping various parts of your body, his hands began to…. wander. His fingers skimmed up your thighs, moving teasingly close to your groin then darting away. 

 At first you thought it was an accident and paid no mind, but after a couple times, you realized he was doing it on purpose. When you called him out on it, he pretended to have no idea what you were talking about. Then he told you he needed to practice working on a chest wound. Next thing you knew, he had the top several buttons of your army-issued jacket open, and he was laying a bandage on your exposed skin. His hands roamed across your chest, brushing your breasts with firm strokes. At one point he murmured something about giving you morphine and pretended to jab a syringe into your thigh; but as his hand moved back up, it grazed over your sex, leaving a fiery trail up your torso and back to your chest in its wake.  

 "Gene…" you moaned, unable to take it anymore, wriggling underneath his touch seeking friction. 

 He hushed you, wicked eyes glancing towards where the others were in the aid station. "Ya gotta keep quiet, pretty lady. Can ya do that for me?"

 You nodded but it was only half-hearted, your mind already drawing in the euphoric hunger he induced in you. His hands worked you- skimming, fondling, cupping and teasing- in all the ways that soon left you a quivering mess, biting down on your hand to keep the lascivious moans at bay. 

 The whole time he complimented and whispered to you, saying things that only seemed to heighten the experience. "Doin' so good, mon chéri, look at ya. Beautiful." Or "gotta keep quiet, pretty lady." Or "just imagine when I do this to ya, but with my tongue… I know ya taste so damn good. How's that feel, darlin'?"

 Finally, you were toeing the edge, body desperate to fall off that cliff. Your body vibrated with maddening want. "Gene, please…." You begged without shame; the desire, the need too great for you to care. 

 "Shhh...can't let 'em see ya like this." He cooed, one hand cupping your cheek while the other fondled your breast. "This is for me only, yeah? Say it, chéri."

 "Just you… just you, Gene."

 "Mmm… good girl." Then he finally slipped his skilled hand into your pants and pushed you off the edge. Your body drowned in bliss, mind hazy with pleasure. 

 This went on for weeks. Any opportunity he could pull you into a dark corner, push you against a wall, touch you, or drive you wild… he took full advantage of. 

 To everyone else, he still remained the quiet, slightly reclusive medic with a heart of gold and healing hands. 

 But to you… he was a fallen angel with the sole purpose to tempt you with that delightful Cajun accent and take control of you with those sinful lips and magical hands. 

 ***

 The atmosphere in the pub was jovial. Glenn Miller played in the background from the radio. The many voices of the paratroopers filled the pub, overshadowing the famous artist. The place reeked of beer, cigarette smoke and testosterone.  

 Buck, Luz, Toye and Heffron played darts in the corner. A few of the other Toccoa men heckled them and laughed at their own jokes, ignoring the replacements scattered about. The divide between Toccoa men and replacements felt like a terrible chasm. You tried to bridge it though. Floating between both parties, you laughed and cracked jokes with everyone while sipping on your beer. 

 This was the first time you had worn your WAAC uniform in months, reviving fond memories at its feel and look. You had started in the WAAC but then threw a series of unexpected encounters and circumstances, you eventually found yourself at Camp Toccoa training to be a paratrooper. Now, it felt odd to be wearing a skirt, stockings and kitten heels. You had become so used to your dirty ODs. Tonight though, you donned your skirt and heels, even going so far to put on some red lipstick. Who knew when the next chance you would have to dress up would be?

 "Come on, just one dance." Simmons was begging from the seat beside you, his boyish charm on full display, enhanced by the dimples in his cheeks. 

 You laughed, more amused than annoyed by his persistence. "No, if I dance with you then everyone else will expect a dance too."

 "Give it up, Peter." Burkle chuckled. "Mama bear ain't going out there."

 You pointed a finger at the dark-haired replacement across the table. "I knew there was a reason I liked you, Frank."

 "Ya hear 'bout the man who got caught joy-ridin' the other day?" Ralph Nestor changed the topic thankfully, leaning forward against the table, ready to spread the latest gossip. 

 Taking another sip of your beer, you listened but scanned the crowd around you. It was about time for you to move on to the next group. 

 As if sensing a pair of eyes burning into you, you swiveled your head trying to locate the gaze. It did not take long for you to meet the eyes of Eugene Roe. He sat with Spina and a few others at a table on the other side of the bar. He subtly tapped the empty spot next to him after he caught your eye. A warmth filled you. It was stupid since you knew he loved you but even here amongst a crowd, he wanted you by his side. 

 "Well, I'm off, fellas. Don't get too drunk tonight please… and if you do, make sure to keep all your clothes on. I'm looking at you, Private Burkle." You teased, watching the young man's face redden at the reminder, while the others laughed. Standing up, you brushed your skirt down, still unused to the feeling after so long. 

 "Yes, mama bear." A couple of them chorused. 

 You smiled. As you reached forward to grab your half-full beer glass, a hand slipped into yours and spun you around into a solid chest. "What?"

 Simmons held your hand as he placed his other on your waist. "Come on, one dance. I'll even keep my hands to myself."

 "Your hands wander at all, there's at least thirty men here who will rip your hands off for me if I ask."

 "Oh believe me, I know." He squeezed your hand, a cheeky smile on his face. "Please?"

 "Simmons, give it up!" Nestor said. "I see your platoon Sergeant looking over here."

 That got Simmons to freeze, glancing over his shoulder to see Guarnere with eyes narrowed at the two of you. 

 You laughed, pushing away from the replacement. "Better not piss your platoon Sergeant off. I'll be back for my glass." Swiftly, you moved in the direction of the bathroom, sending a wink Guarnere's way and receiving one in return. 

 The women's bathroom was small and cramped with two stalls, barely room to move, and a small counter with a sink. Either women did not frequent this pub much or this was awkwardly small to discourage women from lounging and socializing in here away from men. In your mind, it could go either way honestly. 

 After you finished your business, you stood at the sink washing your hands. The cool water soothed your skin after the heat in the pub. Looking up in the mirror, you saw your lipstick had faded and was slightly smudged. Most likely from the beer glass. Carefully, you tried to fix it using the tip of your finger. It seemed absurd, with everything you had been through- the training and combat you had seen- for you to be standing here worried about your smudged lipstick. Perhaps it would not have felt so odd if you stayed in the WAAC instead of joining the paratroopers. 

 Behind you, the bathroom door opened which surprised you. You thought you had been the only woman at the pub tonight. Maybe a few local women showed up? You looked up into the mirror, prepared to greet the woman. After the person stepped through, your jaw dropped and eyes widened. For it was not a local woman in a pretty dress that stepped in.  

 It was Eugene Roe. 

 "What are you doing in here, Gene?" You looked at him through the mirror. "Is the men's bathroom full?"

 Instead of verbally responding, you watched him latch the simple lock over the door. Your movements stilled as you realized what he just did. 

 "Gene?"

 In a single stride, he came up behind you, putting his arms out on either side of you, caging you between the sink and his body. 

 "Darlin'," he crooned in your ear as his lips left a trail of sweet heat along your neck. "Ya look too damn sexy out there. I see ya legs in those heels and skirt and all I can think about is how good they feel wrapped around me as I pound into ya."

 Your skin felt feverish as the heat radiated off his body. Even through all the layers between you two, your body soaked it in like the parched ground after a thunderstorm. With the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin and his filthy words, your womb clenched from that alone. 

 "Then I see that boy with his hands on ya… shit, it took everythin' for me to not rip him off ya."

 "He didn't mean anything, Gene. I promise."

 "Don't matter. I hate it." His hands gripped the hem of your skirt, slowly pulling it up and bunching it around your hips. He began laying open-mouth kisses along your neck, the whole time his eyes holding yours, as you watched him in the mirror. "I need to 'ear ya sing, pretty lady, I need to 'ear ya gorgeous sounds."

 "Gene…" you moaned out, your eyelids fluttering. That delicious warmth, that only he could fuel, began growing in your belly. "We can't right here." 

 "Shall we find out?"

 Without preamble, one of his hands slipped under your skirt, the other still bunching the fabric up around you and out of the way. You hissed slightly as he touched your bare core, unable to completely hide the smirk on your face as he gave a slight groan. 

 "Mon chéri, where ya skivvies at? Ya been out there this whole time with no underwear on?" 

 "I wanted to surprise you… I thought you might try something."

 "Fuck!" He bit your earlobe and ground his hardening cock against your ass. "Ya tryin' to tease me? Mmm?"

 Before you could retort something smart back at him, you gasped as he slipped a finger into you, finding you already wet for him. 

 "Look at ya, sweetheart, so fuckin' beautiful right now." He murmured, eyes not having left yours in the mirror this whole time, pining you even more so than his body still caging you. 

 With one hand, you grabbed the sink to anchor yourself, your legs turning into jelly beneath you from the onslaught of pleasure coursing through your veins. "Gene, please." You begged. 

 Eyes boring into yours, he pulled his finger out of you, drawing a whiny whimper from your lips. With a salacious smirk, he opened his mouth and placed his pointer and middle fingers in his mouth, making sure to swirl his tongue around them then pulled them slowly out. 

 "Holy fuck…"

 Still smirking, he reached down and slipped both fingers into you. They plunged in and out of you, the wet sounds lewdly echoed in the small bathroom. Roe continued to grind against you from behind, timing it to match with the thrusts of his fingers. You wanted to close your eyes, to sink into the heat bubbling in you. But you were unable to for Roe watched you with a heated, heavy gaze in the mirror. Your gazes locked as he brought you closer and closer to your climax, moans and sighs slipping from your lips. 

 "Good girl, mon chérie, so beautiful. Look at ya."

 He continued to whisper in your ear in between leaving open-mouth kisses and bites on your neck and jaw. 

 "Ya close, sweetheart? I can feel it, so close."

 "Oh God, please, Gene…. Don't stop. Please."

 With a dark chuckle, he gave one last flick to your clit and pushed you over the edge. As you opened your mouth, he slammed his mouth over yours, greedily swallowing your cry of bliss. You floated on waves of ecstasy; your eyes closed to soak in the sensations. Eventually you opened your eyes, even if the movement felt sluggish and your body limp. 

 "There's those gorgeous eyes." Roe nuzzle your temple. "Ya back with me?"

 "Mmm… I think so."

 He chuckled. "Think ya can stand?"

 That was when you noticed he was practically holding you up between an arm now wrapped around your waist and you still pinned between him and the sink. 

 "Sorry." You mumbled, standing up on shaky legs. When you noticed his cocky smirk, you languidly swatted at him. "Shut up." Slowly you turned around to look at him. It did not escape your notice his… um… large problem he was sporting in his trousers. 

 "You know… the couple I am billeted with, they left this afternoon for a weekend in London visiting family."

 "Oh? Well, that is interestin' news."

 "Uh huh. What's the likelihood we can sneak out of here unnoticed?"

 He leaned down to press his lips against yours, drawing a soft sigh from you at the sweetness in the kiss. "Very likely… Guess we'll find out though."

 "And what's the likelihood we'll actually make it to the house before you try to get under my skirt again?"

 "Less likely."

 You laughed, pressing a hand to his chest to push him back. Running a hand over your skirt, you tried to smooth it out as much as possible and hide any evidence of your tryst. 

 "Ready?"

 "Always."

 The two of you somehow managed to sneak out of the bathroom and out of the pub without drawing notice to yourselves. As you stepped out into the night, walking quickly down the street, you both were giggling like teenagers having snuck out of your parents' homes. He snagged your hand and pulled you along, almost jogging down the silent road in Albourne. 

 Before you even made it halfway to your billeted house, Roe pulled you into a dark corner, just off the road. You laughed before his mouth covered yours, silencing you and turning your laughter into moans. 

 You did not mind too much. 

[choperfect]

Rumor

Sirius took the cigarette to his mouth slowly, enjoying the invading taste, he settled into the stands of the Quidditch pitch trying to organize his thoughts as he waited for the team to practice. 

Deep down I knew that Regulus was right, he was the worst older brother that existed, what kind of brother was he who ran away from home so as not to be tortured daily for not agreeing with the family, but left the other there? Even more so to suffer the consequences for having helped him escape. 

The brunet's stomach turned at that thought, whenever his parents threatened to hex the youngest of the Black, Sirius would step forward, most of the time he was tortured for it. 

At first he tried to fool himself with the thought that Regulus wouldn't go anyway, but there was a little voice in the back of his mind that said that was a lie, that if he insisted his brother would accompany him on his escape. All these thoughts were pushed aside by a blonde and a redhead who sat next to her, Lily seemed oblivious to everything with her face buried in a book, because she was probably dragged against her will by her best friend to watch training, Marlene she glanced at him before swiping the cigarette from between her fingers and bringing it to her mouth. 

Sirius let out a growl. 

-A galleon for your thoughts - She said smiling, ignoring the growls coming from the boy.

-Nothing relevant - He replied trying to get the cigarette back and failing.

McKinnon raised his eyebrows and looked him up and down. 

-Let me guess… Did you fight with Black Junior? 

The boy was still surprised by how much they knew each other, she was the second person who knew him best - the first was James - he could read each other easily. 

-Exactly - Sirius muttered. 

As much as he pretended he didn't care, so much so that most thought they hated each other, he cared, way too much, and those fights hurt him. Marlene was the “I hate everybody” type of person but when someone needed it, she was the first to come and help. 

The arrival of the team - Remus and Peter too, the former was probably forced to be there by James - made the matter drop, Sirius and Marlene accompanied the rest of the team to the locker room. 

After everyone was properly dressed, James was super excited and started a monologue with new techniques, ignoring the sleeping people they would pay later in training. 

The gryffindor team was the only one with more girls than boys, Sirius noticed as they walked back to the field.

Practice went normally, except for the episode where James took Sirius' bat to throw a Bludger at a student who was in the stands trying to hit Lily, who was so focused on her book that she didn't even notice. 

In the boys' dorm there was a small fight between Padfoot and Prongs to see who would shower first, which Sirius won. 

The shower didn't take as long as he would have liked, as James kept banging on the door and mumbling complaints, but at least he had managed to put away any and all thoughts involving the Black family. He came out of the bathroom, still shirtless and finishing drying his hair, and plopped down on his bed. 

While waiting for Potter to go down to dinner, Sirius took the Marauder's map to analyze, Remus went to study and Peter to eat. It wasn't long before the entire school was having dinner. 

Sirius sat across from Peter who ate as if he had been hungry for years, dinner was full of jokes from Prongs and Padfoot, making Moony roll his eyes at most of them and laugh quietly, unlike Peter, who laughed exaggeratedly loudly. 

After dinner everyone stayed in the common room, some doing homework, others just resting, Black didn't do anything exactly, he was sprawled on one of the sofas looking at the ceiling, and from time to time the friends who studied exchanged a few words, it was like that until the Quidditch team captain called the team to send everyone to bed, because it was already past 11 pm and the next day it would be the game against Ravenclaw.

Everyone quickly went upstairs to their dorms, James was the last, to check if they had really gone to sleep. The typical fight to see who would use the bathroom first was won by Frank, the others were lying in their own beds waiting for him to leave, to once again fight to see who would enter the bathroom. 

-You were weird today - Potter said suddenly drawing everyone's attention 

-Who? - Remus asked without taking his eyes off his book 

-Padfoot - he replied with a shrug 

-Me? 

-No, my grandmother, of course you are you idiot 

-I wasn't nervous 

-Yes you was - Frank said leaving the bathroom 

-And why were you like this? - Peter asked 

It was clear that she trusted her friends, but she didn't really want to talk about it, so she answered the first thing that came to her mind. 

-McKinnon 

Bad idea. 

James frowned at him - he considered Marlene as a sister - Frank, Remus and Peter looked shocked, after all he and Lene were best friends. 

-Which? - Sirius asked in the soundest voice he could. 

-You… - Remus started but was interrupted

 -If you hurt her I swear I forget you're my brother - James threatened him before entering the bathroom

The conversation changed course from there. 

Padfoot was the last to use the dorm bathroom to clean up, before settling into his bed, he had a little trouble sleeping with Wormtail's particularly loud snores.

The morning came faster than he wanted, Black woke up with Frank almost knocking him out of bed trying to wake him up. He packed up quickly and went down to the main hall, even though he didn't have breakfast on game days, he'd rather see the others eating than wandering around the castle, because he sure as hell couldn't sit still. 

The game was pretty close until James got the snitch. 

Before going to the party in the common, Sirius hinted to his friends that he would meet a random girl and stayed in the dressing room, saying that he would go to the party afterwards. 

Ten minutes later two small hands on his shoulder, and soon the person began to distribute kisses along his neck, making his body shiver, whoever was behind him realized, because he smiled against his neck and whispered in his ear. 

- Rumor has it I make you nervous - Gave a little giggle - I think I'll believe them 

-That open mouth - Sirius grumbled as he pulled Marlene onto his lap. 

Most of the time Prongs let things slip by accident, and most of the time it resulted in a person using something to blackmail you into doing what they wanted.

-Maybe we should tell our friends, they wouldn't try to throw you to me anymore 

-I don't see a problem with them throwing me at you - Sirius said, pushing back McKinnon's hair and nibbling on her ear. 

They'd wanted to tell their friends about that secret dating from time to time, but that meant the whole of Hogwarts would know about it, and the two of them being the biggest catchers in the school a lot of people would try to destroy the relationship - not that they were going to succeed, but it would be unbearable.

For now it was better to leave it as it was, while friends blurted out things they said about each other unintentionally or unintentionally.

[cno-inbminor]

a/n: yeah, i don’t know what this is. definite drabble dump! also unedited, so sorry. hope all of you are healthy and safe! please wear your masks when going out and sanitize frequently! 

pairing: heir!iwaizumi x reader

wc: ~1.8k

“Please, you have to hear me out—”

“I don’t have to do anything for you. Fuck, I don’t even know your real name!”

Hajime knew he was signing up for trouble the moment you gave him your name and placed his drink of choice in front of him. Seven months ago, he sought refuge at a hole-in-the-wall bar, one hidden in the shadows and away from the skyscrapers he was learning to detest. Your back had been turned towards him as he politely for a glass of whiskey, neat, but even the world of accomplished, beautiful heiresses couldn’t prepare him for the sight that was you. Hajime immediately believed that you weren’t supposed to be behind the polished wooden counter and underneath some poor lighting, that the uniform you donned was simply nothing more than a costume you were itching to get out of.

And idiotic, foolish him, stumbled and stuttered when you asked for a name to be put on the tab, and before he could stop from plunging into a world of inevitable pain, he replied, “Haru.”

So gripped by the fear of knowing that this bar was the last place he was supposed to be, so initially distrusting of your ability to keep secrets under wrap (an unspoken duty of bartenders), he lied through his teeth. And every Wednesday and Friday nights for the weeks following like clockwork, he would leave behind his custom Balenciaga suit jacket, replace it with a cheaper, itchier blazer stored in the closet of his office, take the train, and walk two and a half blocks to get to the alleyway where his asylum existed. He allowed you to subject him to any of your new concoctions, and whenever you let him stay as you closed up the bar (though mainly at his insistence because he always ended up being the last customer and wanted to make sure you could get to the station safely), it further emboldened his belief that he wanted nothing more than to be there by your side.

The guilt clawed through his chest day after day – it didn’t take half a brain to know that asking you out would be a bad idea in the long run, but he convinced himself that he would come clean with you some day. He was going to get out of this arranged marriage smoothly, deal with any damages that would ensue, and then unveil everything about his background in hopes that you would undoubtedly accept him and everything would be just fine.

But of course, karma would have it that he pays for his sins. He became too comfortable with the sneaking and the hiding, the lies about his job and role in the business world naturally spilling off his tongue. His world came crashing down when he least expected it – he had been waiting for you at your apartment in a t-shirt and sweatpants, answering work emails on his cellphone and ignoring some of Tooru’s nonsensical texts. Naturally, he perked up when he heard your key turn the bolt, already standing from the couch to greet you at the door and maybe help you with your things. Hajime was unaware of your rigid silence as you accepted his kiss on your cheek, letting him take the bags of groceries from your arms and bring them to the kitchen. It’s not until he sees the tabloid magazine haphazardly stashed next to the leeks and freezes at the two faces on the cover, two extremely, unsettling familiar faces.

In that moment, he could hear nothing but the dreadful pounding of his heart. He could feel your presence leaning against the sink and boring holes into his back, pleading, beseeching for some sort of explanation.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he trips over himself, finding the courage to turn around and face you. But what breaks him more than anything is how disappointed you look – he could take anger and tears right now, but the look of on your face that shows he has ultimately failed you crushes him.

“So what is it then?” You ask calmly, but the bitterness is scathing. “Because to me, it looks like the announcement of a marriage between two people who just so happen to be heirs to a couple of the largest companies in Japan.”

Hajime would like nothing more than the earth to open and swallow him whole, just so he has some time to gather up his excuses and do anything to keep you with him. It’s disgustingly selfish, but he can’t lose you. He just can’t.

“I don’t want it,” he says and reaches out tentatively, taking a single step until he’s right in front of you and lightly grasping your waist. You look over his shoulder defiantly, avoiding his gaze every time he tries to obstruct your vision. “I don’t want her, I just want you,” he spills.

“I always felt like something was off,” you quietly digress. “There were a couple of things that didn’t seem to line up, but I didn’t question it. I didn’t want to pry – I wanted you to open up whenever you felt comfortable. But I never imagined it to be something like this.”

“Please, you have to hear me out—”

“I don’t have to do anything for you. Fuck, I don’t even know your real name!”

It’s disturbing to know that the man you’ve been to bed with, the man that’s cooked for you on multiple occasions, the man that plagues your dreams from time to time in the last five months, goes by a different name. Takahiro Haru might have been just the average, run-of-the-mill, one of many financial analysts working over at Sony, and he was yours. But Iwaizumi Hajime, heir to one of the largest business corporations in Japan and an extremely eligible bachelor, could never be that.

“I’ll tell you everything,” he gulps, eyes frantic and searching for anything in your face and posture that says you’ll stay. “No more lies, but I’m doing my best to get out of this. For you, us. And—”

“I’m not the solution to getting out of your responsibilities, Haru. I know it’s 2020, but we’ve only been seeing each other for five months – your parents would be furious if they knew I was in the picture. Plus, she’s much more accomplished and beautiful, donates a ton of money to all the right causes and charities, why – why wouldn’t you want to marry her?”

Hajime moves to cradle your cheek, silently beckoning for you to lean into his palm. His thumb softly strokes your skin and you hate how comforting it is. You hate how easy it could be to just take his hand and jump into the deep end without a second though – that’s the control he has over you, and it’s incredibly frustrating.

“I don’t love her. Heir or not, I should be with someone I love, no?”

“But—”

“I love you,” and the way he says it like it’s the first time sends your heart to the clouds. “Nothing’s going to change that,” he tries to promise, using his free hand to lift one of yours to his lips and kissing the knuckles. And you want to believe him – you want to believe him so bad but it’s impossible. There are too many extraneous factors; going through with all this would thrust you into a world that you were completely unprepared for. Your life would be unceremoniously uprooted and haphazardly buried into a new garden.

Was it all worth it to be by this man’s side?

“I need time,” you whisper, moving away from Hajime’s hold on you. “I need time and space to think about this, but I can’t have you here to influence my decision.”

“…how long will that take?”

“As long as I need,” you firmly reply. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you struggle to say the next sentence. “In the meantime…I need my spare key back.”

Even though Hajime already feels like he’s drowning in a pool of lava, the unmistakable chill of dread that runs through his veins is excruciating. Having your spare key meant unbridled access to you, only needing to give you a quick text whenever he was going to visit. But with this permission revoked, he wouldn’t be free to see you whenever he likes. He wouldn’t be able to escape into your calming embrace at the end of a long day and would have no other option but to return to his lonely, downtown penthouse. The realization is suffocating, like smoke entering his lungs and stealing away all his oxygen. He needs you so bad – this can’t be the end.

“No,” Hajime shakes his head stubbornly, making wide strides out of the kitchen and into your living room.

“Haru—”

“I’ll give you all the space for as long as you need, but don’t make me give you back the spare key—”

“Iwaizumi!” You cry out, teeth gnawing your bottom lip afterwards. He loathes the fact that the first time you call him by his real name is in the midst of the biggest storm he’s ever encountered – it’s full of raw pain and frustration, a complete antithesis to the loving tone you usually have when referring to him by his other name. It’s a whirlwind that only one can run from, and he knows it has to be him. After all, this was his monstrous creation.

Hajime does his best to the keep the trembling of his hands to a minimum as they fish out his keychain and start unwinding the most significant piece of metal on there. The closer it gets to the other end of the ring, the more he struggles to not toss it away and fight for himself. But he places the key in your awaiting palm and watches with a breaking heart as your fingers close around it, your nails digging into your own flesh.  

“You need to leave,” you struggle to order.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen this way.”

“I know.”

You don’t stop him when he moves forward to give you one of the sweetest kisses you’ve ever experienced, relishing in these last moments of intimacy. Both of you itch for more, but now is not the time. You walk him to the door, heart sinking as he slides on his polished shoes. He gives you another once over and drinks in all the details he can, branding your image in his brain for the next possible agonizing weeks.

“I love you, (y/n),” he quietly declares for the nth time.

And he desperately clings onto the little hope that he has when you reply, “I love you too…Hajime.”

[hopelesshawks]

Ooh ooh uhhh Hawks and Baby Came Home by the Neighbourhood.

My mind has been switching between that song and a couple of others.

Send a song and a character

So it’s ✨angst✨ you want, got you 🤪 thanks for sending in a request Love ❤️

Story is gender neutral (they/them pronouns)

Hawks is very proud of his hero career and he doesn’t regret any of the choices he’s made regarding it. He likes working and more importantly he’s got a goal he’s chasing after that’s only possible if he works and works and works for it without stopping. A world where heroes have time to kill. He’ll rest when he gets there.

But that choice comes with sacrifices. You are quite possibly his biggest one.

You met when you were both 17 while he was working with one of your pro hero parents on a mission. He would frequently be at your house on official business and as the mission progressed the visits became less and less official until eventually he would sneak into your room late after work just to hang out and talk with you. He’ll never forget those late nights spent on your floor listening to records. Your friendship has seen you going to college, him starting his own agency, and when he found out he’d become the number three hero you were the first person he called with the news. He loves you. He’s in love with you. But he has a goal and that goal doesn’t align with having a romantic partner.

On your 20th birthday his gift to you was his full name. You both drank a little too much until you were warm and pliant, tongues looser than normal. You laid on the floor just like when you were teenagers giggling like idiots at the dumbest things when he suddenly sobered up and turned to look at you. Your faces were barely inches apart as he mumbled “I’ve got a secret to tell you.” “You already told me your real name Keigo.” “No another one.”

You rolled over to look at him then.

“What’s the other one?” you had asked.

“I’m in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you too.”

His lips were warm on yours when he closed the distance between you. He tasted like boxed wine and cheap pizza, your birthday meal of choice, but something lingered underneath that seemed uniquely Keigo. You spent the rest of the night exchanging sloppy, uncoordinated kisses and it was perfect. Perfect until the next morning when you woke up at the crack of dawn to him getting ready for work. “We can’t can we?” you had asked quietly. He shook his head sadly. You stood from the bed and came around to hug him close. “I love you,” he whispers, “one day we’ll be able to.” “I know. I love you too.” He leaned in to kiss you then, long and slow and languid. He tasted like toothpaste this time but that one unique taste that screamed him was still there. That was the last time the two of you kissed.

Part of Keigo always thought that you’d be there waiting when he finally brought about the world he was hoping for. The day would come where he could finally rest and he’d fall into your arms and finally make you his the way he really wanted to. No more quiet nights at each other’s sides but yearning for more. After all, he’s an optimist at heart. But now, as you stand in front of him clutching your torso like you’ll fall apart if you don’t, tears on your cheeks and a ring on your finger, he realizes maybe that was naive.

“We can’t see each other anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Eiko is scared.”

“Of what?”

“You know what Kei.”

He does. He knows exactly why your fiancé is scared of your friendship with him. It’s not like it’s unjustified.

“You can’t love me anymore,” you sigh, looking anywhere but at him.

He steps in close, wanting so badly to reach out and touch you but knowing that would be too far over the line. He can’t put that on your conscience.

“You know I can’t do that. I’ll always love you dove,” he replies and it rips a pained chuckle out of your throat as you finally meet his eyes.

“I was worried you’d say that.”

Keigo takes another step closer but you step back, gaze leaving his again. “I’m leaving Japan,” you finally confess.

“What?”

It’s like all the air is punched from his lungs at once as you explain.

“Eiko’s company offered him a job in Seoul and he’s gonna take it. Thinks it will be good for me, good for us.”

You don’t say it but he knows the unspoken truth in your words. Eiko thinks that maybe, just maybe, leaving Japan will mean you leaving behind your feelings for Keigo. It won’t work, of that Keigo’s sure, but it doesn’t really matter does it? Not when you’re leaving him. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I am too,” he replies. And on that note you turn and leave. It’s the last time he sees you.

One night when he’s had one too many drinks with Mirko he confesses the whole story to her. They’re probably not close enough for him to confess something so heavy to her but the only person he is that close to is you and he hasn’t seen you since you told him you were moving. One night in a moment of weakness he’d snuck into your old apartment only to find it completely bare. It’s the loneliest he’s ever felt so he never did it again. He tells Mirko this too. She mulls the words over for a long time, vaguely uncomfortable weighing in but acknowledging the significance in him sharing all of this with her. When she finally does reply Keigo knows she doesn’t get it.

“I’m sorry they left you to be with someone else but maybe it’s time you move on too? Since they clearly have?”

“They haven’t moved on.”

“Have they ever come back?”

“No.”

“Jesus Hawks, you can’t-“

“I can.”

The vehemence with which he says the words surprise them both but he doesn’t regret it for a moment.

“They’re mine,” he insists.

“They’re not yours and they can’t be worth all this,” Mirko replies, her tone starting to betray her concern.

“You don’t get it. If you found them, you would.”

You’re his.

You’re his.

You’re his.

There’s not a day goes by that he doesn’t think about you.

Just waiting for his baby to come home.

General Taglist: @ahtsuwu @oliviasslut @black-rose-29

[imaginejamesandsirius]

I love your fics so much, thank you for keeping this ship alive! I really appreciate your hard work and I love your characterisations for James and Sirius. There's no pressure to write this if you're busy, but a deathly hallows fic would be cool. Sirius survived the battle at the Ministry. Voldemort brought James and Regulus back (to use them as bait or to torture them, any reason is fine) but Peter has been guarding them? Mainly Sirius' reaction to them being alive? Probably angst then fluff :)

Naturally, Sirius's first reaction was to kill him. Considering how many years he'd been thinking about murdering Pettigrew, it wasn't exactly a surprise that that was his first reaction. And then he had some time to think about it, and that initial reaction didn't go away.

Unsurprisingly, Harry was the one holding him back. Rather, Harry was in his way, and Sirius wasn't going to risk hurting him. "Sirius, don't," Harry said as he slid in front of him, facing Pettigrew. It was a good thing there was no one else in this building, otherwise they'd be incredibly suspicious of what was happening between all of them.

"Move," Sirius said tensely.

"No. What are you doing here?" he asked Pettigrew.

"I- I-" Pettigrew swallowed thickly, looking as nervous as ever.

He was saved from having to continue when a head peeked around him. "Oh good," he said flatly. "Another Potter. That's what the world needed more of."

"Regulus?" Sirius said numbly.

Harry glanced back at him, looking as bewildered as Sirius felt. "Regulus as in your brother?"

"That would be me," Regulus confirmed, stepping half out from behind Pettigrew. He was then pushed further to the side so an extremely familiar figure could reveal himself with a wide grin.

"Sorry Wormtail," James said, not sounding very sorry at all, "but you were taking too long. Dark magic, Voldemort's got some strange ideas, and a nice heaping of something I'm going to call divine intervention. Like, seriously, if he knew he could resurrect people, wouldn't he have picked people that supported him?"

"He never was very smart on the small scale," Regulus said.

Sirius felt like his legs were going to give out. "What the hell is going on?"

James blinked at him. "Didn't I just say? Voldemort resurrected us. Still iffy on the why of it, but-"

"Aside from Dumbledore, he considers Harry and Sirius the biggest threat to his power," Pettigrew interrupted quietly. "With Dumbledore gone, he wanted to get rid of them next. He figured he could lure them into an ambush with the two of you as bait and then there would be no one to oppose him."

"And we're supposed to believe that you suddenly had a change of heart?" Harry asked.

"I'm not asking for anyone to trust me."

"Then what are you wanting in exchange for getting them out?" Sirius asked, because there was no way he was bringing them here purely out of the goodness of his heart-- not after he'd cared for Voldemort in Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts and helped him get back to his full strength.

"Someplace to hide," he answered immediately.

"You should-" Harry started to say, but he cut himself off before he could finish. He'd probably been about to say that if Pettigrew wanted protection, he should go to Dumbledore for it, not them. Harry was having a hard time dealing with it. Despite having more misadventures in school and having to deal with so many issues by himself, he'd still looked to Dumbledore as the wizard with all the answers-- the one that could save them, just as he'd saved the Wizarding World from Grindelwald all those years ago.

Sirius knew the feeling. Even for all the mistakes Dumbledore had made, he'd been a hell of a lot better at managing the situation than anyone else. Sirius put a hand on Harry's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. "There's an old Black property you can stay at. Warded to hell and back, if you want to stay there, but after that you're on your own." It wasn't as good as Grimmauld Place had been, but that location was compromised, what with Snape and everything. The entire situation with Snape didn't sit right with him, but he didn't have the time to think about it now, and he hadn't had the time for weeks, and probably wouldn't have time for a while longer. Figuring out what was going on in Snape’s head wasn’t exactly a high priority for him.

Pettigrew nodded vigorously. He'd probably hole up there and not leave for a decade, or until he heard news that the war was over.

Sirius glanced at James, eyes lingering, then Regulus. What was he supposed to do about this? The obvious answer is that they'd stay with him and everyone else at the Black Manor-- Merlin knew it had the space to fit everyone-- but he should make sure it was them, right? Only he had no idea how to do that. It was supposed to be a rule of magic that no one could be resurrected. With a lot of heavy spellwork, people could be charmed to look like them, but voices were hard to pin down. There was a piece of a person's essence in their voice, which is why polyjuice was so time consuming to brew.

But their voices had been perfect. Maybe that was authentication enough. "Safe to say neither of you have grand plans?" Sirius asked, a touch flatly.

"Nope," James said cheerfully. "Open schedule. I'll be back to kicking arse as soon as I get a wand again."

"...You don't have a wand?" Sirius asked. It shouldn't surprise him, but it did. Mostly he was worried at how vulnerable they were without wands.

"I wasn't exactly brought back to life with all my possessions intact."

Sirius glanced at Regulus, wondering if he was going to answer, but he looked to the side shiftily. He did have things he wanted to do, but he wasn't going to say it. Sirius was going to choose to believe that that wasn't about him, but about Pettigrew's presence. He made a mental note to ask Regulus about it when they had a moment alone together. "We'll see about getting you wands tomorrow." He'd do it tonight if it wasn't so late, but buying a new wand wasn't exactly a two minute endeavor. "C'mon, we'll drop Pettigrew off and then go get some sleep."

"That's it?" Regulus asked. "You're accepting that it's us just like that?"

"I've got my reasons, Reggie," Sirius said, just because he knew Regulus hated that nickname.

Sure enough, there was a familiar twist to his mouth, but it eased when he caught the smile on Sirius's. Then he rolled his eyes with his usual long suffering sigh. It was strange that it had been so long since he'd been alive, and even longer since they were on good terms with each other, but this was as familiar as breathing.

Sirius winked at James, who stifled a laugh. "Let's go."

*

Pettigrew thanked him for the place to stay, and Sirius pretended like he still didn't want him dead. Unfortunately, he didn't have the luxury of murdering someone right now, and he would settle for never seeing him again-- a courtesy extended because he had brought James and Regulus back; if Lily had been with them, Sirius might have considered actually forgiving him, but Pettigrew only operated out of fear, and Sirius would never be able to trust him.

The handful of other people staying in the Manor were already in bed, so Sirius was saved from having to explain the situation.

Regulus stood awkwardly in the corner, not sure what to make of being here with people he barely knew in a place he'd only visited during holidays as a child before their father succumbed entirely to paranoia and moved them to Grimmauld Place permanently.

James had some getting-to-know-you conversation with Harry before the kid got so tired that Sirius sent him to bed, and then James barreled into him, hugging him so tight it hurt. Regulus ambled off to his old room without saying goodbye, only making eye contact for a couple awkward seconds with Sirius before he left; they hadn't said anything to each other, and they'd probably make it through most of tomorrow morning without breaking that silence.

"Merlin, Sirius, I missed you so much," he whispered.

"Were you- were you aware of time passing?" It was a horrifying thought, that he might’ve been in limbo for that long.

"No, I meant- erm, y'know, me and Lily were in hiding, so I hadn't seen you for months." James pulled back a little, letting his arms drop to the side. "I imagine you've had it a hell of a lot worse, though. I mean, it's been... what, fifteen years?"

"Something like that," Sirius said, even though he knew it to the day. Moony said that he was obsessed, but he disagreed. He'd spent so long in Azkaban, letting the days meld together into a massive, horrible blur. Keeping track of how much of his life he'd lived without James was just a way of keeping tabs on that lost time.

"What've you been up to? I want to hear everything I missed."

"Not much to tell," Sirius hedged, knowing as he said it that it wouldn't be enough to deter him.

"I missed fifteen years and you expect me to believe that there isn't much to tell? If you don't want to talk about yourself, then how about Harry as a kid? It seems like he's turned out pretty great."

No one had told him. That made sense. After all, who would've mentioned it? Pettigrew wasn't about to explain everything, and presumably, the only other person he'd talked to was Regulus, who was similarly ignorant of what had happened. "James..."

"What?" he asked, frowning.

"I didn't raise Harry."

"What are you talking about? You're his godfather, of course you raised him."

Sirius sighed, walking over to the couch and collapsing onto it. "Did Pettigrew tell you why he was in a position to save you tonight?"

James opened his mouth, then closed it again. "No," he said quietly. He sat on the couch next to Sirius, close enough that he wouldn't have to shift his weight very much to make contact. "I assumed he was undercover or summat, but I'm guessing you're going to tell me that's wrong."

"Mate, he was your secret keeper in the first war. He betrayed you to Voldemort."

James didn't say anything, looking like that hadn't occurred to him before.

"I went after him because of it, wanting revenge. When I finally found him, he blew up the street. Cut off his finger and transformed so he could run. I got blamed for the deaths and went to Azkaban."

"What?" James breathed, aghast.

Sirius ignored that and rubbed his palms together just to give him something to do with his hands. "I escaped a couple years ago. Got my name cleared of the crime last month. There's... there's really not much to tell. I haven't done anything except been on the run and tried to help Harry when I could. Not that he needed it. He's a bright kid." He paused, letting that sink in. The Azkaban thing, not that Harry was smart-- the latter didn't require time to get used to. Then, "How long were you and Regulus back for?"

"I dunno, maybe a week? We talked a lot, got to know each other a little. He's pretty funny when he wants to be. You were really in Azkaban?"

"Is that really so hard to believe?"

"Yes. Where the hell was Moony?"

"Imagine, for a moment, a werewolf trying to force the Ministry into letting go a suspected member of the Death Eaters."

"How could anyone think you were a Death Eater?"

"The name Black carries a lot of baggage, mate. You know that."

James's expression made it clear that he did know that, and he thought it was shite; personally, Sirius agreed, but he didn't see the point in saying so aloud. James didn't push it. Whether it was because he didn't want to think about it or he knew that Sirius didn't want to talk about it, he left it alone, and Sirius was grateful. "Can I stay with you tonight?"

"Yeah, of course."

The first thing James did when the door to the bedroom closed was kiss Sirius. The second thing he did, immediately after, was go rifling through the clothes so he could change into something of Sirius's. Even when he'd had his own wardrobe, he'd still often chosen to wear Sirius's things. He'd always said that they were more comfortable, but Sirius had known it was because James liked the way he smelled. Even now, with perfectly legitimate reasons to need to change and specifically to wear Sirius's things, Sirius would be willing to bet that James's motivation remained unchanged.

For his part, Sirius was stood, frozen by the door, a hand brought up to his mouth, because James had kissed him so easily, like a good night peck to remind Sirius that he loved him, and it wasn't something that Sirius had felt in over a decade. He was as mind-numbingly in love with James today as he had been yesterday and the last time that he'd seen him alive. James had taken his feelings as a given, and he'd been right.

*

Sirius was the first one in the house up, trying to figure out the logistics of getting two people wands without letting anyone see their faces. A few cosmetic spells to change distinctive features would be the best option, but a lot of places had protections in place so that people couldn't do that now. A safety precaution for them, but a minor one. Mostly, it was an annoyance since it prevented Sirius from doing things the easy way, and it didn't do much to stop the wizards that wanted to hurt people. Polyjuice wasn't so easily circumvented, but they didn't have very much of that and Sirius would prefer to save it for an emergency-- not to mention part of it was already being saved for Bill and Fleur's wedding so that Harry could attend. It's not like he could just decide to brew more with everything else going on.

He was still trying to figure it out when Regulus walked into the room. Without a good morning or a nod hello, he said, "Do you know what a horcrux is?"

Sirius had rather forgotten how blunt his brother could be, as well as how light his footsteps were. He jerked so hard in surprise that he knocked over his cup and spilt tea all over the table. "Why do you know what a horcrux is?"

"The Dark Lord has at least one. Possibly more. We're never going to survive this if-"

"It was you," Sirius said, realising it all at once. Harry had told him about the locket and the cave he'd gone to with Dumbledore, and he'd said that there was a note inside, but he hadn't shown it to Sirius; he'd only summarised what it said. "You died stealing Slytherin's locket."

Regulus blinked at him, not betraying the shock he was surely feeling. "Yes."

"Where is it? Or did you manage to destroy it?"

A pause, then he shook his head. "I left it with Kreacher. I don't know if he was ever successful."

"You would've left it with him," Sirius said grumpily.

"You should be more kind to him."

"He believed in all our parents' blood purist rubbish, and you want me to be nice to him?"

"You were always cruel."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "After I get you a wand, will you go over to Grimmauld Place and see if he still has it?"

"Why don't you do it?"

"Because he bloody hates me, and I hate him. I'll go with you if you care so buggering much, but he won't tell me shite if I go there alone."

Regulus stared at him for a moment, then repeated, quietly, "I still think you could've been nicer to him."

"For fuck's sake, is this really an argument you want to have with me?" Sirius asked. "Consider, for a moment, what you used to believe and think if I'll ever be willing to concede to you about something, even if you're right."

Regulus continued to look at him. He'd always done that: stared silently and waited. Sometimes, even when their parents had asked him a direct question, he'd stayed quiet.

Not so suddenly, but rather as part of a growing emotion that had been building from the first moment he saw his brother alive and well again, he felt like dirt. What was he supposed to do about it? The answer was, obviously, change how he was acting. But he didn't know how else to act. Even having James back wasn't enough to fix everything. It made Sirius feel a hell of a lot better, no doubt, but it didn't actually help him know what to do. Creepy as it was to think, James was basically a kid. It's not like James would have all the answers he needed for how to win this, how to save Harry from any further harm, or how to help everyone that needed it.

"Your last wand was ash, right?" Sirius asked.

Regulus nodded.

"I'll try and get you something similar."

"You're not taking me with you?"

"It wouldn't be safe. James is going to stay here too," he added, thinking that that might make Regulus feel better. After all, this time, it wasn't personal. Sirius wasn't going to take anyone with him when he left today because the risk would be too great. For that matter, the sooner he got it done, the better. He cleaned up his mess and headed for the door. "I'll be back soon."

"You're leaving now?"

Sirius paused and turned back to face him. "The sooner you have a wand, the safer you'll be. I'll only be a minute."

Regulus didn't say anything. He just stared.

"What?" Sirius prodded.

"Nothing," Regulus said immediately, but that was clearly a lie.

Sirius waited for him to change his mind, but he didn't. "Fine."

*

"Are you alright?" James asked when they were alone again. Not alone by happenstance, but because Sirius had gone to the loo, and James, with his usual disregard for normal societal boundaries, had followed him. At least he had waited until Sirius was done to talk.

If it was anyone else, Sirius would say that of course he was alright. But this was James, and James would know in a flat second if he was lying. "It's wartime, mate. No one's alright."

"Why do you keep doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"Calling me mate."

"Because you are?"

"Yeah, but it's just us here. We don't need to hide our relationship from anyone."

Sirius chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to think of how he should phrase what was on his mind.

"Is this about Lily?" James asked, because he could understand how that would complicate matters, especially with Harry around.

"No. It's- it's about you."

James swallowed thickly and tried to keep a brave face. "If you don't love me anymore, you can-"

"Don't be stupid," Sirius cut in, "of course I still love you."

"Then what's wrong?"

"You're... for Merlin's sake, James, you're practically a kid. You're only a couple years older than Harry now."

"Okay," James said slowly. "Does this bother you or are you worried because you think it should bother you?"

Sirius opened his mouth to say that yes, it did bother him, then he paused. "I- well, I don't know. I've been too busy for introspection."

"Either make the time or let it go. It's just me, Sirius. We've always got each other; we always will."

"You say 'always' a lot for a bloke that was dead a month ago."

"If me being dead for ages didn't change how you felt, I don't see what that has to do with anything."

Sirius chuckled. It was such a James thing to say that he couldn't help himself. "Fine. If it makes anyone think I'm being a pedo though, you have to explain it to them."

"I will. Happily. They'll have to sit there while I talk about you. Do you know how long it's been since people couldn't leave while I do that?"

"I'd imagine it's been a while."

"And you'd be right. Lily said that if I did it one more time, she was going to make me cook every night instead of switching."

"I thought you liked cooking," Sirius said. That's what James had always told him when Sirius said that he didn't have to cook him breakfast.

"I do, but not every single night for someone that's such a bloody picky eater. Not blaming Lily, but she had a whole list of things she couldn't eat. You would eat anything and everything I put in front of you and say it was delicious."

"It was delicious."

"And that's one of the many reasons I keep you around," James said with a grin.

*

"Reg, Regulus, buddy," James said, putting an arm around his shoulders and steering him away. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Don't think what's a good idea?" Regulus asked, frowning.

"You and Harry."

"Me and Harry what?"

"Dating."

"Okay?" he said slowly, clearly confused about where James was getting that from. It's not like he was attracted to Harry, and Harry certainly wasn't attracted to him either. "I'll keep that in mind, but you know that you're only sort of his father, right?"

"Excuse you, I'm definitely his father."

"A father that's the same age as an older brother," Regulus said.

"True as that might be, it doesn't change what I think of the two of you."

"There's nothing there to be thinking about, but okay." Regulus slipped out from under his arm and quickly left the room.

James huffed and stomped over to the study, where Sirius was trying to figure out the logistics of how many people could reasonably fit inside the Manor. James had offered to help, but Sirius threw him out-- with a laugh-- when James had sat on his lap and kept distracting him with kisses and invitations for more fun things they could be doing. "Your brother is being irresponsible," he said as he barged in.

"Yeah, he does that. I thought you knew. Or did the horcrux hunt not clue you in?"

"I think he fancies Harry," James said, hoping to get Sirius on his side.

Sirius snorted.

Maybe Sirius wasn't on his side; there had to be a first time for everything, he supposed.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about, love."

"You think Regulus doesn't fancy him?"

"I think that whether or not Regulus fancies Harry is immaterial because he'll never act on it, and if Harry is the one to initiate some sort of relationship, then it'll hardly be Regulus's fault if it all goes to shite."

James blinked once, twice, then said, "I don't think I like your parenting method here."

"Oh, you're right, I should go meddle in both of their love lives. That'll get them to like me." Sirius stretched his arms over his head and James considered abandoning his protection of Harry to give sitting in Sirius's lap another try. "So long as they aren't trying to hurt each other, I'm staying out of it."

"That doesn't sound like the meddling Sirius Black that I fell in love with."

"Tragically, I grew up," Sirius said, throwing a smirk in his direction.

James was weak, so he walked over and leaned against the desk, facing Sirius. "Tragic, indeed. I mean, look at you. You went and got horribly handsome while I still look like a kid. So unfair."

"Life's not fair," Sirius said, leaning forward and putting an arm around James's hips to pull him closer.

"I can see you're very upset about that on my behalf," James said flatly.

"Oh, extremely."

"Are you going to do anything to cheer me up?"

"The fact that I haven't kicked you out again should let you know the answer to that," Sirius said, pulling James's shirt up enough that he could kiss at his newly bared skin.

*

James sniffled, rubbing at his face with a sleeve to get rid of the tears before they could fall down his cheeks and make them itch.

"James?" Harry asked, since calling him 'Dad' had felt weird to both of them.

James glanced over at him, then rubbed harder at his face. "Hey. What's up?"

"Are you okay?" Harry asked. He pulled up a chair next to him.

"Yeah, just- y'know. Thinking about Lily. She would've loved all this," he said, giving a wave to encompass the room, the house, and everyone in it. "She always thought it was stupid that we split up. She always wanted a big family... friends around all the time."

Harry was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke again, it wasn't what James expected. "After being told about you and Sirius, I always wondered if you ever loved her. But you did, didn't you?"

James nodded. "It wasn't simple, and if she was here now, I'm sure things would be very different, but I do love her."

“Ah,” he said, then he shifted his weight awkwardly, unsure what to do with himself. "Do you want me to leave you alone?"

"Nah, you're fine, Haz. On the topic of love, has anyone caught your eye?” James gave another wipe at his eyes since he wasn’t crying anymore but still had some stray tears that had leaked free while he was talking to Harry. “Now that you're not, y'know, running from people that want you dead."

Harry grinned at him. "If there was, I wouldn't tell you," he said, jokingly giving his shoulder a shove.

"Oh, I see how it is. Pick on your old man."

"Yeah, you're so, so old, at the ripe age difference of four years."

"That's right. Respect your elders, you young whipper snapper."

*

James shifted so that his ear was pressed over Sirius's heart. His head rose and fell with every breath Sirius took. He'd been back for a year now, and he still wasn't tired of this. He acted casually when his death was mentioned, but every morning he got to wake up next to Sirius was a miracle. A miracle he never tired of.

Moony joked that he was clingy, and Regulus said that he was so over-the-top in love with Sirius because they were practically the same person so it was little more than an exercise in narcissism. James didn't care what anybody else said, because getting this for a year had been more than he thought he'd ever get. Getting it for the rest of his life? Definitely a miracle.

He knew the minute that Sirius woke because his breathing changed, and a few seconds later, Sirius's fingers threaded through his hair. "You awake?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah."

"Nightmare?"

"Yeah." Nothing noteworthy. He didn't even remember it. All he knew was that it had scared him awake, and the only thing that could calm him down was wrapping himself around Sirius. It was a solution he hardly minded.

"You want to talk about it?" Sirius offered.

"No. I don't remember what it was. I just couldn't get back to sleep."

"Okay," Sirius said, and then they laid there for a long time in comfortable silence, the only sound the ticking of the clock.

[hopelessromanticvirgo]

Sincerely, Always Yours

Chapter 12

Chapter 11

“It is me?” Jens looks at him sitting there, with his nails on his mouth, his knees shaking, eyes getting teary while still trying to breath normally and crack a smile. 

They have been there for half an hour now, Robbe taking his time to speak, already managed to blurt out that he’s gay, that he’s in love, that he’s going insane.

Robbe texted Jens the first thing in the morning, it’s not like he could fall asleep the whole night, his mind going crazy, running and never stopping, he probably fell asleep when the first lair of sunlight shone though his window but woke up quickly after that.

Jens didn’t answer him, it was too early but Robbe didn’t care, he called and called until the boy woke up and cursed him from waking him up at the 7 am in the morning but when he heard Robbe’s broken and shaky voice, he was wide awake, already up, ready to be on his friend’s side immediately.

So they met up. And Robbe finally confessed his biggest secret and he was quite surprised at how easy Jens took it, glancing at Robbe’s face with almost “that’s what you were worried about?” look.

But no, that wasn’t the whole thing.

Robbe said he was in love and he was in pain so there they were, at the cafe, with Robbe’s untouched and Jens’s almost empty cups of coffee in front of them, on the table, both of them waiting for Robbe to speak up.

This was it.

“No.” He gulped.

Jens raised his eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to tell me who it is then?”

Robbe wanted to, he couldn’t handle this anymore, he needed somebody to know, he has been torturing alone for so long already, he wanted out, so he nodded his head, getting ready to spill his name but nothing came out of his mouth.

“Come on buddy, I don’t have all day.” Jens joked, trying to lighten up the mood.

“It’s - “ Robbe started but couldn’t finish, he put his head down which made Jens groan.

“Just say it.” It’s not that Jens was getting impatient, he was just tired, sleepy and just wanted his friend to stop torturing himself.

“I destroyed everything - I “ Robbe’s heart started beating so fast, his breath shallow, he was sure he needed to take some light medication to calm his pulse after this by the way he could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

“We’re gonna talk about that later, just tell me who it is.” Jens’s hopeful and calm face managed to make Robbe relax a bit so he nodded his head again, took a big breath and mumbled the name.

“It’s Sander.”

And Jens eyes went wide. He was expecting anybody but him.

“S-sander? What? Oh god.” Robbe couldn’t explain what Jens was feeling or thinking by the look on his face, but before the boy had any time to process what Robbe said, he started.

“Jens, I - I ruined everything. He - he hates me now - I - I tried to stay away - I really did but it was hard and - he - he hates me.”

This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Tell me what happened?”

Robbe looked away, gathering some leftover courage, trying to not pass out right there and then.

He had to start somewhere, so he stared from the beginning, talking so fast, almost not taking any breath between the sentences, wanting the whole thing to be over already.

“I’ve always known we were too close and I love that but this year I noticed somethings started to change, I mean now I realize that they didn’t start to change I just started noticing them and slowly I understood that it wasn’t just casual and normal feelings you usually get for your friends. No, it was more, way more and I - I didn’t know what to do - I thought they would go away - I was scared and I thought they were temporary so I started pulling away - I started drifting off. At first it wasn’t anything serious, Sander didn’t even notice it but no matter how much I’d stay away when I came back to him the feelings somehow got stronger and stronger so I decided to start pushing him away more and more - until we didn’t hang out anymore. And I felt so horrible, crying myself to sleep every night because no matter what the feelings weren’t getting away and I was missing him like crazy.

Then he started to notice it, and I felt even worse but I was too far gone, too caught up to try to make myself believe that I wasn’t in love with him to notice him, to notice everything.”

He was looking anywhere but at his friend’s face, who was listening to every word he said with his full attention, managed to completely drink his coffee and by the way they both looked, just sitting there, discussing this like they were talking about life and death situation, not even a waitress dared to go up there to take his empty cup away.

“I lied once when he asked me to hang out, felt terrible but then I lied again and again, until lying to him just became something natural.

And because of that - because of myself I - I lost him. He hates me.

I knew what was going on and I couldn’t do anything about it, just stand behind and watch him slip away from my fingers.

Then things got so bad, we’d argue everyday and I realized that I had to be there for him, even if I would be hopelessly in love with him and hurt myself, I couldn’t continue hurting him the way I was doing, without any reason, without any excuse.

But I couldn’t do it for long. I’d be there, then I’d hurt myself again so I was debating between seeing him and not seeing him.

I started to lose him - I t-tried to be there.

And - and - we - we were fine.

Then I decided to just fuck it and say it and I came out to him, I decided that I’d say I loved him but I chickened out at the last minute, it was already too late to go back now so I told him I was in love with someone else.”

And that’s when he looked up, finally, and Jens saw that the boy was at the edge of crying, all those secrets and feeling and emotions he kept inside for so long starting to come out, only to destroy him more.

“With who?” He asked quietly, still trying to wrap his head around the stuff Robbe was telling him.

“It doesn’t matter right now. The worst thing is that I can’t take any of it back.

It was just a while ago when I was trying to go back to how we were before.

Before summer when I realized that not only I wanted to watch a film with him, but I also wanted to put my head on his shoulder, wanted to be able to hold his hand, wanted to see how his lips would taste.

And things were going well I’d say but one day my mom - she had some problems - I had to go to different pharmacies to get her medication and they didn’t have it so I spent the whole day - my phone died - and I was supposed to meet Sander, he was giving me another chance or it felt like it and I blew it - I blew everything up. I couldn’t tell him I was busy, I felt like it’d come out like another excuse, like I was trying to save myself and my ass by making him feel guilty since I was late because of my mom and her condition.”

Jens remembers that day, how his mom called him while they were at the skatepark, he doesn’t know what she told him but judging from the way Robbe’s eyes went wide and he practically run off, he guessed, nothing good left her mouth from the other side of the phone line.

“Now he has a girlfriend - he doesn’t want to talk to me - he never will and I - fuck” he put his head in his hands as tugged on them.

And that’s when Jens heard his whisper, he has never heard Robbe say anything with so much emotions inside like he said this: “Loving him is just a losing game. No matter what I will never win.”

Jens took that as a hint to start talking himself too. He stretched over the table and put his hand on his shoulder, made the boy sit up.

“Hey. It will be alright okay. Tell me what happened next?”

So Robbe told him everything, each word Sander said, which he knew by heart since he has read their messages numerous of times already, spent all night staring at the open chat.

And after he was finally done, he mumbled: “What do you think? I really need some advice right now.”

Jens had no idea what to say, he really wasn’t good at those things but for Robbe, he could at least try.

“How do you feel? What do you want to do?”

Robbe sighed and shook his head.

“That’s the thing Jens, I have no idea, I don’t know. One part of my head is relieved, thinking I will finally be able to forget him but the other part is holding on to the idea of Sander like its life is depends on it.”

“Which part do you want to believe?”

“The first one would be easier but I can’t do that to him anymore, I can’t make him think he did something wrong, I can’t make him think he wasn’t enough or worth it. I just can’t - I - I love him too much for that.”

“Then tell him the truth.” He wanted to add ‘problem solved’ but bit his tongue fast enough, realized it wasn’t simple at all.

“I will lose what we have. I will lose our friendship.” Robbe whined.

Like I haven’t lost it already.

He said in his head.

Listening to Robbe moaning about this wasn’t easy but like his friend, he could see that the poor boy was lost in his own head so he had to take matters into his own hands.

“Sander said that you have to be fully his friend or not at all right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to?”

“Do I want to what?”

“Do you want to be his friend?”

“Of course I do, he’s my best friend.” Robbe looked at Jens like he’s grown a second head, judging him because he even dared to ask that question, like the answer was already pretty obvious.

“Then you should be. Like you said, you either have to tell him the whole truth or hurt yourself by being only his friend. I don’t think there is any other option.”

“He’s in a relationship now. Obviously he’d never look at me more then just a friend.”

“Just tell him what you feel. Tell him you want to be with him, be his friend and try. I don’t know what else to say. I like Sander. I like him a lot and you losing him, also means me loosing him and I don’t want that. He needs to learn how to skateboard before he can get out of my sight alright?”

The last sentence made Robbe chuckle sadly, all the time Sander whined about Jens forcing him to learn a trick or two coming rushing in front of his eyes from his memories.

“Also I thought that I was your best friend? I’m hurt!” And he put his hand on his heart jokingly and made a crying face which made Robbe smile.

It was nice, finally taking to somebody about what’s been bothering and going on with him.

Hearing an advice felt amazing.

“You are but he’s different kind of best friend.” Robbe told him and he realized how true that statement was.

Sander was different kind of best friend.

Different kind of person Robbe could tell everything to.

Well everything but this.

“Alright alright. If you say so.”

They were sitting in a comfortable silence, both of them knew that they couldn’t decide anything but it was still nice, talking and discussing this topic.

“Robbe?”

“Hm?” He looked up and saw Jens smirking at him, and was already getting ready to hear something stupid or weird but what Jens said, was different.

It made him feel emotions he couldn’t describe nor point his fingers at.

“Go get your boy.”

Robbe gave him an annoying look.

“He’s not my boy.”

“You’re the one saying that, not him.”

And Robbe only dared to roll his eyes, a weak smile covering his face.

His boy.

It sounded perfect in his head.

Only if....

Only if.

Chapter 13

[lawslessons]

An Observation pt. 2 (Zoro x Luffy)

“Together,” Luffy said as he looked over at Zoro with a more tender, uncharacteristic smile. Maybe... just maybe Zoro’s observation was wrong.

Warnings: None

Synopsis: Observations and preconceived notions aren’t always right, and when they’re not, they tend to hurt those the closest to a person. Zoro realizes that his blindness could possibly be holding him back from finally seeing the truth. 

Part two! I hope you all enjoy!

“You know, you could be wrong about what you were thinking,” Robin shared as she flipped the page of the book she was reading and glanced up at the swordsman who was staring out into the ocean with a concentrated look on his face. “I’ve seen how you look at him, you’ve cared about him for a long time, have you?” Robin sympathized as she lowered her book and moved to give the swordsman her full attention, if that was what he wanted from her. 

“No,” Zoro scoffed. He was denying it even though he could clearly see it. He could feel it, it had been tormenting him for years, ever since the day Luffy had saved him. First he had thought it was respect for Luffy’s power, and it honestly could’ve been. Zoro couldn’t remember, along the way his feelings had gotten jumbled up and he became even more confused. What if he was still confusing his feelings with something else? What if he didn’t even care about his captain that way? Was the way he was feeling wrong? He knew that no one on their ship would mind. After all, they had encountered stranger things, people in the past. 

“Yes,” Robin lightly teased. 

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Oh?” Robin chuckled to which the swordsman tensed. 

“You tricked me!” Zoro snapped as he looked over at Robin and glared down at the woman who seemed to be relishing in Zoro’s embarrassment. He wasn’t surprised that she was a sadist, she seemed to be enjoying seeing Zoro squirm around about his affections for their captain. 

“Tricked? Is it a game?” Luffy suddenly asked as he walked in between the two of them and smiled. “Can I play?” he asked with a wide grin on his face. Suddenly Zoro felt himself get tense again, his heart started to roughly drum against his chest and he didn’t know what to say suddenly.

“I’ll leave you two alone then,” Robin said with a small, encouraging smile as she walked away from Zoro with her book in hand. Zoro quickly looked over in Robin’s direction and silently pleaded for her to come back and save him from his suffering. Zoro watched the woman leave the deck and leave him stuck with their captain. 

“Zoro?” Luffy asked with a small tilt of his head. He looked at his swordsman and crossed his arms as he tried to figure out what was wrong with him. 

“Yes?” Zoro asked. But he knew better than to let Luffy ask him what was wrong. He could never keep a secret from his captain. Luffy would be able to tell if he was lying, and he knew that would worry his captain more than it was worth. “Did you really mean that you wanted to stay together after you become the pirate king?” Zoro asked him. 

“Yes!” Luffy confidently said. “Our dreams are the only ones that need us to constantly be together for, right?” he asked. “You said you would be the greatest swordsman and I would be the pirate king. Well, I am going to need the greatest swordsman by my side when I become the king. Strong people are going to fight us, and I want to fight with you,” Luffy explained as if it was that easy. As if everything he said didn’t pierce Zoro straight in the heart. 

“Me? By your side?” Zoro asked in some disbelief. 

“Of course, I trust you,” Luffy smiled. One stab. 

“We’ve known each other the longest,” Luffy reminded him. Second stab. 

“And... I just want to be with you,” Luffy shrugged. Third stab, shattered. Zoro suddenly was melting and in pieces over his captain who was right in front of him. 

I just want to be with you

Zoro was in awe of what he was saying, he had a shocked look on his face. “Me? Just me?” Zoro asked just as Luffy was being pulled away by Nami. 

“Oi, Luffy!” Nami scolded before she leaned into him and whispered something into his ear which seemed to surprise the captain. 

“Really? But I mean that,” Luffy pouted at the woman who looked at Zoro in surprise. 

“You do? Well, sorry then. Continue,” Nami said as she left the deck and went to get Chopper and Usopp away from Zoro and Luffy. “Hurry up!” she scolded to Chopper and Usopp as she dragged him away. 

They were finally alone. 

Zoro took in a deep breath and looked at Luffy in confusion. And if he wasn’t mistaken, was Luffy looking at him with that same look. It seemed like they were in a fairy tale. Both of them confused, looking at each other with the same eyes but neither of them knowing how to explain the tension that was between them. 

“What did Nami tell you?” Zoro quietly asked him as he crossed his arms, he was trying to guard himself up again, act indifferent when he honestly was curious. 

“She said something about leading something on? I don’t know what she meant,” Luffy admitted as he scratched the scar on his chest. It took Zoro a second to put the pieces together. 

Oh. 

Was Nami talking about Luffy leading him on? Was that what was happening here? Zoro exhaled sharply and looked off the side. Was Luffy leading him on?

“Maybe she’s right,” Zoro said as he went to walk away. He let his guard too much, he was too weak. He knew his observation was right, why would the most powerful man in the world want to spend his future with him?

“What? Zoro, no, what do you mean? What’s going on? What is she talking about?” Luffy asked as he started to go after Zoro as he went up to the crow’s nest. 

“It’s better if you didn’t know. If you didn’t ever know. It’s complicated and you don’t need that if you’re gonna be the pirate king. You need to focus on your dream.” Zoro stated as he shut the door when Luffy followed him inside of the nest. 

“How can I focus when you’re acting like this? You’re my friend, I’m worried about you!” Luffy frowned. Friend. Friend. Friend. Was that all he was to Luffy? After all these years, these sleepless nights he had over his captain?

“And I lo--” Zoro bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood. The restraint he had to show in this moment hurt him. “Nothing is wrong.” He felt tired of having to put up that facade, but if it protected his captain, he would do it as long as he needed to.

“You’re lying! You know I can tell when you’re lying, what is going on?” Luffy insisted. Like always, his sense of social cues and boundaries seemed to be nonexistent. Zoro was looking away at this point, his perceived notion was taking over his mind. While he knew better, he knew he should listen to Luffy’s reasoning, he couldn’t bring himself to do that now. 

“Zoro!” Luffy pleaded to his closest companion as the look of worry on his face grew. 

“Nothing. Happened.” Zoro got flashbacks to Thriller Bark, the pain he took on for his captain. He didn’t regret a word or action he said and took back then. Why should he now?

Luffy grabbed Zoro’s shoulders and shook the swordsman, that painful look of worry and fear didn’t leave Luffy’s face when he looked up at the swordsman. 

“You’re lying... why’re you lying to me?” Luffy asked as he rested his head on Zoro’s chest. 

Zoro had to resist the urge to hug Luffy, to comfort him in that moment, was he even allowed a luxury like that? 

“It’s a weakness I need to overcome.” Zoro said. 

“What? A weakness? Maybe I can help - “

“No.” Zoro stated as he grabbed Luffy’s shoulder’s and pinned him against the wall. “My weakness is you!” Zoro finally confessed as he looked at his captain with confused eyes. Luffy’s eyes widened in shock as he looked up at the swordsman in front of him. 

“Me...?” Luffy asked in disbelief. Zoro physically couldn’t bring himself to speak, confessing to a weakness like that made him feel ashamed, embarrassed. It wasn’t the right time, the moment wasn’t right. He nodded his head and sighed before he started to pull back from Luffy. 

Before he could get too far, Luffy grabbed Zoro’s hand and pulled him in closer. “I want to spend my future with you, didn’t that make sense to you?” He asked. 

“No, Luffy it didn’t make sense. I’m only here because of my strength, but I’m so weak around you and I -- “ Zoro was suddenly caught off when he was pulled closer to Luffy by another set of hands. And before he knew it, he was met by warm lips. Zoro looked at Luffy in shock before he quickly pulled away. By Luffy’s side, two arms transformed into flower petals before disappearing. Robin had pulled them closer. Damn that woman.

Luffy looked surprised and looked off to the side, but he didn’t look upset by the kiss, he instead seemed to have enjoyed it. That didn’t slip by Zoro, that was one observation he was able to catch onto. Without saying another word, Zoro kissed Luffy again and brushed his hands through his captain’s hair, his hat falling to the ground in the process. 

While the kiss lasted only a few seconds, it left both of them breathless and pleasantly dazed. 

“My observation was wrong,” Zoro softly panted out. “I want to be there with you, I need to be with you, Luffy,” he admitted as he looked at his star struck captain. 

“Zoro...” Luffy mumbled before he softly started to smile and laugh his signature laugh. “You were wrong!” He said as he pulled away from him. And as if one of the biggest changes in his life didn’t just occur, he started to leave the crows nest. “Come on! Let’s go! Everyone is waiting for us!” He smiled. 

Zoro smiled with him and shook his head. “Yes, captain.”

[harley-sunday]

Encore [01]

Summary: The new Disney+ show ‘Encore’ brings together former castmates of a high school musical, tasking them with re-creating their original performance in a high school reunion like no other. Emotions run high as you face faded friendships, long-forgotten controversies, killer choreography, and an ex-boyfriend you haven’t seen in eighteen years.

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader [unnamed OFC, nicknamed ‘Ace’)

Warnings: None

Word count: 8.4k

AN: So, here it is, the re-write of Encore. For those of you who have read it when it was first published, there are some subtle changes in this first part, but the real fun doesn’t start until part 2, which will be online tomorrow. Hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think :)

Masterlist

Cursing quietly you set out in a jog, one hand holding your purse close to your body while the other is clutching the double espresso that made you late in the first place. You make a mental note to check if they’ve replaced the coffee machine in your hotel room when you get back tonight, because you really don't want to go on another early-morning Starbucks run tomorrow in case they haven’t.

Still, you’re parked relatively closeby and so it’s only a short run to the double doors which you all but burst through, coming to a sudden stop when there are two people in your way who look like they’ve been waiting for you. They introduce themselves as part of the crew and help you with your microphone, telling you to keep it on as much as possible and not to forget to hand it back at the end of every day. You only half listen because all of a sudden the familiarity of the place hits you and you’re surprised to see nothing has changed, not really anyway. It’s almost like time has stood still and the sense of melancholy that washes over you makes you a little weak in the knees. 

There’s no time to reminisce any further though, because once your mic is in place they tell you everyone else is already here and waiting for you in the theater room, and so you’re off again, running towards the other end of Lincoln-Sudbury Regional High School for the first time in eighteen years. 

You’re a little out of breath when you get there and want to allow yourself a moment to catch it again, maybe calm your nerves a little, but you know they’re waiting for you and so you take one last deep breath and open the door. 

There’s a group of nine people on the stage who, like you, are the show’s main cast. They’re all talking to each other amicably and you wonder if they’ve kept in touch all these years. One by one they turn to you as you make your way towards the front and it does absolutely nothing to calm your nerves. Some of them look surprised to see you and you don’t blame them, because once you left Sudbury after graduating high school you had no intention of ever coming back and so you cut ties rather vigorously. 

Two of the four cameras that are spread out across the room are now trained on you, but you try your hardest to act natural, because that’s what it said in the production brief they sent you last week, and so instead you try to focus on the people you haven’t seen for so long. 

It’s Nicole Matthews who greets you first, running towards you as you walk on stage. She presses a kiss to your cheek before she gives you a hug, a quiet, “So glad you made it, babe,” whispered into your ear. You hang on to her just a little longer because now that you’re finally getting to hug your best friend again for the first time in eighteen years it’s hard to let go. 

After Nicole you make your way down the line at a steady pace, greeting everyone with a hug, except for Michael Pratt who insists on doing the secret handshake he taught you during rehearsals all those years ago. You hand your coffee to John Ryan on your right, because unfortunately you’ll need both hands for this. It takes a little practice but then you remember the full routine and you can’t help but laugh when you nail it on your third try, earning you a wink from Johnny when he hands you your coffee back, “Still got it, huh kiddo?” 

All too soon there’s only one person left to greet and you know all eyes are on you when you walk towards Chris, the talking from before quieting down to a hushed whisper. It’s fine. You get it. You would want to know what happens next too. 

“Hi.”

He seems unsure what to do and after a second or two he pulls you in for a hug that’s a little awkward and might have not been such a good idea after all.

You give him a quick pat on the back before you pull back, and step to the left, trying to hide from view a little. There’s a whole range of emotions you’re going through right now and you’re not sure which one to settle one. If somehow you could walk out of here and just forget this ever happened, you probably would, even though you are sure Nicole would never let you. 

It’s then three more people walk in and so everyone’s attention shifts to the newcomers before they have a chance to ask questions you don’t have any answers to. 

The two men and one woman introduce themselves as the director, choreographer, and musical director for this project and tell you there’s a lot of work ahead of you, even though from tomorrow there will be some professionals to fill some of the minor roles and help with the choreography. They seem so unfazed about having a celebrity there that you can’t help but wonder if they got instructions from production or if they’re just used to working with well-known actors. You suppose, and hope, it’s the latter. 

“So, Grease,” the director, Coy, comments with a smile when he hands the scripts to Nicole to pass down the line, “that was already a classic by the time you performed it.” He asks everyone to tell him who had which role in the original production, taking notes and nodding fervently when he hears who played who. 

Coy looks up and smiles, “So, we have a lot to do, of course, if we’re gonna do a show in five days, but Grease doesn’t work unless you have fun. Unless you’re having fun, the show falls flat.” He looks to Adam, the musical director, “So today we’re gonna have a little bit of a singing session. That’ll let us know where you are, vocally.” 

Adam has the group form a semi-circle and hands each of you a piece of paper with the lyrics of ‘I Want it that Way’ by the Backstreet Boys on them, because, as he reasons, it was one of the biggest hits the year you performed Grease and you all need to go back to that place in time. 

Nicole starts, a little hesitant at first, but then she decides to go for it and it’s amazing and, like nineteen years ago, you are absolutely in awe of her voice. As more and more people sing their rendition of the song, you are actually surprised at the level of singers in the group and how serious everyone takes this. That is until Johnny and Michael decide to remake the song into a duet once it’s Johnny’s turn and their very serious facial expressions and interpretive dancing have you crying from laughter in no time. 

Chris is up next and finally you get to take a good look at him. He’s wearing a dark blue sweater that stretches across the muscles in his arms and chest, paired with black jeans, and sneakers, and it suits him. His voice is soft but clear and you can’t help but wonder why he never did more musical theater. You’ve followed his career, of course you have, and you’re proud to see what he’s accomplished, because you know how hard he’s worked to get there. 

It’s your turn then and instead of butterflies it feels like there’s a herd of elephants stomping around in your stomach. You step up anyway, because, with the exception of the three professionals, they’ve all heard you sing before. You haven’t sung in a long time, but you still know how to carry a tune, although you never really take any risks, and so if anything your rendition errs a little on the boring side. Still, you make it through the song without any real struggles and at the end Adam praises the group, saying he’s impressed at everyone’s vocal capabilities. 

Coy looks up from his seat then, where he’s been taking more notes ever since Nicole started singing, and informs you that they have decided to honor the original casting.

And so here you are, once again playing the Rizzo to Chris’ Kenickie. 

The rest of the day passes by in a blur of read-throughs, choreography, and more singing, and even though you know you’ll be dead-tired once you get back to your hotel tonight, you also can’t help but feel excited. You never pursued a career in acting or performing and so Grease was both your first and last venture out into the theater world, but God, did you like it.  

You’re a little lost in thoughts, watching a scene you’re not in from the side of the stage, thinking back on your days as a theater kid, when Chris comes up beside you, “How you holding up?” 

You know what he wants you to say, because this has been your spiel whenever you found each other in the wings, but you just can’t get the words out, there’s eighteen years worth of pain and heartache that needs to be dealt with first. Instead, you keep looking straight ahead at the scene in front of you, shaking your head ever so slightly to let him know, what, you’re not exactly sure.

He takes a step back and doesn’t say anything else until it’s his turn to enter the stage.   

There’s no time to unravel what the hell just happened because Nicole comes off stage and joins you then, gently bumping her hips against yours, “You ok, babe? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“The ghost of my fifteen-year old self,” you mutter quietly. A little louder then, hoping she’ll let it go, “Don’t worry about it, Nic.” 

“Well, at least no one’s gonna complain about the age difference between you two now,” she says with a grin, nodding towards the stage where Chris is going through his scene. She shakes her head, “God, I still can’t believe it was such an issue back then, only because he was, what? A year older?”

“Almost two,” you offer. You remember Mrs Linton pulling you aside to inform you there had been complaints about you being cast as Rizzo. She told you there were some people who were worried the age difference between you and Chris could be perceived as inappropriate, especially because you shared one very steamy makeout scene right before intermission, that went on for at least a few minutes. You were just a junior and so shocked to learn people had a problem with you that you offered to step down, but it turned out Mrs Linton was on your side, and she told you she’d kick your butt all the way back to second grade if you even so much as thought about letting them win.

You never found out who she meant by ‘them’ but you always thought Jessica Mullen, the girl playing Sandy, and Fiona Warren were behind all this. Jessica and Fiona were best friends, two of the most popular senior girls, and it was no secret Fiona had a huge crush on Chris back then. She also auditioned for the part of Rizzo, but Mrs Linton favored your approach to the character and so Fiona ended up being offered a role in the ensemble, which she declined with a temper-tantrum unprecedented by anything any two-year old has ever thrown. 

Ultimately, as a compromise, Mrs Linton made you and Chris skip the makeout scene during rehearsals, which seemed to stop the protests somewhat. You've often wondered if she would have done things differently had she known Chris and you were already dating for two months by the time rehearsals started and so steamy make out sessions were part of your daily routine anyway. Then again, you always had the feeling she very much knew about your relationship and was just playing her part. 

Nicole nudges you then, pulling you out of your memories, “It’s your cue, go!”

The producers thought it would be nice to have all of you go out to dinner after the first day back together, and so you find yourself at the Oak Barrel Tavern, sharing a table with Nicole, Johnny, Michael, Eric, and Chris, enjoying what everyone still considers to be the best burger in Sudbury. Funny how some things never change, you think, as you take a bite of your fries. 

Except for you and Michael, the rest of the table all graduated in the same year and are already two beers deep into a play-by-play of the many senior stunts they pulled. You watch Chris as he animatedly tells the story of how he, Johnny, and Eric toilet papered the principal’s house the night before graduation. Two cameras circle your table and you are certain some part of this story will make it to air, because it’s too good not to. Johnny tries to chime in, but instead keeps letting out these roaring laughs whenever he remembers another detail of that night and you can’t help but smile at the familiarity of it all. 

It’s strange, you think, how something as insignificant as performing a musical together made you form a bond with these people which even after nineteen years is still there. Sometimes you wonder if leaving Sudbury all those years ago really brought you the peace of mind you were looking for. Maybe you wouldn’t feel so restless now if you had just accepted that this would always be your hometown and this group of people would always be here. You realize then that there’s hardly been any catching up going on tonight and so you figure they must have all kept in touch in some way or another.

You and Eric get to talking then, during a lull in the conversation, and he easily admits that hadn’t it been for Chris he would have liked to asked you to go to Senior Prom with him, revealing that back then he had a  major crush on you. Your cheeks heat up at his confession and you can’t help but glance at Chris, who quickly adverts his eyes when you do. Turning back to Eric you try to make a joke about how he should have, because at least then you would have had a date, but the moment the words leave your mouth the awkward silence that follows makes you wish you hadn’t said anything.  

Chris throws you an angry look and Nicole just stares at you in disbelief, before coming to your rescue and telling everyone that it’s getting late and maybe it’s time to go home. 

You throw her what you hope is a grateful smile and get up, following the rest of the group outside, where the same crew that fitted you with your mic this morning is waiting for you and so you hand everything back to them like they asked you to

With a wave and a, “Goodnight everyone,” you head towards your car, not completely surprised when Nicole catches up with you.

“What the hell was that?”

“I-” you shake your head, “I don’t know. It came out before I knew it.”

“Well,” she says as she puts her hand on your shoulder and kisses your cheek, “we’ll discuss it over dinner tomorrow night.”

“Can’t wait,” you answer, a hint of sarcasm in your voice even though you are in fact looking forward to it. “See you tomorrow, Nic.” 

“Bye, babe,” she says as she opens her car door and lowers herself into her seat. You wait until she’s backed up out of her parking spot before you give her a little wave and continue on towards your car while you rummage through your purse to try and find the keys to your rental. You push the button needed to unlock the car and are about to open the door when you hear someone come up behind you. Of course. You let out a sigh, “I know what you’re gonna say-”

“You don’t,” he says, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans and his foot kicking at the loose gravel near your tire. He looks up at you, his voice much softer when he says, “I can’t believe it’s been eighteen years, Ace.”

Hearing him use his old nickname for you sends a shiver down your spine and you hate how it brings back an onslaught of memories. You don’t say anything, just look at him, wondering where he’ll go with this. 

“Eighteen years is a long time.” He looks up at you, a sadness to his eyes that would make you a little weak in the knees had it not been for his next words, “Do you think that maybe it’s time to leave the past behind us? Maybe we could just start over?”

“We could just- Sorry, what?” You open your mouth to say more but find yourself at a momentary loss for words after what he’s suggested and so you stand there gaping like a stupid fish, which makes you even more angry. You shake your head and get in your car, “Goodnight, Chris.” 

The drive to your hotel only takes a couple of minutes, which means you’re still pretty upset when you get to your room. Your purse ends up being flung into a corner somewhere before you make your way to the minibar and grab all four of the miniature bottles of whiskey that are in there, taking them out onto the balcony with you. Downing the first makes your throat burn in not an entirely unpleasant way, although it does nothing to relieve you of your anger. 

Putting your feet up on the railing you lean back in your chair, head resting against the wall, and uncap the second tiny bottle. To hell with your good intentions of going to bed early, you think, knowing you won’t be able to sleep now anyway.

Today’s run to the theater room is almost a carbon copy of yesterday’s, down to the Starbucks cup in your hand because they didn’t replace the coffee maker in your room like they said they would and of course you forgot to check. The only difference is that you have a pounding headache and might just be a tad hungover. Oh well, there’s a first time for everything, you think as you make your way down to the stage once they've put your mic on.

Nicole eyes you suspiciously but doesn’t say anything, although you do see her glance in Chris’ direction not much later, the rest of the group just nodding and some of them mumbling a “Good morning,” to you. Chris keeps his distance, probably thinks you’re still mad at him, which, you know, you are. Sort of, anyway. It sounded so casual when he suggested leaving the past behind you, like none of what happened matters anymore. Then again, maybe it doesn’t. It’s all just very confusing and you guess that’s what annoys you most of all.

Adam steps onto the stage then and tells you his plans for today, wanting to go through the songs in order, with choreography, for now not bothering with the scenes in between. It’s the only thing you’ll do today, except for some wardrobe fittings after lunch, and so he warns you it’s going to be grueling and that you won’t get to stop until everyone’s at least ninety percent there. A few more people come on stage and are introduced as the extras, professional actors who will make up the ensemble and help with the choreography where needed. 

Your headache-induced bad mood helps you pull off ‘Look at Me, I’m Sandra Dee’ with an attitude your sixteen-year old self wishes she had and even ‘There Are Worse Things I Could Do’ goes as well as it could. But then ‘We Go Together’ has you paired up with Chris for the first time and it’s awkward, and stiff, and when Coy reminds you that Rizzo is no longer mad at Kenickie at this point, you just nod and try to put in some extra effort to make it seem like there’s nothing going on between you and Chris, wanting to get it over with. 

Coy doesn’t comment on it any further, but pulls you and Chris aside at the end of the day, when the rest of the group is dismissed after what Kelly, the choreographer, deems "A great day of work."

Both you and Chris are sitting on the edge of the stage, Coy standing in front of you, looking from one to the other and back, almost as if he’s studying you. He waves his hand around then, “What am I missing here?” 

You shrug and out of the corner of your eye you see Chris do the same. You can’t help but smile when you realize it’s still very much you two against the rest of the world, even now, even when you’re sort of fighting.  

“Fine,” Coy says with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, “you don’t have to tell me. I’m just sensing some history here that I hope won’t get in the way of your performance.” He looks up at you, “Don’t let this become about you two, ok? There are eight other people who deserve this to be a good show. So whatever it is, work it out.” And then, before you have a chance to respond, he walks away, muttering something that sounds like, “High school drama, man.”

Next to you, Chris sighs and looks at you, “Maybe he has a point.” 

“Hmm,” you shrug in a very non-committed kind of way. Your headache has reappeared, and you’re tired, and honestly, you just want to get back to your hotel room and take a quick nap.  

Chris seems unfazed by your attitude, like he always was, “We really should talk about it.” He jumps down from the stage, “Why don’t you come over? We could get some takeout and, I don’t know,-’

“Chris,” you scoff.

“You rather do this here?” He raises his eyebrows and nods towards the camera on your left, which, no doubt, is still rolling.

“I’d rather not do this at all right now,” you mutter quietly, although you know it’s not fair. A little louder then, “I’m having dinner with Nicole tonight, so-"

He just nods, “Fine,” even though his jaw sets in a way that tells you it’s anything but.

“Come in, come in!” Nicole steps aside to let you pass and tells you to walk straight ahead to the kitchen, where you are greeted by the rest of her family. Her husband introduces himself as Keith and tells you it’s great to finally meet you, before he points at the two little boys sitting at the table, “That’s Leo, and the other hooligan’s Robby.”

“I’m five!” Leo exclaims proudly, holding up four fingers.

You chuckle, “That’s awesome!” 

“The boys wanted you to sit in between them,” Nicole says from somewhere behind you, “hope you don’t mind?”

“Are you kidding me?” You wink at Robby, who looks at you expectantly, “Best seat in the house.” 

Dinner is spent catching up with Nicole, or trying to anyway, because Leo and Robby keep interrupting, wanting to tell you about anything and everything they deem important enough to share. Which, as it turns out, is a lot. After dessert, Nicole asks Keith to take the kids into the living room, because, as she puts it, “Mama needs some peace and quiet,” and so you find yourself, glass of wine in hand, on the back porch not much later. 

“You have a gorgeous family, Nic,” you tell her before you take a sip of your wine. “It’s really nice to finally get to meet them.” 

“Thank you.” A mischievous smile then, “So. You wanna tell me what’s going on between you and Evans?”

Never one to beat around the bush, you think and laugh, “Nothing’s going on, Nic.”

“Uhu,” is all she says in reply, folding her arms in front of her chest as she keeps looking at you, one eyebrow raised for good measure. 

You just shake your head but her looking at you like that makes you a little nervous and so, against better judgement you offer, “It’s complicated.”

“Uhu,”

“It is,” you reply, your voice suddenly an octave higher. You hesitate for a moment, but then you figure she knows most of it already anyway, and so you turn in your seat so you can face her, “You know I haven’t spoken to him since we broke up, Nic, and I don’t know it’s- It’s weird.”

She nods, encouraging you to go on.

You sigh and rub your temple, “Eighteen years is a long time, Nic.” 

“It is,” she agrees, “but maybe it’s time to bury the hatchet and at least try to be friends?” Her eyes grow kinder then, “You were always so good together.”

“I don’t know, I mean- And I know I keep saying this,” you hold up your hand when she starts to protest, “but it’s been such a long time. So much has happened. And none of it we went through together, you know? Does that even make sense?” You shrug and shake your head, “I guess our history together is both a blessing and a curse at this point.”

“You need to get out of your head, kid,” she offers with a stern look. “You’re setting this up for failure before it has even started.”

“This?” 

“Oh come on,” she shakes her head, “don’t tell me it never crossed your mind.” She sits up, “I’m going to ask you something and you need to swear on Bubbles’ life that you won’t give me some bullshit answer.” 

“Nicole,” you gasp, hand to your heart in pretend shock, but laughing at the same time. “You want me to swear on Mrs Linton’s dead goldfish? That’s fu-” but then you hear the french doors open and see two little boys running towards and so you have to adjust quickly and throw her a look for good measure, “-funny. Super funny. Funny haha. You’re funny.”

Nicole lets out a laugh and throws you a wink before she holds out her arms and smothers her two boys in kisses once they jump onto her lap, “Goodnight my little rebels, I love you.”

A chorus of “I love you, mama,” makes you smile and you watch the boys run back inside where they give you a quick wave from behind the door before they disappear upstairs. 

“So?” Nicole asks, as if nothing ever happened.

You glare at her, knowing she’ll never let it go, “Fine.” 

“Would you have come back to Sudbury to do this show if it weren’t for Chris?” 

You let your bottom lip roll between your teeth while you contemplate your reply, but of course you know the answer already. It wasn’t just for shits and giggles that you searched all the gossip sites for any information on his relationship status when you first agreed to do this. And so you shake your head, “No.” 

“You know I told Keith I wasn’t sure you’d even come back, right?” Nicole shakes her head, “After all you’ve been through after you and Chris- You know-”

“Yeah,”

“I still have all your letters,” she confesses with a smile. “Every single one of them.”

“Nic-”

“It was my way of keeping you close,” she says and shrugs. She tries to act as if it’s no big deal, but her voice catches on the last word and when she tries to smile it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She clears her throat, “I’m just glad to have you back.”

They’ve replaced the coffee machine in your room while you were out yesterday and so there’s no running towards the theater room once you make it to Lincoln-Sudbury this morning. You walk through the hallways at a leisurely pace, enjoying how much everything still looks the same, down to the blue color of the lockers lining the wall. 

You’re actually a little early and so you’re one of the first to arrive, only finding Johnny and Michael on stage. Michael insists you give the secret handshake another go and you can’t help but laugh when you nail it on the first try this time. 

Johnny gently pats your back, “It’s really good to have you back, kid.” He runs a hand through his hair, letting it rest at the base of his neck and looking a little flustered, “We always wondered what happened to you, you know, after you and Chris broke up and you left Sudbury-” 

“Thanks, Johnny,” you reply with a smile, “that means a lot.” 

“But you’ve been good?” Michael asks.

You nod, “I am now. It’s good to be back.” 

The door opens then and you see Chris and Jessica walk in together, Jessica telling him something that makes him laugh and all of a sudden you feel a pang of jealousy that you’re not necessarily proud of. You try to get back into the conversation with Michael and Johnny, but they’re talking about last night’s football game and so you just stand there, trying your hardest not to stare as Chris and Jessica step onto the stage. Before it can get awkward though, the rest of the group walks in and so all of a sudden there are nine people surrounding you and your attention is diverted elsewhere. 

Nicole waves at you from the other side of the stage and you smile back at her, mouthing a, “Morning,” at her.

Coy, Adam, and Kelly walk in next, followed by the ensemble, and not much later you find yourself reciting your lines over and over again because Coy wants to do a complete runthrough of the show this afternoon to prepare for the two dress rehearsals planned for tomorrow.

You find Chris on the side of the stage in between scenes and stand beside him, not saying anything because you’re so nervous you don’t even trust your own voice right now. But, you promised Nicole you’d do this, promised her you would try to make things right, and so here you are, reaching for his hand, your finger’s brushing against his skin before you gently tap the inside of his wrist four times. Tap-tap-tap-tap.

Meet me after practice

It’s been nineteen years since either of you last used this shorthand, but he must remember what it means because he nods in reply. 

You wait for him in what used to be your usual spot, all the way in the back of the parking lot where there’s a bench tucked away in the tree line. It’s been a while since you were dismissed by Coy and you worry he might not show up making your stomach turn. 

Letting your eyes fall to the ground you distract yourself by trying to get your breathing under control, hoping it will help you calm your nerves. When you look up again you can’t help but smile, because there he is, walking towards you and looking just as nervous as you feel, “Hi,”

“Hey,”

“Listen, Chris-” you start, just as he says something that you don’t quite catch. He nods for you to go first and so you clear your throat and start again, “You were right. We should talk-”

“Come again?” He grins, “Did you just tell me I’m right, Ace?” 

You stare at him, shaking your head, but there’s a smile playing on your lips because this is the best response you could have gotten and so you shrug, “I guess I did.” 

“I guess you did,” he echoes. A little more serious then, “What do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, because honestly you didn’t think this far ahead, “maybe grab a bite to eat somewhere?”

He smiles apologetically, “I have somewhere I need to be tonight, but why don’t we do this tomorrow? That way we can both think things over a little and-”

“I’d like that,” you admit easily. 

“You want to come over to my place or should I book a table somewhere?”

Biting your lip you weigh the pros and cons, quickly realizing you much rather have this conversation in the privacy of his home than somewhere in a restaurant and so you nod, “I’ll come over.” You give him your phone number and watch as he saves it in his phone, smiling when he puts you in as ‘Ace’.

He pockets his phone when he’s done, “So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah,” you nod. It’s a little awkward then and so you turn around, a quick wave over your shoulder to tell him goodbye.

You hear your name being called from somewhere behind you when you walk from your car to the entrance of the school and can’t help but smile when you see Nicole hurry to catch up with you. You kiss her cheek once she joins you, “Morning.” 

“Hi, gorgeous,” she beams back, “you excited about today or what?”

“Dress rehearsal?” You shrug, “Yeah, I guess.” 

“Uhu,” 

You raise your eyebrows and look at her as you push the double door leading into the building open, unsure if she’s saying what you think she’s saying. You shake your head when she starts laughing, “How do you even know?”

“I didn’t,” she holds up her hands to let you know she’s telling the truth, “but I saw you in the parking lot together after practice yesterday and I just figured, you know, maybe you kept your word about wanting to work things out with him. And then you totally gave it away just now, so-”

“I hate you,” you mutter quietly as you pick up your pace.

“You love me,” she counters, easily catching up with you. “And you’re going to tell me exactly what you’ve got planned for tonight.” 

Like he promised, Coy wants you to run through the entire show at least twice today, choreography, outfits changes and all, and so you take your place, not particularly looking forward to all the dancing. The first half of the show goes as well as it could, although Johnny keeps forgetting his lines, and Jessica takes too long whenever she has to do an outfit change, and ok, fine, you mess up the choreography more than you care to admit too. 

When you finally get to the part right before intermission, where you and Chris have to make out for at least two minutes, Nicole is quick to inform Coy that you never rehearsed that scene when you first performed the show, and wouldn’t it be great if you didn’t do it this time around either? Coy seems interested as to why and so Nicole gives him an abridged version, and to your surprise he quickly agrees to skip the scene until the show tomorrow, because, as he reasons, it will add some drama. 

A quick glance at Chris earns you a wink from him and you know he’s probably just as relieved as you are. 

You find Nicole in the dressing room not much later, where she’s getting fitted for her Frenchy wig and when you walk up to her all you say is, “Thank you.”

She nods in response, “Of course.”

At the end of the day you’ve run through the show almost three times and Coy seems somewhat confident that you’ll manage to pull it off tomorrow. He has some kind words for everyone and tells you all to get a good night’s sleep and to meet back again here tomorrow afternoon at five, for a last dinner together. 

Chris texts you his address after practice and tells you he’ll have dinner ready around seven, with a smiley face at the end that lets you know he’s just as nervous about this as you are. It’s funny how easily you can still read him after all these years, you think, as you connect your phone to its charger before you hop in the shower. 

Your outfit of choice is simple and not too dressed up, but still nice enough for whatever this is. Definitely not a date, you think, but then again, maybe it is. You grab your phone and purse before you head out, nerves suddenly taking over and for a moment you wonder if you should just cancel. You’re going back to Philadelphia on Sunday anyway, so maybe it’s better to just leave things the way they are, you reason. You give yourself a very stern talking to then, because you can’t keep running away from this. You’ve been doing that for the past eighteen years and look where that’s gotten you. No, time to get some closure, you decide as you close your hotel room door behind you and head downstairs to your car.

You pull up to a heavy iron gate about fifteen minutes later, only the roof of his house visible from the road. Pushing the call button you tap your steering wheel to the beat of the song that’s playing on the radio until he answers with a kind, “Hi.”

“Hey,” you reply with a smile and watch as the gate opens in front of you. After about half a mile the house comes into full view and you let out a quiet, “Wow,” because it really is a beautiful farmhouse. You park your car next to his not much later and just as you step outside his front door opens and a dog comes running towards you. 

“Dodger, sit,” Chris says from where he’s standing on the front porch and the dog does as it's told.

“Hi cutie,” you say as you walk up to the dog and scratch behind its ears, “hi.” It gives you a moment to take a deep breath, because you’re so nervous it feels like there are hundreds of butterflies fluttering around in your stomach right now. 

Dodger runs back to Chris then and so you follow him, meeting Chris on the steps, where he holds out his arm and pulls you in for a side hug, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“Chris,” you protest quietly, although you don’t really want him to let go either. 

“I know,” he whispers, “I know. I’m just glad you’re here.” He lets go then and motions for you to follow him inside. He leads you through the house to the kitchen, where the opened French doors reveal a large deck where a table has been set for two. 

“Come on,” he says and walks outside where he pulls out a chair for you, “sit down. I’ll be right back.” 

You watch him walk back into the kitchen, curious to find out what he’s up to but then Dodger sits down next to you and gently puts his paw on your knee to let you know he’d like some more scratches, thank you very much and so you don’t really see Chris come back with two glasses of champagne until he puts one down in front of you. 

He sits down on the opposite side of the table before he raises his glass and smiles, “It’s good to have you back.” 

“Yeah,” you reply, before you clink your glass against his and take a sip. 

Dinner’s a little awkward, both of you not quite ready to stray away from the small talk and so you mostly just tell him what you’ve been up to these past eighteen years, albeit it a slightly abridged version. No need to tell him about how you’ve never really seemed to have been able to find your place in the world and still feel like an outsider everywhere you go just yet. 

He tells you about his career, how much everything has changed once he agreed to play Captain America, and how he secretly would like to do more behind the camera from now on. Maybe step away from the spotlight a little because he still gets these bouts of anxiety and your heart goes out to him because you remember how much he struggled in high school. 

To lighten the mood you tease him about doing this show because it seems so small in comparison to what he’s been doing, but he assures you he never even had to think about it when they asked him to take part. 

“I’m guessing you were a little more hesitant?” 

You nod, “I was.” 

He doesn’t push it any further and you’re grateful for that. 

You offer to help him clear the plates after he suggests to maybe move things inside because it’s getting colder. It takes two trips to the kitchen to clear the table and once again you compliment him on the amazing pasta dish he tells you he made from scratch. You believe him, only because you know his mother taught him well and you fondly remember her cooking. 

He tells you to make yourself at home while he clears away the last things and so you find yourself in his living room, smiling when you see the wall filled with family pictures. Most of them are recent, but there’s one of him and his brother Scott that you know for a fact was taken at his parents’ house right before Chris’ Senior prom. You know this because you were the one that took it. And because you were his date.

“That was a good night,” 

You look over your shoulder to see him walk towards you, holding a glass of whiskey in each hand, and can’t help but smile, “It was.” 

He hands you one of the glasses and touches it with his then, “To all the good memories.”

“Chris-” 

“I know,” he says, “but it wasn’t all bad, Ace.” 

“No, it wasn’t,” you agree easily. “It was good, Chris, right up until the very end.” 

“Yeah, about that-” He clears his throat before he speaks again, “I just want you to know that I’m sorry. For everything.” 

You want to tell him that it’s ok, that it was no big deal, that maybe you overreacted at the time, but you guess you both know that’s not true and so you just say, “Thank you.” 

He nods.

You take a sip of your drink then, relishing in the way it burns your throat, as a welcome distraction to the tears that have started to form in your eyes. You let your gaze drift back to the same picture when you say, “I wish you would have just told me.”

He lowers his head, “I know.”

“That’s what hurt me the most,” you swallow back a fresh set of tears. “Because it wasn’t so much that you couldn’t make it to my Senior prom, I mean, I understood working on your first movie was more important at the time but- To find out you were at some random B-list celebrity’s party- And not because you told me, but because someone shoved a magazine with your picture in it under my nose-” you shake your head trying to rid yourself of the memories, but failing -��draped over some girl.” You lift your glass and put it to your lips, fully intending to finish whatever’s left in one go. 

He starts to say something but you hold up one finger to let him know you’re not done yet. A tear rolls down your cheek and you’re not sure if it’s because of the whiskey or because of everything else, but it doesn’t really matter anyway. There’s something you have to admit, “Maybe I should have reacted differently, or at least given you a chance to explain, but I-” a sob escapes you then, “I was so angry. So hurt. For me breaking up right then and there was the only thing that made sense.” Another tear spills over but you don’t even try to wipe it away, knowing more will follow soon. Instead you let out a humourless laugh, “But then suddenly every single thing in Sudbury reminded me of you and every memory was like a knife to the heart, and so I had to- I just had to leave.” 

He nods and from the corner of your eye you see him run a hand through his hair. 

“Turns out it hurt all the same no matter where I was,” you continue softly, “but it took me years to figure that out.” You clear your throat, trying to find the right words. Yes, it still hurts, but maybe it’s time to let the past be the past. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry too, Chris. I should have-”

“Don’t,” he says, his voice kind. “There are a lot of things we both could have done differently, but we were still so young and, I don’t know, I think we both did what we thought was best. We can’t change what happened,” he turns towards you, “and I don’t want to make excuses for what I did, because,” he clears his throat, “it would be far too little, far too late.” He lowers his eyes, “All I know is that it’s been eighteen years and there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of you.”

“Chris-”

He looks back up at you and smiles, “It’s my turn now, Ace.” A hand on your arm then, his touch soft and a gentle squeeze to let you know what he’s going to say next is important, “I know there’s still a lot left unsaid, but we’ll get there, eventually. And this might sound crazy, and I’m not saying we should forget what happened but, I don’t know, maybe we could try to start over and just see where it leads us. What do we have to lose?” 

You let the weight of his words sink in, wondering if you are able to just forgive and forget this easily. It’s then you remember admitting to Nicole that you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Chris and the possibility to get some closure and so you agree with a quiet, “I’d like that.” 

He seems a little unsure of himself then, so you put down your glass and take his hands in yours, draping them over your shoulders before you wrap your arms around his waist. He holds you tight, presses a soft kiss to your temple that feels maybe like the most intimate thing he’s ever done, and quietly whispers, “I’ve missed you, Ace.”

He offers you his guest bedroom after another round of whiskey and some smalltalk, because somehow you’re both still hesitant to open up completely. It’s ok, you tell yourself, you’ll get there eventually and there’s no need to rush. You find yourself in the ensuite bathroom not much later, putting on one of his Patriots shirts to act as your pyjamas for the night. It’s all a bit surreal and you’re grateful you’re on the opposite side of the house, because it would be too weird otherwise, even though you know that doesn’t really make sense either. 

Sleep comes surprisingly easy once you’re under the covers and so the next thing you know there’s a knock on your door and for a moment you’re confused because this isn’t your hotel room. You hear his familiar chuckle on the other side then before he lets you know breakfast is ready if you’re up for it and it’s then you remember where you are. 

You take a quick shower before you make your way to the kitchen where you find him leaning against the counter top, enjoying a cup of coffee, Dodger at his feet. He pushes a full cup towards you and smiles at you from over his, “Morning.”

“Morning,” 

“Sleep well?”

“I did, yeah,” you admit, even though it still surprises you. You pick up the steaming hot cup and wrap your hands around it, the smell of freshly brewed coffee waking you up even more.

He motions to the kitchen island where there’s a plate of pastries, “I got you some Danish,” he almost looks embarrassed then, running a hand through his hair, “you used to like those, right?”

“I did.” You’re quick to correct yourself, “I do. Thank you.” 

“You got any plans for today?” 

You shrug, “Not really, maybe drive around a bit to do some sightseeing, you know, see how much has changed over the years.” You grab a pastry then and immediately Dodger’s attention shifts from Chris to you. 

“No,” Chris warns him and Dodger’s quick to lie down again. “Good boy.” He looks back at you, “Until when are you here?”

You’ve just taken a bite and so it takes a while before you answer, “I’m flying back on Sunday.”

“To?”

“To Philadelphia.”

He nods appreciatively, “That’s not too far.”

You spend a few hours driving around the area, thankful that he didn’t ask if he could come. You guess you both needed some time alone. 

The trip down memory lane is nice, but after a few stops you don’t really know where else to go and so you drive back to your hotel, where you have a few hours left until you need to get ready. You kick off your shoes once you’re inside your room and sit down on the tiny balcony before you fish your phone out of your back pocket and call Nicole, who picks up on the first ring. 

“Tell me everything!” 

“Hi Nicole, how are you,” you mock, but can’t help but laugh. “Lovely weather today, isn’t it? Are you excited for tonight?”

“I hate you,” 

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” she agrees, “but you better start talking, babe, or else.”

And so you do. You tell her about dinner, about the talk you and Chris had after, about how you spent the night, laughing when you hear her curse quietly after you’ve told her nothing happened, and how you and Chris agreed to start over. 

“Oh honey,” is all she says, but you know exactly what she means.

[sweetestlamb]

You Can’t Just Leave Me

Summary: The Han family is a force to be reckoned with. 

Author’s Note: Writing this chapter made me smile, I hope reading it as the same affect on you all. Thank you to everyone who supports this story and leaves comments (or my silent readers). I appreciate you all and I am so thankful that you like this brainchild, I’ve just been winging it- never expecting to be on chapter 7 on something I initially planned on being a one shot. You all made it come this far, enjoy chapter 7!! Beautiful header by @ewolfwitchwisegirl text message created by Junjin fairy @prodmina

The apartment is eerily quiet following Su-ah's departure, he hadn't intentionally tried to eavesdrop but it was hard not to overhear their sniffles through the door. Then hours later the usually bubbly girl had exited the room with red rimmed eyes, he'd never seen her cry before in his many years of knowing her. He was awkward in the face of it, not used to comforting anyone besides Ju-Kyeong. 

Their conversation was clipped and it was clear that Sujin hadn't opened up about what happened. The Su-ah he knew would be making plans to sabotage her father, if she knew the full story.  She'd left with the final words, "Take care of her." He nodded without hesitation that was his intentions, he just needed to get her onboard with his plan to do that.

Taking a deep soothing breath he walks over to knock on the door.

"Sujin-ah, can we talk?" He asks, pressing his head against the door. Ready to plead if need be, she hadn't been answering him since being here. He never saw her come outside, but the food he brought would just disappear hours after he placed it. He waits patiently before reaching out his knuckles to knock again, but when the door suddenly opens he takes a quick step back surprised to see Sujin's face. It's clear she's been crying. He looks away, it's a bit unsettling to see her like this. Too raw.

"Let's talk in the living room." He suggests quietly, stepping back and walking towards the couch. Nerves easing minutely as he hears her soft footsteps behind him. He slides into one corner of the couch and watches as she sits on the opposite end. An awkward silence bellows around them as he stares at his hands and she stares at the ceiling. They have both never been the most talkative on a good day, but now it’s painful. 

He clears his throat stilling when he feels her eyes on him, waiting. He had this speech planned in his head for days but now that the moment is actually here, he's terrified. Too nervous to say the words he wants to, does he even have the right to apologize to her now? Does she even want his late apology or will she brush him off? He wouldn't blame her one bit, it had taken him too long and he still hasn't even forgiven himself, how could he expect her to forgive him? 

"Thank you."

He almost misses the quiet utterance because he's so lost in his own self deprecation. They are staring at each other now eyes locked, his own wide in bewilderment.

"What?" He responds caught off guard, he didn't expect Sujin to speak at all-much less for those to be her first words.

"You heard me. Thank you for letting me stay here and for not pressuring me to talk about it."  Sujin awkwardly squirms in her seat, glancing away from him before darting back and she gives him the courage to finally saw what he wanted- no needed to.

"I'm sorry." It's his turn to watch the shock form on her face but he presses on before she can question him. "I'm sorry I wasn't there, I knew what was happening but I didn't know how to help. I understand now that just being there would have been enough, you just needed a friend. I'm sorry I wasn't one."

A slight weight lifts off his shoulder and his heart, he's not free but he's one step closer. One step at a time.

"You didn't do anything wrong. We were just kids, what could you have done? It's okay, I never expected you to save me. How could you when you were dealing with your own pain?"

She's giving him an out, and logically she's right the pain of losing his mother crippled him for years. It was still weighing heavy on him to this day but he doesn't want an out, he wants to be accountable. He would rather her rage than her understanding.

"I know you didn't need a savior, but you needed a friend. Am I wrong? Were you okay dealing with everything on your own?" It's a low blow he's aware and the way her eyes narrow further confirm that his question isn't appreciated.

"Am I wrong?" He repeats and watches as the ice around her eyes melt away glacially, too many emotions flashing in her dark orbs- anger, sadness, disappointment, broken acceptance each emotion cutting at his heart.

Leaning forward he grabs at the folder on the table, he's already come this far might as well go all the way now.

"Here." He hands it to her, she raises an eyebrow taking the thick object. "Open it," he nods at the folder watching quietly as she breaks the seal and pulls out the documents, eyes scanning the papers before realization settles.

"Emancipation?" She whispers, now staring at him unblinking he can feel the heft of her undivided attention.

"Yes, we've been doing research and I think the best bet is for you to get emancipated." He winces at himself as she glares at the use of "we", he should have left that out with how distant they've been; she didn't even know that Seojun was the one providing the meals she seemed to love. She might stop eating them if she knew, she was so stubborn sometimes. 

She leaf's through the pages, carefully looking over the document and he sits silently awaiting her reaction.

"He would never allow this. You know that." It's said with certainty as if she's accepted her fate long ago, probably thought of this very option herself and then talked herself out of it.

"I'm going to ask her father to help, he's been supporting your father all these years. If he knew the truth..." He trails off letting her finish the rest and she barks out a humorless laugh, it sounds more like a sob.

"You want to tell your father? They have known each other for years, why would he believe me?"

"He's my dad. He'll believe me. We have to at least try." He pleads now desperate for her agreement. It wasn’t the right thing to say, he knows that instantly. 

Instantly she stands up, slamming the documents on the table the ice restoring around her eyes. "I was fine all those years you were wrong.  I'm not doing this, I don't need your dad's help." She spits the word "dad" like it's poison on her tongue, storming off to the room and slamming the door shut.

He sighs, defeated leaning back onto the couch. He sends a text to his father and Seojun. He failed. 

💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄

Guilt eats at her following her outburst, she wasn't mad at Suho despite her harsh words. She can blame her anger on many things but she's self-aware enough to know that it's a defense mechanism; she was jealous. It was ugly and grotesque, but she cannot stop the way her blood boils when she sees others with parents that care. 

He's my father, he'll believe me.

That would never be her reality, Suho and his father had been able to reconcile and restart their broken relationship. That would never be her truth, her relationship with her father would never resemble something healthy and despite her efforts to repress her true feelings, it hurts. The little girl who desperately wanted to make her dad happy and proud still hadn't died.

She feels stupid, the biggest fool on the planet. How can she still be looking for love from someone who has never shown her anything but hatred? She’s the one with a problem here, she knows that. 

She shouldn't have lashed out especially after his apology, that must have taken true guts and she had thrown it all back in his face. She tries to make amends but every time they cross paths she freezes up and escapes to her borrowed room instead. It continues on for days with him still bringing food to her door and the combination of their kindness is too much for her. She doesn’t deserve it from either of them. 

Tugging on her jacket she leaves the apartment hastily with only a small note on her door. She needs some space to think without feeling suffocated.

Gone for a walk.

It's just her luck that it's raining outside, only a drizzle but it coats the world in a thick fog and it's hard to see. The biggest benefit is that nobody can see her, she just needs time alone to think. 

The idea of emancipation wasn't new to her, she had considered this option before but in the end she discarded it. Her father wasn't someone she would simply leave, he would drag her back kicking and screaming. He had instilled long ago that she was his, it was pointless to have dreams or aspirations, she just needed to follow his orders. That was her purpose. Being an obedient dog. 

Suho's plan also called for revealing her pitiful life, what if she went through this ordeal only to lose and not be given emancipation in the end? No. She couldn't make herself that vulnerable at least now she had her dignity, only two people knew about her secret. It might not be much to others, but her dignity was everything to her; it was all she had left.

Sighing loudly at the skies she mentally curses the weather, maybe it's poetic but all of her worst times have been bookmarked by the rain. It must be a metaphor for her life, damp and cold with no warmth in sight.

Stopping to sit on a bench she stares up at the gray skies before closing her eyes, accepting her fate. "Fine, rain on me. I probably deserve this." Cool raindrops roll down her cheeks imitating tears and she can feel the moisture seeping into her clothes and siphoning her heat.

"Unnie?" She jumps at the voice, sounding too close and she shifts away when she opens her eyes and is greeted by the large bespectacled eyes of Gowoon. The younger girl smiles sweetly, covering her with a pale blue umbrella with ice cream cones decorating it. It’s too innocent and too young the antithesis of everything in her life. 

"Unnie! What are you doing in the rain? You're getting wet!" Gowoon grabs her arm tugging her to her feet using her umbrella to shelter them both. She's shocked when she doesn't bristle at the unexpected and too familiar manhandling. She almost rolls her eyes, what was it with the Han family and finding her during rainstorms? 

"Come on, my house isn't far. I'll make you some soup so you don't catch a cold." The other girl doesn't wait for her reply before she starts pulling her down the sidewalk. She sputters but feels her feet following obediently.

"Oppa is working late, so he won't be there to bother us."

Her heart defiantly jumps at the mention of him, she hasn't seen him in a week. She has dozens of unsent messages to him, cowardice has rendered her fingers useless though. 

"That's good." She lies, "So it'll just be us two?" She's not quite ready to meet any other members of the Han family.

The other girl nods absently, easily easing them into a riveting conversation about a boy at school who won't leave her alone. She offers to beat him up if he keeps on bothering her to which Gowoon laughs gleefully before squealing, "You sound just like Seojun oppa!" She glares at the comparison watching entranced at the young girl's uncontrollable giggles. When was the last time she'd laughed so freely? She had no recollection.

Gowoon wasn't lying and within minutes she's staring at the apartment she's only seen once before. That feels like a lifetime ago.

She immediately regrets her inability to say no to persuasive girl later when they are greeted at the door.

"Gowoon, sweetie is that you?" A maternal voice calls out and she instantly recognizes it, stiffening in the doorway. Stepping back she starts thinking of excuses, but her tongue is too heavy in her mouth and she's too slow as the woman comes around the corner halting her escape. 

She blinks unhurried as the older woman gapes at her clearly not expecting to see anyone besides her daughter.

Gowoon breaks the silence, her voice nonchalant, "Hi mom! This is my unnie Sujin, she's the one who saved me the other day! Is it okay that I brought her here for dinner, I found her in the rain!" Gowoon makes it sound like she picked up a stray puppy outside, but she knows the other girl means no harm. 

Her skin prickles at the question, anxiety filling her stomach without her permission. She's waiting for rejection. For Gowoon’s mother to say that it is not okay and she would rather eat with her daughter without a stranger intruding. 

"Of course! I didn't realize it was the same Sujin." Gowoon looks confused by her mother's statement and she feels embarrassment swarming in her belly. Oh no. She has to stop her before she reveals too much, Gowoon knows nothing and she wants to keep it that way. 

"I didn't realize you knew Sujin too, isn't this Seojun's cru.."

"Classmate!" She suddenly interjects staring at the woman with pleading eyes, she's not ready for Gowoon to know about her brothers “feelings”. She's trying her best to forgot them too.

They both stare at her and she squirms under the scrutiny, before the older woman puts her out of her misery. "Yes, Seojun mentioned her before I didn't realize she was the same person that helped you. Thank you." She freezes as the woman embraces her hand, smiling at her warmly as she thanks her. She can only stare in response, nodding dumbly.

"Come on unnie! I'll get you some warm clothes, you'll catch a cold if you keep wearing those."

She lets herself be tugged into the younger girl’s room. Just like Gowoon the room is bright and vivacious, wall covered in posters and books littering her table. It looks completely normal and it makes her ache, her own room was militarily decorated with nothing out of place and no evidence of her personality. Since she was young her father would inspect it and punish her if anything was untoward. She had stopped trying to make the room look lived in after seeing poster after poster thrown down. 

"Here unnie. You can borrow this." Her eyes bulge at a familiar blue shirt with a puppy on the front. "I know it's so embarrassing but oppa got it for me, it's really warm though." In the end he'd gotten her to wear the ridiculous shirt, she reluctantly goes off to change into the top and leggings. They are the same baby blue hue, making the outfit look like a set. She's thankful the boy isn't here to see her.

"Well don't you look adorable?" Seojun's mom coos at her when she finally comes out of the bathroom, she desperately wants to disappear. The woman must notice her ruby cheeks because she turns with a smile calling out to her daughter, "Gowoon! Come help with dinner!"

Now changed too, into cactus pajamas the younger girl bounds out grabbing an apron and tying it behind her back.

"What are are we making?" She curiously peeks over her mom's shoulder. The air between the mother and daughter is comfortable, the two leaning into each other naturally as they discuss what to make for dinner. She observes with a heavy heart as Gowoon easily puts her head on her mom's shoulder and the woman strokes her cheek lovingly. Something inside her throbs in response.

"Do you want to help?"

Shaking her head to clear the longing she looks at their mom, who's looking back at her with soft eyes already holding out another apron.

She can't control herself her yearning is too large, she stands without hesitation walking to the woman, sucking in a breath when the apron is placed over her shoulders and then tightened snuggly.

"We're making wonton soup. Have you ever made dumplings before sweetie?"

She looks at Gowoon waiting for her reply but then realizes that both pair of eyes are on her and oh, she's talking to her. She called her sweetie. Swallowing thickly she shakes her head before replying, "No. I've never made them before." She waits to be berated or at least chastised for her lack of culinary skills, her father always said a woman's place was in the kitchen.

Nothing happens. The woman hums before smiling again, she's always smiling it's so pretty. She wishes she had the courage to say the words aloud. She doesn't.

"You can help Gowoon chop the vegetables for the filling. Then we can mix it with the ground pork and I'll show you how to make the dumplings." If the woman is disappointed at all at having to teach her she's doing an incredible job of concealing her frustrations.

She accepts the knife when Gowoon hands it to her, both of them working on a wooden cutting board. They've gotten into somewhat of a rhythm slicing the chives and carrots finely for the filling. She'd never chopped vegetables before but their mom had casually stood behind her shocking her so much she almost dropped the knife, but the older woman had easily caught the utensil before holding her hand and manually showing her how to tuck her fingers and mince the vegetables. She froze before imitating the woman, she was good at replicating acts.

"That looks great sweetie! You're a fast learner!" The woman praised her turning back to the broth and adding more seasoning liberally. She preened under the attention smiling shyly before Gowoon shouted out loudly, "What about me mom? How do mine look?" They both looked at the younger girl's unevenly chopped chives and carrots, next to Sujin's perfectly identical veggies all in an even row. The difference between the two is stark. 

"They look fine dear, they'll be hidden in the dumplings anyway." Her mother tries to soothe her ego, patting her shoulder before turning back to her soup dismissively and a burst of laughter explodes from her chest at the offended look on Gowoon's face, her cheeks are red and her mouth is turned down in an exaggerated frown. The younger girl looks positively livid that her mother is not similarly singing her praises and she starts to defiantly chop more vegetables, only to have them come out even worst; even more lopsided and haggard. 

She tries to tamper her laugh but when the younger girl starts whining, crying about how her veggies were “cousins not siblings” she loses it, clutching at the counter for balance. She feels the air bursting from her lungs as she clutches at her stomach, laughing harder when Gowoon glares at her pout on her lips. The older woman joins her rubbing her daughter's back as she cries about her dignity, and then Gowoon looks at them both laughing at her and a smile spreads on her face and soon they are all laughing in the kitchen, soup bubbling beside them as a delicious aroma permeates the room.

None of them hear the front door opening or a deep voice announcing its arrival.

💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄

He's cold, tired and wet. Once again missing the forecast for rain, he really needed to start carrying an umbrella around all the time. What was up with the weather lately anyway? Why was it raining all the damn time?  He absently thinks of a certain someone and hopes she's somewhere warm out of the rain. They always seemed to meet when the sky was pouring and raging. 

It was hard not contacting her but he wanted to listen to her requests and respect her wishes no matter how hard it was for him, it was also getting pathetic being the only one fighting for this. She hadn't outright rejected him after his confession but her silence was an answer in itself and he wanted to respect that. He wasn't too manly to admit that he was hurt, and he was reeling from being pushed away so many times already.

So he followed his mother's advice, he'd given her something that he knew she needed and expected nothing in return.

All week he'd been waking up early to cook for the girl, reading recipes off his phone  fluffy cat headband on his head keeping his fringe out of his eyes. The easier recipes like soup and grilled meats had been simple enough to accomplish but when he ventured into more complicated bento boxes that's when frustrations had arose. They looked so easy but they were tedious and he wasn’t the most patient or detail oriented person. 

He struggled to recreate the detailed meals and almost gave up,  throwing his phone across the room.

That's how his mother had found him, fuming and tugging his hair on the kitchen table. Seconds away from bashing his head into the surface and screaming at the ceiling. 

"What are you doing up so early?" He jumped at her voice, looking around at the mess he'd made in the kitchen with wide guilty eyes.

"I-I can explain." He stuttered out but couldn't come up with a feasible answer once she looked at him expectantly, arms folded. The patented mom stare. 

She had calmly walked across the room picking up his discarded phone, peering at the screen before looking back at him.

"Is this for your friend?" She shook the phone at him knowingly and he pressed his lips tight together, nodding mutely while looking away.

"Okay let's see what you have so far." His mom walked over and assessed what he had already made, nodding with a proud smile. "You did good so far, let me show you how to make a hotdog into an octopus. I did this for you all the time when you were a kid."

He was grateful when she didn't ask him any questions and it became their morning ritual, until he no longer needed guidance and he was able to make the boxes on his own. The satisfaction he felt when Suho would return the containers, clean as a whistle not even a grain of rice remaining was incomparable. It wasn't much but at least she was eating, that was all he needed even if she didn't want to see him or know that he was the one making her meals.

He sighs at himself, he told himself not to think about her but that was proving easier said than done.

Shaking himself at the front door like a wet dog, he tugs his keys from the back pocket of his jeans slotting it on the doorknob and turning.

"I'm home!" He calls out instinctively announcing his arrival as he toes off his drenched boots, but then his eyebrow lifts as he hears peals of laughter coming from the kitchen. He chuckles without knowing the joke, instantly rejuvenated by his family's abundant joy. Slipping on his slippers after hesitating a second because he doesn't recognize the shoe at the front door. When did Gowoon get those and how the hell was his little sister affording Chanel sneakers?

Those thoughts are swarming in his mind when he stomps to the kitchen, all the air sucked from his lungs when he sees an unbelievable vision. His mother and sister are grasping at each other, lost in laughter completely unaware of his presence but the image that most shocks him is Sujin, holding her stomach as she spots something on the counter that sets her off into another bout of boisterous laughter.

He can't help it he starts to categorize her every move, the way her eyes are crinkled and a stray tear is leaking out the corner, the way her nose is scrunched up like a rabbit and the way her mouth is stretched wide, visible even behind the futile shield of her hand. All of his thoughts from earlier regarding not needing to see her dissipate, he wants to tattoo this image in his mind.

"Oh! You're here!" His mother suddenly turns to face him and that causes Sujin to freeze laughter fading off with a whine, regarding him with huge bright eyes. It's almost too much once he notices what she's wearing, he wasn't prepared to see her like this in his house. It's overwhelming in the best way.

"I'm home. I'll go change and come help." Both his mother and Gowoon nod easily no longer paying him any mind but he can feel eyes on him as he runs away, trying to regain his composure and his breath. He purposely avoids Sujin's eyes not ready to see if the walls are back up at his arrival.

When he comes back out the table is already set and they've all taken a seat, the only available chair is between his mom and Sujin, so he takes a calming breath before walking over with fake confidence. He’s used to faking it until he makes it. That could be the name of his biography. 

He answers his family's questions about work and school blowing on the soup before taking a bite of the slightly lopsided dumpling. What it's lacking in appearance it more than makes up for in flavor, he groans at the delicious flavor that dances on his taste buds looking up excitedly at his mom.

"These dumplings are delicious! Thank you for the meal!" He praises his mom, happily chewing at the soft delicacy in his mouth.

"Thank you Junnie, but I didn't make the dumplings. They worked on the filling together but Sujin-ah seasoned and filled the dumplings while I made the broth and your sister helped with the side dishes." His mother smiles proudly over at the two girls, Gowoon beaming with pride but Sujin, almost disappears into her soup her head so close to the steaming hot bowl.

They haven’t said anything to each other and he's nervous to be the one to break this stalemate but he also really wants to talk to her, has wanted to since he stepped through the door and saw her smiling face. Has wanted to since that night he stormed out and didn't look back. So finally he does, gathering all his bravery to finally look over at her.

"The dumplings are great." And when she doesn't look up or seemingly react at all, he tells himself he's fine and he expected that. She wasn't ready to talk to him yet, it was his own fault for hoping when she'd explicitly told him to stop doing that.

So he goes back to eating, more lethargic than before eyes locked on nothing but his food and his spoon. It was embarrassing. He knows his cheeks are pink and he hates it.

"Thank you. I just followed your mom's directions. It was nothing."

He pauses, peeking up at her and almost choking when she shoots him a small smile before filling her bowl with more rice.

His heart thumps in his chest. Fuck.

He doesn't hear anything else the rest of the meal, too lost in his thoughts and it's only familiarity that has him standing up when everyone is finished, collecting the plates and bringing them to the sink.

"It's almost time for Sunbae, don’t wear those high heels!!" Gowoon shouts, he cringes at the name of the new drama they've been obsessively watching, he'd only tuned in one time before flabbergasted by the exorbitant amount of times the female protagonist had fallen into the arms of various men but especially the male lead. She fell off a balcony into his arms that time, with neither of them needing to be admitted to the hospital somehow. His mother and Gowoon had both hushed him when he'd voiced that particular opinion and he had happily banished himself to his room.

"Oh no, I'm going to miss it because I'm washing the dishes." He replies deadpan as his sister rolls her eyes dramatically at him, "Whatever it's your loss. Let's go I want to see if she's going to choose the sweet bad boy or the cold cute guy!"

He scoffs at the cliché characterizations scrubbing harder at the plate.

"Come on unnie!" Sujin gasps as she's tugged to the living room too, glancing over he sees his little sister place her in the middle of the couch sandwiched between her and his mother. Sujin looks overwhelmed as Gowoon animatedly tries to catch her up on the series. He shakes his head, maybe the show wasn't that bad. He could watch a few minutes with them.

He strolls casually to the living room, easing onto the ground beside his mother's legs after all the dishes are clean and drying.

"What are you doing here? I thought you despised this "cringey" show?" He leans his head back, sighing when his mother eases her fingers into his hair scratching at his scalp and he sighs content in her lap.

"I do. But it's too early to sleep so I have no choice but to watch this crap."

"Mom! He said crap!"

"Watch your language."

His mother scolds him immediately and Gowoon sticks out her tongue at him vindicated because he got in trouble and immaturely he does it back, tugging off her sock much to her chagrin, dodging her when she tries to kick him.

Sujin looks back and forth between them both before discretely looking at their mother, she seems shocked when all the woman does is chuckle and say, "Children please. Do I need to remind you that we have a guest?" He looks away bashfully not wanting to look childish in front of Sujin, he hadn't thought about that. That makes them settle down and he finally looks at the TV, groaning loudly when low and behold the heroine is falling again, tripping over a candy wrapper on the ground.

"She falls a lot. She should probably wear protective gear." Sujin says breaking their new silence and he chuckles at her observation, happy that someone agrees with him, excitedly he turns to her "Right! Last time she fell off a balcony!" He shouts in disbelief and suddenly they're all arguing about the feasibility of someone surviving that. His mother shaking her head fondly at them, choosing to say out of it which makes Gowoon pout because she's outnumbered.

"Okay who would you choose Unnie, the tsundere type or the bad boy with a heart of gold?" Suddenly he's very invested in her answer, he tries not to react staring at the ceiling and breathing evenly but inside his heart is thundering ready to pound out of his chest.

A few seconds drag on and he wonders if she's not going to answer, he doesn't even know why he cares so much but curiously is gripping at him. He knows that this doesn't mean anything necessarily and he's not getting his hopes up but--

"The sweet guy. He just looks like a bad boy but he's sweet to her, he never says anything mean to her. That would be nice." She answers, trailing off at the end and he hears Gowoon instantly disagreeing saying the other guy is way better, but he can barely hear his sister over the thumping of his heart in his ears, he can't help the wide smile that spreads on his face. 

He turns to hide it in his mom's lap.

It doesn't leave his face the rest of the night.

💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄

It's getting late, she knows that it's time for her to take her leave she's been imposing on them for too long but....she doesn't want to. She doesn't want to leave, they are so warm. She's never seen a family like this outside of television shows, how was it possible that this was their real life? How could they have a mother who was that loving? Everything they did was greeted with fond exasperation, where was the reprimanding or cold backhanded words that cut like a knife?

She'd even treated her kindly, calling her sweetie more than she said her name. And she got used to it similar to how she'd gotten used to Seojun calling her princess, she knew she should fight it but she didn't want to. She was ashamed to say she liked it. 

She tries to soak it up for as long as she can before she says reluctantly, "I should probably go. it's getting late." Then she watches in a daze as the woman races off before returning with containers stacked and tied in a bag.

Before she can argue or refuse their mom is already shaking her head, "You made this so it's only right that you take it home. I won't take no for an answer." At this point that should have been the Han family motto she thinks fondly. But she accepts the food, bowing in gratitude at the simple act of kindness.

"Unnie, can I have your number? I just realized I don't have it and we're so close!" Gowoon thrusts her phone out with two hands, giving her the biggest puppy eyes she's ever seen. Without a word she accepts the phone, punching in her number before handing it back. She hadn’t realized the girl considered them close, but she finds that she doesn’t mind it at all. 

"Thank you! I'll text you so you can have my number too." The younger girl dances in celebration before grabbing her in a hug, she awkwardly pats her on the back once before she's finally set free. They're all so naturally affectionate and she's not the least bit accustomed to it, used to harsh words and slaps instead of praises and hugs.

"Get home safely sweetie. Junnie! Where did you go? Come walk her home!" She rushes to say it's okay she doesn't need an escort home, she's fine walking by herself it truly wasn't that far it turned out. But Seojun comes out of his room, changed again with a coat on and a beanie. Walking over to them he thrusts a sweater at her, when she looks blankly he replies sounding defensive, "It's probably colder now. Put this on too." He pushes it at her again firmer and she grabs it, gasping when their fingers brush.

It's a thick dark green sweater with fleece lining the interior and it smells just like his earthy cologne, she wants to give it back. Instead she puts it on over her borrowed long sleeve shirt from Suho and feels like a child playing dress up when it reaches the bottom of her knees. She knows what he's thinking when he smirks at her, she wasn't short he was just a damn giant.

She takes off the slippers and slides back into her sneakers, thankful that they're dry now. She's distracted by Seojun's heat, he's so close to her putting on his own boots. So much so she nearly misses what his mother says, "Get home safely. Please come again soon, I need more maturity in this house." Seojun and Gowoon both shout affronted but all she can see is the genuine smile on her face, she finds herself nodding throat too thick for words. When she's pulled into another hug, this time she has to blink away tears arms still by her side. She’s vibrating from keeping her emotions contained. 

They are walking side by side, the sounds of the city filling the silence that would be present. Every once in a while their arms brush but he moves away after the third time and she feels cold, more so than when the wind blows.

They're getting closer to Suho's apartment and she's wrecking her brain to find something to say to him, knowing that the ball is in her court; it always has been. She's just terrified to swing her racket. What if she misses? Or trips and embarrasses herself? It was usually better to just do nothing then you wouldn't be disappointed.

With each step she loses more courage until they are standing in front of the building and she still hasn't said anything.

Coward.

They stand awkwardly looking at the building pointedly avoiding each other and she finally speaks, "Oh your sweater! Here you go." She says stupidly, not at all what she wanted to say but she starts to pull the sweater off to commit to her exclamation. However he steps back shaking his head at her.

"It's cold. Just wear it upstairs. I'll get it later from Suho, you won't have to see me again. Go up." He sounds deflated, nothing like the animated jokester she'd seen just minutes at his apartment. It aches that she's the one making him act this way.

Then he turns around after looking at her, all of the light drained from his eyes.

He takes three large steps, putting immeasurable space between them in no time and she knows that if she lets him walk away right now he might not come back and that's a gut wrenching thought that makes her chase after him.

Thoughtlessly, she grabs his arm halting his exit from her life.

"Wait!" She shouts, but at the first touch of her hand on his forearm he's already frozen, still in her arms. He doesn't turn around. She shoots him a silent mental thank you, even if it's not his intention it's much easier to say what's on her mind like this without him facing her and her feeling too open and vulnerable. 

"I know you're the one making me food." There was supposed to be a thank you somewhere in there but instead she ends up sounding accusatory, and he tenses instantly his arm tight in her grasp.

"I'll stop. I know you told me to leave you alone. I--just. There's no excuse. I'll stop."

His voice is strained and this is going all wrong already, she's ruining everything.

Letting go of his arm, she sidesteps and brazenly moves directly in front of him. She can't keep hiding from this. She needed to be vulnerable, that was the only way he could understand.

His eyes are wet.

She gasps at the sight, not expecting it and so jealous at his ability to just feel and be seen. She was always hiding from everything. 

"Don't."

He doesn't give her a chance to finish.

"Sujin. Let me go. I know already, I know it all. I can't like you, I shouldn't get my hopes up, I need to mind my business. I know it all!" He shouts, pain marring his face but she notices how he still tugs his arm free gently, still careful about harming her even while he’s breaking down. 

She doesn’t deserve this. 

This is all her fault she knows that to be an objective truth, but the way he throws her own words back at her makes her realize how cruel she'd been while trying to spare him. She hadn't spared anything, the pain in his eyes and voice makes that abundantly clear.

"Don't stop. Don't give up on me." She finishes, staring at him with her own wet eyes, tears prickling at them.

His shoulders sink as he stares at her, lost and hesitant. 

"I'm sorry. I’m sorry for saying those things to you.  I can't promise I won't push you away again. I'm...I'm fucked up Seojun-ah. I'm a fucking mess. But I want to stop, I don't want to push people away."

I don't want to push you away. But she’s still too much of a coward to say that out loud. 

"Sujin, what-what are you trying to say?" He looks at her with guarded eyes, not yet ready to believe the words coming out of her mouth.

"I want to be friends."

She watches him wrestle with her sentence, hurt being covered up by a façade and she's not obtuse, she knows that's not the answer he was hoping for. Knows he thinks she's friend zoning and clipping the wings of his feelings.

"That's all I can deal with right now. I have a lot to work on, I need to work on me." It may seem like a cop out, an excuse but it's the most honest she's ever been with herself, it's not that she doesn't like him she might- if the way her heart thumps when he’s around says anything- but more importantly she has realized that she doesn’t like herself.

"Right now." He repeats in awe, she blinks confused before realizing the implications of her words, she starts sputtering trying to backtrack but he's too quick beating her to the punch.

"I can do friends. For now." She blushes at the beaming smile on his face, his happiness over such a small acquiesce is too much. Why did he have to wear his heart so obviously on his sleeves?

They stand simply staring at each other. Locked in the moment.

She might need to remind her heart that they'd only agreed to be friends.

For now.

💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄

I don't like onions.

She doesn't know what possesses her to text him first, or what compels her to send that particular message. She starts googling if there's a way to unsend messages, instead finding stories from others regaling their own embarrassing messages and finding solace that she isn't alone in this feeling. 

She jumps when her phone vibrates. Slowly turning it over like it's a ticking bomb.

Of course you'd be a picky eater. Onions are good for you.

She rolls her eyes at the message, he was such a nagger.

It's not good if I don't enjoy it.

Alright princess, noted. No more onions. Are you okay with chicken teriyaki tomorrow?

She recalls the delicious chicken teriyaki he'd made for her just days ago, it was succulent and juicy and she'd fought Suho over it, reminding him that this was her food and she replies quickly.

Yes! Do you have more kimchi?

I do. I'll pack some.

She stares at the phone, in disbelief at the how easy it is to talk to him again, like there was an empty spot in her life, a Seojun shaped gap that was now filled once more. She wasn't fixed, she had meant what she told him; she couldn't examine her feelings for him yet. But she needed him in her life, he was there when she needed someone and now no one else would do.

I missed you.