#she probably plays up the incredulous expression with a scoff

[namakes]

Imagine being a merchant and Shiver Hohojiro, who you’re pretty sure you just saw pocket a fair chunk of change after selling some assorted junk, tells you your price is way too high and won’t leave until you basically have to give it to her for free

[yeeterthek33per]

Love it, Love you (Caitlin Foord x Reader)

A/n requested

Summary: You and Caitlin are filming for the disney matildas series.

---------

Slow motion scene of Caitlin bounding over to you on the sideline, hands grabbing your face, pressing your lips together after scoring against Spain. There's a soft flow of piano music over the top.

"Ya know, I don't think we ever really explained that one to the girl's either."

Caitlin chuckles softly and shakes her head in agreeing negativity. Both of you are sitting on the white couch in your house in London. You're tucked under her arm.

"Yeah, no, I don't think we'd told them at that point. So I think they kind of freaked out on us after the game."

You lean off the couch with a soft laugh, head in your hands, ruffling your hair slightly.

Caitlin shakes her head with a sigh.

"That's an understatement. Poor Steph, girl was getting bombarded as well. Not that she knew either. Cait and I were just sitting there while they all kind of just lost their minds. Steph looked utterly disappointed that we hadn't told her sooner."

"Your sister.. well."

You give Caitlin a look.

"My sister looked ready to deck you. Macca looked like she would probably have to hold her back and Sam just facepalmed and told the girls to cool it so we could actually answer. Tony didn't even bother sticking around for the whole debacle."

"Yeah, that was a tough one. I don't think Lans has been able to trust me properly since. I love the girl, but man does she hold a grudge."

You slap her on the shoulder with an eye roll.

"Excuse me, you forget you're engaged to her sister here. I imagine any protective older sister would be peaved about one of their best mates suddenly sidling up with their sibling. Also I'd like to point out you could very well still call that woman to help you bury a dead body and she would do so no questions asked. So I'd like to think she still trusts you very much thanks."

Cut to a video of Caitlin celebrating with Alanna after a brilliant header from the defender against Jamaica.

"Don't know if that makes it better, honestly. I'm afraid she'll stick me in my sleep one day."

Cut back to the couch, You give her a playful glare.

"Just because you copped the shovel talk from one of the tallest girls on the team, does not mean she'd actually murder you. At least not without prompting. I can't imagine she would kill you without you doing something first."

Caitlin just turns her head back to the camera with an incredulous look.

"Anyway, that was four days before our third anniversary. Literally two days before I proposed. I think Alanna might have been too late to stop it or you know, try to break us up. Ya know?"

You fake a cough into your balled hand, turning away slightly.

"What? Did she actually try? Oh my god, I swear I will kick her butt if she actually tried."

You whip your head around at her, a disbelieving laugh leaving your lips.

"Oh you'll kick her but will you? What happened to being terrified of her?"

Caitlin keeps her mouth shut and you tut softly, hand resting on her knee.

"That's what I thought. Yes she did try to forbid me from dating you, cinderella style and all. But after some convincing, she switched it up to reminding me that I could still dump you if I changed my mind and she wouldn't totally gut you afterwards."

Caitlin looks dead on into the lense, an unimpressed look of told-you-so playing on her expression. You burst out laughing at that.

"See what I have to deal with? Why did I agree to marry you again?"

You smack her on the chest, backhanded.

"You're the one that proposed doofus."

She just grins cheekily.

"Oh yeah, I did too. is it too late for a refund?"

You roll your eyes, and scoff.

"Give you 'refund'."

She rubs your shoulder, pecking you on the cheek.

"You love me."

"Debatable."

You receive puppy dog eyes in return and poke her nose, a resounding groan as you push her slightly, turning back to the camera again.

The video fades to black and shifts to a new scene between you.

---------

You're standing in your backyard watching Caitlin run around and play tug of war with Peach.

"I'm so proud of her, everything she does is just phenominal and I'm glad I got to be part of her journey. The moment I got the call from her saying she'd been considered for an Arsenal transfer, it was then I knew I would follow her anywhere."

Cut to footage of Caitlin scoring against Aston Villa.

Cut back to you looking at the brunette, with major heart eyes.

"We were only together for about a few weeks at that point, but having been close friends before then made it feel like longer. She wasn't one hundred percent in it, especially since she thought she'd be leaving me in Australia on my own since Alanna was about to transfer to tottenham too."

Footage switches to Alanna, in a Manchester City hoodie, sitting in her own living room.

"I felt weird, leaving my sister, we'd always been one for one, and this was the first time we'd properly been separated by ocean. She came with me to Orlando and before that, had stayed with our parents. We both got contracted for Sydney and just hadn't really separated after that. Though I was pretty chuffed to find out she was moving closer again, with my best friend at that."

Back to you in the backyard, Caitlin now sat beside you on an outdoor recliner.

"Surprised the hell out of me, getting that call from my manager, he was like, Y/n, I've got big news, Arsenal want you. I think I was so shocked I just laughed. I thought he was one crazy a****** for joking about that. What are the chances I get contracted by the exact same club as her within just weeks of each other. Surprised her too."

Caitlin puffs out a laugh.

"You didn't mention why though. Surprised because I just mopily walk into training, thinking about how to deal with the distance anxiety and just, in you walk, day thirteen of me being in London. 'Hey, sweetheart, how's your day been? Oh yeah by the way, I'm playing here now'."

"To be fair, It was meant to be a surprisez considering I basically had to schedule everything perfectly. Without Steph's help, because ya know, that would've been suspicious."

You lean your head on her shoulder, her hsnd comes up to run through your hair.

"Stephs face was pretty funny though, what are the chances three Aussies all get contracted within just weeks of each other. The older girls were all like 'what is jonas thinking?'. It's definitely been remarkable though, both of them are phenominal and they deserve every bit of everything we achieve with the gunners."

She looks down at you with a loving smile and you grin widely back up at her.

Footage of Steph and Caitlin's starting for Arsenal, standing in the lineup, your face new amongst the starters further down the line, right beside Leah Williamson.

"It was certainly something else. Being able to play with such big names at the time. Kim Little was one in particular that I'd been terrified of in that moment. How many times I'd seen Caitlin go head to head with her. Now I know her better though, she's just a big softy and she's got a soft spot for me, too."

Caitlin shakes her head.

"I think she means spoilt, this one can do no harm in the captains eyes. The baby of the team she likes to claim. Even though she's only like two years younger than me."

You protest.

"Twenty-three was pretty young, obviously not the youngest on the team, but it's not like I was pushing thirty already, jesus."

Caitlin gets an offended look on her face.

"Excuse you, thirty is not even that old. 'Pushing thirty already' you're twenty-six, thats not far from thirty thank you, also don't let Kimmy hear you say that."

You chuckle.

"Eh, she loves me. But you're closer to thirty than me so."

And you poke out your tongue at her. Your girlfriend just looks at the camera again.

"Bloody childish, what do I tell ya?"

You kiss her cheek, a small smirk on your lips.

"You love me."

---------

Video footage of the two of you making a huge passing play up the left side of the field, playing against England. The ball gets switched in a fast tikki taka motion as you both move up the line. You make a run for the box and it's like Caitlin doesn't even have to look for you as she sends the ball right to your head for you to sneak past Earps, who despite her best efforts, can't make contact with the ball.

Cut to you both walking through a forested walkway outside of the city. A long shot from the back, and then flicks to a full shot at the front as you both slowly walk down the concrete pathway.

"When she received her first call up to the team, she called me frantically, practically balling her eyes out."

"Balling my eyes out, I could hardly talk into the phone to get it out. Coach had called me when I was at home on my own, and Caitlin was in at the office."

"I stand by this, but you'd actually called me at the worst time too. I was sitting beside my coworkers on a mini break, one of them is a physio on the Arsenal team as well as one for where I work. All they hear coming from my phone is just incoherent blubbering, followed by "Babe! I GOT IN!" Of course, I wasn't following exactly what she meant and my dumb brain just went, in like, the ice bath?"

Your laughter rings out at that.

"That's what you thought I meant?"

Caitlin nods slowly, a small blush developing on her cheeks.

"That's just what we'd been talking about at the time, including how you in particular refused to touch the ice baths for the first six months, someone basically had to carry you in with them. So like, I was excited for you to finally have gotten over that fear on your own."

You push her slightly, a loving smile making it's way onto your lips.

"That's really sweet, but no I did that three months after that, when I finally decided to stop being a wuss, now that I was actually playing in the big big big league, I had to. But that's beside the point."

"Uhuh, sure sweets, anyway, when she finally started going into the phone call itself, it did finally click in my head because I never actually explicitly mentioned the ice bath either so we were both still pretty excited, but for different reasons."

"Yeah, I did not like her initial reaction at the time."

"I was still super confused why you were like full sobbing about it though. I was like 'okay, congrats baby, you did it, no big deal'. I think she was ready to hit me after that one."

"Mild understatement."

Caitlin chuckles, bringing your knuckles up to her lips.

"so when she brought up how amazing it felt to finally break onto the national team, I just was like 'Ohhhhh... oh.... OH, Congrats baby!'."

The footage cuts to your hands linked in the between you, her thumb gently caressing the skin there before cutting back to a mid shot of you both from the front as you giggle softly.

"I just kept thinking, what did she think I meant, what does she mean no big deal. Cocky woman. To think I wanted to marry her too. She did get super excited for me, though, after that. She's a little slow, but I love her."

You give her a shit eating grin as she glares at you.

"She's honestly such a little brat sometimes, can you believe this?"

You giggle softly, bumping hips with her.

"You love it."

---------

Footage of some of the afterparty in the locker room plays, Caitlin clearly in view sculling champagne out of the trophy.

"Back at the Cup of Nations. We were out celebrating in a VIP bar, and they'd given us free entry, the whole team, I mean. There were drinks being passed around every two minutes. I think we were just so ridiculously drunk after that. Steph was the only one not really drunk. "

"Well yeah, to be fair she was kind of... well."

You roll your eyes at the striker.

"She was injured, so she had to kind of not drink. Caitlin, the dumby, dropped her kitbag in the doorway, so when we drunkenly stumbled in, we kicked it out of the way. Out popped the engagement ring. Luckily, I didn't notice. But neither did Caitlin. Steph did though, pretty sure it was the first thing to catch her eye as she dropped us both off in the hotel room. She just picked it up, threw it back in the bag, and when we were both on the beds."

"Relatively."

"Somewhat. She took a photo of us, sent it to Caitlin, and said, "Congrats, don't let Lans see you propose." Not the message I was expecting to see that morning. I'd accidentally picked her phone up.-"

Cut to you sitting at the kitchen island in your house, Caitlin standing at the stove.

"You claim it was accidental, but we both know the truth, babe."

"It was! You left your phone right next to where I charge mine instead of on your own bloody bed side. Anyway! That was how I found out she wanted to propose. Because my lovely fiancee here couldn't put her stuff away. As always."

You give her a mildly playful, unimpressed look.

"Pfft, that was all drunk caitlin, I don't associate with that chick. She's an idiot."

You purse your lips.

"Clearly."

Caitlin stays stirring the pan for a second before turning around suddenly to your suppressed laughter.

"Hey!"

You let it out at that point, shoulders wracked with laughter, head on the bench. When you finally catch your breath, you look at her again, but she's turned back to the stove. What you can't see is the small smile on her lips, which the camera does.

"Love you."

She turns her head slightly to say something back.

"You better. Ya dork."

It's your turn to pout again.

"Hey!"

You gesture to your girlfriend in front of you, eyes in contact with the camera.

"See what I have to deal with? Won't even say it back, so mean."

She turns back to you with a small wink, smirk playing at her mouth.

"You love it."

---------

The image switches to you both sitting laying back on a lounge chair set up outside the back door, watching the summer sun go down in London.

"I'm so grateful we get to be together throughout this whole experience. She's the love of my life and she's an amazing football player too."

You smile up at her from your place leant against her chest. The camera pans around as you both share a quick kiss.

"I don't know, feels like you've got me beat. I feel like I don't tell you I love you enough."

Caitlin gives a quick glance to the camera lens.

"She does it every two hours and still says that."

You pout up at her. She pinches your cheek softly, kissing you on the forehead.

"You're lucky I love you."

Caitlin looks fully up at the camera this time.

"See?"

"Oh my god. Hush up"

"You love it."

"I love you."

She chuckles and you just shake your head and bring her in for a full kiss. Fade to black.

---------

[shaunamilfman]

Mastermind

In which Y/N "It's not stalking if it's for true love" L/N gaslights, gatekeeps, and girlbosses her way into becoming Shauna Shipman's girlfriend.

A/N: There's like 2 OC's just because it wouldn't work if you knew the yj's but they have like no real importance.

"Shauna Shipman," he repeats. "You want to ask Shauna Shipman to go out with you?" he asks incredulously. 

"Yep. That's what I said," You confirm. 

Henry groans and buries his head in his hands. He looks up at you incredulously and says, "The Shauna Shipman that punched that baseball player so hard his feet left the ground?"

You pause for a second, considering, before saying "He probably deserved it." You shrug. "Besides, I'm not immune to big brown eyes. History of violence or not."

"Do we even know if she likes girls? Maybe she's straight." He pleads. 

"Have you seen how many flannels she owns? If she's straight it's cultural appropriation at this point." 

He sighs despondently and concedes the point. You grin happily and slide your notebook in front of him. You've watched Shauna for the last few months to an admittedly stalkerish level, but you swore it was for a good cause. Well, a good cause to you at least. You've created a foolproof 5 step plan to get Shauna to be your girlfriend. 

Step one: Infiltration

You were pretty confident on this step given that it was the easiest step of the plan by far. One thing that you know about Shauna, admittedly one thing that everyone knew about Shauna, was that she loved English. Not only did she like it, but she was really good at it. 

The plan? Talk to your English teacher about getting a tutor, and who else would she ask other than her best student. There is, however, one flaw in this plan: You were also good at English. 

… 

Your teacher looks at you skeptically before asking, "Are you sure that you of all people need help on this section?" You look away from her to the floor, feigning embarrassment. Really, you were just trying to hide your guilty expression. 

You shift uncomfortably and say "Well… It's just that I have a lot going on at home right now, and I haven't really had time t-". Your teacher cuts you off by putting a hand on your shoulder and giving you an empathetic look. 

"Oh, of course y/n. I know that sometimes external factors play a big role in schoolwork. Everybody has trouble sometimes." She smiles at you comfortingly as you try not to die inside. She pauses consideringly, then says "I think I have just the student in mind. Let me talk to her and I'll get back to you."

You nod bravely and slip your backpack on. "Thank you, it really means a lot to me." Your teacher waves your thanks off as you turn and leave the room. 

You turn to look at Henry who's waiting outside the door for you. "Well?" He asks. You groan and bury your head in your hands. 

"God, she was so nice about it. I'm going to hell." You whine. He laughs boisterously and wraps his arm around your shoulder as he drags you down the hall. 

"If you were already going to hell for being gay, wouldn't it just cancel out?" He asks teasingly. 

You shoot him an amused grin. "Do you think it's like PEMDAS, Henry?" You ask teasingly. You're so caught up in your conversation that you don't even notice the brown eyes following you down the hallway, and out the front door. 

You even miss the jealous scoff, and the sound of a locker door slamming shut. 

Step Two: Establish a rapport

You’re packing your stuff up a few days later when your English teacher asks you to stay behind for a second. You can see Henry out of the corner of your eye mouth Good Luck, as he heads outside. You finish packing up your stuff and wait awkwardly by her desk until everyone else has left the room. Your teacher sends you a quick smile as she shuffles some papers on her desk before handing you a handwritten note.

You grab it and glance down at it and read, Shauna Shipman. Library during 4th period. You trace your thumb gently over the words for a moment. You reread it a couple times. Not to savor it, just because her handwriting is fucking awful. God, you think. She’s lucky she’s hot. And smart. And funny. and… 

You’re getting off track. “Shauna Shipman?” You ask, feigning confusion. “Does she have a free period during 4th as well?” Your teacher nods encouragingly.

“She’s my best student, besides you of course. It’s really lucky that you were both available at the same time.” She says. Yeah… Lucky. You smile and make your goodbyes before meeting Henry in the hallway. You hold the note lazily between two fingers and flash him a smirk. He laughs and shakes his head.

…

You leave lunch a few minutes early to beat Shauna there. As you look around the library you wonder if it would be too much if you picked her favorite table. Could you play it off as mere chance? You wonder. You hope that by picking it you’ll make her more comfortable. You hear an impatient sigh behind you. Shit, you’re still blocking the door. You decide to pick it anyway, and lay your things down on the table.

She walks in a few minutes later, just as the bell signaling the start of 4th period rings. She looks around unsurely for a second before she sees you. She blinks slightly when she sees the table you’ve picked, but seems to shake it off quickly enough. You shift in your seat and twirl your pencil a little anxiously. Maybe it was too much. She sits down across from you and sends you a tight smile.

“Y/N, right?” She asks, “I’m Shauna.” You smile playfully.

“You obviously knew me well enough to pick me out from across the room.” You say teasingly, “Now you want to ask my name?” She rolls her eyes, but the corners of her lips lift slightly.

“Jackie makes it a habit to know everyone in our year” She says, a little stiff. You nod, as if thinking carefully. 

“That’s the blonde girl, right?” You ask. Her eyes widened slightly. “Yeah,” Shauna nods, suddenly paying you more attention. 

“Well, that’s nice of her.��� You say, and then gesture towards your notes. “Should we get started?”

… 

Shauna’s been meeting you in the library twice a week for a month before you gather the courage to approach her outside of it.

You're walking out to your car with Henry trailing behind you when you see it. You stop in your tracks and Henry curses as he bumps into you. You turn to him and hold a finger over your lips before nodding your head to the side. He glances over and rolls his eyes. He throws his hands up defeatedly before walking off to lean against your car. 

There she was, Shauna Shipman all alone on a bench. You walk over to her but she doesn't seem to notice you as she writes furiously in her notebook. You make sure not to look at it before asking, "You journal?" 

She slams the journal shut instinctively before shooting you a startled look. Interesting. You think. You've never seen her this unsure. Her hair is messy and she's a little sweaty. She must've just gotten out of soccer practice. You try not to think of how she'd look sprinting across the field, lest you daydream the day away. 

"Uh… Yeah." She says sharply, talkative as always. You look down at your feet as if embarrassed. "Sorry, were you busy? I just wanted to talk to you about my English essay." You mumble, half turning to walk away. 

She softens considerably. "Wait" She says, "How'd it go?" You grin happily down at her as you shift your backpack off of one shoulder to rummage around inside. You pull out your crumpled paper and hand it to her proudly. 

She glances down at it, her face unreadable. "We didn't discuss this," Shauna says softly as her eyes move quickly across the page. "This is… Very in-depth Y/N."

You freeze and try not to noticeably panic. "I'm pretty good at making stuff up at the last minute," You admit with a touch of anxiety. You try to shrug it off but you can tell she doesn't completely believe you. 

"Anyways, I wanted to know if I could make it up to you somehow? Like buy you a coffee or something?" You ask hopefully. 

She gives you a long look before she seems to decide on an answer. Just as she opens her mouth you can hear the sound of a door opening and a bubbly laugh. Shauna immediately stands up and glances towards it. 

Of course, You think, Jackie Fucking Taylor. You try not to sigh audibly, but judging by the way the corners of Shauna's lips twitch in response you don't think you succeeded. Jackie Taylor was the one flaw of your plan. 

Jackie and Shauna had been Jackie-and-Shauna way before you ever had a crush on her, and you were never quite sure where they stood relationship wise. Sometimes they looked deeply in love, but female friendships are just like that sometimes, right? Right? 

You quickly tell Shauna goodbye and walk off before Jackie reaches you. Turning your back means that you miss the annoyed glance Shauna sends Jackie as Jackie completely fails at winking and rocks excitedly on her heels as she watches you walk away. 

Step 3: Meet outside of school

You're slowly putting your stuff in your locker a few days later when suddenly you get tapped on your shoulder. You're excited, but a little confused. Shauna's last class is on the other side of the building, she shouldn't have been able to get here this quickly. You were hoping to catch her though, it's why you were still here in the first place. 

You spin around with a grin on your face before it noticeably falls. "Oh." You say unenthusiastically, "Hey Alice." You've talked to Alice a few times before, though it's better to say Alice has talked to you. She smiles widely at you as she talks about something exciting that happened in her math class earlier. 

You nod along disinterestedly as you glance over her shoulder for Shauna. "So?" She asks, "What do you think?"

You startle noticeably. "Sorry, what?" You ask, looking directly at her for the first time in this conversation. Her face fell a little, but she continues "I asked if you wanted to go to the movies with me this weekend?" 

Your eyes widen slightly in surprise. Has she been flirting with you this entire time? 

"Uh no, sorry. I um… don't like movies." You lie, looking at your feet awkwardly. 

"You don't… like movies," She repeats slowly. "Right." She says stiffly, before turning and storming off. Atleast, she tries to storm off. You hear a loud thud and look up to see that she's hit the floor. 

"Whoops." Shauna says blankly. "Looks like you tripped." She smiles sarcastically, "Should probably be more careful."

"And you." Shauna says slowly, with a tight-lipped smile "You promised to buy me coffee."

"I did," You say weakly. "Do you think you should do it today?" She asks, tilting her head and feigning confusion. 

"Oh. Oh uh yeah absolutely. Do you want to go today? We could totally go today," You blurt out nervously. She nods and you reach down to pull out a piece of paper to write the address down. You notice that at some point Alice got up and walked away but you don't pay it any mind. 

You hand Shauna the address of the coffee shop. She looks down at it and back up at you in confusion. "Don't you always drive Jackie home?" You remind her. She hums in acknowledgement before turning and walking off towards Jackie. 

You close your eyes and rest your head against the locker. God she's intense.

… 

She shows up about five minutes after you, looking a little sheepish. Her shoulders are tense and she's fiddling with the button on the sleeve of her flannel. She scans the tables before making a beeline towards you. 

She sits down across from you and shoots you a quick smile. "Sorry, about earlier," She says. You tilt your head curiously. 

"I think I was a little short with you, before. I'd just gotten a bad test back." She says, not looking you in the eye. You stare at her for a second, unconvinced. Was she jealous of Alice? You wonder. You grin suddenly at the thought. 

You wave off her apology. "Shame that Alice tripped though." You tease. 

"Yeah," She blushes, "A shame." She glances around uncomfortably. Her eyes light up suddenly. "Oh," She says, "There's a bookstore attached?" 

"I thought you might like it. I do owe you one, after all." You say, trying not to sound too pleased. She tries to look interested in the conversation but you just laugh it off. "Do you want to go look at the books first?" 

She blushes slightly at being caught and gives you a soft smile.

…

You trail a couple steps behind her as she walks around, comfortably watching her in silence. She finally decides on a book to buy and you gently take it from her hands as she walks up to the counter. “I’ve got it. Why don’t you go ahead and order a drink while I get this.” You say.

You pay for the book, but don’t immediately walk over to her. You stand behind a shelf, mostly hidden from her view. You watch her for as long as you can conceivably get away with. You’ve always enjoyed just seeing her go about her day. She shifts slightly in her seat and crosses one  leg over the other, looking over her shoulder to see where you went.

You wait till she turns back and join her at the table, glancing down at the book and laughing quietly. “I didn’t peg you as a Jane Austen fan.” You tease. “A big romantic then, Shauna?”

“Maybe a little.” She confesses, “You can’t deny Austen’s influence on modern literature though.”

“Absolutely,” You acknowledge, “You know, I’ve always been really interested in literature too.”

“Really?” She asks, looking at you curiously.

“Yeah, absolutely. I’ve always been pretty good at it.” You say with a grin.

“So good at it you needed a tutor?” She asks smugly, grinning back at you. She takes a sip from her drink while still maintaining playful eye contact with you.

“I’ve got a confession,” You say confidently. 

“A confession?” She asks, still smiling at you. 

“I didn’t really need a tutor that bad. Just fell behind a little,” You admit, “I really only needed the first session.” She laughs a bit but seems confused.

“I just… I wanted to see you again and I wasn’t sure if I could ask.” You say. Her eyes widen, but she seems pleased with your confession. She uncrosses her legs and leans forward toward you.

“Ask.” She says quietly, a teasing look on her face.

“Could I take you on a date, Shauna?” You ask.

“You could take me on a second date.” She says playfully, glancing around the room. “Seems like you already planned this place for me.” Your face lights up as you look at her and nod shyly.

“I did,” You admit. She looks quickly around the room before squeezing your hand affectionately. “I’m glad you did. I really enjoyed it,” She admits softly.

…

“So I’m guessing it went well?” Henry teases. You grin at him, but that’s not much of a surprise. You're still riding the high of your date with Shauna last night. “Not that I had any doubt it wouldn’t,” He admits. “That’s generally what happens when you watch someone around school for weeks.” You smile sardonically at him. He really didn’t know the half of it, if he thought you were only watching at school.

Step 4: The Date 

You exhale nervously and lay your head on top of the steering wheel. You tap your fingers on your thighs trying to get rid of your nervous energy. You were admittedly pretty surprised when Shauna told you to pick her up at her house. You knew that she usually got ready with Jackie, or rather that Jackie usually got her ready. You pull yourself together and out of the car in one fluid motion.

You raise your hand to knock on the door but it opens before your fist lands on it. “Hey,” Shauna says stiffly, still dressed in the outfit she wore to school that day. “Sorry, I’m running a little late. Do you want to come and wait in my room while I finish?” You nod unsurely, not sure why she suddenly seems so cold.

You sit down on her bed and fiddle with a string on your jeans nervously. You look around reverently at her room. It was so Shauna. “I really like your room. It really suits you.” You say. 

“Thanks. Not like you haven’t seen it before” She says seriously. You’ve seen it from the outside befor-. What? You glance up, startled. “What?” You ask, voice shaking.

She stalks closer to stand in front of you, fists tensed and face unreadable. “I heard you,” She says slowly, dangerously.

"Heard me?" You ask hesitantly. 

"Heard you talk about following me." She says, "I started thinking about things that you said. Things that I thought were just coincidences. They weren't though, were they?" 

"I… was just observing you."

"Observing me!" She yells incredulously. "You fucking followed me around for weeks," She says harshly, her gaze hard and intense. 

"I… I just wanted to impress you. I wanted you to like me." You defend weakly, blinking away tears. "I've had a crush on you since the 8th grade. I thought that if I knew everything you liked then…"

"Then what?" She asks sharply. 

"Then it wouldn't matter that I wasn't her." You say softly. 

"Her?" She asks.

"Jackie Taylor."  

"You think I like Jackie?"

"You don't?" You ask quietly. She scoffs and shakes her head. "Then I ruined it for nothing."

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth before saying softly, "I wouldn't say ruined." You glance up quickly, not sure if you heard her correctly. 

She sits down next to you on her bed and grabs one of your hands between hers. "I had a crush on you too, you know?" She says, then pauses. "Have," She admits, glancing away as if it pains her to say. 

She squeezes your hand again and continues. "You definitely didn't need some elaborate stalker plan to get me to date you. But… I can't say that I don't like it."

"Like it?" You ask. 

"I like the idea of you being so desperate to be with me that you'd follow me around. That you were watching me for months and I had no idea." She says, glancing at your lips. "It does something to me."

You shift unsurely towards her before asking "Can I k-". "Do it." She interrupts, before kissing you herself. 

… 

You grin happily, turning to hide your face in her neck embarrassedly. "Now you're embarrassed?" She asks wryly. "Not when you were telling me t-." You slap your hand over your mouth to silence her. 

"Don't say it out loud," You whine. "The moments passed and we can never acknowledge it aloud ever again." She nods mockingly and licks your hand. You snatch your hand back disgustedly and shoot her a betrayed look. 

She laughs beautifully and pulls you closer against her. You nestle closer and slowly let yourself drift to sleep in her arms. 

… 

You look down at your trusty notebook and toss it on your bed, smirking as you walk away. You've got a girlfriend waiting outside in the driveway. 

As you slam the door behind you the wind catches the pages of your notebook, blowing it open. Step Five, it read, Let Shauna find out.

[townofcadence]

Her expression at the show of teeth is certainly one that's affected. Her eyes widen just a second, before she scoffs and shakes her head. Her arms cross, and she regards both of them with watchful eyes.

Artair meanwhile feels the rising heat from Butch, but the guy doesn't act on it, for which he's grateful. He wants this whole mess to go in the right direction, and it already feels so tenuous.

It is... somewhat undercut by Butch correcting his name. The notion of it is equal parts sweet and well... bless his heart. He was doing his best to put respect to his name, and--- honestly, it's sweet. He'd chosen his own name for himself after all, and dealt with his fair share of rough times for it, but it was his. It was the one he wanted to be called. Even if the situation wasn't one where he needed defending, the fact that Butch would...

He's perfect. He wants to...he doesn't know. His brain is piecemeal. But a kiss at least crosses his mind. Peyton meanwhile looks like Butch has grown a second, even more annoying head. She looks at Artair again and her expression screams "Really?". Probably on his taste in company, but this time she's polite enough not to say it. Maybe because Butch is louder, and other patrons are glancing their way. An audience that isn't online is probably the last thing she wants.

He feels those gentle ministrations, sees Butch's expression, which eases any initial worry of earlier, and Peyton is giving up. His next breath is relieved.

Butch continues.

Peyton goes from lamenting to-- maybe pissed, to thoughtful in almost rapid time, as she looks at both him and Butch. Then she focuses on Butch. She nods and her face says she understands now. It's a very 'I've connected the dots' kind of expression, but he's not sure what there even is to piece together. She huffs at Butch. "I am not a journalist. I'm a true-crime Podcaster, which is a brave and intellectually stimulating career about solving cold cases others can't, and the pursuit of the truth. And now I understand the racket here. Your game." She almost looks disgusted.

"People like you two are everywhere. Profiting off your information and others' loss like-- like vultures! But fine. If that's the game you want to play, I can pay for your info. But it better be good."

Artair blinks. "...What?"

"Don't play dumb now, Air-tair." Her tone is derisive as she reaches into her bag. "You and your crony here were just waiting to extort me. You act all innocent and then you have him strong arm me about seeking the truth, and then you demand payment! This is just about the money. Blood-money I hope you know. You're a bunch of leeches, for feeding on a tragedy like this."

"... What the fuck are you talking about? You approached me?" Upset and panic still run like an undercurrent to his thoughts, but the sheer volume of confusion makes it hard to feel anything else. That verging breakdown is miles away, pushed out by incredulous bafflement.

She gives them both a cool look. Out of her purse comes-- a checkbook. "Don't try to trick me. You probably knew I'd been following you this whole time and set this up-- didn't you?"

"Wh--" She talks over him.

"You knew I was hot on your trail and you got this dense asshole to lie in wait so you could ambush me and demand payment. Well fine! What's the price? I want this story."

“I can be, but I can’t promise I don’t bite.” Butch comments, baring his teeth at her in a grin, small fangs visible and for once, he’s glad. He hopes they unsettle her!

His brows knit together a bit tighter when she brings up those two names again, and refers to Artair as some third wheel. Oooh, anger stirs inside of him like a hot soup! She was about to be a third wheel—a wheel with a gash in it, if she didn’t shut her mouth. Butch wasn’t the type to discriminate when it came to throwing punches, but he’d come to learn that there were better ways of handling situations like these—from Artair no less. A little patience went a long way more often than not, as much as he hated it, and this was about Artair anyway. He should be afforded the opportunity to stick up for himself, like he had for him.

Suddenly, he finds himself a bit offended by (what he perceives to be) the butchering of Artair’s name at the end of her words. Arthur? Butch makes a face and suddenly none of her other words seems to matter, and he can’t help but cut in, “Uh, his name is AIR-tair.” The cowboy states, pronouncing it incorrectly as he seemed to have a habit of doing thanks to his accent. “A-R-T….A…-I-R!” He spells it out plainly just in case she doesn’t get it the first time, his volume certainly beyond the appropriate library volume despite his earlier gripes with her.

There’s a long silence that hangs between them, including the other book fair attendees, and Artair is quick to move right along (thank god), actually telling her like it is—and he’s proud, even though personally he would have been far more rude about it. He can still feel those fingers trembling some against his palm and his thumb moves to brush tenderly over the back of Artair’s hand, a soothing gesture. He’s watching the taller man’s expression with sympathy, his own expression shifting back to an irritated one the moment he’s looking back at Peyton.

“That’s right, y’wasted yer time jus’ like ya wasted ours. Big deal. Listen, ‘sides th’ fact that he obviously don’t wanna share nothin’ with you anyhow—what makes ya think he’s gonna tell ya anythin’ at all fer free? Y’think bein’ pushy alone’s gonna get ya answers? Ain’t ya some kinda journalist? Get real!”

[runnning-outof-time]

Hi! If you’re still doing the little blurbs, can I request 🗣 and 💕 with Tommy Shelby?🤍

Thanks for sending this in Reb! I’m sorry it took so long. I’m struggling with writing at the moment but I really wanted to write, so I figured I’d try my hand at this. ☺️

🗣 having an argument

💕 moment of jealousy

———

Clearer Intentions

Warnings: language, smoking, mentions of death of a horse (happened in canon), mentions of past cheating

Tommy and (Y/N) are sitting in the living area of the house on Watery Lane. Neither has spoken, but the air around them is tense.

“Can’t you just say something already, Tommy?” (Y/N) asks, exasperation laced into her words. They’d been sitting in silence for some time now and it was really starting to get to her.

“What’ve I to say? You’re the one who brought this up,” Tommy responds, barely glancing in her direction as he continues to smoke his cigarette.

“What’re you to say? Are you serious?” her eyes widen as they snap over to his relaxed figure. She wonders how he could be sitting so contently now.

“You’re gonna have to help me out here, love,” he sighs before continuing, “because I don’t even know what I’ve done wrong.”

(Y/N) scoffs at the second part of his statement, “of course you don’t know what you’ve done wrong. That’s probably because she’s got it ingrained into you that what you’re doing is ok.”

“She?” Tommy questions with furrowed brows.

“Don’t play stupid,” (Y/N) huffs, her eyes trained on him. When his confused expression doesn’t lift, she tips her head back with a groan. “I have to spell it out for you,” she mumbles under her breath before continuing, “Grace, Tommy,” she says in the most blatant tone.

“And what the fuck has she done that’s bothered you?” Tommy’s still confused by the problem at hand.

“You went to see her at the Garrison late the other night. I heard someone say that you left with her,” she tells him about what’s been on her mind since it’d happened.

He stares at her for a second, unsure of how to take her statement. After a few moments, he lets out a long sigh. “I went there after going to Charlie’s yard. The horse was bad; I had to put it down and I needed a drink to clear me head,” he explains to her what he’d really done that night.

“But you were there with her,” (Y/N) says, refusing to let that part go.

“What does it matter? She’s a fuckin’ barmaid, (Y/N).”

“She’s pretty, Tommy,” (Y/N) responds, her voice coming out in a whisper; like a child that was admitting a fear that they had.

It was in that moment that Tommy realized what this was about. “Do you think that I’ve got something going on with her because she’s pretty?”

“Don’t go putting words into my mouth,” (Y/N) states, a glare on her face.

“It’s what you’ve said though,” Tommy doubles down on his position, “you’ve alluded to it with your previous statement.”

(Y/N) holds her stare on him for a few moments before she lets out a frustrated huff. “Ok, maybe I am thinking that, but you can’t blame me, can you?” she asks, a bit of incredulousness in her voice.

“I thought that I had clearer intentions than that,” he says in response to her statement, making (Y/N)‘s eyebrows furrow.

“What do you mean?” she can’t help but ask.

“I mean that I love you…that I can’t imagine myself being with anyone else other than you,” he starts, his words sounding dire and his eyes lock onto hers, “that I’m going to marry you one day; after we’ve got ourselves situated and our money figured out.”

“Tommy…” (Y/N) trails off, unsure of what to say in response to his out of the blue declaration.

“No woman will ever compare to you, (Y/N), and I mean that, so don’t go worryin’ about things you have no need to worry about.”

She wants to believe him, wants to agree that he has clear intentions, but she’d been in messy relationships before, where the man would assure her that he’s faithful and then he’d be found cheating on her. That’s where her jealousy stemmed from.

So all she sends in response to his statements is a smile. Only time would tell in this case.

[persephones-wren]

hii love, love your fics so I just had to request again! Could request a Kaz andd reader where he says something mean to her without meaning it but shes really sad an stattes crying to jesper and he gets angry and tells Kaz to apologise? Angst with a happy ending,please!! Thanks a ton darling💗💗

Forgiveness (Kaz Brekker x Reader)

thank you for requesting again! school has been kicking my ass, so sorry for how long writing this took, but I hope you like it! :)

Warnings: mentions of catcalling, (small) injury, idk?

Genre: angst to fluff

Word Count: 1910

To say you’ve had a shitty day would’ve been an understatement.

Heading to the White Rose to see Nina, you’d been catcalled multiple times. Maybe you were being dramatic, but the comments felt more scathing than usual, and it had gotten under your skin quicker than you thought it would. You didn’t want to use Kaz’s reputation to scare them off, but it wouldn’t have mattered. You’d still be viewed as a possession, just one that didn’t belong to them.

You had snapped at the last stranger who’d given their perverse ideals of you, and that altercation had left you a lovely slash on your arm from defending yourself. You had temporarily wrapped it up on a scarf, but you knew you would probably have to wrap it with gauze on it when you returned.

When you had asked the clerk where Nina was, he said that he’d seen her leave, but she said nothing to him. Which meant the entire journey here was a waste, and that you’d have to head home without her guaranteed cooperation with the plan your boyfriend was creating.

“Kaz, she’s not there. Clerk said she went out, but he didn’t get where. It was a waste of a trip,” you sigh, throwing down your cloak on a random chair.

Kaz sighs, lowering his head as he writes out another part of the plan. “Really, Y/N? You couldn’t go out and look for her? She told us a couple days ago that she was going to start taking trips to the market at this time. You could’ve found her there.”

“I’m sorry?” you scoff quietly, but try to adjust your tone at the icy stare he gives you. You could’ve said that nicer, sure. “I didn’t think to look for her there because I didn’t know that, Kaz. Are you sure she told us that?”

“Yes, she did. Were you not paying attention?”

“I don’t think I was there,” you refute. “I would’ve remembered if she told me.”

“I don’t have time to talk to people who can’t do their jobs,” he mutters. “Just get out and waste time for now. Let me finish what I’m working on and we’ll find her together later.”

“The hell you mean I can’t do my job?” you protest. “I did what you asked. I went to go look for her, and she wasn’t there. I thought your instructions were not to stray from my path, because you wanted me home quickly and safely.”

“If you had any shred of common sense, then you’d know that I’d only say that because I’m supposed to care about you. I’d take information over your safety.”

You still. What?

He’s supposed to care about you? Does that imply he doesn’t? He would take information over your safety.

Does he want to break up?

Stop being dramatic. Kaz doesn’t play implication games with something like that. He’d tell you outright.

But he wouldn’t care for you if he got what he wanted.

“I-um, oh,” you take a shuddery breath. Your chest feels tight and your eyes are going to water. Kaz hates dealing with over-emotional people. He needs people who can keep their cool, people who can think their way out of things. You need to get out of here before he looks up at you. You’re useless, you’re an idiot, no wonder he said you couldn’t do your job properly.

Too late. He looks up at you, frowning at your silence, but you quickly turn away, still trying to hide your face.

You laugh, and even you can tell that it’s not genuine, just an attempt at trying to hide your wavering voice. “I’m fine, Kaz. Uh- yeah, yeah! We’ll go out later and-” your throat catches as you swallow harshly. “We’ll go out and look for Nina later. See you then.” You quickly brush your tears out of the way, opening the door and stepping out.

Your steps echo down the hall, and you try and find your way to your room through the tears that now stream down your face.

I’d take information over your safety.

You still don’t know if he means it. He’s angry, but- Kaz was usually extremely candid when he was upset.

He might’ve meant every word.

You don’t notice Jes in front of you, and as you pass him, he catches your arm.

You wince, his fingers land right on the slash, and he hastily lets go, looking at you with concern. Everyone was usually about as emotional as a rock in the Barrel. What made you cry like that?

“Y/N, you okay? What happened? Why did you flinch from me? Did I do something wrong?”

His face resembles a kicked puppy, and your heart constricts with slight guilt.

“No, no- it’s not your fault, Jes- your fingers landed right on a slash I got, that’s all.”

He looks at his hands, covered in slight blood. You tug at your soaked-through scarf and look at it, and it looks even worse than when you first got it. Your grimace. So much for getting him to worry less about you. “It looks a lot worse than it actually is.” Your words are frantic and stuttered, but you hope he gets the point.

“How did that happen? I thought with Kaz’s reputation, you would be untouchable. Why isn’t he taking care of you?”

You smile sadly. The mention of Kaz tightens your chest again.  “Guy scrapped with me for a little while after catcalling me. I didn’t want to use Kaz to defend myself- me, with him? He’d be even more of a target. And Kaz is a bit upset with me right now. He doesn’t know what happened.”

“Why the hell would he be upset?”

“I didn’t get the information he wanted,” your voice is small and weak. “And he said he’d rather have the information more than my safety.”

“Which is why you’re crying.” Jes’s face has a look of understanding.

“Yes,” you affirm quietly. “Today’s just been a bad day. I’ll be alright, though, really. I know Kaz doesn’t like dealing with weak people, so I thought I wouldn’t bother-”

“You’re not weak.” His voice gains a complete new edge, and his face is determined. You suddenly get a bad feeling. What’s Jes going to suggest you do? “We’re going to go confront him. Right now.”

“Jes, I look like I’ve been crying. I’d at least like to compose myself a bit.”

“No.” He makes sure he’s grabbing your other arm, before leading you back to Kaz’s office. “He needs to know how much he’s fucked up. He’s smart, but really,” Jesper sighs, “He’s an idiot. And you deserve better than that.”

Your heart warms at his words, but you’re still nervous as he leads you down the hall, and you’re definitely panicking when he opens the door without knocking.

Kaz looks up, and a brief look of surprise is in his eyes as he looks at Jesper. Why didn’t Jesper knock? And why would Jes need him, especially at midday? Wouldn’t he be out gambling?

Kaz prepares himself to hear something stupid. He doesn’t notice you standing behind him, and his attention drifts back down to his plan.

“What do you need?”

“Apologize.”

“For?”

“For being a bloody idiot and hurting your girlfriend.”

Hurting you? He looks back up to him, and this time, you’re standing next to Jesper.

“I didn’t-” Kaz starts, but your appearance makes him go silent.

Your expression is blank, but tear streaks clearly stain your face, and you clearly look like you don’t want to be confronting him. Jesper had put you up to this.

Were you too afraid of him to do it yourself?

What did he do for you to look like that?

“You didn’t do anything?” Jesper’s voice is incredulous. “She went to the White Rose to try and find Nina, and then you come home and treat her like she’s useless because she doesn’t get what you want. She’s your girlfriend, not a goon. Have some respect for her, yeah? She followed exactly what you said, to try and get home quickly and safely, and even then, she still gets hurt. Did you even notice the bleeding gash?”

“Jes,” you whisper, “it’s fine, really-”

He doesn’t listen, and grabs at your wrist to lift your arm, pulling down the scarf and revealing the bloody cut. Kaz blinks, concern and guilt briefly flashing on his face before he smooths back his expression.

How didn’t he notice? How did that happen?

“Y’know how she got that? Men were harassing her, and she fought one of them because she didn’t want to use your name as her shield. She was trying to prevent painting an even bigger target on your back. And then you go as far,” Jes laughs angrily, “as to say that she’s not worth more than information for your fucking plan? And through all of that, she leaves you alone because she doesn’t want to be an inconvenience to you. Your girlfriend thinks her emotions are burdening you. Get your fucking head out of your ass. Either you apologize to her, or she’s breaking up with you.”

You and Kaz are both left standing still, both watching as Jesper stalks back toward the door, opening it and slamming it shut.

The sound echoes through the silent room.

You don’t know what to say. Part of you feels vindicated, Jesper did the hard part for you, but part of you feels guilty- Jesper also made it a lot bigger than it could’ve been.

You let the guilt win out.

“I’m sorry, Jes’s wording was a bit harsh, I’ll take my leave, it’s really not that big-”

“Stay,” Kaz interrupts. “Please.”

You sit down on the chair next to his, and he turns to you, pulling out gauze and alcohol wipes.

“I can do it myself,” you say hurriedly. “I know-”

“You’re not a burden to me.” He avoids your gaze, he doesn’t want to see your reaction, in case he really would lose you after this. “Let me help you.”

“Okay.”

You hiss through your teeth as he cleans the gash, a small “sorry” escaping him as he continues. There’s still a silence hanging between both of you. He wraps it carefully, looking up at you when he’s done.

“Not too tight?”

“No,” you answer quietly. “Thank you, Kaz.”

There’s another silence between you.

“I care about you,” he says suddenly. “I wouldn’t trade your safety for anything.”

You know it’s his way of saying sorry.

“It’s okay,” you give a reassuring smile. “I know. I’ve just had a bad day, that’s all.”

“It’s not,” he argues. “If you ever need to defend yourself, use my name if it’ll get them to stop. I don’t care if it paints whatever sized target on my back.” You open your mouth to interject, but he continues. “I’m already a wanted criminal in Ketterdam. However much you increase the target by doesn’t matter, so long as you come home alright.”

“Okay,” you nod. “I will.”

“I love you, darling.”

Your eyes widen at his words. He doesn’t say it often, he knows that you already know that.

Jesper must’ve really shaken him.

“I love you too,” you reply softly. “Thank you.”

It’s his turn to look surprised. “For?”

“For caring,” you respond. “For being you. For loving me.”

A faint smile etches on his lips. “I always will.”

[pinkchanelbag]

apartment 6C. [e. jaeger]

the annoying guy in the apartment above you refuses to keep quiet, so it’s time to fight fire with fire.

cw: not proofread? idk like cussing also armin’s high lol

wc: 1k.

note: yes i got lazy in the end so what? idk this is just a funny idea i had it has potential but i am simply too tired to continue it rn enjoy lol.

“jesus christ i’m gonna fucking kill him!”

“is that—oh...okay,” jean doesn't get to finish his sentence before you get up from your place at the coffee table, round the couch, and yank open the tiny storage room in the kitchen.

“can’t you just file a complaint?” sasha asks. her eyes follow you curiously as she nestles an open box of pizza in her lap on the loveseat.

“you saying she should snitch?” connie pulls a face that’s meant for her, but his eyes are glued to the tv screen as his posture jerks left and right in accordance to the xbox controller in his hands.

you return with indistinct grumbles under your breath. jean snickers at you until he sees what you’ve brought back.

“fighting fire with fire?” he cranes his neck up from his seat on the floor to look at you standing. you give him a deadpan expression before stepping up onto the coffee table, taking the bright red broom in both your hands, and knocking the pointy end into the ceiling. one, two, three, four times, firm and fast.

“woah!” armin’s entire body jolts, the book in his one open palm getting tossed to the floor and the joint in between the fingers of his other hand dangerously close to being loosed. “what the hell was that!?”

“what?” eren calls to his friend from the other room. the kitchen door swings open as he steps through with two beers tucked between his long fingers and the other hand holding his phone to his line of vision.

“that scared the shit out of me,” armin breathes. “loud ass knocking from the floor below.”

eren’s eyes flick up from his phone. his hair sticks out of his small ponytail messily, a result of his frenzied reactions to watching the football game that has only just recently ended. the game was neck and neck the entire time, and it completely fried his nerves, not to mentions his friends’. at some point eren put armin in such an excited chokehold that mikasa had to chop him on the nape of his neck before the blond passed out. but it was still a win, topped off with panned shots of the stadium chanting we will rock you with deafening claps and stomps. armin and mikasa shared bemused looks at the way eren sang and percussed along like a little kid watching cartoons. yeah, he’d gotten a little rowdy.

“whatd’ya mean?” he asks to be sure.

“like, it sounded like if someone was pounding on a door except the door...was the floor,” armin leans back against the seat behind him and rests his head on the cushion, legs spread out across the floor and his joint-carrying arm raised high in the air, clearly already over the disturbance. he doesn’t catch the grin that rises slowly to eren’s face.

“she thinks she’s slick.”

“you’re gonna put a hole in your ceiling,” sasha tells you with curious eyes and no particular warning in her tone. her mouth works around the pizza as she talks.

“if it means it’ll fuck up his flooring, then i won’t mind as much,” you scoff, taking jean’s extended hand to help you down from the table.

“will somebody pleeease play mario kart with me,” connie hollers. any potential reply is cut short by a booming thud that has all four of you jumping out of your skin. sasha makes an eep sound chokes on her pizza, and connie—whose remote flew out of his hands at the sound— gets up to thump against her back as she coughs.

“what the fuck?” jean asks in genuine disbelief. it seems he’s finally catching on to the situation at hand. and then he’s looking at you, and you’re fuming.

“do you enjoy making people not like you?” armin asks his friend. there’s a confused frown etched onto his face as he watch eren drop a heavy dumbbell he’d retrieved from his room onto his hardwood floor.

“not especially, but with this girl it’s fun.”

“what girl?” armin asks, and he’s crawling onto the couch to lay on his back.

“lives under. she goes to trost too, but probably in a different school.” he lifts the dumbbell with one hand, veins protruding up his arm, and places it next to the tv stand before coming to sit on the floor in front of the couch. “annoying...as hell. like, gives me a dirty look if i take more than one of the complementary muffins in the lobby. complementary literally means free,” he says incredulously. his hand reached up to yank out his hairtie and re-pull his hair away from his face for a new bun. “plus, she’s friends with that guy jean.”

“from high school? didn’t he like mikasa?” armin asks. with eyes closed and his hands behind his head, he looks like the definition of unbothered. eren hums in confirmation.

“yeah, imagine my fuckin’ horror when i come home one day to see the hot girl who lives a floor down with horse face.” he pauses for a moment before continuing the one-sided conversation, though he doesn’t appear fazed. “they’re not together though. she comes home from dates or whatever sometimes.” armin makes an mhm sound as an act of attentiveness.

“ready?” connie asks. upon getting the okay, resounding crashes and clangs echo through the panels of wood beneath eren’s body. it’s not as startling as knocking, but tenfold more annoying.

“keep going!” jean yells over the crashing pots and pans. he begins alternating between banging his spatula into the casserole pan and onto the ceiling itself. connie hits the inside of his pot with a wooden spoon as if ringing a church bell, hand moving almost too fast to see. he pairs this with a sound akin to a turkey gobble, high and aggressive like a war cry. and finally, you and sasha each grip the handle of a large metal wok and smack its underside over and over again with your own tools of choice.

“eren,” armin says in part-groan part-whine. “why’d you provoke her? i’m tryna sleep.”

but the brunette’s attention is elsewhere. once again, that sly smile plastered to his face, he’s all too cheerful for a person whose ears are undergoing a violent assault.

“you know what this means, right...?” eren says. armin hmphs.

“you’re a child.”

“this means war, man.”

[cursivebloodlines]

"Great! Does that mean I get to snack on the rest? I'll definitely be in need of a good sugar rush to get me through it," Logan teased, the mere thought alone amusing him greatly. Another one of his usual grins traced his lips, though it probably never quite faded to begin with. And of course, he wouldn't really need the sugar rush, it wouldn't be that difficult. At least, not really; there would be munchies there he could feast on, no doubt, but for the moment it was enough for him to keep him entertained. The thought of it all. Who was he if not a little dramatic, anyway? When Moira asked him for further info to expand on his question, he simply shrugged. "Could be both, could be neither," he joked again, being vague for the one and sole purpose of being a pain in the ass - in the normal Logan Chadwick fashion. His brows quirked upwards in silent question when she offered to answer both questions offered. His head tilted slightly, his interest piqued. His facial expression soon morphed from bantering mirth to sheer perplexity within seconds as she talked. In normal instances, he probably would have pointed out that she didn't answer the second question but he was too confused with the first answer she had provided him with! "You're kidding, right? Please tell me you're kidding?" he asked incredulously, shaking his head with a gentle scoff following. "No one asks you out? I find that really hard to believe; you're beautiful, funny, and patient enough to put up with me and my shenanigans so there's another bonus," he explained almost quickly, a soft chuckle added at the end as he picked up a fry and threw it at her playfully. Logan spoke as if he was simply listing the most obvious facts the world had to offer. "Their loss anyway. Screw 'em. It's them who dunno what they're missing." Did she make things more difficult than they needed to be? He rolled his head from side to side as if seriously dwelling on the question before settling with a shrug, waving off with a laugh. "Nah. Well. Sometimes, but don't we all? And no, I promise I can act; I was thinking more about you - if you could," he teased with another laugh.

To Moira's rebuttal of bracing herself, Logan winked at her, the same grin still plastered over his face as he offered her a quick thumbs up. Said expression changed to him narrowing his eyes at her protest, and now it was time for him to roll his eyes at her. "Hmm, nah. And even if it did go both ways, you can agree it gets me out of trouble more often than not." Again, debatable. But he really did enjoy trying his luck, which he couldn't deny. A small frown etched. Again with the self-deprecation; what was that all about? "Just telling you the truth. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself." Among all the playing around, those were words he genuinely meant. Logan laughed loudly at her dramatization of a 'love confession' and honestly he couldn't stop - she was hilarious. A feigned, melodramatic yelp left his lips as the fry came into contact with his face, scrunching his face up before proceeding to pick up the dropped fry and eating it anyway. "Careful there, I almost totally believed you!" He teased. Again he attempted to think of a viable story for the two of them, but couldn't really form anything. Brief ideas...yet the pieces needed to slot together. But he was confident they could do it, definitely. "How about a classic friends-to-lovers story? Everyone is a sucker for one of those. And it sounds more believable than love at first sight, you know? Plenty of leeway to make it all cutesy and shit, whatever you want," It was a suggestion, she didn't have to take it. It was just an idea. "Activities? For a reunion?" he queried, tilting his head. "Didn't realise they did stuff like that. But hey, I'm up for it. It will be fun, yeah? You just tell me where we're going and I'll get us there," he said with a lighthearted chuckle, he always had been one to go with the flow. Some said he was too laid back for his own good.

If she was happy, then he was happy. Simple as. Logan didn't know what he was getting himself into, not really, but he had no problem with it. Any excuse to go out and have a good time was enough persuasion for him. Besides, it meant he got to spend more time with Moira which was a bonus if you asked him. Elbow perched on the table, he rested his chin against his hand, he eyed her curiously. About to ask if she was okay, that smile soon returned though he suspected there was something underlying. He could ask her later, maybe. Made a mental note of it in the back of his head. She seemed excited about this whole thing which in return, had another smile tugging on the corners of his lips. "How nice is really nice?" He retorted with a chuckle. "Wait, what? No, don't be silly. Come on. At least let me pay half. That's fairer, no?"

"You'll have to get me a ton of packets of them, then, because God knows I'll be snacking on the rings all of the time. You know me and my food..." She laughed and took a bite from her burger. When he asked 'why is that?', he didn't elaborate and she furrowed her brow. "Why is what? Why is that I trust you or why is it that I'm not seeing anyone? I can give you both answers. I'm not seeing anyone because people don't wanna see me. No one asks me out, as embarrassing as that sounds. Then again, it shouldn't be embarrassing. I dunno...I shouldn't be bothered." Moira gave a shrug of her shoulders and she popped another fry into her mouth. "You don't need to take masterclasses in acting to pretend to be my fiancé, unless you think it would take a lot of acting to pretend to be in love with me." She tilted her head to the side and gave him a little smirk. "I promise, I'm not that hard to love..." She murmured, but teased him and wrinkled up her nose a little. "I mean, from what I believe. I could be wrong and could be so fucking difficult. You've been my friend for how long now? Do I make things more difficult than I need to?"

"I can only imagine what you're going to come up with, Logan, so I'm bracing myself." Moira grinned and she rolled her eyes. She started laughing when he said his smile gets him out of trouble and she shook her head, "Uh-huh, I've seen it happen both ways, so." The woman gave him a look and sipped from her drink. When he said he'd take her falling in love with him as a huge compliment, she shook her head, "I promise you wouldn't, but that's sweet of you to say, otherwise." She chuckled and gave another roll of her eyes as he spoke about her actually being in love with him already because of the way she was talking about his dimples. "Oh, God, you caught me. I'm in love with you, Logan. So, so in love with you. It's why I asked you to do this, because I want you to fall in love with ME." She snorted and threw a fry at his face before sighing, "Okay! Okay...we'll think up a story together. I promise. And it doesn't have to be really romantic. People might see through it. It'll be cute." She bit into her lip and ran her fingers through her hair before she wiggled around a little bit. A hum escaped her and she took another bite from her burger. "They have little activities all leading up to the reunion. Not everyone does them, but I wanted to do a couple."

Moira knew she was risking a lot doing this because she could swear she's slept with quite a few people in her class in the past, as clients. Hopefully they kept their mouths shut and didn't start anything while they were there. It would lead to more trouble if they had families and everything. She took a deep breath and shook herself from her thoughts before plastering on another smile for Logan before she crossed her legs up on the seat to get more comfortable. "Apart from my massive favour that I will be forever indebted to you for doing for me..." She beamed and bit into her lip. "...we'll be staying in a really nice hotel for a week. Everything's being paid for by me. You don't need to pay a dime, I promise. I'll pick up everything because this is a lot, I know."

[the-only-ace]

Can you do a TaeminxReader where both the reader and Taemin are on The Knowing brothers and Heechul continuously flirts with the reader.

hello there~ i honestly don’t know if you still remember requesting this but here you go! i am so sorry for answering after such a long loooong hiatus. also, i am not really familiar with all the segments for the knowing brothers so i apologize in advance if some of them do not make sense. hope you still enjoy it nevertheless!

taemin scenario: just add jealousy

pairing: taemin x reader

word count: 2.3k

summary: taemin and reader have been liking each other for quite a while now and promoting as a duo together makes their relationship even more complicated. maybe a sprinkle of jealousy would finally ignite the sparks between them.

warnings: none

send in your requests here!

taemin plopped down on a seat and loosened the black necktie he was wearing for the knowing brothers recording. he reached over the table to grab a new bottle of water and contently chugged down its contents. the shoot just wrapped up and the cold drink was refreshing especially after participating in a lot of the activities today. he already spent more than a decade doing variety shows but this one made him extra tired. maybe it comes with age? who was he kidding, twenty-seven is not yet considered as old. he can perform and dance for hours and gladly do it again the next day. comparing to that, a tv show guesting should be a piece of cake but why does he feel more than relief to wrap it up earlier than expected.

with a long heavy sigh, taemin tilted his head backward and close his eyes. he knows exactly the reason why he feels exhausted and also annoyed. it was because of his certain senior called kim heechul. 

a frown quickly formed across his forehead as the events a while ago replayed on his mind.

exhibit a:

“with your great chemistry on stage, fans keep on speculating if something is going on between you two. is there something we should know?” heechul asked as the cast talks about your debut single.

honestly, you were not that surprised with the question since it was quite a buzz across social media already. the other members of your girl group practically shoved their phones to your face whenever they saw comments regarding your performance. of course, their loud teasing comes next as if they were a package deal of some sort–which you don’t remember purchasing at all.

“no, we’re both just good friends.” you answered confidently with a chuckle. “i think my chemistry with taemin only comes from how much effort and passion we have put in our every performance. seeing such reactions from our audience makes both of us happy since it means that we did something great up there on stage.”

taemin was nodding silently beside you like a cute little puppy dog as he listened to your answer. he was quite proud of how well you handled the question on your own.

“so does that mean you’re still single?” the super junior member continued to ask.

“um… yeah, pretty much.” you laughed as you nod.

“then i can ask you out?” well, that one caught you off guard.

“hey, isn’t that a bit inappropriate?” taemin can’t help but interrupt your conversation.

“why is that?” the older guy snapped back and sounded a bit offended.

“because…” okay, taemin did not really think this through but thanks to his variety show experience, he was able to blurt out an entertaining response. “aren’t you a bit too old for her? wouldn’t that put you to… i don’t know, jail?” the comment earned laughs and more insults from the other members.

“look here, mister! she’s of legal age so what do you mean jail?” heechul stood up from his seat and started to point his index finger towards his junior.  "also, don’t you guys think it’s up to y/n to decide?“ he directed his look to you and raised an eyebrow. “so, what do think?” he tried to pull off a flirty look.

“well, they do say age doesn’t matter in love.” you shrugged as you went with the flow.

taemin knew that you’re also good on variety shows especially on how open you are to any situations that were thrown in your way. you always have the best responses and reactions. that is why people from the industry love to invite you over to shoot an episode with them. however, he kind of hoped that you have let go of the idea of flirting back.

exhibit b:

heechul pulled out the empty chair beside him and patted it, indicating for you to sit beside him. you removed the black backpack you were wearing and placed it on top of the desk as you gladly sat down next to him.

“so where should i take you for our first date?” his sudden proposal caused you to scoff and let out an amused laugh.

“well… i do love eating expensive steak in a fancy restaurant where i can wear a beautiful dress that you bought while thinking of me.” you teased with a sweet smile.

“isn’t that too much for a high school student?” he mumbled to himself before reaching out to brush the stray hair on your forehead. “okay, oppa will do it for you.”

you placed both of your hands underneath your cheeks and looked at him cutely. “thank you, oppa!”

“oppa? more like samchon if you ask me.” taemin looked back from his seat in front of you two.

“alright, what the hell is your problem today? did i do something wrong?” heechul replied incredulously with his eyes wide.

“he’s just probably jealous. he wants some steak too.” you playfully stuck your tongue out before pushing taemin’s head so he would look in front once again.

exhibit c:

all of you are now playing the whisper challenge and it was yours and heechul’s turn. he was the one guessing and you were the one mouthing out the words. both of you are going at it for a while now and it makes you a bit frustrated on the inside. you can feel the sore throat creeping in as you blatantly repeated the same phrase over and over. he’s great at a lot of games but this one is definitely 100-percent not his forte.

“ah… ah ah, i know it now!” he finally said confidently with his right first up in the air. “i love you…”

his answer made you cover your face and burst out into fits of laughter before waving your hands in front of you indicating that he guessed the phrase wrong.

“i love you!” he repeated with more conviction.

“no, that’s not the word!” you shook your head while giggling.

“yeah, i know that’s not the word. i just want to say it to you.” he nodded before giving you finger hearts which you immediately reciprocate.

both of you are playfully flirting for most of the recording but this one got to be the cheesiness lines you heard today. 

taemin was pulled out from his train of thoughts when he heard you snickering loudly from across the room and his head hastily snapped in your direction. there you were, wearing a high school uniform that matches his and he was not going to lie, he was stunned when he saw you wearing it the first time this morning. you look bright and youthful with the red checkered bow around your neck. your high-waisted skirt emphasizes your curves. your pair of black thigh-high socks were the perfect length to make your legs look longer. your hair was pulled up on a half ponytail which he doesn’t usually see on you so it was a sight for him to remember. there was a soft blush on your cheeks and across the bridge of your nose. the gloss on your lips was also mesmerizing as it catches the light every time you speak. that didn’t help at all given the fact that he often caught himself staring at your lips too much lately.

seeing you made him think that if you both met as high school students, he would have undeniably confessed to you in an empty classroom after class. he chuckled at the thought. he was not quite sure if you would have liked him back in high school since he was not confident in himself back then.

his daydreaming was cut short when he realized who you were talking to. it was none other than the kim heechul. he can’t help but observe as the two of you conversed animatedly with each other. he knew that heechul was a funny guy but he’s not that hilarous for you to laugh that hard. while listening to whatever story he has been conjuring, you were pulling your hair up in a quick messy bun since the studio was quite hot with all the lights around. 

what happened next almost made taemin fell down from his seat. a scowl immediately appeared on his face as he watched heechul casually wiping the sweat on your nape with his handkerchief. not that taemin was counting but that was the 9th time he flirted with you today and not to mention that it was already after the show.

he bitterly watched as you both bid your goodbyes and now you were walking towards him. he cleared his throat and took another gulp from his water bottle.

“what’s with the long face?” you asked in fluent english as you sat down on the desk in front of him.

“what?” he looked up with a confused face.

“i thought you were taking english classes?” you mocked him–this time in korean. you nonchalantly reach out for his drink and took a sip.

you and taemin knew each other for quite a while now, almost 4 years to be exact. you were on friendly terms with him even before debuting as a duo but after spending these past few months preparing together, you have gotten much closer with him. too close that it became complicated for both of you. it was quite obvious that you two were acting more than friends but no one clearly expressed their feelings yet. the tension between you and him when you were alone became heavier and heavier as the days went by. you always have this urge to bring up the situation you two are in but everytime you were about to speak out, taemin would suddenly open up a conversation about a whole different topic.

“so what were you and heechul-hyung talking about a while ago?” yep, lee taemin always has awful timing.

“he just wanted to make sure that he didn’t make me feel uncomfortable during the recording a while ago.” you shrugged.

“oh, how sweet of him.” taemin scoffed and straighten up from his seat. “he even has to wipe your sweat for you.” he muttured under his breath.

“what was that?” you already heard what he said but it was too faint and you just wanted to make sure.

“nothing.” of course he would deny it. what did you expect?

“so… are you like jealous of heechul or something?” you were only joking, well half-joking. you used this opportunity to slowly open up the topic and to finally know where do you stand in his life.

he held your gaze for a few seconds before crossing his arms across his chest. you were not fully prepared for his serious stare and for what he said next. “and what if i am?”

“huh?” your dumbfounded voice was a couple of notes higher than usual.

“i said,” he leaned forward and looked up to you under his lashes. “what if i am jealous?”

you sat there frozen. you helplessly stared back at his eyes and looked for any signs that he was just fooling around. except it was clear as day, he meant what he said. you always have waited for this. you imagined all the possible scenarios. you even prepared what you would say once this was brought up but why were you speechless now? why do you feel all clammy and nervous? why can’t you calm down your frantic heartbeats?

you took a deep breath and forced yourself to bring back the confidence you once had. “then why don’t you ask me out already so you don’t have to feel threatened with every guy out there.”

“you know what?” he stood up and suddenly he was now towering over you. his scent wrapped all around you and it made you overheat even more. “i might just do that.”

“then i might just say yes.” you crossed your arms and hoped that it can disguise your slight shaking. whether it was from excitement or not, you do not know anymore. everything was happening so fast that you were not sure if you were comprehending them properly. you felt light-headed as you waited in silence.

“so we’re doing this?” his low voice broke the stillness.

“yes!” you responded a little too enthusiastically for your liking. you’re a mess right now, you ain’t denying that.

taemin chuckled softly before discreetly slipping his fingers under yours. 

oh, god. you felt a shock and then a shiver from his touch. it was not like it was your first time to have skin-to-skin contact but this one was quite different. you can feel the tension slowly rising along with the heat on your cheeks. you can feel the frustrations that were build up every time you wanted to touch him in a not-so-friendly manner. you were willing to bet your life that he was currently feeling the same as you when you witnessed his eyes dilate and darken.

“look, as much as i want to make out with you right now. we can’t.” he took a step back and put his hands in the pockets of his black slacks.

you felt both relief and disappointment when he widened the distance between you two. you can now catch a breather at last.

“i mean we can’t… here.” he suggestively added before turning away. “i’ll be waiting in my dressing room.”

there goes your breath again. 

it took you a minute to recover after hearing his inviting words. you looked around while you fan your warm face with your hands as if it helped with cooling yourself off. you closed your eyes and relaxed yourself for who knows how many times already. you then hopped down the desk and made your way to the place you can’t wait to go to.

if this was what jealousy does to taemin, you absolutely cannot wait to see more of it.

[heliads]

A Glance Across the Street

Based on this request: “a race oneshot where he realized he’s in love with the reader. she’s doing something (singing, playing with kids, whatever) and he’s awestruck and the boys are teasing him after”

masterlist

Race is mid-conversation with his friends, mid-way through his bag of papers still left unsold. He should be focusing on talking to Albert and Jojo, and he should definitely be trying to get the last few of his papes sold before the night grows too old and he’s out of customers to swindle. He knows all of this, yet his gaze keeps slipping from his fellow newsies or passing bankers to rest on one girl down the block.

Y/N is selling papes too, her grin contagious as she manages to talk even the most persnickety of passersby into purchasing the daily newspaper. Her newsie cap is slightly askew, and Race’s hand twitches by his side as if he longs to fix it, to look down and see her flash him a grateful smile. Honestly, Race is starting to think that he has a problem when it comes to Y/N L/N.

As it turns out, Race is not the only one to notice this: although he attempts to quickly jerk his attention back to the conversation at hand, Albert and Jojo notice the fact that he isn’t quite responding on time and try to figure out what’s got his focus hooked. Albert follows Race’s line of sight and a vicious grin appears on his face. Race tries to look away hurriedly, pretending he was just following the path of a potential customer, but it’s too late- they’ve both seen.

Jojo loops an arm around Race’s shoulders, clasping the other hand firmly over his heart. “Well, if my eyes don’t deceive me, I think Racer here has a little crush.” Race scoffs, pulling away from the boy. “As if. I’m just trying to sell my last papes.” Albert rolls his eyes. “Is that why you haven’t sold one in half an hour? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’se trying to lose money.”

This is a fierce accusation for a newsboy who prides himself on his ability to make any deal to even the most unlikely of customers, and Albert knows it. So, when Race snatches his cap from his mess of blond curls, ready to swat it most brutally into Albert’s head, the red-haired boy is able to easily dart away in time to avoid the killing blow. Race tries one last time, but his attacks fall short when he hears a voice from behind him.

“What’s going on here? Why are you trying to murder Albert?” Race’s eyes widen in spite of himself, and he straightens up hurriedly, slapping his hat back on his head as if he’d just been stretching. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re just having a, uh, friendly conversation.” Albert looks positively gleeful over this, but he doesn’t say a word. Y/N raises her eyebrows. “I don’t know about that. I’d swear there was going to be bloodshed.”

Albert may be willing to save him from the fires this once, but Jojo is not so generous. Instead, he casually leans on Y/N’s shoulder, practically savoring the way Race’s shoulders stiffen. Race does his best to ignore this, forcing a casual smile. “Well, maybe Albert deserved it. You know him.” Y/N tilts her head to the side, considering this. “I do know him. What’s he done now?” Albert and Jojo look between Race and Y/N like they’re watching a sports match, curious as to what explanation Race can manage without telling her the true reason for the near beatdown.

Race mentally stumbles for a moment, then comes up with a scrap of something. “He insulted my brand of cigars. I couldn’t have that, could I?” Y/N’s eyes glint with barely contained amusement, and Race thanks everything holy that his excuse held up. “Oh, I get it now. I’m sorry to interrupt the carnage.” Race grabs Y/N’s hand, pulling her away from Albert, Jojo, and their twin mocking expressions to continue walking down the street.

“That’s alright. Now, come on- I think I saw a few tourists. Think we can scam ‘em?” Y/N laughs as she follows him down the block. “Without a doubt. Is that them?” She jerks her chin towards a cluster of families pausing by a florist, all of them in the newest fashions. They practically reek of wealth, which makes them the perfect targets for newsies in desperate need of unloading some papes. Race nods, and Y/N’s grin widens. “Oh, this is going to be fun. Race you there, Racer!”

She takes off down the street, spinning past cobblestones. The sound of her laugh, lighter than a summer breeze, lingers by Race’s side for a moment longer. Although Race knows he should follow her and at least try to sell some of his papes before all of the tourists are gone, he feels stuck in place, unable to do anything except watch her go. There’s a smile tugging at his lips before he realizes it. He tries to stow this a second later, except it’s a little hard to be serious when there’s a girl like Y/N right next to him.

He manages it in the end, as he always seems to do. Race isn’t sure what happened to make him turn into this stumbling mess whenever Y/N’s with him, but the habit keeps seeming to stick. He hasn’t always been like this, it’s only a recent incident, but no matter what he tries Race can’t go back to seeing Y/N as a friend and a friend alone. Sometimes, he wants to knock himself upside the head, hoping that a brief concussion might restore his thoughts, although Race is fairly certain that even this hit might make him even more of a grinning idiot where a certain newsgirl is concerned.

Later that week, Race is hit by that same bout of hopeless staring, although this time it’s even worse than before. It comes over him like a wave, threatening to pull him under entirely. He had been turning the street, walking from one block to another in the hopes of finding some idiot with a purse full of coins who’d be willing to shell out a little more than usual to a newsboy on the street. Maybe this is why his crush hits him so hard- he’d had no time to prepare, nothing to center himself around except this sudden sight of the girl before him.

All of a sudden, there she was, talking to a group of kids she’d met on the street. They stare at her with the same sort of loopy smile Race wears now, like they’d follow her anywhere so long as she gave the word. Honestly, Race may get a little jittery around the Brooklyn boys or the cops when there are too many of them, but the hold Y/N has on him scares him even more than that. He’d do anything she asked of him, no matter what or how. He can’t run from that kind of influence, just go along with it and hope he didn’t get worse.

Y/N crouches down now, the edges of her skirts rustling lightly over the uneven cobblestones. She reaches out a hand to a nearby girl, one who would barely come up to her ribs unless Y/N was kneeling as she is now. The little girl presses a careful coin into the awaiting hand, and Y/N hands her a newspaper in return. Race can see her pointing out the different pictures on the front, explaining them with that same slow voice she gets when the night is late and drowsiness slips through every syllable. This time, though, she’s not tired, just speaking in a way that kids who barely know anything can understand. Maybe that’s all Race is, too, a kid with half a brain and some stupid lovesick gaze he can’t seem to shake.

Y/N stands up, stretching, as the little girl leaves. A few more kids linger by her knees, and she talks to each of them in turn, patience coming eternal even by the point when Race would have started getting a little restless had it been him there instead of her. One of the kids hands her a flower he managed to find from somewhere, and Y/N tucks it behind her ear, smiling as if it’s a jeweled tiara instead of a little sprig of a plant that’s more leaf than petal.

She turns now, as if she can sense someone watching her, and finds Race from where he’s hidden by the crowd. She smiles at him, the simple expression almost enough to knock him over. There’s a soft slight in her face, as if she’s a little self-conscious to be caught talking so eagerly with the kids, but Race could never make fun of her for a second. Instead, he lets his own smile widen in return, and Y/N looks almost relieved. She mouths something about catching up to him in a second, then turns back to the kids when one of them tugs at her hand.

Now that he’s been caught, Race should probably keep moving down the block, at least doing something to keep up the pretense that he’s just selling papes instead of simply staring with that same jump in his heart. However, he can’t quite convince his feet to move, like his body is perfectly fine with just watching her there. It’s just the way the light washes golden over her hair, the sunbeam force of her smile, the twist of her hand and head as she speaks. Race has seen the way the rich neighbours stare at artworks, entranced by mere brushstrokes. If that’s what it looks like to fall in love with a mere painting, then Y/N might be an entire museum full of masterpieces.

That describes it, doesn’t it? He’s in love. Stupidly, crazily, whole-heartedly in love. There’s no way to describe it. Race has had crushes before, on rich girls with silken bows and laughing girls who talk to him as they leave the factories after work. None of those seem even remotely close to the hold Y/N has on him now, like all those kisses and offered flowers were just practice for this.

Maybe he’s too lost in his own thoughts, or the way Y/N seems to call an entire city to her like the star of a show, but Race doesn’t hear Albert and Jojo appearing behind him until it’s too late and they’re already upon him. Albert is crowing at him, face wrought over with victory. “It’s official. You’re completely hopeless for Y/N.” Race moves to deny this, but it’s too late- they have enough evidence to tease him for the rest of his life.

Jojo looks almost incredulous. “Wasn’t it just yesterday that you was telling me about how you’d never spend too much of your time trippin’ over some goil? Look at you now! Albert, he’s practically thinking about marriage.” Albert pretends to be severely affected by this thought. “I can see it in his eyes. He might already be picking out the rings.”

Race rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what you’se talking about. Y/N’s a friend.” Albert and Jojo actually burst out laughing, and Race wants to hit them. “She’s a friend? Race, if you look at your friends like that I’m getting locks on the doors. You’se in love, and it’s hilarious.” Race fishes around for some excuse or retort, finds nothing, and resorts to the time-honored classic of trying to hit them. “Some friends you are. No wonder I like Y/N- she doesn’t do this to me.”

Jojo hoots with laughter. “He admits it! Truth at last!” Albert sighs dramatically. “Did you hear his voice? He’s overcome with emotion.” Race lets scorn drip into his every word. “Overcome with emotion? Where’d you pick that up- off a pape?” Albert scoffs. “No, I read it off the cover of a book in a shop window, like somebody respectable.”

A voice comes from behind them once more, and Race wonders silently why he has to keep finding himself in this exact situation. “Somebody respectable? Albert, no offense, but I have never once seen anyone do that.” Albert’s expression grows worryingly bright, as if he’s just had a terrible idea, and he turns to face a newly arrived Y/N with a grin. “I’d usually argue on that, but I want to make time for someone else. Racer here was just saying something about how he needed to talk to you.”

Jojo’s eyes glint, like he’s caught on to Albert’s plan. “Yeah, actually, he was. Said it was something very important.” Albert nods solemnly. “Very, very important. We’d better leave now, so he can say it.” The two boys exchange looks, then practically jog off, although Jojo makes sure to give Race a very obvious thumbs up before they go. Race is about to seriously consider murder, but then a hand lands on his arm and he’s brought back to reality once more.

Y/N considers him, one eyebrow raised. “Well, I do have to admit that I’m a little worried by how excited they looked about that, but I am a little curious. What do you have to talk about?” Race knows what he should say, what Jojo and Albert no doubt want him to do, but the words stick a little in his throat. He remains silent for a little too long, and Y/N crosses her arms across her chest. “Well? I’m waiting.”

Race searches desperately for something to say, anything, but he has no idea how to start. Y/N’s look of curiosity is starting to bleed away into boredom, and Race is gripped by the sudden terror that she’ll leave before he can say anything at all, despite how terrifying it is to even think about telling her how he feels. So, he leans forward and kisses her before he can talk himself out of anything else.

Now Y/N doesn’t speak, not at all, and Race can’t think about anything except the fact that he might have ruined everything, once and for all. Then her face splits into this incredible grin, and Race feels like the ground has broken up beneath him and he’s falling, falling, until he can’t feel anything at all. “That’s what you wanted to talk about?” Race doesn’t know what to say. Again. “Uh, yes.”

She laughs, and Race thinks that he could have gladly listened to that sound every morning. Let the sound of her laugh replace the church bells, and he would have happily attended every sermon. “You’re an idiot.” Race nods. “Yes.” He’s not sure that he’s supposed to be agreeing to this, but she’s got him caught in her gaze again and he feels as if he can’t move a muscle. “Kiss me again, and I might just forgive you for waiting this long.”

Race grins, his confidence finally starting to return to him again. “Well, I like the sound of that.” He’s not about to refuse her this time, so he reaches forward, gently guiding her face back to his once more. 

[thedistantdusk]

Thanks to @jenoramaca @gryffindorhealer and @secretkeeper13 for the quick beta work!

A gift for my beloved @ginisbetterthanfirewhiskey.

CW: Language and domestic fluff

______

Trying

From the second he walks through the door, Harry can sense that something’s changed. It takes him thirty minutes to suss out why.

In retrospect, the smells coming from the kitchen probably tipped him off. Or maybe it was Ginny’s distracted hum, followed by the tinkling of plates and cutlery. Perhaps it was the fact that she prepared a full dinner, long before he even got home.

Nonetheless, he doesn’t worry about it too much as he greets her with a kiss, his hands cupping her chin. When he sits across from her at the table, there’s something furtive and curious lurking behind her eyes, but their meal is so peppered with normalcy that he doesn’t bring it up. They banter and laugh about Luna and Robards and wonder what they’ll bring to the Burrow on Sunday.

But when they’ve reached the stage of chasing stray noodles around their plates, Ginny finally clears her throat… and just like that, the nearly imperceptible shift he’d sensed earlier turns into something very perceptible, indeed. “Can I erm. Talk to you about something?”

He pauses, mid-bite, and takes her in. Her lip’s worried between her teeth, her hands fidgeting. Even her hair, normally strewn about her shoulders or parted to the side with a sort of effortless grace, is tied back and resting low at the base of her neck.

Ginny’s not normally this… serious. And he’d be lying to say it didn’t frighten him.

So he blurts the first thing that comes to mind. “Who died?”

There’s a half-second pause in which his chest clenches, his stomach churns. Could it be Molly? Or Arthur? George hasn’t been great either, not that—

But Ginny just reels back, confused… and it’s not until then that Harry realizes he’s really, really misread something.

“I… w-what?” she stammers, brow furrowing. She peers at him for a pained moment before her face relaxes into a look of understanding. “Oh. Oh! For fuck’s sake,” she mutters, rubbing her forehead. “I guess I’m thicker than usual, should’ve known you’d read it that way.”

Harry snorts. “Erm… darling, as many things as I legitimately don’t understand, I’m fairly sure this one isn’t on me.”

Ginny ignores this. “Did you seriously think that something dreadful happened and I’d just spring that on you in the middle of your bolognese?” Her lips twitch into a smirk. “Here’s some pasta. By the way, a fire burned a puppy orphanage to the ground. Could you pass the salt?”

He gives her a plain stare. Nice try. Years ago, he might’ve taken the bait and chased her down that rabbit hole. They might’ve had an hour-long, spirited debate on the existence of puppy-specific orphanages. But after three years of marriage, he knows better.

And she knows he knows.

Ginny finally draws a resigned breath. “No,” she says slowly. “No one died, ok? Or is even… I don’t know, sick or infirmed or threatened.” She waves her hand and continues babbling. “Last I checked, even Muriel’s still going strong, somehow. I’m jealous of that, you know— being old enough to just say whatever the fuck you’d like and have no one question it because—”

“—Ginny,” he cuts across on an exasperated sigh. “As chuffed as I am to chat about Muriel all night, I’d really like to know what’s bothering you. Please?”

There’s another pause as she bites her lip. Then, in one swift motion, she attempts to rise to her feet and push her chair in on her way over to him.

But somewhere along the way, something gets crossed— and Harry watches in bewildered horror as her foot catches on the leg of the chair. Then, right in front of his eyes, she lets out a startled gasp, her arms flailing, before she lands with a thump.

He’s out of his seat and on the floor beside her before he even realizes she’s cried out in pain and surprise. “Are you ok?” he demands, pushing her jeans up around her ankle… her tricky ankle, the one she hurt rather badly at the playoffs last month. Hm. It's a bit red.

Honestly, she hasn’t been this clumsy since she was 10 years old and near a butter dish. This does nothing to alleviate his fears that there’s something Very Wrong.”

“It’s not even my ankle that hurts,” Ginny grits, pushing up on her palms. “Wait— Harry, what are you—”

“Need to ask Gwenog,” he says urgently, running to the other side of the table for his wand. “She said that if anything happens to your ankle to tell her straight away, remember? Better safe than—”

She scoffs. “Seriously, Harry, I’m fine! I didn’t even land on my—”

He arches an eyebrow. “Have you suddenly forgotten the Puddlemere match? When your ankle broke clean through the skin?” Even now, the memory makes him shudder. “You heard Gwenog— without magic, you might not have walked again.”

“But there was magic,” she says, almost pleading. “And seriously, I’m fine!”

Harry finds he has limited patience for her heroics, though, while she’s sprawled out on the floor and nursing a bruise on her arse. “Gwenog’s instructions were quite clear,” he says firmly. “Having a pro athlete as a wife is a group task. It’s taxing on your body. I’ve got to make sure there’s enough of you left to enjoy our lives.”

Ginny clears her throat. “Erm… but what if you… haven’t actually got a pro athlete as a wife. Technically speaking.”

Harry swallows. He’s sure he’s heard her wrong. “What?”

With a wince, she adjusts herself against the wall. “I’m sorry… this isn’t how I’d planned to tell you. I’ve really fucked this up, haven’t I?”

Normally, Harry might press a bit harder. Normally he’d demand answers— and now. But as he peers at her on the floor, there’s something soft and uncertain behind her eyes… something timid. So he decides to do something he knows he’s good at— something she doesn’t let many other people do: take care of her.

With a sigh, he scoops her from the floor and brings her to the sofa. Then he props her against the pillows, putting her legs across his lap.

And he waits.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, peering at her downcast face, before she finally says it in a rush.

“Iwanttohaveababy.”

It comes on a whisper. A breathed admission. He knows, just from her expression, that she’s never said it aloud.

But he must have misunderstood. There’s no way he’s not projecting, inserting the reality he wants instead. “Could you… could you repeat that?” he manages, his voice gruff and shaken.

Ginny just sits up straighter; her cheeks as red as her hair. “I want to have a baby,” she repeats, the confidence building with every word.

Oh. Looks like he was right after all.

Harry blinks at the carpet, his head spinning, mortified with the tears that have sprung, unbidden, to the corners of his eyes.

A baby. Their baby. A smile plays at his lips as he stares at her ankle in distracted bliss. He’s been ready for ages… longer than anyone he knows. It’s hard to remember a time when he didn’t want a family with her. When he didn’t want to watch her grow and change. To become more beautiful with every passing day until…

He swallows back another round of tears; he’d never forgive himself if he forced this… if he swayed her, in any way, despite what he wants so badly it squeezes his insides.

“But what about quidditch?” His voice cracks; he clears his throat to cover it. “Honestly Ginny, I’ll wait, as long as you’d like. We’re young. Think of what you’d deal with, loads of assumptions and press and comments.”

She turns to him with an arched brow. “And since when have I ever cared about comments? Since when have you cared about comments?”

He spreads his palms in resignation; it was a particularly weak argument. “I know. I just… don’t want to make your life more difficult.”

“Well...” She draws a deep breath and peers down at her nails. “I’ve erm. Actually quit the Harpies, all by myself.” Her cheeks begin to redden again. “I’ve already sent the owl and everything. Resigned. No intent to return next season.”

Oh.

That’s what she meant, then, about not being married to a professional athlete. Harry blinks a few more times as she plows through an explanation that could honestly be something from a dream.

“I’ve… I’ve just been thinking about it. A lot,” she adds, focus returning to her cuticles. “The Harpies are out for the rest of the season— that fucking Puddlemere match and that bullshit ref.” She glares at the pillow to her right. “Nothing like blind favoritism. Fucking prick should’ve been fired!”

All Harry can manage is a feeble chuckle, his hand moving to caress her knee. This time, he can’t bring himself to stop her spiral.

“Maybe it’s not just that match, though,” she admits, rubbing her ankle. “It’s also just… so much bloody work. I’ve been at it three whole seasons, you know? I’m a bit tired of missing birthdays. And family events. And only dreaming of bludgers and snitches. And attending the mandatory press interviews to avoid getting fined, and then giving polite answers to personal questions when I really just want to hex them, and—”

Harry laughs. “I think Sandra Richardson might disagree about the polite answers bit, darling.”

Ginny gives a dignified sniff and continues as if she hasn’t heard him. “Annnyway,” she says, toying with a piece of lint. “I… feel like I’m ready to move on. So.” Her face splits into a grin as she gestures to the corridor. “On with it.”

He clears his throat. “As much as I’d love to take you up on that, I’m confused about how this relates to quitting your job. You could’ve kept playing. Or—”

“—Why is it so hard to believe this is something I want?”

There’s a beat. He doesn’t have a good answer.

“What if I wanted to quit before I got pregnant?” she continues, her tone growing more demanding. “What if I was done with playing, regardless — and genuinely wanted to have children? Your children.”

She lets out an incredulous laugh, tossing her hands in the air. “I have to say, Harry, this feels an awful lot like you’re doubting what I actually want to fit a narrative of what you think I want.” Her eyes narrow again. “Is that really respecting my wishes?”

“No,” he says quickly, shaking his head. He’d never thought about it like that before… how it might be insulting, really, to question what she’s ready for. He laces their fingers together, feeling properly chastened. “I’m sorry. I never meant to… suggest you don’t know what you want. Or something.”

He hears the timid smile in her voice as she squeezes his hand back. “Do you still want a baby, then?” she asks. “Or are you just in it for the practice?”

A smile creeps across his face, his eyes still focused on her hands. “I… think you know the answer to that one.”

“Well, I’m not sure I do,” Ginny says flatly. “Because I just told someone who wants two million babies that I’m ready to carry his first child. Forgive me if I expected a bit more excited fanfare than acting like I drowned your kitten.”

“What’s with you and baby animals today?” he murmurs, inching her pant leg a bit higher.

“Wonder why I’ve got babies on the brain,” she quips, raising her eyebrows. “Maybe because I want one.”

Harry releases a resigned sigh. She’s clearly done playing. “Honestly…” He bites his lip. “If you’re sure that’s what you want, I’m obviously on board. Obviously.” His eyes flit to hers. “I just… I don’t want to be responsible for something you end up regretting.”

It’s the truth of the matter, really; the thing that tugs at him the hardest. The fear he’d ever burden her… the worry he’d ever make her less than happy.

Ginny gives him a small smile, her hand coming to cup his jaw. “I’m going to take that as a weird, sad Harry thing instead of an attempt to remove my womanly agency.” She narrows her eyes. “But that’s your final warning.”

Harry doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s on his feet in a split-second, gathering her into his arms with the stupidest grin he’s ever worn. Trying. Is that what they call this? Are they actually properly trying now?

“Get used to this,” she says as he strides into the bedroom. “Because once you knock me up— on purpose, mind— I’m going to request a lot more transportation.”

“I think I can live with that,” Harry murmurs against her lips, draping her across the bed.

And to avoid a well-deserved slap, he doesn’t say the final bit: As long as you can live with me.

[hansoulo]

you’re just a bottomless pit

part one of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NSFW - explicit language, allusions to violence, discussions of mild harassment, mentions of being royalty, kissing, choking, light non-descriptive smut, slight elements of dubcon, boba’s a big dick gotta be what you have amirite

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: this is empire strikes back boba when he was just fucking around and finding out so i took a lot of liberties with canon don’t @ me. i offer u this picture as a helpful visual aid. merry christmas xx

༓ series masterlist ༓ 

Darth Vader was to be a house guest, and you promptly dunked your head underneath your bathwater.

The perfumed pool burbled for a few seconds while you groaned, listless and in the throes of dramatics, but your attendant only clucked in sympathy. Mila was long accustomed to your disdain for the Imperials who had come to occupy more and more of the palace. So, it seemed, was everyone except the Imperials.

After a long moment you emerged from below the water, droplets of it clinging to your face and trailing into your mouth. “Another Lord?” you asked incredulously, groaning even louder when the servant nodded.

You swam the two short strokes it took to go from one end of the small pool to the other, then floated bare on your back and stared up at the vaulted ceiling. “Is he the one with all the strange…” motioning towards your mouth, you made a vague gesture. “Apparatus?”

“I believe so, your Highness.”

Humming noncommittally, you let your gaze trail off for a moment and stood rightside up again before returning to the bath’s edge. Its intricate tiles were cluttered with bottles, little glass tinctures and oils and soaps that all wrapped themselves around the room in a heady, heavy incense. You inhaled deeply and sighed. Lord Vader with the strange apparatus.

You couldn’t remember a time before your father, the sovereign ruler of Quas Killam, was a puppet for the permanently stationed General and a yes-man for Emperor Palpatine. Then again, you supposed it wasn’t really his fault his planet just happened to be Mid-Rim and full of exactly what the Empire needed. Being a yes-man was probably the only thing keeping his planet intact during the civil war that was supposedly raging right now.

But it was hard to feel sympathy for a man who dressed you up like a paper doll and never let your mother talk.

A soapy sponge was brought up against your back, smelling of lavender. Closing your eyes, you let Mila’s motherly hands scrub at your shoulders and arms until the skin tingled in a pleasant burn.

You picked at the tile grouts with a polished fingernail, head swimming with rows and rows of grey uniforms and white shelled armor. “Wonder why they’re here this time,” you said, speaking softly to no one in particular.

“Princess, if I may...” the older woman began.

“You may.”

“I believe they’re building another weapons factory to supply the Empire, in the north fields. Lord Vader was invited to oversee its induction.”

You kicked your legs lazily in the water, half-asleep and lulled into slowness by the refresher’s warm steam. “And I suppose he’s bringing along an entourage?” you asked, already knowing the answer. They always did, those Imperial sorts. It was just a question of how many and for how long they decided to stay, having taken any real power from your family royalty years ago after they’d discovered the trinium mines your planet was known for.

Your title had rotted of its relevance, made even lesser by the fact that you were the youngest daughter of seven. Your infant brother was being groomed for ventriloquism and you, you were being groomed for obsoletion.

Mila’s hands, roughened by years of laundry and lye soap, rubbed warm oils into your skin. “There was talk of a bounty hunter, your Highness.”

Your eyes shot open.

A bounty hunter?

 ⫸ ——— ——————————————————————————— ⫷

You saw him a few weeks later, in the flurry of transport arrivals and mindless, droning ceremony. It was only a flash of his helmet, but it was enough to keep your imagination spinning for days.

Whispers from entreating servants and talk from stormtroopers that couldn’t keep their mouths shut had informed you of his reputation, his station, and his name. Boba Fett.

A particularly loose-lipped security droid regaled you with rumors of his being hired by Lord Vader, hunting a man named Han out in the Outer Rim. Quas Killam was on their way, apparently, good for information and heavy on the underworld dealings you’d always been shielded from. Truthfully, you didn’t much care. You knew no one got close to the Empire without blood on their hands. Whether they be kings or bounty hunters.

When you actually talked to the man, having been caught trying to eavesdrop on the chamber meeting he happened to be exiting the moment you leaned your ear against the door, any delusions of decorum were shattered the moment he opened his mouth. “Out of the way.”

You bristled, gathering up your skirts in a huff as you stepped away. Rude.

He was taller than you thought he’d be. Taller and broader than he looked before back on the cargo bay, a mere smudge in your peripheral vision. Now that he was alone save for you in the cavernous hallway, his words echoed on the marble tile. So much for espionage.

“My father’s in that meeting,” you replied shortly, putting on airs and doing your best to look like your mother, regal and cold.

Boba only stood there, thumbing the notches of his blaster until he caught the thin sparkle of the diadem crowning your head. A scoff, dismissive. “Then out of the way, princess.”

It wasn’t the title that bothered you. After all, it’s not like he was wrong. It was the way he said it. It was… it was patronizing! Condescending. Absolute inappropriate to a person of your station.

And, if you were being honest with yourself, more than a little attractive.

You shifted your weight onto one hip, scowling. “Don’t call me that.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, static-y and made even rougher by his helmet. “What? Princess.”

Stars, you heard that word a million times a day for a million different reasons. His saying it shouldn’t have felt so warm in your mouth.

Before you could volley back a reply, something equally biting and smarmy, the double doors he stood in front of began to groan open again.

“Better scram, little one.” Boba jerked his head towards the sound of your father’s advancing footsteps. “Daddy’s coming.”

⫸ ——— ——————————————————————————— ⫷

You often dreamed about what it’d be like to leave. Your title. Your station. All the bloody bores that came along with it.

But you had never even been outside the palace grounds. Probably never would, unless your father found someone willing to marry a low-ranking princess and hoisted you over their shoulder, a piece for a game you were never taught and never allowed to play. You’d already resigned yourself to that fact and half-way convinced yourself you were okay with it. But prisons were still prisons. Even if they were made of silk.

On the eve of Lord Vader's departure, everyone in the palace was preoccupied. Your father was most likely schmoozing some Imperial officer. Your mother, in bed with yet another headache. Your governess spent the day preening over your younger brother and your handmaiden was nowhere to be seen. You had a sneaking suspicion she was with one of the guards in a dark hallway.

So you slipped out behind a servant’s entrance and looked for a place to breathe.

Hardly anyone knew about this part of the palace gardens. It was sequestered behind so many winding footpaths and barely-oiled gates that the security droids never bothered patrolling past the main entrance, making it simple to duck underneath the overgrown hedges. The air was quiet; heavy-scented with all the flowers that had been planted and forgotten, left to grow wild across the footpaths and be crushed underneath your feet.

You used to come here quite often, when you were younger and it was easier to slip away. There were long spaces in your memory made of cotton, with hazy sun-soaked afternoons and the fountain that somehow still spouted out streams of cold water from the hands of a statue, some relic of an ancient ruler who had long since died. It was only a small courtyard, made smaller by the thick surrounding hedges and large chunks of cobblestone, but it felt like a whole galaxy to you.

A few minutes passed, then an hour. Two hours. A long, slow, summer stretch of day that just confirmed the fact of your irrelevance. It was filled in only by the mindless reading of your holopad and a few short naps. But better out here alone than stuck back inside, surrounded by those insufferable stormtroopers.

Maybe you spoke too soon, because a few seconds later you were toe-to-toe with Boba Fett, your back pressed to the garden wall. Stars, you didn’t even hear him walk in.

You’d think by now you would have learned to be more careful. Listening and being listened in on.

The helmet tilted up and then down, examining your sour expression. Rolling your eyes, you slumped against the ivy-covered brick, still smarting from your encounter with him a few days prior. “Why are you here?” A haughty, affected wave of your hand. “Were you sent here to fetch me?”

The man straightened out, stepping back from you with a broadening of his already broad shoulders.  Chips in his armor reflected tiny bits of sunlight, little silver speckles on green armor that looked even greener surrounded by wild flora. He hunted people for a living, so the fact that you were made quick work of didn’t really bother you. Still, it was a bit disappointing. Having to go back to the palace was the last thing you wanted.

“The king was concerned for your safety.”

Oh for Maker’s sake. “You mean he was concerned for his reputation.”

“I was told to find you-”

“-and bring me back so I could sit in a parlor and be supervised like a child.”

“Princess,” he sighed.

There was that word again.

A heavy swallow bobbed the lump in your throat, your chest flushed and littering the space between your bodies in a low buzz. You narrowed your eyes, not trusting your own head for something more articulate, and spit the question out. “What?”

He motioned towards the footpath, one hand resting on his belt. “Let’s go.”

You only crossed your arms with a raise of an eyebrow, mind floating an acknowledgement that you were very much acting like a child who needed to be supervised.

“I don’t make a habit of tracking down spoiled royalty.”

No one had ever called you spoiled before.

It was sort of refreshing.

The man cut an imposing figure, you’d give him that. With the helmet and blaster and… armor and such. You weren’t even entirely sure you remembered to put on real shoes before coming out here, still slippered and in stocking feet. What a pair you must’ve made. Incongruous.

You cocked your head and leant against the wall with the fabric of your dress swishing out around your ankles. Caught by warm, humid winds, its layers separated themselves into thin sails before falling down together again. Rhetorical questions were blooming alongside flowers. “Are spoiled royalty below your paygrade, then?”

A tip of his helmet said yes, yes they are.

You supposed as such, with the sort of reputation he had. Skilled bounty hunter. Feared mercenary. Expensive and coveted.

A lap dog.

Maybe there was more in common between you than you thought.

Another breeze whistled past, but the man in front of you was silent. “Well,” you finally spoke, brushing away the imaginary dirt on your dress. “I don’t make a habit of following around strange men, so we’re in a bit of a bind.”

There was an edge in his voice when you moved to walk away, a gloved grip snaking up and resting a deadweight on the back of your neck. You pushed up against him. Lothcat and mouse. You were both, but he was too. “I’m not telling you again, Princess.”

If he called you that again you were sure something would happen. What that something was you had no idea, but the epithet, mocking as it was, felt too good soaking in your sternum for it not to be a catalyst.

A breathy smirk left your lips when your hips canted downward and the gauzed fabric of your dress caught on his cuisse plate. “If I didn’t know any better,” you whispered, reaching to flatten your palms across his chest, “I’d say you almost enjoyed chasing me.”

The hand on your nape tightened and his leather fingerprints dug unspoken threats into your skin that simmered, burning up and down your spine. You faked a pout. “Shame you already caught me, isn’t it?”

The grip surrounding you loosened just slightly, letting your back slide down the garden wall whose ivy-covered stone dragged at your bodice back. A small voice chirped up in the back of your head, chiding you for dirtying the delicate fabric before you willed it away, done with listening.

Boba almost growled. “Don’t push your luck.”

“My, my,” you clucked, shaking your head. Your fingers trailed towards the edges of his helmet and traced stripes where his brow bone would be. They were gold. For vengeance. “Aren’t we feeling insolent today?”

The man underneath the beskar scoffed, the palm that was at the back of your neck now wrapping itself around your outstretched wrist and pulling your hand away. You let out a quiet whine of protest, both at the loss of contact and just to see what it might do to him to hear it. When he stiffened, leaning away with every muscle seeming to tense and release and tense again, you were unreasonably pleased. There was still red blood underneath all that red paint.

Boba’s voice was clipped when he finally replied; the vowels came through strained and raspy. “I could say the same for you.”

Yes, he probably could, couldn’t he?

Then again, maybe your two wrongs could cancel out into being right and not at all compromising.

It’s not like you really did anything erroneous. Well, besides the running away part. But that was par for the course for you. All that was new was… him. And his hands. And his being alone with you. Which could possibly be construed as something wrong and compromising but how wrong could it be, really, if neither of you did anything?

Of course, this all hinged on neither of you doing anything. Compromising.

“Take the helmet off and I’ll go with you,” you offered, knowing how juvenile you sounded. You just wanted to see if he’d hear you. If he’d listen.

He did.

Boot spurs clinked as he stalked towards you, closer than he was before. It was invasive; almost chest to chest with no room for breathing as you were pushed up against the wall again, and you were met with the revelation that whatever you were toying with was probably a really, really bad idea.

Static filled your ears from the husk of his vocoder. “You know I can take you back whether you want to or not.” The roof of your mouth went dry and you remembered how Boba’s palm spanned the entire back of your neck, cradled delicately by leather fingers. He could crush your throat in one hand. Squeeze until you went limp. You wouldn’t be able to stop him. “I don’t need your permission.”

Your thumbs reached up to the lock mechanisms on either side of his head anyway. “I know.”

Fire felt good when you were close enough to be warmed by it. Whether or not you’d be burned was left to be seen.

The helmet lifted with a soft click.

Truth be told, you’re surprised he let you do it.

You dangled the helm almost carelessly by your hip, curling your fingers around the lip of it whilst your other hand stayed hovering near his face. He looked a bit older than you imagined, mid-thirties maybe, scarred and stern-looking. Handsome.

You should’ve stopped while you were ahead but all you wanted—stupid, stubborn, and yearning for a plaything—was to feel the black curls cropped close to his ears. Which probably counted as compromising.

Without the modulator Boba’s voice was deeper, the rumbling kind of richness that was used to giving orders and used to having them followed. It bore down on you as a concrete weight. “I’m not a kind man, princess.”

He forgot that you were used to giving orders too.

The coarse material of his collar chafed your palm as you held it, gripping a lifeline, and tilted your mouth up to his ear. The softness of your voice disguised your intention. It sounded innocent when you whispered it. Gentle, even. “I never said I wanted you to be.”

His lips bruised you and tasted like salt.

It was all tongue, teeth, barely cloaked violence, pressed until your throat felt raw and your heartbeat dropped below the ground to join whatever was left of your dignity. When your knees buckled, a gloved hand settled large between your shoulder blades.

You didn’t think your first kiss would be like this.

Hypothetically it would have been clinical, fumbling and awkward in your own inexperience. Out in front of a crowd somewhere after you met the eyes of a stranger at the altar. Or maybe in secret, like it was now, with a tryst of boyhood and a peck on the cheek.

Boba Fett was a stranger, but he wasn’t a boy. And this wasn’t a peck on the cheek.

You didn’t realize he had lifted you up by your hips until you were placed back down again, his having crossed the few steps from the wall to the nearby fountain with arms firmly wrapped around your middle and not so much as a strain of his hips. His strength should have scared you. It did scare you, a little, but the same hands that had gripped the blaster still at his side were deceptively gentle around your waist. You let yourself be brought down by his bended knees.

“Easy there,” Boba said, still crouching on the ground beside you as you slowly lay back on the lip of the waterwork, white noise burbling from the quiet fixtures. The flat, curved slab surrounding the shallow pool was wide enough that you needn’t worry about balancing, speckled gray stone warmed from weather and soon by skin. There was one moment where Boba allowed you to catch your breath and then it was gone, knocked out of your lungs in another assiduous touch.

“Poor thing,” he mocked, sardonic even as he cooed gently into your open mouth. Your back arched in an unwitting presentation and blood pounded a drumbeat in your ears. All you could see was Boba; his face and his shoulders and his arms braced beside your head, leaning over your horizontal form. Like you were prey. Maybe you were. “What would your father say if he saw you like this?”

He wouldn’t be able to say anything. Would stand there, mouth agape and his eyes doing that strange bulging thing it always did when you did anything besides sew embroidery squares. Fainting wasn’t out of the question. It would be ridiculously fun to watch.

You huffed, chasing Boba’s mouth with your own when he shifted above you. The midday sun hung high, edging the bounty hunter’s tanned face in white. You could see your own eyes in the reflection of his pupils, could smell his warm skin. His canines scraped your collarbones. Everything was fast, blurry, and burning.

Stars above.

The whole situation was ridiculous. Twenty minutes ago you’d never been kissed on the mouth and now you were letting a killer-for-hire grope you like you were a back-alley harlot.

It wouldn’t end well. You’d curse after he left and hate yourself for letting him stay, because his staying would be brief and shallow and cruel, but right now, lying on the edge of a fountain with sunshine on your neck and a low voice in your ear, staying was the only thing you wanted him to do.

What an egregious lapse in judgement.

What a beautiful, electrifying lapse in judgement.

“You’re so—” a slurred pitchiness invaded your vocal chords, coating everything in bitter syrup. Your jaw was starting to numb from unforgiving lips. “—so rude,” you choked out, mind struggling to find footing amid its own dizziness. You felt like an overheating droid, full of bad code and faulty wiring that made your words and your actions discordant because even as you insulted the man, your hands were curling around his shoulders to pull him closer. “Always so rude, so… so mean to me. Makes me want—” you panted, voice breaking off into a whine when a calloused palm slid across the back of your thigh, “...want…”

His accent curled the consonants into a dance. “Want what, Princess?”

Expectant in their heaviness but teasing a smile in their lined corners, Boba’s eyes were the color of charred umber. Squirming in his arms, you nosed your face into the junction of his collarbones. “Want you,” you finally mumbled, admitting it in one long, pathetic exhale.

His promise had sharp teeth.

“You can have me.”

[okaywa]

Hello can i request a scenarios for Kuroo, Oikawa, Bokuto who is dating with top volleyball player and when they tell it to the team, they just laugh or called him delulu but one day his fem!s/o shows up and the rest of team are like *shocked pikachu face*

Yessss bb!! This is a really cute request :)

Kuroo

With Kuroo I think he’s going to mention you so much that his team thinks he’s making you up to sound cool 

He’s always bailing on hangouts bc “I’m hanging out with my girlfriend today.”

“Sorry, can't come to the study group because im studying with my girlfriend.”

“Me and my girlfriend went to this really good place the other day-”

Until finally his team decides to call him on it

“Oh let me guess,” Yaku says. “She goes to a different school?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?” Kuroo blinks

Even Kenma’s laughing now. “What’s her name then?”

“Y/n Y/ln, she plays volleyball too,” Kuroo grins. 

“THE Y/N Y/L/N?!” Yamamoto yells. “Now I really don't believe you.”

“Who’s that?” Lev asks, looking around.

“She’s the top ace in the women’s division,” Yaku answers, squinting at Kuroo. 

“And, super hot,” Yamamoto sighs. “I want her to spike a ball directly into my face.” 

“I am never bringing her here,” Kuroo decides, watching Yamamoto practically drool. 

“That’s convenient,” Kenma mutters under his breath, running away before Kuroo can make him practice more serves.

“Ah, Tetsu-chan!” You wave energetically from across the gym. “Did you just finish your game?”

Kuroo catches you easily when you jump at him to hug him, hefting you up so you can wrap your legs around his waist. He sets you down after a moment, taking in your flushed appearance and uniform. 

“Yeah, did you?”

“Yes!” You’re practically bouncing. “We won! We’re going to semi-finals!”

“That’s my girl,” Kuroo grins, accepting your high five. “Us too.”

You wrap him up in another excited hug, rambling about your spikes from your game until someone clears their throat. 

“Uh, Kuroo?” Lev asks, poking his shoulder. 

“Oh, Lev,” Kuroo steps to the side. “This is my girlfriend, Y/n Y/ln.” 

“Hi, nice to meet you,” you beam, shaking his hand eagerly. 

Lev stammers out some sort of greeting before backing off and running to get Yaku. 

“That was weird,” you blink. “Is he always like that?”

Kuroo is smirking mischievously. “Just about.”

“Kuroo! You were being serious?” Yaku stomps over. “Why didn’t you say?”

“I did. Repeatedly,” Kuroo snickers. “But you all said I was lying because she goes to a different school and is out of my league.”

“I mean, she is,” Yamamoto scoffs honestly, stepping forward to shake your hand. “Hi Y/ln-san, I’m a big fan.”

“Back off, you pervert,” Kuroo growls good-naturedly. 

After meeting the rest of his dumbstruck team Kuroo drags you down the street to a small cafe for some postgame food. 

“So, I’m out of your league, hm?” You ask, nudging Kuroo’s foot under the table. 

“Uh, yeah,” Kuroo says. “Was that not obvious?”

Oikawa

After his last less than pleasant relationship he decides to keep you on the DL for a little longer than he usually would

So when he tells Iwaizumi who he’s dating, the guy can’t help his loud laughter 

“Yeah, right Oikawa. I get you’re a hit with the ladies but I don’t believe that for second!”

He’s laughing so hard the rest of the team is starting to notice and wander over 

“What’d Oikawa say that’s so funny?” Mattsun asks

Iwaizumi straightens up, wiping his eyes while still chuckling

“That he’s dating Y/n Y/ln,” he manages to get out before he doubles over again “And has been for the last few months.”

“Y/n Y/ln as in the number one libero in the women’s division?”

“Yes” Oikawa crosses his arms.

Oikawa glares at Iwaizumi, his expression growing increasingly offended when the rest of his team joins in with Iwa-Chan’s boisterous laughter

“Why would I lie about this? You guys are being mean!”

“I guess we have to start calling you Lyingkawa instead of Stupidkawa,” Iwaizumi wheezes,

Oikawa huffs, “Get back to practicing your spikes before I make you all run a mile.”

Is this the right gym? You look at Oikawa’s text again. He’d sent you his address just in case his practice ran a little late and this did seem like the right place. You peak through the window, grinning when you spot him. 

Deciding it’s best not to distract him, you slide into the gym quietly and settle in a chair next to the door. 

“Oh, are you looking someone?” One of the players asks. 

“I’m okay, just waiting for Oikawa to finish up,” you replyr. 

The spiky-haired man nods and then freezes, eyes growing wide. “Oikawa- hold on. Y/ln?”

“Erm, yes,” you smile. “Iwaizumi, right? Oikawa talks about you constantly. It’s always ‘mean Iwa-chan did this’ or “Iwa-chan hit me with a volleyball!” Iwaizumi flushes. “I’m sorry, I didn't think he was being serious when he said you were his girlfriend.”

“Y/n-chan!” Oikawa runs across the gym. “You’re early!”

“No, Tooru, you're running late,” you correct him with a knowing smile, standing up to kiss his cheek. 

Oikawa blinks and checks the time, face falling when he sees the time. “I didn't realize.”

“Don’t worry, love, I was expecting it,” you laugh softly. 

The rest of his team has walked over during the exchange and were currently exchanging varying expressions of shock and confusion. 

“Oh, I’ll introduce you,” Oikawa beams, taking your hand. “Team, this is Y/n Y/ln. My lovely girlfriend!”

You wave, an easy-going smile on your face. After all, Oikawa talked about them so much it felt like you already knew them. “Nice to meet you guys.”

“You’re actually his girlfriend?” A light haired boy asks. 

“Makki,” Oikawa scolds. “Don’t be rude.”

“I take it Tooru hasn't mentioned me,” you laugh, shouldering your boyfriend with feigned offense. 

“No he has, we just didn't believe him.” Mattsun admits, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Oikawa shoos them away after that, insisting he has places to be. 

“So,” you hum, now at the ramen shop. “Care to tell me why no one believed I was your girlfriend.”

Oikawa snorts. “Because they think, and I’m dead serious, that you're too cool for me. Being the number one libero and all that.”

“Well, at least they were right about that,” you sigh. 

“Not you too!” Oikawa pouts. 

Bokuto 

Now like Kuroo he talks about you to the team except even more. He is constantly gushing about you and how you both play volleyball and how talented you are

The only reason his team doesn’t believe him is because they can't imagine someone other than Akaashi being able to handle Bokuto 

So they think you probably consider him as just a friend and he’s definitely overthinking the friendship y'all have 

“So, Bokuto-san, do you have plans?”Akaashi asks as they clean up after practice. 

“Yeah! I’’m going to Y/n’s house and we’re watching movies.” He says excitedly

“Y/n, your girlfriend,” Akaashi says slowly. He knows how excitable Bokuto is and doesn’t want the guy getting his feelings hurt bc he misunderstood the situation 

“Yes, my girlfriend,” Bokuto replies. “Have I not mentioned that?”

“No, no, you have.” Akaashi hums. “Are we ever going to meet her?”

“Her schedules pretty busy considering she also plays volleyball.” 

“Are we talking about Bokuto’s ‘girlfriend’ again?” Konoha walks over with a shit-eating grin. “What position does she play?”

Bokuto perks up, happy to brag about you. “She’s a setter! She’s super good, like one of the best in the women’s division.”

Akaashi pauses, quickly connecting the dots. “Y/n Y/ln?”

“Yeah! You’ve heard of her?” Bokuto tilts his head. 

“Uh, yeah, Bokuto-san. She’s the number one setter in the prefecture.” Akaashi says, looking back at Konoha. Akaashi actually enjoyed watching her matches to get ideas for his own setting. 

“She’s your girlfriend?” Konoha asks incredulously. “Like, girlfriend girlfriend.”

“Yes, I’ve said that,” Bokuto smiles, walking away oblivious to the doubtful look shared between Akaashi and Konoha. 

The entire team knows Bokuto’s got another date after practice because he keeps mentioning it every chance he gets. Akaashi and Konoha share a look every time Bokuto talks about you, 15 times and counting. They’re still convinced Bokuto has completely misread the situation and are tense at the prospect of meeting you. 

“Hey, hey, hey! Y/n!” Bokuto yells excitedly, immediately dropping the ball he was going to put away. 

He rushes across the gym and sweeps you up in a hug that pulls you off your feet. “I already know where we’re getting food, okay? And I found this milkshake place that looks super yummy.”

“Kou, please put me down,” you giggle, tapping his shoulder. “I'd like to meet your teammates.”

“Oh, right! Of course,” he sets you down, still grinning excitedly. “Guys, this is Y/n. The girlfriend I’ve talked about so much.”

So, he’s actually got a girlfriend, Akaashi thinks with a small smile. He’s relieved that Bokuto hadn't been confused. 

“Y/ln-san, its really nice to meet you,” he says. “You’re an excellent server, I enjoy watching your games.”

“Oh, wow,” you flush. “That’s super flattering, thank you, Akaashi.”

Bokuto beams, glad to see you and his best friend getting along. The other teammates file through with their greetings until Bokuto is bouncing with impatience. 

“Okay, okay let’s go eat! I’m starving,” he complains, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the gym. 

“Bye, it was nice meeting you all!” You manage to wave goodbye as Bokuto pulls you away. 

“So, he’s actually got a girlfriend.” Konoha comes up beside Akaashi. “I’m kinda jealous. She’s a catch.”

“She seems good for Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says thoughtfully. “I’m happy for him.”

[adorethedistance]

Baby Fever - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: swearing, discussion of reproduction, a child (no-)

Words: 2502

Summary: You and Owen spend a day at the zoo babysitting Baby Shada, and her presence sparks conversation about adding a new presence of your very own.

A/n: This was written in like three hours and I’m exhausted it’s skimmed at best but this is just something I’ve had in my mind and as y’all know by now, writing fics is how I retire my dreamland scenarios of romance. Enjoy my brain giving 82% of her all :)

“You ready, little one?” I bite back a laugh when I hear Owen’s voice coo from the back seat. Owen and I had been wanting to plan a zoo date for the longest time, but never had the opportunity to until now; when Jer and Carolynn needed a well-deserved day of rest, and Charlie was back in Dieppe for the next month, that left Owen and me as the next in line to take care of 10-month-old baby Shada. The two parents hadn’t decided on a name until after she was born, so the rest of our friends got comfortable with referring to her as ‘baby Shada’ or ‘CJ’ short for ‘Care and Jer’s’ kid.

Owen and I left the house at 8:45 sharp to get to the park in a timely manner. We weren’t too concerned with arriving when the park opened seeing as it was a Wednesday morning in the middle of February. Children should be in school, non-actors should be in the office, and surely other young babies and new moms should be attending mommy and me yoga classes or something.

“Do you have the bag?” I ask, surveying the car for any loose items.

“Yeah, it’s on the floor. Do you want me to carry the bag or the baby first?”

“You babysit first. I can handle tickets.” Owen nods and gingerly unbuckles the car seat to scoop up the currently calm child and slip her into the black baby carrier we opted for instead of a stroller. I put on the backpack with all her baby items and some of our essential possessions, and together we walk to enter the park. CJ is smiling brightly as she takes in all the different sights and sounds of the entrance. The image is just too adorable, I have to make Owen stop under the giant sign to take a picture of the two of them. I send it to both parents as the first update of the day, knowing they won’t treasure the photo as much as I will, because they aren’t in love with Owen in the way that I am.

Owen and I have talked about kids before. Once, on our first date when he asked me if I had any names picked out, which I didn’t. And second, when I informed him we would be entrusted with the care of CJ the following week; it was when we began brainstorming activities to do with her that Owen brought up having our own kids. It took me by surprise that he used the word ‘when’ instead of ‘if’. A small language thing to pick up on, but a huge life thing to process. He talked about making memories with CJ and being the first ones to take her to the zoo, with the consent of her parents. Truth be told, I don’t love kids or the idea of kids in the way that Owen does, so I was a little hesitant to speak my mind. But I didn’t miss the way he held his hand on my stomach as we fell asleep that night. And I didn’t miss the hopeful glint in his eyes when I’d asked his opinion on a few names I liked the next morning.

“What do you wanna do first, CJ?” Owen’s question elicits an excited squeal from her as a response which makes the two of us laugh. I quickly snag a map from the front stand and survey our route options before I feel Owen’s right hand come to rest on my lower back. I glance up to see him peering at the map over my shoulder. My movement prompts him to face me and give me a soft, comforting smile. I feel like spending forever looking into Owen’s breathtaking eyes, but the baby strapped to his chest has other plans. She begins flailing wildly to convey all the excitement coursing through her little body. We laugh once more and Owen presses a quick kiss to her head, which messes up her hat’s placement on her head. I shake my head, stepping in front of my fiance, completely ignoring him. My tunnel vision hyperfocus is set on adjusting the brim of the bucket hat to protect baby Shada from the sun.

“There we go.” When I look back up Owen is staring at me with the softest closed mouth smile I’ve ever seen, “What?”

“Nothing. Where to, Mamacita?”

“Mamacita? Whatever. I say we take this path that way we can start with the elephants and condors, and that’ll take us to the polar bear cove.”

“Lead the way.”

Owen slips his hand in mine, interlacing our fingers and giving me an affirming squeeze. As we’re walking to the elephant exhibit, CJ’s happy mood means she must wave her tiny hand at every person we pass. Other parents with babies her same age, being the majority of the crowd that’s free on a Wednesday morning, smile and wave back to her. Along the front street, the initial entrance crowd begins to dwindle and there are fewer people for her to wave at. Then, a woman who’s probably in her late forties, early fifties sees CJ wave to her. The woman is wearing black pants, a soft maroon top, and a name tag that reads ‘Linda’. Judging by the fact that she gets to wear red instead of the familiar forest green, I can conclude she’s a higher up when it comes to her position here at the zoo.

“You guys are such a beautiful family.”

“Oh, we’re n-”

“Thank you!” Owen speaks over my refutation. The woman then begins to approach us, and I look up at my serious boyfriend in confusion. He whispers, “Let’s pretend. It’ll be fun.” I mean, I’m not much of an actor but I guess there’s a first time for everything.

“How old is she?”

“10 months,” he answers seamlessly, using the back of his index finger to lovingly stroke CJ’s round cheek.

“She is just so darling, I’m sure you two must be very proud. They grow so fast, you know? I remember having little ones running around all the time and suddenly they’re off to college. Is she your first child?”

“Yeah, she’s the only one for now.” For now? Wow Owen, when you create a world you really live in it.

“Well, enjoy it while it lasts. They’re only babies for so long.” Linda smiles down and CJ once more before bidding me and Owen goodbye.

“For now?” I ask, incredulously when the woman is out of earshot.

“Yeah,” he shrugs playfully, “CJ’s so well behaved I’m sure we can manage another one.”

“Uh-huh. Are you aware she’s not actually our child?” Owen sighs out a smile and takes my hand as he begins on our trek to the elephant enclosure. When he speaks again, I nearly miss it from how quiet he’s talking,

“S’wishful thinking.”

“What did you just say?” I’m curious to see if he’ll repeat it to my face.

“I said it’s wishful thinking.”

“To have a second child to our nonexistent first child?”

“No,” he nudges my shoulder with his own as we walk, “To have a child period.”

“Nice try. Your baby fever isn’t gonna rub off on me so easily.” He scoffs out a laugh,

“It’s still early. We’ve got the whole day to fix that.” Seamlessly pulling Owen to a stop, I don’t pause our conversation as I step in front of him. My gaze doesn’t meet his eyes as I straighten CJ’s hat once more.

“Well, bear in mind we’re basically on the clock here, and CJ is a tiny person before she’s a persuasion tactic.” I lunge one foot back to make sure the hat is even, and that the baby can still see from under it. When I deem her hat positioning satisfactory, CJ smiles up at me at the same time that paints Owen’s flushed face. He holds his hand straight out in front of his body for me to take, and when I do, he pulls me in to clasp both hands together and rest them on my lower back. Minimal visitors in the zoo is definitely a perk as Owen’s far more physically affectionate without others around. I rest my hands on the portion of his chest that isn’t occupied by CJ’s happy demeanor.

“I don’t know if I’m cut out to be the mothering type. I’m just not… good with kids.”

“I understand your reluctance… but I’m gonna get you on board by the end of the day.”

“Yeah okay, Joyner. Whatever you say.”

Owen smiles down at me with a love as infinite as the number of stars in the universe. CJ squeals between us and I babble back at her in a higher pitch than my usual speaking voice. She squawks again and we go back and forth like this for a little while until she sticks her tongue out at me in between a smile. My jaw drops in a surprised, amused, and simultaneously offended manner, and I take her chubby little baby foot in my hand and squeeze gently, causing her to screech through fits of giggling.

“When did you learn how to do that? Owen, did you-” The words die on my tongue when I see the expression on Owen’s face. He’s wholly enamored and yet so smug at the same time. I feel my face heat up a little bit; I don’t even have to ask what he’s thinking.

“‘I’m just not good with kids’ my ass.”

“There are impressionable ears around. And I do not sound like that.”

“She’s not gonna remember any of this in a week, and yes. You do.” I glare at Owen with an expression of intolerance but my facade is crumbled as I can’t mask the growing smile he elicits by mimicking my expression.

“Let’s go you two.”

After what felt like an eternity we’ve finally made it to the elephant exhibit. The herd of African elephants are spread across the enclosure, some playing in water, some feeding from hay baskets, and a baby closely following it’s mother as she walks across the paddock. When Owen appears beside me

“Do you need a break? We can switch off and you carry the bag.”

“Sure.” I set the baby backpack on the bench behind us and unbuckle the fastenings of the carrier to prop CJ on the side of my hip. As we wait for Owen to take the carrier off his body, I walk her up to the wooden railing that surrounds the elephants’ enclosure. Of course, the sight ahead excites her and she begins bouncing on my side as a means of conveying her feelings. She makes a sound that I interpret as an interrogative before pointing to the animals.

“You see the elephants, CJ?”

“Uh-huh.” She lifts her tiny baby hand into the air and waves the best she can at the elephants, none of which are even looking our way.

“Are we waving? Say ‘hi elephants’!” I wave with her and gauge her smile to be even bigger than when she’d stuck her tongue out two minutes ago.

“Hi ephants!” I freeze mid wave in shock. Did she just-?

“Did you just? Owen!”

“Yeah?” he calls from behind us, still getting all our things in order.

“Did Carolynn or Jeremy say what her first words were?”

“Uhhhh, no. They said she hasn’t been speaking words yet, just consonant sounds,” Owen leaves the items unattended seeing as there’s no one else around,  “Why?”

“CJ. Say ‘hi elephants’!” I wave at the animals once more, praying that that wasn’t a fluke.

“Hi ephants.” Upon hearing her speak, Owen’s face holds the same expression as mine did just two seconds ago.

“Should we video it and send it to them or pretend it never happened so they can be the ones that hear her first words?”

“Take a video, or take a secret to our graves?” He pretends to weigh the options as if this is the most perilous decision we’ll ever make.

“You’re right, you’re right. Will you grab my phone for me?”

“Where is it?”

“My back pocket that the baby is currently sitting on.” I turn around to let Owen grab the device and unlock it for me.

“Should I just get you guys in the video or the elephants, too?”

“What are you talking about? Get in the video!” I scold him for trying to worm his way out of this memory. “Make yourself useful and revive your long lost vlogging skills.” Owen rolls his eyes but flips to the front facing camera and hits record all the same.

“Say ‘hi mom, hi dad’,” I direct CJ and she merely waves at me, not fully understanding the concept of vlogging at the ripe age of 10 months. “Update number 2: we’re at the elephant enclosure and CJ made some friends. Hey,” I speak quietly to capture her attention. “Can you say ‘hi elephants’?”

“Hi ephants!” She screams and then laughs, throwing her head back to make sure Owen is still present.

“A new word!” I cheer as Owen lowers my phone to stop the recording,

“New skill unlocked.” He hits stop and proceeds to trade me CJ for the phone for a quick second so I can send the video to the not exactly new parents.

“They’re gonna love this.” I click my phone off and tuck it back into my back pocket. Retrieving the baby carrier from the desolate bench, I slip it on to strap myself in before CJ. Once secured, I look up to take her from Owen but blink in surprise that they’re no longer standing in front of me. I turn slightly to my left to see CJ stumbling forward on wobbling legs whilst Owen keeps her standing. He removes his hands from her sides and allows her to grab a hold of both of his index fingers in either hand. Slowly, he walks her closer to where I’m standing one tiny step at a time.

The sight in front of me is so sweet there’s a strange feeling culminating in my chest. A micro trace of baby fever crosses my mind at the thought of Owen teaching our own baby to walk. The smile on his face is unlike anything I’ve seen before and the prospect of having kids suddenly becomes less dreary. I’ve always been afraid of being a bad parent, or messing up someone else’s life, but with Owen, all those fears disappear. Becoming a parent is no longer bleak; the thought of raising kids with someone as loving and enthusiastic as Owen, the world seems all that much brighter.

“Y/n,” he calls to get my attention, unaware I’ve been watching for the past few minutes. When he looks up from CJ’s tiny body, and recognizes the familiar ‘baby fever’ look in my eyes, he smiles and utters a simple, “I told you so.”

***

A/n: lawd help me I have been putting off so many requests to write self indulgent bs pls don’t hate me.

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13​ @kaitlyn2907​ @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals​ @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1 @joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul @celestialmolina @lilyjoyner

[justreadingfics]

It’s a Deal (Chapter 7)

Chapter Summary: How you and Bucky feel about the presence of your ex-boyfriend.  

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 4.3k

Warnings:+18 only, mention to smut, overdrinking, embarrassing behavior due alcohol consumption, Natasha knows stuff, ex-boyfriend, minor jealousy, minor angst, floof, Bucky has a somewhat creep confession, but give him a break, he’s never been in love.

A/N: Another smutless one, I hope you don’t mind. Thank you to my sweet Les for having my back. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated.

Tag list for this story is closed.  

Previously:

Your shoulder brushes against him as you walk past Bucky and he turns his body around, following you with his gaze. He takes a long sip of his drink and places a hand inside his pocket, watching as you approach your ex-boyfriend.  

He tries hard to bury deep down inside him the tug on his chest.

“Oh, fuck…”

Natasha’s curse makes him turn to her and he realizes she’s been watching him, with a dumbfounded expression he’s not used to see on her face.

“What?”

She scoffs and shakes her head, seeming in an estate of disbelief, “This whole time I’d been worried with the wrong person.”

No point. Bucky sees absolutely no point in trying to make it like there isn’t  turmoil twisting inside of him. Not for Natasha, anyway, it would be to no avail. Also, he’s pretty sure there’s a kicked puppy look on his face to make it harder for him to put on any kind of façade.

“Fuck,” he sighs and run his hand harshly over his face, “What the hell is this, Natasha?” He whines, failing at trying to not sound as helpless as he does.

“You tell me, buddy.” She points at him with her glass of vodka, tilting her head with interest.

“Shit,” he exhales, looking down, before his face snaps up at her, “I’m … just weird, I’m not myself these days.” Bucky bites his lower lip as if trying to somehow refrain from spilling the words, but he just can’t, he’s dying to let it all out. He steps closer to her and lowers his voice as much as he can with the loud music beating around them, “I’ve spent almost every day of the last month with her. I have absolutely no desire to see or think of another woman and I have to restrain myself constantly, cause if I had it my way I would call her every five minutes to check in on her, and… and when I’m thinking about her - which is all the time, I fucking swear - I wonder if she’s thinking of me, and now? I mean, right now? I feel like snatching the blade right now on my ankle and shooting it right on that fella’s throat.” Finally taking a breath after his rambling, he points in your direction, before turning to see you right when you’re letting out a small laugh at something the punk has said.

“Wow…” Natasha lets out a whistle.

“A few days ago,” he turns back to his friend, “I snuck into her closet to find out the name of her perfume. And you know what I did next?  I bought a large bottle for myself, like a fucking creep,” sheer frustration plasters on his tone.     

“Oh my…,” Natasha snorts at the same time a mix of incredulity and amusement shines on her eyes, “That’s definitely creepy and it’s even worse than I imagined. The almighty Bucky Barnes, the I’m a whore and proud,” she thickens her voice playfully, moving her arms in a mimicking way, “The I don’t do romance and attachments king is a tiny lost puppy with big blue heart eyes, aww,” she inclines her head as if she’s thinking of him as exactly how she’s just described him.

Bucky tries but he can’t actually find the amusement in all of that. The fact one single woman is making him feel that way is entirely new, unpredictable and… scary as hell. He has no clue where to go from there.

Natasha seems to swiftly catch on his little inner self torment and, after letting out a deep sigh, she puts on a small smile and shakes her head, “Don’t worry Bucky, it’s probably a crush. A big one. But only a crush,” she places her hand on his arm, giving it a squeeze, “Y/n is one of my best friends and I know how delightful it is to be beside her. Maybe you’re just infatuated…”

“Maybe…” he exhales and shrugs, “I wouldn’t know… all I know is I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Not that I remember…. but I’m pretty sure I would.” He looks at you again while you’re still talking to the Eddie guy.  

“They have history,” Natasha says in a kind voice, following your gaze.

“I know.”

“He was her first and only boyfriend.”

“I know.”

“She thought she was going to marry him.”

“Damn Nat…” he breathes out his frustration, dropping his head for a moment, before raising his downcast gaze at her again, “Yeah, I know that, too.”

“But you’re Bucky fucking Barnes,” she snaps in a more cheerful voice shaking his arm with a enthusiastic force, “Don’t forget that, buddy,” she shoots him a warning glare, “Also, I’ve never seen a brighter smile on that woman than when she’s talking about you,” she beams.   

Bucky’s heart jumps and a quick breathy smile surges on his lips before he takes in a shuddering breath, “I’m not sure what I should do, though.”

“Well, figure it out,” she lets go of his arm and taps on it, “My advice for the night if you should accept it is let it flow,” she shrugs. “Go on with your thing and see what happens. Just try not to hurt you or her on your way, though,” Nat warns.

“I’m not even sure I-Wait,” he frowns after his gaze is drawn to the spot where you are again, “Did that fucker just leave her alone?”

He instantly struts towards you, ignoring Nat’s snicker.

~~~

“Hey,” you smile, gulping down the nervousness down your throat as you approach your ex-boyfriend. The one you haven’t seen ever since he broke up with you months ago.

“Hey,” he offers you a tight but kind smile back.

You halt on your way, the awkwardness building up a barrier on your way as you’re not sure what to do next. Should you give him your hand to shake? Hug him? Do nothing at all? Not once before you had thought that moment would play out between you and Eddie.

But he seems a bit more resolved than you and shrugs, leaning forward and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “Congratulations again,” he says, still holding you, “You’re the best and most hard working person I know, you deserve it.”

The small smile in your lips grows wider and you accept the compliment, relieved that the awkwardness seems to be tamed. While you’re so close to him after all that time, you notice he’s wearing the same perfume he’s been wearing for years, the one which would make you sneeze all the time, but you never really said anything.

“Thank you,” you lean back, sniffing discreetly to suppress the sneeze threatening to come out, “I’m happy you could make it,” you add. The fact he’s arrived all by himself grasps your interest, considering how everyone around you would tell you he was probably seeing someone else… however, if he did have someone, he wouldn’t bring them to your party, would he?

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it,” he says with a gentle tone, but the formality is still there, you notice.  

You two engage in some small conversation and you can’t help but to take him in and realize that, just like the perfume, Eddie looks exactly the same with everything else. The same hairstyle, same grey t-shirt you gifted him on your last Christmas together, the same constant half smile while he talks… he still speaks quietly, letting out just a few small words, which has always forced you to be the one to push on the conversations…

It’s… familiar… even comfortable, you dare say. But if you’re going to be honest with your own feelings, ever since he walked away, you thought you would be yearning to feel that familiarity again, that it would lead you to a sense of… home.

Why it isn’t quite like that, though?

“You look different,” he says as the subjects of small talk seem to come to an ending point.  

You put your previous thoughts aside for later consideration.

“Oh…Different good or bad?” you ask, tilting your head with a small pull in the corner of your lips.

“I don’t know... just…different, I guess,” he frowns and quickly puts on that half smile of his.

“Oh, well… it’s been a while…“

“Yeah… I guess you’re right,” he says, regarding you with a wondering look in his eyes that makes you shift on your knees, “Listen,” he clears his throat, “I was wondering if we could meet to talk one of these days.”

“Oh,” you draw in a breath. Talking to him, having a real conversation, is something you’ve been wanting to do for a long time. It still feels like you don’t fully understand why you’re broken-up. Regardless the time it’s passed, you still feel attached to him somehow, like, no matter how exciting and new, you’re now living someone else’s life and not the one you had planned for you years ago.

“I mean,” he adds before you can give him a proper answer, “We still need to figure out what to do about the condo.”

The words are like cold water thrown at your face. There you are, thinking he wanted to talk about your relationship, but what’s really on his mind is the condo you’ve bought together. Swiftly, you work on putting a small smile on your face, “Yeah… sure, you’re right,” you nod.

“Hey! Eddie!”

Both of you look towards the female voice and your eyes fall upon a beautiful young woman you recognize as one of the members of SHIELD’s tech team. You’ve worked with her on a joined project of the two organizations before. Chloe… you believe her name is Chloe.

She’s waving at Eddie excitedly, calling him over the little group she’s with. She doesn’t seem to notice you’re standing next to him until her gaze meets yours. The wide grin on her face drops into a quick cringe before she nods in a respectful manner and shifts her look away, whispering something at one of the guys in the group.

When you set your attention back on Eddie, you tighten your lips just as you notice how the bone on his throat bobs right before his flustered eyes meet yours again.

“I-I, ahm, gotta go,” he runs his hand on the nape of his neck, “Can I call you later?”

“Yeah, sure.” Your voice comes out calm and controlled.

“It was good to see you,” he says, before placing his hand on your shoulder, “Congratulations again.”

After you give him a small nod as a thank you, keeping the tight smile on your face matching his, he walks away towards the group and the woman. The one your friends kept warning you about, apparently, given how uncomfortable he seemed to be in front of you after you saw her. As soon as he gets there, you see the two of them talking in hushed words. He keeps a safe distance from her, but his hand on her arm is where your gaze sticks on. 

You don’t have the slightest idea of what’s happening with your feelings right now. Minutes ago you were realizing the familiarity of Eddie wasn’t what you expected it to be anymore, but now, seeing him so close to someone else… a beautiful woman, to be more specific, with her long black straightened hair and fancy blue dress holding each one of her beautiful curves…It just crushes you.  A lump grows in your throat and while your gaze flicks around, you feel small… lost… picturing ways you could flee away from your own party at the same time ten years of your life flash in your mind.

The cold, yet gentle touch of metal in your elbow is what takes you out of your own head, “Hey, everything alright?” says the silky and soothing voice.

Your gaze meets Bucky’s while he stares at you with concerned eyes. Those gorgeous blue eyes of his…There’s already a bit less  turbulence inside your chest and mind. You think nothing of it, though.

“Yeah, yeah…” you smile, “He, ahm… Some friends called him. He had to go.”

Bucky just lets out a hum – which sounds more like a groan – staring over your shoulder to where the little group stands.

“He said he wants to talk…“ you start, and don’t see when Bucky’s breath hatches catches on his throat, his eyes back on you, “About the condo,” you press your lips, “He said he’ll call me.”

While your gaze gets lost ahead, you have no idea that the sadness in them pinches deep inside Bucky’s chest. If you could read Bucky’s mind at that moment, you would find out that the fact your reencounter with your ex-boyfriend hadn’t ended up in some sort of hope for reconciliation hasn’t left him sad at all, but the lost look in your eyes… makes him wanna hold you in his arms and never let go. Not before punching a douche in the face, of course.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart,” he wraps his arm around your shoulder, side hugging and pulling you closer to him, “You’re the fucking boss now and, look around, ” he gestures with his glass of whiskey to the crowded and jazzing place, ”You have a damn Stark party just for you. We’re all here to celebrate the badass motherfucker you are. You’re not just going to let anything ruin your night, will you?” The corner of his eyes crinkle as he grins at you.

You let out a small laugh, the heaviness inside you slowly slipping out of your body as you allow yourself to synchronize with Bucky’s vibe. You can always trust  the upbeat way he presents the world to you to lift whatever mood of yours up.  You look down at your empty glass and shrugs, “I might need a refill, though…or two,” you shoot him a warning look.  

Bucky’s smile stretches even wider and he lets go of your shoulders to offer his arm, nodding towards the bar, “Shall we?”

You gladly accept his suggestion by wrapping your hand around his elbow and walking with him, not even noticing that Eddie’s gaze follows you with piqued interest.

~~~

Quite a few more drinks later and after listening to Tony’s very nice and very Tony speech on his toast to honor you, you’re already fully invested in your party again. Bucky stays by your side most of the time, but you also come across with a lot of your friends from work and a few others, who are all more than happy to put you high on a pedestal for your promotion and party with you. It stings a bit when Camilla, your friend from work, tells you she heard Eddie and Chole are really together, but two or three more drinks after, you end up hitting the dance floor with a few friends by your side, not even seeing when Eddie leaves the party early, right before Chloe.

You’re happy to see that Amanda, one of Bucky’s friends you met that night in the club, has made it to the party, but you’re already too tipsy and it slips from your attention when she comments on how Bucky has been quite distant from her and the other girls for almost a month now.

If you’re going to be honest, you end up not truly noticing a lot of stuff since you’ve been drinking a great deal more than you’re used to, probably due the drill of having a kickass party thrown for you mixed with the unexpected sight of Eddie with a potential new girl - after months without seeing him. As the alcohol does its thing in your senses, you don’t notice the way Bucky looks at you, the way he holds you a little bit stronger when you’re dancing together, how he glares at the guys who tries to approach you or the fact he only leaves your side when he knows you’re comfortable and safe.

All you see and feel now is the music and the lights as you sway your hips to the beats. The party is almost coming to an end, but there’s still a small crowd of people enjoying their last moments there. The alcohol, the music and your friends, more precisely Camilla, Olivia, Amanda and Nat – the last two in the middle of a flirting contest you fail to notice, as well – are the ones around you. The buzz clouds your mind in a delicious way until your back bumps into a hard wall. Your weakened knees give in but before you hit the floor the wall wraps around you and holds you still.

Oh, you know that hard wall of muscles… You know it pretty well.

“Hey, there.” A foolish smile plasters on your lips at the same time the back of your head leans against the wall so you can see his face. His gorgeous and ungodly sexy face, “Your face is sexy,” you decide it is a very good idea to tell him that now.

“That right?” Bucky smirks, holding your gaze.

“Oh, yeah,” you clumsily turn around to face him, prompting him to grab you tighter since you stumble a bit on your toes. You curl the hand holding your glass around his neck, “And you’re big, too,” you don’t even notice but you’re a slurring mess as you speak and look to see your running hand down his broad chest, roughly probing his muscles, “Very, very big,” you exaggerate a sultry tone, the alcohol erasing any kind of subtleness or refinement in you or the notion that there are people around you, while your hand explores further down his body to say it’s not just about his muscles you’re talking about.

“Sweetheart.” Not making a big fuss about it, he gently grabs your wrist over his lower stomach to place it around his neck along with the other one, ”I’m very flattered to hear that, you’re one very nice piece of ass yourself, too,” he engages with you, keeping the playful tone.

You let out a girlish giggle, turning your face towards your friends, the trio now whispering and laughing among themselves as they watch the both of you, “He said I have a nice ass,” you shout, not realizing how loud you actually are as you lift and shake your hips, making your friends laugh harder and causing you to trip on your toes once again. But of course Bucky catches you before you fall.

“How many drinks, so far, huh?” Bucky chuckles, keeping the hold of his arms and eyes on you.

“Three or four,” you answer with nonchalance, bringing the glass to your lips as you hold yourself on his neck, only to pout when you notice it’s empty.

Your friends scoff at your lie behind you, “You can add at least ten more to that count, sweetheart,” Natasha shouts from behind you, punctuating the word sweetheart with a teasing pull on her mouth. 

You make a dismissive face only Bucky can see, “Nonsense, check out what I can do,“ You step back from Bucky with the intention to put on a yoga pose you’re sure will convince your friends of how ok and steady you are and as soon as you lift your leg, you trip again and this time Bucky is not fast enough to catch you before your ass hit the floor.

The four of them rush to help you out as tears fall down from your eyes at how much you’re laughing, holding your glass up. It’s Bucky who ends up picking you up, though.

He and your friends shower you with questions to check if you’re ok but it all falls like a blur sound to your years.

“Ok, I guess it was a bit more than three or five,” ignoring the curious eyes around your group, you laugh making an ok sign with your hands before your stomach churns and you grimace, placing your hand over it, “Oh…” your face drops.

 “Alright, come one, let’s go,” Bucky supports you with his hands and urges you to walk with him.

“Where are you taking me?” You frown, sounding almost offended as he takes your glass from you and hands it to Natasha, gently pulling you along.

“My place… let’s freshen up, come on,” Bucky patiently says, nodding at the girls to say goodbye, who just nod back, knowing you would be in good hands.  

“Ooooo, bye girls, we’re going to his place to freshen up,” you wink exaggeratedly and make air quotations with your fingers, addressing your friends as you clumsily walk away with Bucky.

~~~

“Bridal style,” you loudly announce stretching your hands and legs to the air as soon as he steps inside his living room with you in his arms.

Bucky can’t help but laugh as a snorting giggle follows your words. If he had his way he would’ve carried you from the party, but he didn’t want to attract even more attention to your state. So, on the second trip on your own feet inside the elevator he picked you up. It would be easier that way.

Bucky carefully puts you standing on the floor and, as soon as he’s convinced you can stand on your feet without stumbling or falling, he turns to shut the door, only to have you jumping on him as soon as he faces you.

“Hey, hey,” he manages to say softly, placing his hands on your hips as you shower his mouth and face with sloppy kisses which taste strongly like fancy champagne.

“What? Let’s freshen up,” you answer in a log slur, dragging your lips on anything of him you can reach.

Bucky laughs, pushing you away with a gentle yet steady touch, looking deep into your eyes, “That’s not what I meant… not when you had so much to drink, sweetheart.” He flicks his thumb on your chin.

It takes a moment or two, but realization – and disappointment- finally dawns on your face, “Oh… you meant freshen up for real…” You shut your eyes and tap your hand on your forehead.

Bucky thinks you’re too damn cute for your own good.

You focus on him again, “Are you sure, though?” You insist, shoving a finger in your mouth and tilting your hips, putting on before him the unsexist pose Bucky has ever seen.

Yet, it’s the most adorable thing and his annoying heart swells inside his chest for you as you keep your attempts of seducing him, “Yeah, I’m sure,” he nods unrelentingly, holding back a laugh and waiting to see the follow up of your shenanigans.

“But I’m horny and I wanted to suck your big dick,” you pout, crossing your arms and thumping your foot against the floor.

Bucky takes in a deep breath. He is only human and can’t help that his poor cock twitches at your bratty whine. But your glossy half open eyes and dragged voice reminds him he’s the only one sober enough to make decisions in the room and therefore, his buddy down there needs to chill, “I’ll be more than happy to allow you to do so,” he’s amused when your face light up, “But not tonight, sweetheart,” he puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you towards the kitchen, not without spotting the dirty look you give him.

“You’re no fun,” you complain, barely able to put one foot in front of the other before you stop and swirl around, trusting on his strong hold to not let you fall wearing a devilish little smirk on your face.  

Bucky cocks an eyebrow, waiting for whatever mischievous pearl will come out of your lips now.

“What if…” you start before a hiccup interrupts you, “I show you my boobies?” You offer, leaning over and pressing your breasts together through your dress, “You looove my boobies,” you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively even if your eyelids can’t even remain wide open.

“I do love your boobies,” Bucky can’t deny, not hiding his amusement.  

Apparently, that’s all you need to hear before you throw yourself on him again. Bucky swiftly catches you with a huff, but you can’t do much more than circle your arms around his neck and rest your head on him.

“Love your muscles,” you mumble quietly against him, “There are so many of them.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Bucky tries, “As much as I love your boobies and you love my muscles, now it’s not the time. Now it’s time to get you some water, maybe a sandwich, huh? Then I can prepare you a shower and you can rest a bit and… Y/N?” Bucky calls when you’re too quiet- not even making a sex innuendo when he mentions a shower.

He listens a not so soft snore as a response and looks down to see you completely dozed, with your mouth agape against his chest. He sighs… still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, goddammit.

“Guess we can skip right to the resting, then,” he whispers through a fond smile.

Taking you in his arms he walks towards his bedroom and places you on his bed. You only stir a bit when he gently removes your shimmery and apparently uncomfortable dress and unties your heels. He dresses you in a t-shirt of his so you can rest comfortably. He manages to make you drink a little bit of water, to which you whine graciously enough, and, after covering you with a thin blanket – because he knows you’re never really that cold at night, no matter the temperature in the room –  he moves to get up and maybe take a shower for himself.

“Bucky,” you mumble and, without opening your eyes, you move yourself to nuzzle against his metal hand sprawled on the mattress, “You’re not going to leave me, are you?”

Bucky is absolutely sure you have no idea of what that question really means to him, how it falls upon the rising tangle of feelings inside him… which is all for you. Wonderful and beautiful and special you, who came unannounced and stirred up something in him he never thought possible. Something he just doesn’t know what to do with.

Moving meticulously slowly not to pull his hand and wake you up again now that you’re deep back into slumber, he lays down beside you. For your question… he doesn’t say anything. Simply because he doesn’t know the right answer yet.

~~~

To be continued. 

[jimlingss]

ooo exciting !!! jungkook + romance/fluff + "kiss me" + e2l

Anonymous said: Can I request a fluffy jungkook fic with a touch of angst. Any AU you want and maybe a friends to lovers? Feel free to decline :)

Anonymous said: a fluffy “oh! you’re jealous” prompt with Jungkook pls? any au is fine☺️

Anonymous said: jungkook, prompt list 1 - #27: “Are you blushing?” :> i hope you have a lovely holiday season!!

Anonymous said: Friends to lovers!! Or enemies to lovers pls!! I love that shit

This is the most ambitious crossover of requests since Avengers lol jk.

↳ Suspended, Seduced, Surprised!

1.9k || 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst || Jeon Jungkook || E2L, Huddle For Warmth!AU (sort of)

It started off with Jungkook coming out of nowhere and nearly scaring the living daylights out of you.

He laughed — that noisy sound that makes his nose scrunch — and you rolled your eyes, turning back around in the line. When the ski lift chair arrived, he asked if he could come too. You told him to kindly fuck off, but in the next second, he slid next to you, smiling widely.

It was too late for him to get off. Not when your feet was already lifted off the ground.

You don’t know why he’s so adamant about bothering you. If Taehyung didn’t tell you at the last minute that Jungkook was coming along, you would’ve just not come on this trip and ruin your winter break like this.

“Why didn’t you go with Sana?”

The ski lift is ascending upwards at an incline, moving past the coniferous trees and those skiing down the mountain beneath you. Luckily, it wasn’t too sunny or snowy out. But the air was still sharp with frost that’s long made your cheeks numb. Every exhale past your parted lips creates a cloud of condensation.

Jungkook’s thick brow lifts and he pushes his ski goggles up onto his head, on top of his blue beanie like yours. His doe eyes look at you. “Why would I go with her?”

You shoot him an incredulous expression. You don’t know why he’s playing dumb. “I thought you were trying to get cozy with her.”

The corner of Jungkook’s mouth slyly curls and he leans in. “Oh. You’re jealous.”

Instantly, your face contorts into a disgusted expression and a boyish laugh bubbles out of him. 

“I would,” he says, “but she already has a boyfriend.”

“She does?”

Jungkook hums. “Some guy two years older than us, majoring in finance.”

Oh. You didn’t know that.

Suddenly it sinks in that you’re having an actual conversation with Jungkook. One where he’s being a cocky asshole only a tiny amount and you can actually bear through it. It almost feels like you’re….friends.

But right as the thought comes to mind, the ski lift chair halts and momentarily swings. You jolt, looking at the chair ahead of you that’s frozen as well before turning around. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Everyone is seemingly as confused as you are. “It looks like we’re stuck.”

You groan. “Oh shit.”

Five minutes later, Taehyung comes wandering underneath you. He stands by a tree on the sidelines and cups his gloved hands around his mouth. “Oh my god!” he screams at the top of his lungs. “I finally found you guys!”

“Taehyung!” You shout back at him. “What’s going on?!”

“Well, I was looking around for ages and Jimin wanted to give up since he thought you went down to the lodge and I told him no way—”

“Dude!” Jungkook shrieks and you wince at the sheer volume of his voice. “We get it!”

You remember why he grinds on your nerves so badly. Everything Jeon Jungkook does just irritates you. Including the fact that he was currently trying to burst your eardrums.

“Right! Sorry! They said it would be fixed in half an hour! Hang in there!” Taehyung fist pumps the air with a rectangular grin as if it’s enough to encourage the two of you and you sigh loudly. 

“Whelp.” Jungkook settles back into his seat. “Looks like we won’t die.”

“Great.”

“Are you cold?”

You turn to the boy, surprised that he’s actually considerate enough to—

“We could always get naked, you know,” he adds, shattering the image of him that had curated in your mind for point two seconds and it flees as quickly as it came. “To converse heat.”

Your mouth opens, speechless. You shake your head. “Right when I thought you were being nice to me for once.”

Jungkook grins unabashedly. “I am being nice. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t flirt like this with anyone else and if you ask me, I think it’s working too.” The bastard leans in and you lean backwards to keep more distance. He bats his pretty lashes. “Are you blushing?”

You deadpan, “It’s literally negative thirty degrees out.”

He laughs again.

The both of you get comfortable, laying your ski poles across your laps, and looking out at the snowy mountain landscape that’s all too peaceful. Or at least until you feel a poke through your puffed jacket.

You look down to find Jungkook handing you a heat pack from his pocket. “It’s not much but it might help.”

“....Thanks.”

Strangely, the guy doesn’t brag about how kind he is or how much you should appreciate the gesture. He simply starts to hum to kill time. It’s soothing. Kind of nice to listen to even.

You enjoy it until he abruptly stops and asks— “Why do you hate me so much?”

You look at him. “Seriously?”

Jungkook smiles and it’s somehow reminiscent of a rabbit. “What? Nothing like confronting people when they’re trapped in a spot with nowhere to run, right? Plus, this is a good opportunity to be reflective, don’t you think?”

You scoff, not sure where to begin. But there’s no reason why you should spare him from the truth of why you grew to have such a strong distaste for him. If he wants to know, you’ll happily let him know. 

“How about for never calling me back after you slept with me? Is that a good enough reason for you?”

Jungkook’s head whirls over. The bomb’s been dropped.

You feel his stare on your profile. It goes deathly quiet. 

It’s the biggest resentment you held against him, what made his cocky attitude even uglier to you. Maybe you shouldn’t be so angry. It wasn’t like he vowed anything would happen afterwards. Maybe he thought it was supposed to be a no-strings attachment thing. But it wasn’t like that for you.

Jungkook acted interested when you first met. He sweet-talked you. He led you to believe there would be something more. And when there wasn’t— well, the rest is history.

You wonder if Jungkook’s shriveling up and cringing for asking in the first place or if he’s remotely ashamed. You hope he is. It serves him right. The audacity he has to talk to you casually after ghosting you so brutally like that is insulting. You wonder how he’ll respond, if he’ll regret bringing the subject up, if he’ll try to conjure some kind of half ass apology—

“Because you never gave me your number.”

This time, your neck snaps towards him. Jungkook’s gaze is unwavering.

“You’re the one who ditched me,” he says. “You were gone when I woke up.”

“I wrote you a note. On a napkin on the dresser.”

The man, in the blue snowboard jacket and black ski pants, frowns. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did. Do you think I would lie about this?”

“Then I never saw it.”

It’s easy for Jungkook to lie. One of his many talents is his pretty lips that has easy words rolling off his tongue like butter. But by his expression, the slight pout of his mouth, the furrow of his brows, you can tell he’s being genuine. There isn’t any facade, any flirtation.

“I would’ve remembered if I saw it cause that morning Taehyung woke me up and he never wakes up before me. But he was whining because of his allergies and needed me to run to the pharmacy—”

The pair of you go silent.

It dawns on you both.

Kim Taehyung.

Knowing Taehyung and his godforsaken allergies, he must’ve taken the napkin and sneezed right into it. He probably threw it in the trash or took it with him and crumpled it into his hand. God fucking dammit. 

“It wasn’t my fault,” Jungkook murmurs, his eyes rounded at the realization.

You shift uncomfortably. The possibilities of what-if storm your mind. What if Jungkook saw it, what if he texted you or called you afterwards like he promised. What if you didn’t meet again on accident through Taehyung but continued the communication yourselves. Could he be sitting here next to you as someone more in your life?

But you brush the thoughts away as it overwhelms you.

“That’s funny,” you pipe up, mustering some stiff laughter, breaking the silence. “At least we solved one mystery.”

“Y/N.”

“It’s cold.” You wrap your arms around you. “We should stop talking and conserve heat.”

Jungkook nods and the pair of you quiet down. But without conversation, time drags on slower.

You peek a look at him and instead of being deep in thought like you thought he’d be, Jeon Jungkook is looking around, blinking with his doe eyes, the black strands from his bangs nearly pricking into them. He’s completely nonchalant and you internally sigh to yourself.

You’re not sure what you were expecting. 

Jungkook is Jungkook.

That note on the dresser probably wouldn’t have changed anything.

“Y/N.” He speaks up a minute later.

“What?”

“You know how we could keep warm?”

“What.”

“Kiss me.”

You could not roll your eyes harder.

An enormous grin spreads into Jungkook’s cheeks, irises twinkling from the snow’s refraction. The little shit has too much fun annoying you and he jumps at the chance to continue to egg you on, “Why? Too scared to? Think you might fall in love with me now that we cleared the air and you don’t hate me anymore?”

He bats his lashes exaggeratedly.

You scoff. “Yeah right. As if.”

“Then why not?”

Your head spins around to face him, momentarily taken aback at how he’s a few inches away but you conceal your expression just as quick. You don’t know why he’s so insistent on this terrible joke. “Why? Do you want me to kiss you?”

Jeon Jungkook’s grin taunts you.

You loll your head to the side, eyes narrowing into slits. “You think I won’t do it.”

“I’m just trying to improve the mood.” He sits back and shrugs, having too much fun watching your explosive reactions. “It doesn’t matter what I say to you. You’re a dog with all bark but no bite, Y/N. I know you too well.”

Your jaw clenches at the challenge. At his mocking tone. At the bastard’s audacity.

And just to prove him wrong, you grab Jungkook’s face in your hands and turn him towards you. In one breath, you aggressively slam your mouth against his. It almost hurts. Your teeth nearly clash. But you barely feel anything with your numb lips except for how chapped his lips are.

It’s a brief kiss, but enough to prove yourself.

You pull away with a cocked brow and small smirk, relishing in his wholly stunned expression.

At that same moment, the ski lift jolts and starts to move again. Someone behind you cheers. 

“You don’t know me at all, Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur softly, seductively and with the smirk still plastered on your features. The unloading zone approaches, so you move the safety bar, stand up from the ski lift chair and glide away.

Jungkook’s delayed, but follows after you helplessly a second later. You turn around while you still have the chance and he stares at you, blinking owlishly. 

“If you want to make me blush or get jealous, you’re going to have to try a lot harder than you have been, Jeon. You should probably work on your kissing skills too. Staying like a dead fish isn’t appealing to me.”

You glide away on your skis before he can get another word in. In the meanwhile, a grin slowly spreads into Jungkook’s cheeks and he decides to accept your challenge.