#the extra tens of thousands of words will probably feel like nothing by the time we get there anyway-

[burning-academia-if]

good thing mc has two hands, one for Rook and the other for Beck hahaha.

Rook romance and Beck bestie dynamic:

Rook/Beck poly dynamic:

[fantasylandloser]

Cuddle Buddies

pairing: rafe x reader

Summary: reader is afraid of storms and seeks out rafe one night

Word Count: 3.1K

A/N: Don't we all need a little soft Rafe for Valentines day

Warnings: mentions of sex, what is proofreading?, what is editing?, Ward bc he's a loser but he's not bad in this,

******

Staying with the Cameron family was like paradise. There was non moldy food, an entire library that you had access to and no financial stress. Ward only asked a few things of you and they were all doable. 

The only problem you’d had so far was Rafe. He hated having you and John B there and he made sure you knew it. And for some reason he paid extra special attention to making sure he gave you the most hell. Probably because John B was dating Sarah and you’d seen her go toe to toe with him before.

It’s mostly small annoyances. He’ll get in the shower before you get the chance and stay in there for an hour just to use up all the hot water. He would eat the yogurt that Rose would buy just for you, even though he didn’t like it. Sometimes he’d even blast his speakers with that god awful shit he calls music. But even though all of this inconveniences you, you still liked living here better than John B’s. 

You had only Your mom comes and goes as she pleased and eventually the bills became too much for you and you got evicted. You hadn’t seen her since and DCS had been on you and John B’s case at the same time. So when Ward offered you sanctuary you jumped at the chance and you try to do everything humanly possible to keep him pleased.

It was one of ten thousand reasons Rafe hated you so much. Everytime he turned around his dad would be praising you for being such a hard worker, such a smart girl, so sweet, so kind, so caring. It never stopped. Ward  had not offered Rafe a kind word in months, but had nothing but good things to say to you. And with that, you were a pogue. So Rafe was able to justify why he treated you the way he did for months. 

Today Ward had decided to take the whole family fishing and he wanted to welcome you and John B, even though he already had. Wheezie was reading a book. Sarah and John B were nowhere to be found. Rose was already drinking even though it was seven in the morning. Rafe was on a chair with his eyes closed, you knew he wasn’t sleeping though because every few minutes he would open his eyes, glance at you like he was waiting for something and then close them  back. You knew Ward would be coming out in a few minutes and you wanted to look useful so you got up to grab the bait. Almost as soon as you lifted the heavy cooler, Ward appeared.

 “Rafe!” He exclaimed. “What’re you doing, you see a girl lifting heavy stuff, you pick it up for her.” He threw his arms out gesturing to you. “I mean what do you do all that working out for? For show.” Ward scoffed, muttering “Jesus” under his breath. 

You see Rafe’s face visibly darken from being reprimanded. As he huffs out a sorry to his dad that he definitely didn’t look like he meant, as he got up to help you. He easily snatched the heavy cooler from you. “Try not to do that all day.” Rafe told you, his tone low. And even though you feel bad that you got him yelled at, you can’t help but return the attitude. 

“Do what?” You ask, your head jerking  back at his tone. Rafe rolled his eyes like you knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Pick up heavy shit when you see my dad coming. I don’t care what you’re trying to prove, but you’re getting in my way.” He tells you, his tone condescending. “The helpless act doesn’t work for pogue girls.” Rafe finishes, his attitude more prominent than before. You scoff at his audacity ready to go in on him, walking behind his muscular figure as he moves the bait.

“First of all, nobody is trying to be helpless. Second of all, if you weren’t always sitting on your ass then maybe he wouldn’t feel like he needed to say that to you.” You clapback, fully aware that he probably wasn’t going to let that slide.

You see the wild look in his eye when he turns to look at you, it makes you nervous because sometimes Rafe could truly be mean.  Luckily for you, Ward had called him and he had walked away.

******

You and Rafe hadn’t had any more unpleasant interactions for the rest of the day. Actively avoiding each other, to not cause trouble even though that was Rafe’s default. Ward had called it a day pretty early after learning that a storm was rolling in. and knowing he didn’t want to be in that kind of weather. 

By the time you got home, it had started raining heavily and everyone was off to do their own thing. You went up to your room and after taking a shower and cleaning up some, you allowed the rain to lull you to sleep. 

It was the middle of the night when you woke up again. The loud crack of thunder disturbing your sleep and your peace. Usually when it was thundering like this, JJ would stay with you until you fell asleep because he knew how scared you were of storms. But as of right now he was on the other side of the island and you’d have to be a crazy person to go out in that storm. When you checked your phone the clock read one a.m and you knew it would be a while before you fell back asleep. There was also a missed call and a text from JJ checking to see if you were alright. And you really weren’t. 

You didn’t know what it was about storms that got you but fear gripped you every single time, there was more than rain. You laid there for about thirty minutes, willing yourself to go back to sleep, but your attempts were a failure. After one particularly loud crack of lightning that appeared really close to you, you’d went to look for John B. But he wasn’t in his room and you knew that meant he was in Sarah’s. And you didn’t want to walk in there because who knew what they could be doing. 

Shamefully, you stood outside of Rafe’s door contemplating whether or not you were going to knock, before you heard lightning strike again. Without thinking you didn’t knock, just entering his room, knowing he would hate that. Only to see him sleeping peacefully in his bed. His covers lowered to his hips, and not a single thread of clothing present on his chest.

‘Rafe” You called, your voice hushed and almost a whisper. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake up, forcing you to call him again. He looked confused as he opened his eyes, blinking for a second. When his eyes finally focused on you. He groaned, rubbing his eyes. 

“What could you possibly want right now?” He asked groggily. 

You take a moment to swallow your pride, knowing there was an eighty percent chance that he kicked you out, and a ninety-eight percent chance that he held this over your head. 

“It’s storming.” You say dumbly. Rafe’s face scrunches up at your obvious statement. “Thanks for stating the obvious. “ He scoffs. “Get to the point, I’m tired.” He hurried you along.

“Can I sleep in here?” You whisper, your face heating up in embarrassment. 

Rafe almost laughed, as he prepared himself to say no, but when he looked at you in your cute pink pajamas and the way you were holding onto yourself. He’d always thought of himself as a protector, and obviously you thought so too if you came to him while you were scared. He knew he had to protect you, even if it was just from a stupid storm. 

Grumpily, he threw a pillow at you, and scooted closer to one side of the bed. “Stay on that side.” He tells you, closing his eyes back. You were shocked for a second, but you wordlessly climbed into the other side of his bed, trying not to further inconvenience him. Settling into his warm bed felt weird but also right, his bed was comfortable and it smelled like him, and even though you hated to admit it, Rafe smelled good. 

Your comfort only lasted for a minute before you were jumping at the sound of a branch hitting the window. Rafe groaned behind you, irritated. His arm circles around your waist and he yanks you closer to him, almost roughly. “Go. to. Sleep.” He punctuated. The weight of his arm pushing down into you. Comforting you, you realize. And before you know it, you allow yourself to be lulled to sleep, your breathing syncing up with Rafe’s.

******

Rafe and you had continued on with the regularly scheduled programming after that. Getting into dumb fights, him being petty all the time, but surprisingly never bringing up that night. When the next storm rolled around, and you knocked on his door. He wordlessly let you in and it had become a routine. Rafe even started to find himself looking forward to storming nights, even after arguing with you all day.He liked that you needed him to feel safe. No one had ever needed him before. 

The mornings had never been awkward; you'd wake up before him and leave because you were naturally an early riser and that was that. Until one particular morning, you had just been extra tired and happened to sleep later than usual. When you woke up you found your head buried on Rafe’s bare chest, which happened often and was another thing you didn’t talk about. His strong arm wrapped around your body holding you close to him, but none of that is why this was awkward. When you looked up Rafe was looking back at you. He was holding you and he was awake? He was holding you and he was conscious. He was holding you on purpose. 

He looked embarrassed to have been caught, and he was. He was just used to you already being gone when he woke up. He never got to see what you looked like when you were just laying there peacefully, not bitching, not being a kiss ass to his dad. Just sweet, and cute, a pretty girl that was laying on his chest. 

Rafe cleared his throat, letting you go as he saw the look on your face and realized how weird this was. “You snore.” He tells you, trying to deflect his embarrassment.

“No I don’t!” You scoff, rising up slightly. 

“Yeah you do.” Rafe laughs. “I thought you were choking.” He exaggerates, and you can’t help but think about how boyish he looks when he laughs. Not as calculating, or mean. 

“Whatever, I don’t snore.” You say rolling your eyes.

“Sure you don’t.”  A swift silence settles over you and Rafe is still smiling for a second. Until a knock comes to Rafe’s door, only for it to be pushed open a second later. 

“Rafe your Dad said-” Rose stops talking the minute she sees the two of you. Her eyes widen and you immediately know what it looks like. Rafe isn’t wearing a shirt, and you’re dressed in your shortest shorts, and sitting in between his legs. There’s no universe where this doesn’t look bad. It doesn’t help that both you and Rafe look like you got your hand caught in the cookie jar, faces reddening, and eyes widening and for some reason frozen.

“Oh..” Rose gasps. “I’m just gonna-” She blinks, obviously still shocked, especially with the way that the two of you stay at each other's throats. Without even saying anything else she simply closes the door leaving you two sitting there dumbfounded. 

******

“Okay guys…”Ward starts. “I called this family meeting because it has come to my attention that we need to talk about the rules in this house.” Your face reddens as Ward gives you a pointed look. John B and Sarah look confused, but Rose and Rafe look just as embarrassed as you feel. 

“I know you guys are attractive young adults living in the same house and that makes avoiding …temptation much harder.”  You sink into your chair, wishing a hole would swallow you up the more he continued to talk. “But I think you can do it. Now we’re all close here so I think I can speak honestly. Right?” He doesn’t wait for an answer before he continues on. 

“John B no more sneaking’ into Sarah’s room before seven a.m and I want you out of there by ten every night. You copy?” John B flushes lightly, thinking he’d been stealthy before nodding. Even though Sarah protested. “Dad, come onnn.” She whines. 

“That’s the end of it Sarah.” Ward dismisses, before looking at you and Rafe, much to your dismay. “Now I don’t know what the two of you have going on, and I’m not sure I want to know-” Sarah gasps loudly at this new information, only for Ward to raise his hand up quickly to silence her for a second. “I know you’re both old enough to make these decisions-” Rafe is radio silent and you were hoping he’d speak up so you didn’t have to. “But as of right now this is the house rule, no spending the night in each other's bed, unless you’re married.” He finishes.

“Mr. Cameron, it's really not like that.” You try your face flushing. “Me and Rafe are just-” Rafe clasps his hand over your mouth, much to everyone’s shock. “We hear you Dad. Loud and clear.” He says not wanting you to tell everyone that you’re cuddle buddies or whatever the fuck you were going to say which would have ranged on the same level of embarrassing for him. You look at him in shock, pushing his hand away, but not even bothering to further embarrass yourself. Rafe saw how mad you were though, your arms crossing over your chest, and you turning your legs away from him. He also couldn’t ignore the small pout that had possessed your full lips.

“Well okay, this has gotten weirder.” Ward said,  mostly to himself, while Rose nodded in agreement. “So how about we just remember the rules, and hopefully we’ll never have to talk about this again.” Ward proposed, trying to air out the awkwardness. Everyone nodded immediately which caused him to get up, wiping his hands off on his pants. 

“Come here, son. Let me talk to you really quick.” Ward gestured to Rafe. Rafe resisted groaning and followed behind him leaving you to the questioning looks of John B and Sarah. “Rafe? Really?” Sarah asked, laughing a little. 

“It’s not like that!” You exclaim, your face heating up. 

“It looked like it was like that this morning.” Rose joined in, much to your shock. John B joined the teasing with a gasp. “How scandalous!” Sarah was laughing so hard tears started to come out her eyes.

“Guys stop!” You say embarrassed, but not saying anything else because it seemed like Rafe didn’t want anyone to know.

“Okay fine. You’re no fun.” Rose tells you, picking her drink back up and sipping with a grin on her face, leading John B and Sarah to leave you alone as well.

****

You hadn’t even glanced at Rafe in three days. You were irritated with him for making it seem like you were doing what they thought you were doing. Sex. And he felt like he’d been paying for it. He liked having your attention. Even if you were arguing with him, rolling your eyes at something he said, anything really. So to be deprived of it for three days was driving him insane.

 He looked up the weather forecast at least six times a day, praying for a storm to roll through. When he finally got lucky and heard thunder crackle down, he was bouncing with anticipation, waiting for you to show up at his door. 

When you didn’t he went looking for you, only to be surprised that you weren’t in your room. He started to check everywhere. When he couldn’t find you he swallowed his pride and opened John B’s door to ask if he knew where you went, only to see you in there, in his favorite pajama set of yours, it was silk with cherries on it. You lay in between John B and Sarah, ironically watching a scary movie. 

Everyone’s eyes diverted to Rafe. Confused as to why he was standing at John B’s door, knowing he’d never gone near there since he started staying here. “It’s after ten.” Rafe points out. Feeling jealousy stirred at the fact that you went to someone else. 

“Dad approved since she’s scared of storms.” Sarah tells him, sticking her tongue out only for him to roll his eyes. He watches you and the way your eyes went back to the TV, continuing to ignore him. Rafe didn’t think he could take being ignored by you, while you were in another guy's bed, wearing his favorite pajamas, on a stormy night. Which were his nights. 

He entered the room standing at the edge of the bed, right in front of the TV, making John B groan. He’s shirtless, it was the first thing you noticed when he opened the door. Only clad in plaid pajama pants. 

“You’re still ignoring me?” He asks, only for you to not say anything back. He hated that. It was one thing to ignore him when you were by yourselves, but it was an entire different thing to ignore him in front of other people. Especially when your relationship was so weird. Nothing spoken on, or reassured. 

“M’sorry, okay?” He mumbles. Embarrassed he had to humble himself in front of idiots like John B and his sister. This piqued your attention, never hearing Rafe apologize before, your eyes meeting his. You’re shocked. 

“Come on, don’t you think they wanna be alone.” He tried guilting.

“We’d love to be alone.” John B weighed in, leading Sarah to reach over you and smack his chest. He winced. 

When you didn’t say anything, Rafe got impatient pulling your leg, so that he could reach the rest of you better, as the rest of your body reached the edge of the bed. 

“Rafe!” You exclaimed. Surprised by the fast motion of it. He didn’t say anything, he just hoisted you over his shoulder. “We’ll talk about it in my room.” He said, not wanting to let his sister, and her loser boyfriend in anymore of his business. But truthfully you didn’t need to talk about it, because this was the first time he’d ever come to you. All was forgiven the moment you’d seen him at the door.

[whoiwanttoday]

The Oscars are upon us and thank god. This year's awards season felt prolonged for some reason, like extra long. It's a thing I look forward to with all the red carpets but also seeing what wins and discussing what should have won but somehow it felt like it lasted forever this year. Maybe it's just me, who knows, but a few movies seemed to have a death grip on the entire conversation this year. My take on 2023 was that it was sort of an interesting year in that it's mean was strong but it didn't move me. A lot of years there are one or two movies that are such favorites of mine that I know I will return to them again and again. Movies that hit my heart. Last year it was Aftersun, a few years before that Portrait of a Lady on Fire and Little Women, and so on. This year, assembling my top 10 list I found that there was nothing that I couldn't wait to pop in again but I had trouble keeping the list to just 10 movies. It was a weird situation where if you looked at my list and told me my ten should be one and my one should be ten I'd probably agree with you. Anyway, with the Oscars coming here is what I think of the big awards. Best Actor I don't care. There are three candidates that if they won I'd be glad and I think the most likely to win are two of them so that's fine. I think Ryan Gosling should win for Supporting actor but he probably won't but I won't be heart broken cause I saw all the performances and they are good and the best supporting actor this year wasn't even nominated so who gives a fuck? Ditto best Actress and supporting actress but my pick would probably be Emma Stone for actress. Best Picture I think Zone of Interest or Poor Things would probably be my pick of those nominated, both are amazing pieces of cinema but the first can be like doing your homework in the sense that it is a deeply unpleasant experience that I think we should all go through from time to time. Past Lives and Poor Things are very rewatchable and will grow with each viewing so I think have the most legs for posterity other than the obvious Barbie and Oppenheimer. As for Oscars snubs, the stuff they basically ignored but shouldn't have because it's better than some of what made it in no orders is: May December, Asteroid City, Return to Seoul, Wes Anderson like ever, Zac Efron, CHARLES MELTON, Park Ji-Min, Greta Lee, Teo Yoo, I guess maybe just Asian Actors in general, great job Oscars. Oh, and you know, shout out to A Thousand and One which probably shouldn't be nominated, it wasn't perfect but is the sort of flawed that made it somehow far more compelling than a lot of the nominees this year. Oh, and Four Daughters should win for documentary because it is movie and fascinating and takes a tact I have never seen a documentary do before. Award moving the medium forward.

Anyway, all that is a long way of saying I am posting Margot Robbie today who should have been nominated for an Oscar this year. It isn't the single greatest snub of all time but she was in a movie that helped save Hollywood for at least one more year and did a phenomenal job in a role that I think literally she is the only person who could have played it. Acting is so much more than the words you say and your body and physicality is part of it and there is something to be said about someone who can both look like Barbie and act at a high level. Despite the fact that I do not feel the same level of lust for Margot Robbie the rest of the world does I cannot help but admire her as an actor. She is, without a doubt, someone who goes for it in a way very few movie stars do. She acts in everything i have ever seen her in as if this is her one shot to get into Hollywood and if she half asses it her career is over. This is such a level of effort from a movie star who often settle into a persona. Not because they can't act but because a persona is more profitable and better for their career but also yes, it is easier. Easier and safer and she never, ever does that. Thing is, awards are often about what is distinguished more than it is about what is accomplished and playing a toy is not distinguished playing say, dead people is. Now, you'll hear people say awards don't matter and they are nonsense and that's all true except also they do matter and they are important. Which is why this isn't a massive snub because Margot Robbie is going to be just fine but here is why they are important. Every single movie nominated for the Oscars this year is about to get a second life. It will have more eyeballs on it than it would otherwise, both in theaters and on streaming. Artists tend to want their art to be seen, it's very unsatisfying to create and have it wither in obscurity. It will also make them more money so they can make more art but also so they are rewarded for their labor. Finally, everyone likes to be recognized for their work. Anyone here who does a job knows how awful it is to toil away in obscurity without so much as a thanks or recognition of your effort. Which is why you see people like me worry about who wasn't nominated as much as anything else. So they don't matter in the sense that who wins the Oscar has no impact on what is or isn't a great movie but it does matter in the sense that it matters to the people working on it and it matters on how it gets recognition for work. So, Margot Robbie could at least win as a producer but I think her role was good enough she should be nominated as an actress again and think she largely wasn't not because the field was so crowded but because she made a movie about a toy and thus we've seen almost no actual awards for Barbie. Enjoy the Oscars, enjoy these pics of Margot. Today I want to fuck Margot Robbie.

[recurring-polynya]

Hey! I hope this is alright to ask, but do you have a specific poet whose works you associate with RenRuki?

Boy, did you send this ask to the wrong person.

I am not a poetry person.

I mean, nothing against poetry, I am very happy for the poetry-enjoyers, there's a lot of good poetry in this world, but I can read at most 3 or 4 lines of poetry before my brain just shuts off. I have a good friend who is very into poetry and reads a lot of it, and I have tried, it's just not interesting to me. I know it cannot possibly be related to my auditory processing disorder, but it's roughly the same experience as listening to an audiobook or podcase-- of being aware that information is being directed at me, but being completely unable to ingest it without deliberately focusing on it in a way that is both taxing and deeply unpleasant.

Furthermore, the handful of poems that do stick with me to any degree are...not...topical. I sat down and tried to think about Poems That I Can Name, and came up with the following list:

Two Corbies (a medieval Scottish poem about crows eating a knight's corpse)

Dulce et Decorum Est, by Wilfred Owen, a WWI poem I read in high school about watching someone die by inhaling chlorine gas

Ozymandias, by Mary Shelley's husband. In my head, I thought this was a very long poem, like on the order of Rime of the Ancient Mariner, and it's 14 lines long.

Pachycephalosaurus, by Richard Armour, which I know by heart and will recite at the least provocation, much to the chagrin of my spouse and children.

That William Carlos Williams poem about plums, but only because it's a Twitter meme.

I mean, I will read a poem if someone posts one to Twitter or Tumblr, usually by either Mary Oliver or Richard Siken, and I will often say "yes, that was a nice poem," but and if pressed, I could probably name as many as ten poets, but please don't ask me to "associate their work" with anything.

The closest thing I have to a poem that I associate with Rukia, is actually from an Oh Hellos song that feels like a poem to me, which is:

But Death, she is cunning and clever as hell And she'll eat you alive

I do like many of the Bleach volume poems, but one of their major selling points is that they are short.

I am sure someone is reading this post who has read my fanfiction and saying, Polynya, if you hate poetry, why does it come up in your stories so much? Are you a fraud???

a) of all, yes, of course, always. I don't know jack about doing make-up or hand-to-hand combat, and I write about those things at great length, also.

b) A major theme I like to explore in my writing is the various ways people communicate with one another and how some are more effective than others and that some communicate things that were not, in fact, intended to be communicated.

At some level, I think Renji wishes he were the sort of guy who could express his feelings for Rukia through a romantic poem, but he also feels, deeply, that he is not, and that he is so far from being such a person that it's embarrassing for him to even try. (I love to imply, from time to time, that Renji considers Izuru to be peak boyfriend material and that he's a big nothingburger in comparison, this is very charming to me). Once every hundred thousand words or so that I write, I will give him (1) charming poetic thought, isolated from any actual poetry, which serves to help him process his own emotions and are not for anyone else.

On the other hand, I don't think Rukia wants poems written for or about her! I think that (like me), the idea of someone writing a love poem for her would make her want to claw her own skin off. Poetry is so deliberate. It is wrapping a message in an extra layer of intention, like gift wrap. To many people, this is very romantic, for example, I love the idea that Byakuya and Hisana exchanged poetry, both that they wrote themselves and or that they found in books that they curated for one another. I think Rukia prefers to be regarded at some subconscious level. Poetry is too direct, too raw. A proper love poem to Rukia is in the ringing of swords when fighting back-to-back, it's in a stride shortened to keep pace, it's in an a cabinet full of spicy pickles that the owner can't eat himself.

[goldeneyedgirl]

Re: sex-worker alice— Have you written jasper finding out the alice he left is a sex worker? Cause oof i need to see the reaction to that

The initial meeting between Alice and the Cullens - from Alice's POV - happens on the street accidentally, and Edward identifies the bruises Alice has as something she does for work and is consensual - Jasper is definitely more focused on finding and harming the person who inflicted harm on Alice than comprehending what Alice actually did as a job.

There are also notes for a scene where the various Cullens try to get Jasper to talk about Alice's career choice and Jasper very stubbornly refuses to talk.

The below is the closest I've gotten to the first kind of confrontation, and is a very very rough draft

I'd say I was surprised to see another Cullen waiting for me after work, but I would have been more surprised to be left alone honestly. The surprising part is that it was Jasper. I was sure Carlisle and Esme would make another bonding attempt before Jasper came near me.

He stood up like a gentleman when I walked over, looking every bit as good as I remembered, but I had long since stopped caring what the Cullens thought of my clothing or how I looked. Not everyone was as wealthy and privileged as they were, and sometimes food and shelter came before plush winter coats and buttery-soft leather boots. Not all of us could have flawless skin and glossy hair every moment of the day. 

…Maybe I was still a little jealous. 

"Hi." Jasper's voice is soft, and I can feel his eyes search mine for a moment before I look away, to jam my phone in my bag. 

“Hi. Wasn’t sure who to expect today,” I said in a wry voice. “Figured it would be Esme again.”

He chuckled. “Are we that transparent?”

“Mmm-hmm.” 

//

"Just because you didn't want to see me naked, doesn't mean other people don't," I said calmly, taking a sip of my milkshake. 

Jasper scoffed, and for a moment, he looked annoyed. "That's not true," he began, and I raised my eyebrows. That was probably the closest we’d ever gotten to actually discussing sex. Some very restrained and polite kisses were the closest we got - the singular time we came close to making out, he’d insisted he leave. And I know my sixteen- and seventeen- year old self in her Hello Kitty underwear and thrift shop dresses wasn’t exactly the stuff of teenage fantasies, but I had definitely wanted more back then. 

Jasper gritted his teeth and changed the subject. "I thought you got free college through the state?”

"I get free tuition. I still need to pay for food and shelter and clothing and books,” I said. “Plus I need a car, and new glasses and a whole bunch of human things. The details don’t matter, Jasper, I need to work to afford school.”

“Not like this,” he snapped, and I realised this was as upset as I had ever seen him. 

"An hour of my time starts at one hundred dollars, Jasper," I retorted. "The house pays me sixty from that. There are no jobs for nineteen year old high school graduates that pay close to that. I've had nights where I’ve made a thousand dollars.”

He turned his head away from me. "I don't want to know that.”

"Why?" I demanded. "Because if it's some antiquated notion that I should have stayed virginal and pining for you - after you left without saying a word - whilst being screamed at by women who wanted extra foam in their coffee for ten bucks an hour we have nothing left to say to one another. We both know that you haven't sat around since the Civil War waiting patiently for marriage, so why was I supposed to? Especially when you had no intention of ever seeing me again?”

"You're selling your body, Alice. You can't expect me to be okay with that.”

“It’s my body,” I hissed, standing up. I almost missed Esme’s sad eyes and flowery euphemisms about saving me from my bad choices. “You don’t get to fuck off secretly and then turn up two years later - by accident - to judge me and complain and send your family to try and save me from myself. I needed saving when I was sixteen. Not now.”

Shouldering my bag, I turned to leave when his hand whipped out and clamped around my wrist suddenly and I tried not to flinch, the old bruises protesting at his tight grip. 

“You were supposed to be mine,” he said in a low tone that made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. Whether it was something supernatural or just the anger in his voice, I didn’t know. 

I pulled my wrist away and he let me go. “No,” I said quietly. “I’m not property, Jasper. And whatever we were supposed to be was over the minute you left me in Forks alone. Tell your family that I don’t work Wednesdays.”

And with that, I walked away. 

[husbandohunter]

You know ur small predicament post?? you should make a reverse version where s/o is smaller!

A Smaller Predicament [Genshin Impact x Smol!Reader]

Characters: Scaramouche, Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Xiao, Zhongli, Albedo

Synopsis: Not only did you shrink, you went pocket sized as well!

(A sequel to "A Small Predicament")

(A/n): Sorry for the long wait anon, and I kind of added a twist to the scenario for more diversity hahaha hope you don't mind >_<. And why is Childe the poster boy for this series lmao.

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

Childe

When Childe walks in, he doesn't see you....until he looked down. He almost crunched you beneath his feet if it weren't for your constant flailing of arms and screeching voice. He blanks out for a hot minute as you clung onto his toes, doesn't dare to move an inch because he's so petrified (even though there's nothing to be afraid of??). But honestly if Childe moved right now, he might accidentally flail you to the side and that's the last thing he wants.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU??" He screamed so loud it nearly blew you out of proportion. Seems like he's going to have alot of adjusting to do. Childe is a tall man (canonically the tallest) and he knows how impulsive he can get which is why he bought a handmade dollhouse from one of the Liyue merchants for you to stay in.

Though there's something about your tiny size that makes his heart flutter. With your face so small with a pair of eyes far too big, *clutches chest* "My oujo-chan is so cute" -Childe probably. He won't stop saying them over again and you were growing tired of his gushing reactions. He can't help it. He wants to spoil you rotten. You fit right onto the flat of his palms, the way you just snuggle up againts his finger and he just- swoons, might tear up (bruh).

Toys may be for kids but for Childe it was now his favourite pass time. While you navigate around the wooden dollhouse, he pitches in by moving around the furniture to make it easier for you. Offers to carry you through the rooms like a personal elevator. And please, please let him tuck you to bed. He has to pinch his fingers to grab the blanket. It's so adorable to him.

Loves it when you snuggle up against his collar. He thinks it would be the best area for you to be nearby him since the risk of you getting hit by anything (or him) by accident is very slim chance. Sometimes he pulls up his collar so that you're more comfortable and cradled within. He would have to avert his eyes down rather than turning his head if he wanted to look at you otherwise you'd be hit by his chin and that would hurt.

The poking sensation with you by his neck can bother him since he's veeeery tickilish there. Plus, Childe can get easily sweaty so have fun with that.

You have a feeling that he wasn't so pleased when you transformed back. You might be right. Actually, you are right. He secretly has an extra potion hidden somewhere...just in case.

Diluc

Mortified, his soul just left his body. To think things couldn't get any worse ever since he turned into a child to the point no one took him seriously, now you're literally the size of an apple. Oh god what if his bird suddenly swoops in and gobbles you right up? Or the wrath of the wind comes by, swirling you away towards a tornado. Needless to say, Diluc grew paranoid over your well-being ever since.

Due to your extremely small size, he will ensure that you are supervised by him (except at night where he has places to go). In otherwords, you're slipped into the inner pocket of his coat. It's super warm, you can fall asleep (and feel his heartbeat awww). Diluc doesn't like keeping you in places where people can see you, it would be too easy for outer things to access your tiny form (or maybe he secretly likes the feeling of you in his pocket.)

And he's such a gentleman about it. You noticed how careful he moves among his footsteps because he's worried that you might get dizzy. Diluc guards the pocket at close parameter, keeping an eye on things so he won't bump into them. As if he was treading on thin ice (you even suggested it was best to leave you home but he's too overprotective for his own good).

You're like his little assistant. Diluc does so much paperwork through out the day and although the act was small, he finds it endearing how you would help bring the papers back to it's rightful pile or pushing the ink bowl towards him. Or during his shifts at Angel's Share, crawling around the glass utensils and trying to find a specific wine beverage on his shelf. Of course that only happens when the shop is closed, how is he going to explain to his patrons that you shrank and now live in his pocket?

He dislikes the thought of you wandering too far. It's so easy for you to get lost especially when the mansion is so large.

At night you now sleep atop the fluff of the pillow. Diluc is a calm sleeper so he won't have to worry about hitting into you. However he radiates warmth so you just subconicously roll towards to his face. He usually wakes up with you sprawled over his nose. He can hardly breath (careful, he might just sneeze too).

This all happened because of the experiements you participated with Albedo. Diluc ensures that doesn't happen again. It will take some tencaious effort to convince him otherwise.

Scaramouche

Fuck this guy. He treats you like his new pet, a new toy (though you technically are one). He has this arrogant, smug and sadistic look as if he was a predator looking at his prey and grabs you by the collar before dangling you up in the air.

"Hmph, looks like the tables have turned," he says while toying with your state. You tell him he's just angry because he's short himself and mad that everyone else in the Fatui organization is taller than him. Scaramouche demon face activated. He's about to devour you. (Maybe you should keep your mouth shut this time. Honestly your relationship with him is pretty weird).

His hat is so fun to play with. You'd swing around like Tarzan using the strings that were hanging from it. His head was your playground now which annoys him to an enourmous extent because it makes him look ridiculous. Scaramouche will have a hard time catching you since you move around so much. Climb around him, especially the back of his neck. He'll start wheezing when you tickle him there.

The type to put you in a box but also the type to keep you on his shoulders. Being relied on makes him feel taller (lmfao). Scaramouche seemse to have developed a habit to poke your cheeks whenever he needed your attention and you bit him back once when he pushed too hard that you nearly fell off. Despite your size, your teeth still hurt. He threatens to put you back into the box if you don't behave and the outcome ends with a full out brawl as he tries to grab you again while you run around, pulling the strands of his hair to climb on top of his hat. (This is literally Tom and Jerry wtf.)

After transforming back, he outwardly admits his disappointmen. Scaramouche says it suits you better (when he actually meant that he highly prefers you small). You marked his words, keeping an extra vial for your own entertainment in the near future.

Xiao

Xiao was face-palming against his forehead real hard about this. For the love of Rex Lapis, what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time? First it was the child incident, now you're the size of his finger? Good grief, looks like he will have to keep an eye on you from now on but at the same time he's scared to get too close, you are nothing but a tiny mortal in which he would have to double his effort to look after.

He lets you sit at the crown of his head rather than anywhere else. You insisted since it was easier to see everything at a nice distance (plus he's short so you won't have to worry about him bumping into door frames). You noticed that Xiao also has a little strand sticking out from the center (ahoge) and you sometimes grab onto it for stability. Turns out he's quite sensitive there and winces when you pull too hard.

For the remaining week as the antedote was being prepared, Xiao became extremely aggressive over your well-being, he looks as if he's ready to massacre everything in his way...which he did. Clears out the monsters off the path before going on daily strolls with you, you wouldn't have to lift a finger from now on. No one except for him is allowed to hold you unless they're a trustworthy person. You could feel his sharp eyes glued on you like a hawk when walking into the grasp of Zhongli's hand.

You once accidentally tripped into his almond tofu when he wasn't looking and he almost ate you. Turns out being small made his job as your gaurdian ten times harder (especially when you're the clumsy type). If you were to fall off the table, he would have to catch you right? Xiao often bumps into furnitures in the process...ouch!

He's very soft. It's all over his forehead, his mouth, his eyes. When he looks at you, his tense eatures melted away and there's an invisible fondness over them as he cradles you in his palm. The way you snuggle in them is lke the most precious thing in the world.

When you turn back, there's a wave of relief. He was really stressed out you know?

Zhongli

His first thought is to get you as far as he can from the Funeral Parlour before Hu Tao finds you. Who knows what that child might have in mind. Zhongli takes one of his empty tea pots and urges you to go inside, or carries a tea cup with you in it, he likes placing you on objects while carrying you around.

Zhongli realizes that you can no longer use the household items like before so he has to remake them to your standards- especially when he realized he doesn't have the mora to buy you a dollhouse. He improvises. Takes a handkerchief to make your blanket, his cups for your bathtub, Zhongli had to cut the foot into byte-sized too. But in terms of clothes, well he had to make them as well. Living thousands of years would mean he would have lot of experience. Sewing was one of them luckily. But that would mean he has to take your measurements as well. In the end, most of the things he made were dresses since they were alot easier.

You like to sneak in between his shirt and his vest tucked behind the coat he wears. Unfortunately Zhongli doesn't seem to have visible pockets (most likely the reason why he doesn't carry mora either), though if you don't hold on tight you might just slip down his vest and right to his stomach. It makes him chuckle when that happens even if the amount of effort to get you out took more than he thought since his attire is quite complicated to put on. If you really want to climb on him, he'll find a seperate pouch (but realizes it won't be a good idea when there's alot of pick-pocketers in Liyue streets).

All of a sudden he reads you bedtime stories. It's some sort of inner instinct that tells him he's taking care of a child now (he's right though). You realized that his voice was equivalent to a thunder's roar due to size difference. He would have to whisper now.

It will always be part of his precious memories when you turned pocket-sized. Zhongli still keeps the clothing he made somewhere in his closets too.

Kaeya

Amused by this eventful situation. Absolutely thrilled! He's not evil like Scaramouche but this new version of his s/o is both adorable and fun at the same time. You're so easy to tickle, just one poke using his finger against your hips makes you yelp. Sometimes he twirls your hair or taps your forehead gently despite your protest, he's so handsy like always in an affectionate yet annoying way.

Kaeya picks you up and places you among the fluffy comfort of his feathery scarf. You sneezed, the last time he cleaned it was before he went on a mission with the knights. Though you have to admit, it's the best feeling in the world. It's so soft you might sink deeper into the fabric. He likes to put you in places where he can talk to you easily, sometimes on the table while he downs on his wine. Normally you have to take the bottle away before it gets too much, now you have to push it away which he finds very entertaining at your futile attempts.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" you tell him. Since you turned byte-sized, he can't seem to stop playing around. Takes his two fingers and pretends they're legs walking across the surface. You would turn around and he halts, Kaeya sends you his signature grin. When he promises that he wouldn't do anything funny, you would let him hold you. Since hugs are out of the equation, Kaeya gives you his finger instead to wrap your arms around. He can't get enough seeing you like this, things he couldn't do when you were normal-sized. he enjoys your reactions way too much.

His favourite pass time is helping you brush your hair because the hairbursh is too big for you to handle. Kaeya ensure he's handling things delicately but he would love to help style it for you as well. Pretty please? At this point one request turns to another because he's having way too much fun. But it couldn't be helped since you would need his assistance in almost everything so there's really no escaping.

You were so happy when things were normal again but Kaeya would bring this up again during your conversations (how next time he would like to put you in his drinks while you're wearing a swim suit).

Albedo

Legit blurted out if he could put you on a hamster wheel.

What about trying out the little maze he just made?

Or participating in a race against slimes of different elements?

No? Okay, then he'll just turn you back.

Albedo isn't going deal with this as along as he can help it (especially when he remembers what Klee did to him when he turned small.)

[messers-moony]

Divorce | J.P

Paring: James Potter X Slytherin!Reader

Summary: Reader goes through divorce with her arranged husband but sees her Hogwarts crush almost two years later at her Potions shop in Diagon Alley

Divorce sucks. There is no other way to say it. There is no amount of sugar to properly coat the words to make them seem better than they are. Instead, they’re pure salt– pure acidity. An arranged marriage for purebloods was typical. That doesn’t mean that everyone technically agrees they work. Some speculate that arranged marriages work more than chosen marriages. Y/n wouldn’t be one of those people.

Her family was a part of the sacred twenty-nine. The L/n’s, to be more specific. Y/n was a model child, an only child at that. She was sorted into Slytherin with not a consideration of any other house. Immediately at the age of sixteen, she was engaged to another man called Zenix Flores, another family of the sacred twenty-eight. Zenix was sweet, but he wasn’t her type.

Throughout her years at Hogwarts, Y/n stared at another. His name was James Potter. A star Quidditch player for the Gryffindor team. The best Chaser. Y/n’s lingering stares and dreamy look didn’t make it past Zenix. Fortunately, Zenix had eyes for another as well, Sirius Black, the best friend of James Potter. They bonded over that. They bonded over being in love with people they couldn’t have.

Everyone dies eventually. Immortality is not reality, and once Y/n’s parents died. Divorce was in order. However, they didn’t love each other like they should’ve it still sucked. They were close friends. But did close friends have a child together? Leo Flores, the product of Y/n Flores and Zenix Flores, was only eight years old when they went through the divorce. Leo was a token to show that Zenix and Y/n fell in love. An illusion.

It took months, but after the process was complete, Y/n left. Leo was to be in her care for the rest of his life. Zenix would send some of his profit to them to help, but he would never see his son again. Granted, he didn’t treat Leo well. Always so harsh, so strict on the little boy. The first words out of Leo’s mouth were ma’am and sir. Not momma or daddy. Instead, they were formalities.

They lived in an apartment in Diagon Alley. It wasn’t huge, but it was enough. Y/n changed her last name, and Leo’s back to L/n. Another long process but worth the wait. Y/n worked at a Potions shop in the Alley. Sometimes her old friend Severus would visit and buy some ingredients, but no one else she knew ever came into the shop. Not until he showed up at the door.

James Potter came waltzing into the Potions shop like it was nobody’s business. Unknown to the woman working the shop, he had been watching her work from afar. Just across the street was a bookstore where Remus would visit. During one of those visits, James caught sight of her. Granted, James didn’t think he’d find love after Lily ran away after his proposal claiming he wasn’t enough but that all changed when he saw her.

The feelings came back like it was yesterday she was gazing at him from the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. Y/n’s cheeks were set ablaze, and her stomach was placed into a frenzy of a million different feelings. Her heart made it seem like she ran around the Quidditch pitch one thousand times. Unbeknownst to her, he felt the same way.

Eventually, he made his way to the counter, “ Um- Good Afternoon. “

“ Good afternoon, sir. How may I assist you today? “ Y/n asked despite her racing heart, “ I need some help brewing a complex Potion. “ James confessed, fiddling with his hands.

“ What Potion, sir? “ Y/n inquired, “ Wolfsbane. “ James answered.

Her eyebrow quirked upward, “ That is a difficult Potion. It could have awful defects if made incorrectly. “ Y/n explained, looking at the ingredient list, “ How about this, I’ll make you the Potion instead of you possibly messing it up? “

“ How can I trust you won’t mess up? “ James questioned, smirking teasingly, “ Well. If it helps any, I received O’s on all of my Potion examinations, even in N.E.W.T level. “ Y/n quipped.

“ Well. I suppose you know your stuff. “ He replied as he crossed his arms, “ I suppose I do. “ Y/n retorted with a smile.

So James decided that she’d make the Potion. He would’ve paid her a million Galleons if he was just allowed to sit in the shop and stare at her. She was a beauty and moved so gorgeously. She moved with a purpose, with determination and ambition. Sirius and Remus had begun teasing him as James stared longingly at the Potions shop across the street.

“ Do you know her name? “ Remus asked, standing beside James now, “ No? “ James stated.

Remus chuckled; of course, he didn’t, “ Y/n L/n. She was a Slytherin in our year. Amazingly brilliant she is. Apparently, she was married to Zenix Flores but got divorced two years ago. “

James and Sirius stared gobsmacked, “ Did you stalk Prongs’ future wife? “ Sirius accused, and Remus shrugged, “ I was curious. Plus, I knew her at Hogwarts. She was a Prefect. We had a lot of rounds together. “

“ She was a Prefect? “ James queried, “ Mhm. You were too busy drooling at Lily to notice her. “ Remus nodded.

Now James felt incredibly stupid. All those pranks on the Slytherin house made him feel exceptionally stupid, knowing that she could’ve caught the backlash on some of them. Not only that, but she was a part of the sacred twenty-eight. James had never felt more idiotic, and he had gotten rejected after proposing to his girlfriend. That was saying something.

A month had passed, and the potion was ready. So once again, James walked into the Potions shop. This time she had a messy top knot present on top of her hair. Her eyes held extreme tiredness, and she moved almost sluggishly. James was worried. But Y/n saw him enter the shop and her cheerful smile glazed her face. Two bottles were now present on the counter for James to take.

He stood at the counter and pressed ten Galleons on the table, “ Sir, they’re only three Galleons. “ Y/n stated, “ Take the extra. You look exhausted. “ James replied.

“ Th- Thank you. “ Y/n smiled, “ Thank you, Y/n, for making these. “ James said gratefully.

Y/n blushed, “ I- Um- You were a Slytherin Prefect in my year at Hogwarts. “ James stammered, “ I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you before. “

“ It’s okay. Divorce can do that to you, Huh? “ Y/n laughed bitterly, “ Well, when I proposed to Lily, she straight up told me I wasn’t good enough so, that was almost like divorce minus the paperwork. “ James added.

“ I’m- I’m so sorry. “ Y/n apologized, “ No, no. I’m okay, trust me. It’s been about three years. “ James replied.

Before Y/n could speak again, steps were heard from the second story, “ Mom! Mom! “ Leo’s voice called as he rushed down the steps.

“ Mom! “ Leo appeared from behind the counter to see James and a blushing Y/n, “ Oops, uh, sorry, mom. “

“ No, it’s fine. Come here. “ James beckoned, and Leo hesitantly approached, “ What’s your name, little man? “

“ I’m ten! “ Leo announced proudly, and James chuckled, “ That’s awesome! “ James smiled.

Y/n turned to her son, “ What did you need, Leo? “ Despite being embarrassed, she was calm, “ You accidentally placed my quills on a high shelf. I can't reach them. “ Leo confessed, slightly embarrassed.

“ I’ll be up in just a second, but- “ Y/n began, but James stuck out his hand, “ I’m James. “

“ I’m Leo. “ Leo accepted the handshake and smiled at the adult man, “ If your mom doesn’t mind, maybe we could chat? “ James inquired, looking toward Y/n.

Leo looked hopeful at his mom, “ Please? “

“ Sure. You can go. “ Y/n allowed, and Leo hopped over the counter.

Before James could leave the proximity of the counter, Y/n grabbed his wrist, “ Please. Take care of him; I'm trusting you blindly here. “ She pleaded, and James smirked, “ Of course. “

The rest of the day went smoothly. Y/n had closed shop and began restocking items when they showed up. James' unkempt brown hair was more unorganized, but his hazel eyes glassed with mischief. Leo’s black hair was blown away from the rain, and his blue eyes sparkled with excitement. James beckoned the ten-year-old back upstairs while he approached Y/n.

“ So? Have a nice day with my kid? “ Y/n teased, and James chuckled, “ He’s fantastic. “

“ I know. “ She replied, “ I took him for ice cream, and we went shopping for a little. “ James informed.

Y/n melted at the adoration present on James' face, “ Do you need any money back? I can- “

“ No. Don’t worry about it, doll. I’ve got it covered. “ James interjected, “ I just saw him, and he had this look. He looked trapped. He needed to leave and just let loose for a couple of hours. “

“ I- I really love him. “ James confessed, and Y/n smirked, “ You’re in love with my son but not the woman who created him? “

“ If we're being honest. I’ve been watching you from the bookstore across the street. I thought you were gorgeous. Remus was the one who told me who you were. “ He admitted nervously, “ But being with your son today. If you’d like, could I take him out more often? “

She stepped down from the ladder and stood in front of him, “ How about you stay forever? “

“ I- I mean that is if you want. I know that I’m a pureblood, and- and my son- you probably don’t want to have a child right now. He’ll be going to Hogwarts soon, and quite frankly, I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle it. But- But his former father wasn’t amazing, and I’m not sure you want that responsibility- “

Y/n was cut off when James grabbed her by the waist and placed his lips on hers. His thumbs rubbed gentle circles on her skin through her shirt. Y/n’s hands went through his unkept brown tuffs and his glasses slightly fogged from the heat of the kiss. They pulled apart but rested their foreheads on each other. They were still somewhat breathless from the soft kiss.

He held her chin in his hand, “ I’d love nothing more than to stay forever. “

[after-witch]

Ginger Tea [Yandere L Lawliet x Reader]

Title: Ginger Tea [Yandere L Lawliet x Reader]

Synopsis: You’re sick. Unfortunately, your captor has no intentions of leaving you alone to recover.

For request: something concerning death note L? 

Word Count: 1500ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped

You’re sick. Not sick-sick, not enough to land you in the hospital--which briefly makes you wonder what L would do if you needed serious medical attention. Would he take you to a hospital himself, spin some life about being a concerned spouse? Sneak you into some clinic on the opposite end of the country, so no one might recognize you? No, you think--if it came to that, he’d probably have the resources to bring in a team of private doctors to poke and prod you and hook you up to IVs until you somewhat resembled your old self again.

Not that he’ll be bringing in any doctors for your current mundane, yet wholly miserable condition: a nasty cold, maybe a sinus infection. Whatever it is, it has you feeling like absolute shit. 

Your head feels so tight that you swear it’s pulsing. Your throat is scratchy and sore, yet thick with phlegm that has you coughing, chest burning and tight, until it makes its globby way onto a napkin. Even your ears hurt, which is the worst, and when you cried out earlier, L had practically bound into the room like a wild dog to check on you.

Part of you hoped he would avoid you, be afraid to catch whatever it is that has you stuck in bed, feeling heavy and tired. If he caught a terrible cold, it might derail him from the mission he refuses to talk about except in the vaguest of terms.

But you have no such luck. Instead of leaving, he hovers. He clings. He checks your temperature with a thermometer, then with his hand (an excuse to touch you, clearly, but when you grumpily called him out for this he merely ignored you). 

He swaps out cold washcloths when they're warmed by throbbing forehead. He even brought in a humidifier, unceremoniously plunked down in a corner of the room; you can't complain, the warm, steaming air has been heaven for your aching lungs.

And a few minutes ago--or maybe more, you couldn't open your eyes to look at the clock if you wanted to--he asked if you were hungry. You weren't. He hmmed. And said he would fix you something, anyway.

It's funny. He has become so attentive, so caring, that you would feel flattered under different circumstances.

But it's hard to feel anything right now except sick, sick, sick. Weak. Helpless. In more ways than one. You hate being sick, as a rule; being sick at the mercy of your kidnapper is... not something you ever wanted to experience. Even if he is fawning over you like a mother fawning over her baby’s first sniffles.

You take a slow, deep breath, wanting to avoid the stings of pain that came with breathing normally. When you do, you realize that there's something else mingled with the hot air steaming out in intervals from the humidifier: ginger. Muted through your stuffy nose but noticeable enough to make you realize that he’s back from the kitchen.

You open your eyes and, sure enough, L is standing in front of you with a bed tray. He sets it on the nightstand and pulls the cloth, now warm, off your head.

"Do you want a new one?"

You nod. He hums, and quickly finds his way into the adjacent bathroom. You can hear the water running for a moment before he returns with a damp, achingly cool cloth that is refreshing and soothing as he places it on your warm, hurting head.

You want to go back to sleep, and half-close your eyes. Maybe if you just go back to napping, he'll leave you alone for a while.

The feel of the mattress dipping as L sits next to you on the bed destroys that thought. You open your eyes, weary, and see that he's opening up  the kickstands on the tray so that it can easily (and safely) rest over your lap. How thoughtful. How annoying. He’s gone to a lot of work to make you food. He kidnapped you.

You glance at the tray. Hot ginger tea, you can see granules of sugar melting away inside; rice porridge with eggs, scallions. Your favorite sick foods. You briefly wonder if he somehow knew this but, barring his somehow developing actual mind reading powers, you tuck it away as a coincidence.

“I don’t want anything,” you say, voice scratchy. 

“This will help with your symptoms,” he replies, lifting the cup of tea in his hands. “Drink the whole cup.”

You turn your head slightly and murmur, but all that comes out is a vague mm-nn before the cup is lifted to your lips. You can smell the ginger, warm and rich, before tasting its warmth on your tongue. With nothing else to do, you swallow. The liquid does feel soothing on your throat, in your chest, and you sigh, deflated, and gently take the cup from his hands.

You sip and sip, waiting for him to go. But he doesn't. He sits on the bed and stares at you.  You have the nerve to glance up at him, and you wish you were as good at reading his expressions as he was at reading your... everything. Your motivations. Your personality. Even your thoughts, you swear, sometimes. But when you look at him, all you see is his focus, his interest. He always looks the most intense when he’s focused on something. At the moment, that interest is you.

The mug is halfway empty when you set it down. He doesn’t protest, so you consider it a small victory. But when he plops a spoon into the rice porridge and pushes it closer to you on the tray, you shake your head.

"M'not hungry," you murmur.

"You are hungry," he corrects. “You haven’t eaten all day.” He’s right--but it’s hard to think about hunger pangs when your head hurts so much, when your lungs keep you in coughing fits.

If you were feeling healthy, you might be able to banter. Argue. Get him going until he huffs and stomps off. But right now, there's no arguing with him, and no arguing with the firm yet gentle way he shoves a pillow behind your back, propping you into a better sitting position. You feel too weak to muster any further protest when he lifts a spoonful of porridge to your lips, and you open your mouth just a bit--feeling a twist in your stomach as you do--and meekly accept the soft mixture.

The taste brings back memories. Of your mom, of course, but even of your old life. Before he took you. Making yourself steaming bowls of porridge in your apartment, thumbing through recipes on your phone to find something to target ear aches or headaches or nausea. Back when you were free to leave and do and say whatever you wanted. Back when life was simpler, when you didn’t have to play battles of wits and walk on eggshells and find yourself plotting a thousand ways to escape only to find out that he was ten steps ahead of you the entire time.

Back when you weren’t struggling with the realization that someone on this planet was so obsessed with keeping you that they kidnapped you, and now, they’re hovering over you like a lover, making sure you’re okay.

You don’t know you’re crying until L’s thumb wipes away a tear. You don’t have the energy to flinch, so you just stare at him, eyes half-lidded.

“Is it your ear again?”

“No,” you murmur. It’s not your ear that hurts.

L looks away. He brings the thumb, still salty with your tears, and swipes it on his lip, before returning your gaze again. He lifts up the spoon brings more porridge to your mouth, spoonful after spoonful. You must admit: it is nice to have something in your stomach, something soft and filling.

When it’s nearly empty, you turn your head and he lets you, opting to set the spoon in the bowl and put the tray back on your nightstand. He gently removes the extra pillow and you feel yourself sliding back down,  your eyes barely able to stay open. He takes the washcloth on your head without a prompt and returns with a new one, freshly cold and damp.

“Thanks,” you whisper, half-sighing from the cool comfort. It’s the first time you’ve thanked him since he started his hovering.  The first time you’ve thanked him about anything, actually. Your eyes are shut before you can see his reaction--a quiet moment of surprise, then pride, before he lifts up the comforter on the bed and pulls it up to your shoulders.

You turn slightly, tucking yourself on your side for comfort. You can feel your head buzzing, feeling fuzzy and thick from your headache and need for sleep. As your thoughts dim and your mind begins to slip back into slumber, you can feel something soft, something light and slightly wet, press on your cheek.

He kissed you.

[ruvatia]

Sorry if this is a bit much with everything going on, but could I request a scenario where the Paladins + Matt & Lotor have a black s/o and they’re scared abt everything that’s happening in their country and are sad that racial injustice is happening? I’ve been rlly worried the past few days, but if this is smth too uncomfy I understand ;w; Thank you 💖💖💖

This got really long, I apologize but I turned it into half-headcanons with just the main paladins-- i apologize for not doing all the characters you’ve mentioned, but I don’t think they would fit all in a single post anyways www

On another note I hope you and every other reader take good care of their mental health; it’s important to be aware of what’s going on but it’s also important to be in the right mindspace to be able to tackle everything that’s being shared. It’s pain that’s been boiling for a very long time and there is absolutely no shame in taking some downtime to recover before heading back into current issues.

SHIRO:

If you were saddened, Shiro would suggest that maybe you switch to something else; if there was something that he knows will distract you and temporarily have you be a little more at ease, he’d do that!

But also maybe add a little twist-- extra soft blankets (fresh out of the oven! Screw the bills you’re worth it), extra cheese on your favorite dish, whatever it is that can make your smile a little wider, bigger or brighter just let him know!

Would give you hugs if you asked, but usually Shiro pets your head and brushes your cheek for comfort

He also does this when he wants to ask something of you, but thats another story

Why the TV was still on was a mystery to you, you’d stopped listening a long time ago. Your partner besides you noticed, and you felt the hand around your shoulder tighten his grip a little, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Hey, maybe we should watch something else?” he asked softly, brushing your cheek with his hand. “I can’t really listen to this anymore.”

“Yeah… Sure.” you replied, though it felt like an automated response more than your actual opinion.

“Okay, I’ll switch to that weird show Pidge recorded the other day, we agreed to watch it, right?” he replied, quickly grabbing the remote to change the program.

The first episode started playing, but the moment that it did, you felt cold as Shiro left your side.

“Where are you going?” you asked, your interlaced fingers the only thing keeping him close.

“Ah, I thought I’d make us something. We both kinda skipped dinner….”

He’d thought about putting something together that you’d like, maybe order dessert to surprise you but seeing the look on your face, leaving your side was the hardest thing to do right now.

So he gave in, and your both fell asleep until the doorbell rang with your delivery.

KEITH:

I have this headcanon that Keith isn’t very good with physical touch but after the end of voltron and after enough time of humanitarian relief, he learns how important it is for someone that’s in a specific state of mind

So the best he has to offer when his words fail is physical touch

Over your time together he’s learned what you need depending on your mood, and it helped him out lots when you were more vocal about it-- if anything he liked it when you asked for things that he could easily deliver, he’d do anything to see you smile

A hand came over your phone screen, Keith’s fingers lacing into yours and making you drop the device onto the crevices of the sofa.

“Why did you--”

“You’ve been staring at that thing for the past hour, biting at your nails.” he said in a worried tone. “That’s enough. We’re going to bed.”

“But it’s just--”

“We’re going to bed.” he repeated in a harsher tone, lifting you off your seat.

Keith sat down onto the bed first, pulling you into him. You both fell onto the bed, Keith quickly pulling the covers over your shoulders before his arms came around you.

“My alarm is my phone.”

“That’s nice, but we both know we have nothing to do tomorrow.” he replied right away, making you chuckle.

“Keith…” you called, your hands sneaking up to his face.

You brushed away some of his hair from his face as he gave you a complicated expression, unable to reflect the small smile you wore. He knew things were shit outside, that being apart from your family and other loved ones was a toll on both you and that lately negative thoughts have plagued you more often than not but Keith, despite his good intention was still somewhat of an awkward man.

“Thank you.”

He kissed you in reply and you both left it at that, glad that he had someone like you to meet him halfway.

LANCE:

Lots of hugs the moment he feels something is off with you

Will be a brat™ for the sole purpose of distracting you, bET

I feel like post-series Lance tries his best to be as observant as Allura and tries to understand others better-- but it didn't take a genius or incredible empath to know why your eyes looked like they were about to overflow at the sight of the news.

I’d like to think that Lance, with a big connected family is one of the paladins that very easily gets what you’re going through, wouldn’t be surprised he’s been called one or two things in his past either

That being said it doesn’t mean that he completely understands your personalized struggles with racial injustices that you encounter everyday; as another minority himself + coming from a culture and upbringing that might be different than yours, its a very different experience.

Memories flooded as the news anchor spoke about “lootings” and as you scrolled down your feed to see feeble attempts at sympathy from local peacekeepers. You sigh and retweet another thread, only to find something equally as shocking right after. You stopped commenting in quote retweets a while ago, you felt like you were constantly repeating that none of this was okay and that a reform was desperately needed. Rather than typing out your thoughts you typed out your name, address and email over and over again, signing one petition after the other.

Hearing sigh after sigh, Lance eventually put an arm around your shoulder. He startled you, but his soft voice made both your shoulders and your guard lower.

“Hey, do you want to make a midnight snack with me? I’m getting kinda hungry.”

“What about that new rule we were talking about? Not eating 4 hours before we went to bed?”

“Every diet has one or two cheat days, don’t they?” he replied, kissing one of your eyelids. “Come on, I’m sure your neck is sore from being like that for so long.”

In the end you both made some soul-food until a food-coma knocked you out until tomorrow. In the morning, you realized that Lance must’ve woken up in the middle of the night because you remember cuddling on the couch, and yet you’re waking up on the bed. Of course, still in his arms.

HUNK:

Having a sensible heart, I feel like both you and hunk would struggle a little about maintaining a healthy distance with current events.

Though overtime he would understand that keeping in touch with everything that’s going on is important, but not at the sake of burning out

His best bet, to him, to pull you out of a such a dark space is with comfort food

“Ok ppl feel like they want to eat a horse but they actually cant when they’re in that mind space Hunk, let’s make something sweet and small; something direct and straight to the point! Let’s add smiley faces on it!”

Your turned down the volume from the news, let your head fall backwards and brought up your forearm over your closed eyes. It felt warm and made it you realize that you had probably been staring very intensely at the screen as a wave of comfort hit your eyes the moment they were drowned in darkness. Letting out a deep breath, you stilled and let yourself bask in your thoughts until a familiar voice brought you back.

“Maybe a little bit more sugar? No, then it would be disbalanced. The base is already so sweet-- Ah, I have to take the cupcakes out or else they might get burned!”

You felt a smile grow on your lips, making you ignore the horrid news being broadcasted to turn to your partner that as usual, seemed to juggle ten thousand things to create a whole meal.

“What’s going on over here?” you asked, leaning over the counter to note that one of your favorite dishes was made and machines that were mostly used for baking had been brought out.

“Oh you know, just a little pick me up for my most favorite person ever.” he shrugged, but a smile soon came to his face. His hands were full but he leaned over, his lips meeting your cheek. “Things outside are a little dark, so I thought we could both use a little something nice.”

He turned on the machine after dropping a drop of dye to make it your favorite color and within a few minutes the icing was finished. Hunk scooped up a small amount on his finger and brought it to his lips and nod.

“Wanna taste?” he asked you, his finger dipping into the icing.

A mischievous grin spread on your features as you took his wrist and let his finger fall on your tongue, the sweetness quickly spreading through your mouth. The yellow paladin shivered as you let his digit hang in your mouth for longer than necessary, letting out a satisfied hum when you returned it to him.

“Tastes perfect.”

PIDGE:

She knew what could be fixed, she knew how to fix it but this meant she was also aware of how long such a transition would take

I think Pidge would be similar to Shiro: whatever she remembers that helps you be at ease, she would defect to that in hopes to maybe distract you for a while.

I don’t think Pidge is a very touchy person either, so if she reaches out to you _physically_ in worry, it’s a very clear sign she’s serious/anxious

I feel like she would reach out in other ways and then if she knew you were in a specific state of mind where touch was not useful, or if she just also wanted to try things out lol

As you watched the twisted information that was being shared on screen, another message caught your attention. Rather than a small red icon in the corner, a small window appeared in the middle of your computer screen.

<I found a way to modify notifications sent to another device.>

The video had stopped, every horrible gif about police brutality was paused and there was nothing else but the small window pidge had thrown onto your screen. You chuckled, and felt a pressure behind your working chair.

Another message popped up.

<You’ve been catching up with twitter for the past two hours. Surely you’re done now?>

A soft laugh came from you, making Pidge release a breath she didn’t know she was holding. You typed out an answer:

<Is it possible to be completely caught up with twitter? I follow like 500 accounts.>

<Okay, but half of them are just cat videos and the other half are just retweets of said videos.>

<Oh here I was thinking that this was an intervention to brighten my mood. We’re dragging each other’s follows now?>

<Oh please like you don’t want to be dragged, with that kind of follow list.>

<I can’t believe you’ve done this.>

You both laughed, before Pidge turned around and tapped your shoulder. She let her hand float in the air, yours coming to join it as a soon as your turned her way.

“Wanna take a nap?” she asked, letting her head fall onto your shoulder. “I had Chip make some hot chocolate, Hunk style.”

You squeezed her hand, putting your computer on sleep mode.

“Yeah, that sounds nice.”

[comfortwriting]

The Right One - F.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompts

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Prompt 31: “What made you think we were serious?” he spat “did you really think I’d go out with you?”

Requested/About: Fred is in love with his friend Y/N and knows he wants to marry her one day, he makes and move and they are looking forward to going on their first date - but all of that changes when George confesses his feelings for Y/N, to Fred.

A/N: I have a second part to this imagine which is smut based which you can now read: here

Warnings: swearing, mention of food and eating, a cheeky kiss towards the end.

Sitting high up in the stands, you’re watching Fred practice Quidditch, your heart skipping beats each time he flashes you a smirk or a cheeky wink, everything he does make you want him more - whether it be making a pig's ear of a potion, coming up with a new prank, chatting to his brother - hell, he simply breathes and you’re amazed.

Fred is head over heels for you, he already knows he’s going to marry you and whilst everyone is fast asleep at night, he goes over the plan in his head a thousand times making sure that when the day comes, everything will go perfectly to plan.

Unfortunately, the two of you were quite stubborn when it came to making the first move - you were too shy and scared of being rejected, and Fred felt anxious about making you uncomfortable - you were both trapped in the awkward ‘friends but too close to be friends but flirting but not dating’ phase - you not only confused yourselves but those around you who were aware of your chemistry.

The practice came towards an end and you walked down from the stands, your eyes glued on Fred, his veins bursting through his sweaty and dirt-stained hands, his hair standing up in all directions and sticking to his forehead, you smirked and giggled at the sight of him.

“How was it?” you smiled, walking towards him.

Fred paused for a moment, catching his breath and leaning on his broom “not bad” he panted “Slytherin are going to suffer”

You chuckled and brushed the hair out of his eyes, he had a questioning look on his face for a moment.

“Y/N” he said softly “d’you fancy going to Hogsmeade this Saturday, on a date?” he asked you, looking slightly nervous.

You felt as if time slowed down, that everyone else on the pitch had disappeared and you and Fred were the only ones there, instant excitement pooled in your tummy causing butterflies to sprout and take flight.

“I would love to” you smiled widely, blushing and nodding your head “yes!”

Fred smiled just as wide and nodded, pursing his lips and breaking out into another smile “brilliant” he nodded “I’ll meet you outside Zonko’s”

His twin George came rushing over, just as sweaty and dirty, he smiled nervously when your eyes met his, you didn’t think anything of it - George was always more quiet compared to Fred.

“Angelina wants a word” he panted “something about Ron needing extra practice”

Fred sighed and rolled his eyes, “see you later, love” he waved, turning around and following his brother.

“I have a date” you whispered excitedly to yourself “with Freddie!”

Hurrying off, you ran towards the castle, breaking inside and pushing through students and stumbling up the stairs to reach your dorm room, your date only two days away - you needed as much time as you could get to plan what you would say and what you could wear.

It was now Friday evening, tomorrow you would be on a date with Fred and just the thought made you giggle and blush, you told your friends who were just as excited, giving you all the advice you needed for one of the best days of your life. Laying in your bed, you stared out of the window, you were so excited you didn’t know if you were able to sleep.

Fred and George were sitting in front of the fire in the quiet and empty common room, coming up with ideas for their dream joke shop, but Fred noticed that George wasn’t being himself - he kept losing concentration and staring off into space, getting lost in his own thoughts.

“You okay Georgie?” Fred asked, staring at his brother.

George sighed, looking more anxious “if I tell you something, will you promise not to tell anyone?”

“I’m your bloody twin” Fred responded, sitting up in his chair and leaning towards George “of course I won’t say anything”

George swallowed hard for a moment and nodded, trying to figure out how to say this without Fred taking the piss out of him.

“You know Y/N?” George spoke up.

Fred’s heart started to pick up in speed, his attention fully on his twin “yeah, what about her?”

Fred didn’t mention you to George at all, George knew the two of you were close friends but he didn’t see the moments between the two of you that everyone said: “screamed chemistry”.

“I’ve got feelings for her, Freddie.” George confessed, looking away from Fred and staring at his shoes “I just didn’t want to say anything because I know she’s your friend.”

Friend

Fred felt the excitement crush inside him, part of him wanted to stop George in his tracks and tell him that you were going on a date with him tomorrow, but the other part of Fred dominated him - Fred would rather choose the happiness of his brother, who was more shy and quiet, than his own - the twin who had everything he ever wanted.

Almost everything.

“That’s great, Georgie” Fred forced a smile whilst his heart wept “she’s a really nice girl, I don’t blame you.”

A really nice girl that Fred would crush instead of letting her down gently. Fred went to bed and for the first time he didn’t bother going through the plans of the future proposal, then wedding, instead he tortured himself over George being the one to put the ring on your finger, making you his wife. He hid his face in his pillow and cried, knowing how bad he was going to mess things up, but as long as George was happy - that’s all that mattered to him, and he felt sure that you would move on and be much happier with the other twin.

“Ready?” your friend Alyssa smiled, looking you over once more.

You nodded and blushed again “I’m ready, just really nervous!”

Alyssa chuckled and handed you your bag “You’re bound to be nervous, but you’ll be okay, this is exciting!”

You took your bag from her and slung it over your shoulder “thank you for everything Alyssa” you pulled her into a tight hug, making sure you didn’t ruin your makeup or hair.

“Tell me all about it when you get back!” he ordered excitedly, pulling away from the hug and sending you on your way.

Arriving in Hogsmeade, you hurried over to Zonko’s Joke Shop, because you arrived early you had enough time to sneak into the shop and buy Fred some Hiccough sweets and Sugar Quills. Carrying the bag of Fred’s goodies, you waited outside for him.

Five minutes passed, then ten, then you reached one hour.

You felt your heart sink, worries and ‘what if’ scenarios filled your head and drowned out the noise of laughing students that passed by. Reaching three hours, it became clear to you that Fred wasn’t going to show up, tears filled your eyes and made your vision glassy, overflowing and running down your cold cheeks.

Storming back to the castle you stared at the ground, refusing to look up at anyone or anything, you sobbed and clutched onto the Zonko's bag so hard your hand started to cramp and your knuckles went white.

‘How could I be so stupid?’ you thought to yourself ‘I got myself dressed up in my best dress for nothing, waited outside looking like a fool while he’s probably laughing himself silly.’

But Fred wasn’t laughing himself silly at all, he didn’t get out of bed unless he needed to brush his teeth or go to the toilet, he refused to speak to George, Lee and Angelina. He curled up under his covers with tears falling down his face, his wand emitting light whilst he watched your footsteps on the Marauders Map, guilt surging through his body like poison when your footsteps stayed still and finally took off after hours of waiting.

Bursting into your dorm room Alyssa’s smile dropped and concern plastered on her face - your mascara and eyeliner streaked down your face from crying, your lips red and puffy like your eyes.

“Y/N! what's wrong? what happened?” she panicked, hurrying over to you.

You threw your shoulder bag on the floor, turning around you bumped into Alyssa and pushed the Zonko’s bag into her chest.

“He never showed up!” you wailed, storming into the bathroom and slamming the door behind you.

You dragged the warm wet rag over your face, wiping off your make up with so much force your skin got irritated and red, you stared at yourself in the mirror, hating your reflection, hating the dress you were so excited to put on hours before.

Alyssa knocked on the door, she didn’t want to pry and press you for answers, instead, she handed you your clean pyjamas and took your dress to put away, she walked into the bathroom when you opened the door, pulling you into a comforting hug whilst you sobbed in her arms.

Like Fred, you refused to leave your bed all weekend, you refused to speak about what happened. Perhaps you waited in the wrong place, perhaps he meant another week, you tried to convince yourself that this was your fault, that you got things wrong - but deep down you knew this wasn’t your doing, but Fred’s.

Sunday evening rolled around and Alyssa walked back into the dorm with a bag full of food, she sat on the side of your bed and opened up the bag full of your favourite puddings and drinks.

“The house-elves encouraged me to take as much as I could fit in this bag” she laughed lightly “please eat something sweetheart, it doesn’t have to be much”

You nodded and sat up in your bed, giving in you drank your pumpkin juice and had a few slices of Apple Pie.

Monday morning you were up early and out of bed, trying to be as fresh as a daisy as you could - everything was going well until you had double potions with Fred. You planned to ignore him, play it as if you didn’t care and that the loss was his, but your thoughts and needs for answers clawed at you until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Have a good weekend, then?” you asked Fred bravely, watching your cauldron simmer.

“No comment” he replied, refusing to look at you, trimming his ingredients.

“Why did you stand me up?” you asked again, gaining more courage “think it would be funny?”

“No comment” Fred answered again, adding the ingredients to his cauldron, causing it to hiss and change from dark green to bright red.

You began to lose your patience but you didn’t give up, opening your mouth and asking Fred once more why he didn’t show up on Saturday made his guilt surge through his heart so painfully he didn’t know how to handle himself except lash out at you.

“What made you think we were serious?” he spat “did you really think I’d go out with you?”

Hearing his brothers outburst, George looked over to you and Fred, he had no idea what was going on but he had to do something - seeing you so hurt and upset made George feel sick.

You weren’t prepared for such a hard blow, you felt as if you had been slapped in the face and punched in the chest, you didn’t reply - you just stared at Fred with your jaw hanging, the tears you were controlling so well broke through and filled your eyes.

Fred’s heart broke even more at your reaction, he had broken the person he loved more than anything in the world and it would be too late now to make things right, to have you give him a chance to explain - but at least now he had given George a chance to play hero and pick up those broken pieces of your own heart to fix them the best he could.

You quickly took a sample of your potion and handed it to Snape, storming back to your desk, you picked up your bag and hurried out of the dungeons, breaking out into a sob - your wails so loud the class could still hear you.

George left his cauldron to overflow, running after you and calling out your name down the halls before he finally caught up to you. He pulled you into a comforting hug and you cried into his chest, gripping onto his warm woolly jumper.

“I wish it was you George” you cried “I really do, if it was I wouldn’t be in this bloody awful situation”

It dawned on George that this definitely had something to do with Fred and when he told him about his feeling for you. Sitting back in the same chairs in front of the fire in the empty common room before bed, George turned to Fred and searched his dull eyes.

“Do you like Y/N?” George asked quietly.

Fred shook his head “no”

George sighed and continued to stare at his brother “look at me, Freddie”

George knew that his brother couldn’t lie to his face and he knew by doing this he would get the right answers he needed.

“Are you in love with her?”

Fred paused and tried to lie but he couldn’t do it - he looked towards the dancing flames.

George finally understood and stood up “that’s what I thought” he stood behind his chair, wanting to know one more thing before he went off to bed “what happened between you and Y/N, you being grumpy all weekend and her being upset - does that have anything to do with what I told you last week?”

Fred put his head in his hands and nodded, George shook his head and sighed “that's what I thought, you should’ve bloody told me.”

George left the common room and went upstairs to bed, leaving his brother alone in his thoughts. Climbing in his bed, George knew exactly what to do in the morning.

George looked for you everywhere, you weren’t in the great hall for breakfast and you didn’t show up to any of your classes either, passing Alyssa he pulled her aside, asking where you were.

“the second floor, girls bathroom” she replied “and here” she rooted in her bag, pulling out the Zonko’s bag “give this to your brother when you see him, she got it him before he stood her up.”

George took the bag and thanked Alyssa, hurrying as fast as he could to reach you.

Sitting on the floor of the dingy toilets, you continued to sob in your hands, pressing them against your eyes that you could see confetti in your vision. Hearing footsteps coming closer to you, you removed your hands away from your face and opened your eyes, looking up at George standing over you.

George crouched beside you and began to rub your back, comforting you; he sighed deeply and knew it was time to tell you everything, the truth.

“I’ve got feelings for you, Y/N” he confessed softly.

This only made you feel worse, you lost Fred - someone you actually want to be with, and his brother who you care for is in love with you, you would rather sit your O.W.Ls all over again with your N.E.W.T.s at the same time than go through this.

You turned to face George, a look of shock and horror all over your face “George! You know this isn't the right time to tell me and if Fred-” you paused for a moment, feeling sick to your stomach.

“Does Fred know?” you asked quietly, looking at George.

George nodded “I told him on Friday after that Fred just went into a foul mood and you’ve been upset. He’s in love with you, Y/N, and I know you love him too.”

You stared at George, your mouth wide open, unable to process what you heard.

“He put my own happiness before his” George laughed and shook his head, pulling you into a tight hug, he smirks at you “He’s in his dorm room, go to your man” he encouraged you, handing you the Zonko’s Bag.

Feeling those same butterflies form and take flight inside of you once more, you hurried to Fred’s room, the biggest smile plastered on your face, which caught everyone’s attention, causing them to feel happy and talk amongst one another about you and Fred finally being on the same page.

Storming into Fred’s room, he walked out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel loosely covering his lower half at the hips, stopping in your tracks you stared at him, taking in the beauty of his body; the water droplets across his abs and the steam rising off his chest and shoulders, his damp hair and the sun beaming through the window highlighting your favourite parts of him.

Fred went into shock and gripped onto his towel harder, you flash him a small, nervous smile and place the Zonko’s bag on his bedside table.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” he asked shyly as you walked over to him.

Placing your hands gently against Fred’s cheeks, you leaned in slowly and pressed your lips against his. Kissing back, Fred deepened the kiss and dragged his tongue against your lower lip, both of his hands took you by the waist, completely forgetting about his towel, it fell to the floor.

Tags: @amourtentiaa @reeophidian @inglourious-imagines @alwaysnforeverfangirl @escapingrealitybyreading @lucymfer @freddiemylovelg

[manonblaqkbeak]

Sugar, sugar

(genuinely hate coming up with titles lol)

this is just rowaelin being pining idiots, one of my fave tropes for day 11--delayed love confession

just a note, the lifestyle in this fic is more of a background note and doesnt really take centre stage in this fic. it’s one ive been tempted to write for a while tbh but didnt really get around to it until now

cw: very, very light smut (like barely non existent, but just in case), a lil bit of swearing

enjoy! :)

3k words (officially my longest fic, yay!)

Every thought in Aelin's mind was blank. She trudged through her apartment that she shared with Nehemia, absentmindedly kicking off her heels that Rowan purchased for her months ago. Then the light jacket she wore joined the shoes, the fabric was perfectly soft and perfect for the autumn chill.

It was yet another piece of item that Rowan purchased for her. A lot of the things she had know were thanks to Rowan, either from his own wallet or from the biweekly allowance he sent her—a generous allowance that was a thousand times better than her weekly paycheck from the bookstore she'd been working at since she turned twenty-two; her business degree had turned out to be useless and so she turned to the bookstore that had been her stable job for three years.

Aelin barely touched her weekly wage now, it was practically buried underneath the money the Rowan gave her.

Because Rowan Whitethorn, thirty-five and a successful CEO who was well known, was her sugar daddy. Had been now for fourteen months. But he was more than that, more than just a man that paid her to spend time with him. He respected her, was loyal to her, listened to her and responded with actual sentences instead of a word or two like other men she had dated. He was charming, didn't treat her like she was nothing but arm candy, and she knew him so well, as he knew her, and each fortnight she sometimes forgot their whole arrangement, but she was sharply reminded when she received the notification from her bank that the two and a half thousand dollars that Rowan sent her was now in her savings account.

When she agreed to their arrangement after several get-to-know you dates, Rowan had wanted to give her three and a half grand every week, and gods Aelin had been tempted because she had never had so much money in her life, but told him that it was far too much and negotiated.

Two and a half thousand was the lowest that Rowan was willing to go, and even though Aelin only knew him for two weeks at that point, she could tell that he would not budge, so she agreed to the amount.

The first time that money had landed in her account, Aelin had thought that maybe she had imagined the whole thing, but the money was a sharp reminder of what she know was—a sugar baby. Those words still didn't feel like they applied to her.

And he still spent money on her when they spent time together. Just last week he gifted her with diamond earrings in the shapes of roses with a necklace to match. She wore them tonight, not because he bought them for her but because she genuinely loved the pieces.

Needing something sweet—despite the fact she had only finished her chocolate hazelnut gelato twenty minutes ago—she dug through her fridge and found the brownies that Nehemia had baked the other day. She told herself that she would leave some for her long-time friend, but Aelin really doubted that would happen.

Aelin relished in the cold air of the fridge as she found the new can of whipped cream on the top shelf. The fridge was one of the first things she purchased with the money she was now being gifted with (and after that came a new washer and dryer, a dish-washing machine and television. Almost everything in her apartment was brand new now, the food were actual brands instead of the generic, tasteless shit. She had bras that fit her properly and were so damned comfortable that she forgot she was wearing them half the time).

The old fridge was a cheap hunk of junk that she and Nehemia purchased off Facebook marketplace for a hundred dollars, it barely kept things cold, but with expensive rent and bills and general life things, Nehemia and her couldn't afford anything better.

Which was how she ended up in this situation. Picking up more shifts barely gave them anything extra, because the economy right now in Terrasen was shit. Nehemia had made a joke about needing sugar daddies, and Aelin, knowing that Nehemia could never really do such a thing, had decided that maybe it was a good idea.

Nehemia had told Aelin that she was insane for pursuing such a thing, and that she had only been joking, but Aelin was not and that she could handle herself if things went wrong.

Nehemia had told her not to do anything, but Aelin was determined and started her search. It had taken a while to find a website that was genuine and didn't make her feel like she had to scrub her eyes out with bleach.

She created her page in private, because she not only was Nehemia against the idea, but so was Elide and Lysandra—she didn't dare tell Aedion what she was doing. Her cousin could be an overprotective pain in her ass at times, and Aelin was very well aware that if Aedion caught wind of what she was doing, he would have locked her up in her room without any type of device so she couldn't go forward with her plan.

She appreciated their concern, she did, but she was a consenting, tax-paying adult, and if she wanted to use her time to get paid spending time with a rich man, then Aelin was allowed to do exactly that.

It wasn't prostitution, she had looked it up, because it was the sugar babies that had the power and so that was how it went with her and Rowan.

Aelin didn't even have sex with Rowan until it was the sixth month anniversary of her and Rowan's...relationship (and gods, it was the best sex Aelin ever had. Rowan was a generous and completely unselfish lover).

He was the first one she came across on the site and almost drooled down herself when she saw his picture. Silver hair, pine-green eyes, a beautiful tattoo down the length of his left arm and tanned skin, he was stupidly attractive and only ten years old than her.

Aelin messaged him first only after being on the site for ten minutes, deciding that surely he was the best one and that she needn't bother to look at any other candidates.

They hit it off straight away, and after deciding on a restaurant to meet at, Aelin had informed Nehemia of the matter, which she was promptly met with question after question: why can't a thirty-four year old man find someone his own age? Is he one of those men that can't date a woman five minutes older than him because of some stupid made up reason? How do you know for certain that it's him in the picture? What if he's cat-fishing you? What if he's a freak, or a killer? What if he's just pretending to be rich to kidnap you? What if, what if, what if?

And so after a heated discussion, Nehemia had come along on her date-that-wasn't-really-a-date and sat a few tables away from her and Rowan, watching them—especially him—the entire time like a hawk.

Aelin had completely forgotten that her friend was there, so enraptured by Rowan and what he did and how he saw life.

It had been fourteen months of seeing Rowan and genuinely enjoying spending time with him and weeks ago, she realised that she wanted it to be something more. That she had come to care for him, not because of the money, but purely because it was Rowan and he made her feel seen and he wasn't afraid of her, because she had once been told by an ex that she could be too much and that he couldn't handle all her baggage.

Aelin wanted a life with him.

So Aelin told Rowan she loved him when he dropped her off tonight after their dinner and a movie date, telling him how she felt, and he had said thank you. He gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and went home, leaving behind the pine-and-snow scent of him.

Aelin really wanted to find a hole to crawl into and die.

She was scarfing down her third brownie when Nehemia's bedroom door opened, her friend clad in an old matching pj set, her slippers shuffling across the tile.

“What happened? Are you okay?” her friend asked upon seeing Aelin's guttered look. Her dark brows furrowed. “Did that bastard hurt you? If he did, I'll—”

“He didn't do anything,” Aelin interrupted her friend. Taking the food, Aelin planted herself on the teal blue velvet sofa Rowan gave her for Yulemas last year, ignoring the scent of not just him, but of them both from when he came over after work just the other day with pizza and a DVD that she insisted that she watched because it was too good not to, when they forgot all about the movie as Rowan buried himself inside her, leaving hickeys all over her neck that she had to cover up with thick concealer.

Nehemia joined her on the couch, her friend momentarily forgetting for now that she had walked in on her and Rowan just moments after they finished, muttering under her breath in Eyllwe as she glared at them defiling the couch, and gave her a look that Aelin knew that Nehemia would listen to every word that came out from her.

And when Aelin was done recounting the story, all Nehemia could come up with was, “Oh.”

“Yes, 'oh,'. I've probably fucked up the whole thing. So don't be surprised if I call you on your lunch break tomorrow telling you he's broken things off.”

“Aelin, I don't think he will. I know that I'm not the biggest fan of your...situation—”

“I'm aware,” Aelin said, cutting her friend off. “You still won't let me buy you a new mattress, even though yours is hard as a brick and lumpy as hell. I've told you that you can pay me—”

“Aelin,” Nehemia said, “we're not talking about mattresses right now. As I was saying, I doubt he'll break things off because I've seen the way he looks at you. I still think he's too old for you, but he cares for you. You probably just caught him by surprise.”

“How does he look at me?” Aelin was observant, but sometimes when she was with Rowan, all her observation skills went out the window.

“Like he loves you,” Nehemia said, no hint of doubt in her voice.

Aelin sighed, her feelings slowly starting to crush her. “I guess I'll just have to take your word for it.”

Sighing once more, Aelin put the food back in the fridge, showered and went to bed, forgoing her usual night texting ritual with Rowan.

She really wasn't looking forward to tomorrow.

X X X X X X

Rowan couldn't concentrate, which wasn't a good thing, since his job dealt with having to concentrate all the time. But no matter what mind-focusing techniques he did, he couldn't stop thinking about Aelin.

Couldn't stop thinking about how she said she was in love with him. How her beautiful eyes had been sparkling when she said those words to him. And how the light in them dimmed when he said thank you and kissed her on the cheek, telling her that he would talk to her later. But he hadn't texted her, nor did she.

I love you, Rowan. I'm in love with you.

Thank you. He really couldn't believe that was what he said. Felt like an utter fool and a bastard as he realised he probably crushed her heart. Aelin didn't like being vulnerable, and she had been when she said those words and he had gone and fucked it all up.

Rowan loved Aelin, he did, but he truly wasn't prepared for those words. He loved how on the weekends they would be up at one am, baking chocolate goodies, dancing in the quiet kitchen, humming quietly to Aelin's classical music playlist, with her wearing not the nightgowns that he loved, but one of his old hoodies.

He didn't think that he would get along with her so well once they met, thinking that their online interactions were nothing but a fluke. He was moments away from deleting the profile because he didn't actually create it, but Fenrys had, his friend grumbling that he needed a girlfriend, with Rowan arguing that creating a profile on a sugar daddy site was not dating but probably the opposite, when Aelin messaged him.

His life-long friend didn't listen, much to Rowan's annoyance—but he didn't grab his phone out of his friends hand; Rowan blamed it on the several whiskys he had downed by that point.

Aelin bewitched him on that first meet up. She was intelligent as hell and funny, and creative and beautiful. He was aware of why she was on the date with him, but he didn't care, just as long as he got to see her again.

Fourteen months later and Rowan was still bewitched. He wanted to be with her on a permanent basis, but wasn't completely sure how to take that step.

Clearly, Aelin had taken that step for them, and Rowan was the worlds biggest moron.

I love you, Rowan. I'm in love with you.

Thank you.

Groaning, Rowan turned away from his computer and looked at the skyline, ignoring the buildings to instead watch the puffy clouds drift by.

Aelin loved watching the clouds, loved stargazing, loved questioning about the universe and what the skies held.

He never really paid any of that stuff attention, not until he met her.

Rowan didn't want to lose her, didn't want her to think that he was about to break up with her over this. He had to see her, so he grabbed his keys and wallet, told his secretary to hold his calls for the rest of the day, and went to visit Aelin.

X X X X X X

It had been an usually busy day for a Wednesday and Aelin was glad for her lunch break as she trudged up to the roof of the shopping centre. She wasn't really allowed up here, but she wanted some fresh air and to feel the sun against her skin as she sat down and dug into her lunch—fast food, unfortunately for her, because she was so frazzled from last night that she completely forgot about making a pack lunch.

Rowan hadn't called her, or texted her. Not even an email had been sent her way.

Aelin hated that she felt so damned mopey. She was an independent woman, but gods, even a good morning text would have been fine.

She finished her lunch, popping several mints into her mouth to get rid of the onion taste, when the roof door crashed open and a familiar hulking figure came into view.

He must have spoken to Elide to find her here.

Aelin's brow furrowed. “Rowan, what are you doing here?” Oh gods, surely he wasn't going to break up with her, she still had hours to go; there'd be no way she could work if she had tears in her eyes.

Taking her hands in his, Aelin stood up. She steeled herself against whatever he was going to say.

“I love you, Aelin. I'm in love with you, too,” Rowan said, his eyes soft and full of genuine love. Aelin's heart shot up into her throat. “I want a life with you. I want us to buy a home, one that has warmth and character, and a big garden. I want a dog. And kids too, if you want, I know that you've never mentioned it, but if you don't want any then that is completely fine. I want to support you in whatever endeavors you want to take, and if you ever want to go back to university, then I'll support you, or if you want to find a way to use your business degree, I'll help you with that, too. Whatever you want Aelin, I'll give it to you, as long as you're by my side, I'll be happy.”

Aelin was silent for so long that Rowan thought that maybe he shocked her into silence. But eventually, she smiled, one that was dazzling in its beauty that it took his breath away.

“You love me?”

“I do, Aelin, I love you.”

She kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

Rowan groaned at the amusement in her tone, in her eyes. “You're never going to let me live that down, are you?”

She smirked. “Definitely not. It'll be a nice story to tell our children...one day. For now, I think we should contend with being proper significant others.”

Rowan nodded, smiling. “I like the sound of that.”

“Good, because I need to get back to work, since I'm no longer accepting your allowances. I won't deny the use of your credit card, but other than that, you are no longer my sugar daddy.”

It was Rowan's turned to smirk, and it was the one that made her core clench. “How about I be 'daddy' instead?”

Aelin snorted, even as she clenched around nothing again. Smacking his arm lightly, Aelin kissed him. “Only if you behave,” she said against his lips, “and now I really need to go back to work.”

Rowan walked her back, their fingers laced together, and as she turned to say goodbye, Aelin said, “I'll see you later, daddy.”

Rowan groaned, and it took everything in him not to take her hand and into his car to have his wicked way with her.

By the time he thought of a response, Aelin was already back to work, helping a customer with an impressive stack of books in her arms.

But she knew he was still there, because the way she swayed her hips to the counter was all for him, and when she saw him watching her, Aelin winked, making Rowan's heart flutter in his chest.

He really did love her. And he would live with her teasing him for the rest of his life, just as long as she was with him.

[saturnsummer]

Solhwi prompt:

Sol A tries to set up a date between sol B and joonhwi after his court 'confession' (even though she is lowkey jealous) assuming he was talking about her and confusion ensues... And if you can use the following dialogue-

"Sol, it's you. It has always been you."

love's complicated.

Sol A's not jealous. She really isn't.

But what was this twisting, nerve wracking feeling that she feels every time she sees Sol B?

notes: prompted by @confusedsoulsramblings ! i had so much fun writing this, i had to add a small bonus at the end. i had no intention on making this so long, but i guess it’s my trait to make long fics. spelling, grammar and incorrect information will be taken responsible by me. thank you all for support, once again! let me know of more prompts, questions or your reviews! feedback and criticism very much appreciated! thank you all, once again for the endless love!!

words: 3000 words.

ao3

Sol shouldn't be any less shocked during Yeseul's trial. When Prosecutor Jin cornered Joon Hwi with his question, she turned to look at her roomie at the same time she did. Then, she saw Joon Hwi’s eyes trail nervously, fluttering between them both. Sol knew his answer from the look on his face. 

It was never her to begin with.

She wasn't angry. She wasn't upset. She expected it. Sol B was sophisticated, graceful and beautiful. She knew how all the freshmen would nickname her "Ice Princess.". Could anyone disagree? Furthermore, coming from a family of lawyers and prosecutors, who wouldn't love her? She was a dream child. She possessed both the brains and the beauty. 

Joon Hwi was always open with his teasing and words. He loved teasing her over their first meeting at the bookstore. He loves visiting Byeol randomly, even when Sol isn't home. He often comments with sentences that could have secondary meanings, and was very much teased by Bokgi. Even though he infuriated her sometimes, she always smiled with him.

Sol felt special, if she was honest. She felt like the only girl that he had his eyes on. She couldn’t help but feel tingly inside and her heart blooming like flowers in spring. Yeseul spent hours convincing Sol that Joon Hwi likes her, and on some nights, she liked to fantasied to the thought of it. 

Of course, it means nothing to her now.

Sol sits alone in the study room, huffing out a sigh. She ruffles her hair and buries her face into her sweater sleeves. She can't believe that she can't study due to Joon Hwi liking her roommate. She doesn't like the twisting feeling in her stomach, and she doesn't know what it's called, too.

Was she... jealous? 

Sol shakes her head vigorously and slaps her face a couple of times. No, she thinks, and lets out a breathy laugh. She can’t be. As far as her feelings went, she never considered seeing Joon Hwi more than best friends. The chances of him liking her was held at a much higher percentage than her liking him, in Sol’s head. 

But thinking back, she couldn’t deny her feelings anymore. She couldn’t bury her feelings any further, especially now that she has accidentally dug them up. Her snarky remarks, the way she acted with him, the burning feelings she felt whenever someone spoke bad of him, her smiles that she would sometimes save for him. 

Maybe, she does had feelings for this second round judicial exam passer. 

But at the same time, she felt wrong. Her roomie was oh, so obviously in love with Joon Hwi, harbouring such toxic feelings felt wrong. It felt backstabbing and so betraying. She couldn’t be jealous. She can’t be, anymore. She should be happy, for her best friend to fancy such a perfect partner like Sol B.

Even if it meant that her feelings were not returned, she didn't mind. 

Because his happiness and smile was enough for her. 

-----

Sol did her best to squash those toxic feelings. She reminded herself that her roomie was in love with her best friend, and her best friend felt the same. She avoided every moment she was caught between them and always scooted away when Joon Hwi wanted to sit with her. She gave lame excuses (”I want to sit with Yeseul”, “Yebeom needs to help me with a case”), but her feelings only bubbled up stronger inside. 

She witnessed as her cold faced roomie soften in her speech when talking to Joon Hwi, the way her eyes softened when he would explain something to her, the way he gave the exact same smile to her when he witnesses her finally figuring things on her own. Or the eyes that he gives when he devours his ramyeon while Sol eats her extra pickles with equal fervour. 

If Sol was being honest and straightforward, she wanted to take out her anger on Joon Hwi. For leading her on to believing that he liked her. For being so flirty with her that even BokGi wanted to join in on the teasing. For playing her into this game, only to leave her hanging and lost and completely blindsided by his feelings.

But no, she couldn’t. She knew it wasn’t his fault. She blamed herself, for letting herself be lead by him. She blamed herself for falling for him, instead of focussing on her studies. She was always more rash and emotional. 

It was her decision to fall for his charms, not his. 

She can’t bring herself to blame him, knowing that Joon Hwi was always like this. Mumbling with low spirits, she sunk lower into her chair in the empty study room. She purposely didn’t want to tell anyone that she would be studying in the study room, in hopes that she could be alone. Heading back to her dorm was not an option, since her roomie’s presence would made her so guilty.

“Why the long sigh, sunbae?” She freezes at the nickname. Internally, a part of her lights up, recognising the voice, but even more the nickname that was said. As quickly as it came, it dissipated as she finally registered who it was, and her guilt ridden feelings came right back up. 

Joon Hwi walked in, with his bag slung over, his signature smirk on his face. Pulling a chair, he scooted it over nearer to Sol. Peering over her book, he leaned closer and grabbed the pen she was holding.

“Ooh, criminal codes. Are you having trouble?” He asks, leaning closer to her. 

Sol was so glad he was not looking at her. His body was so near hers, that she could smell the fresh cologne he wore, and the slight musk of sweat from a whole day of work. She couldn’t stay here any longer, while having a knot in her stomach. Leaping from her chair, she gathered her books, nearly scaring Joon Hwi and she quickly packed her things. 

“I... I just remembered that I needed to meet Yeseul for something!” She blurts out, before running out the room. 

She ran up to where the lecture halls were at, before going back down and escape to a part of their campus garden. She always took the same spot, a hidden corner hidden away by a tree that even Joon Hwi isn’t aware of. She frequented that area many times, when she was still insecure about making friends and found it particularly comforting.

“This is no good, I can’t run off every time I see him.” She mumbles to herself. She knew she was right. She knew Joon Hwi was smart to catch on about her not attending classes as usual with her seat next to him. Even though she still showed up for study group, she knew that he could sense the change in her mood. 

She needed a plan, and she needed it ASAP. 

-----

A week passed after her awkward encounter. Sol had gotten used to the twisted feeling in her stomach. After a week of debating in her head, she formulated her plan to get her feelings over and done with. 

She was going to have her roommate and Joon Hwi date. 

Sol had figured that if there’s anything she does best, it’s to disappoint herself. Instead of losing face to her best friend and confessing to him about how she felt, she much rather have her feelings crushed instead. Because she knows that he will probably debate on who to choose and she couldn’t let him be the decision maker. He doesn't need to make such a difficult decision. 

Besides, Sol knew her roomie’s situation. With an overbearing and controlling mother, the least she could do to make her happy was to have the man she crushed on. He could at least help her in her studies, benefitting her mother’s dreams of being a judge one day and have him by her side forever. 

Sol knew the date was going to go well. Sol B had the hugest crush, Joon Hwi would have might as well admitted to her that he had feelings for her in front of the whole court room. All they were missing were private moments alone, without their textbooks and no mentions of school. Oh, and maybe a few glasses of wine and a fancy restaurant in town.

And so Sol found herself in the study room alone again, thinking about how to tell Joon Hwi about setting up a date between Sol B. 

Apparently, fate meant for it to happen now.

Because Joon Hwi strode in, a familiar smile on his face, in his hoodie. 

“Stuck again?” Joon Hwi says, nodding to her books on the table. She contemplates going into small talk and saying yes, but pushes her thoughts aside. No, she needed this out of her system. 

“Joon Hwi, how would you like to go on a date with Sol B?” She blurts out, literally making her point across. Joon Hwi is stunned for a moment, as he sets his bag on the table, leaning on a chair. 

“Well...what makes you think I would enjoy it?” Joon Hwi stutters back, clearly stunned. 

“Oh, I mean, well, you know how Sol B likes you, don’t you? And I think it’ll be nice for you to go on a date with her. You know get to know my roomie more.” Sol replies as casually as she can. A part of her hopes he says no, that he rather spends his time doing anything else. 

But instead, he just shrugs and nods. 

And her heart drops, shattering like glass into a thousand pieces. She maintains her bright smile on her face, and even gives a convincing laugh. Sol sits through the next ten minutes of her telling Joon Hwi when she’s free tomorrow and promising she won’t tell anyone, not even Yeseul. 

As best as she can, she excuses herself from him, hoping her voice isn’t shaky when she says “I hope you enjoy your date!” as she walks away. Her steps are shaky and she feels lightheaded. She doesn't notice how her eyes are teary, the same way they get when she cuts onions. 

Rushing to the washroom nearest to the garden, she locks herself in a cubicle and takes deep silent breaths. She concentrates on breathing and tries brainwashing herself. Come on, Sol, you can’t be upset for him. You should be happy! Joon Hwi is going on a date! And he’s going with the best girl you know! Why are you upset? She repeatedly chants this in her head, holding in her tears as best she can.

But it unfortunately isn’t enough when she finally cracks, letting the pent up sadness explode from it’s cage, her tears streaming down. She prays the bathroom is empty when she wails and sobs, crumbling to the floor in a heap of tears as she can’t help but get the image of her crush and roommate holding hands and kissing. 

For once in her life, she has never felt so hurt, but she couldn’t blame anyone but herself for putting herself in this situation. She landed herself in this ditch, and now she has to deal with the fact that her crush, her best friend, will be dating her roommate. 

Composing herself, she wipes her tears dry and washes her splotchy face. She rejects Yeseul’s offer for dinner, resorting to spending her night at the campus garden away in her hiding spot. She’s cold, but it’s nowhere near the numbness she feels in her heart deep down. When it gets too cold at 2am, she sneaks back into campus and goes to the long sofas in front of the Lady of Justice statue. 

She sits there staring into space for a long while, before carrying her bag to the, now empty and deserted, study room, where she crouches to the corner of the room. She’s reminded of the moments where he would sit with her so close, their shoulders brushed each other and their fingers always fumbled around for stationary. Everything reminds her of him, and she falls asleep, huddled in a corner, just as the rare rays of sun start to emerge.

She wanted him, but he wasn't hers anymore. 

-----

“Sol. Sol, get up.” She hears a familiar voice say. Having slept for less than six hours, she’s groggy and rubs her eyes. Her back hurts from being hunched over, and her joints are sore and stiff. Her vision comes to focus as she comes face to face with Joon Hwi.

“Ah!” She yelps out, startled by his presence and retreats back, only banging her head against the metal cabinets instead. She winces and rubs her head, soothing her pain. Joon Hwi sighs and holds out his hand. She swats his hand away. 

“Why are you here?” Sol asks Joon Hwi. Joon Hwi holds a serious expression as he steps back to let Sol stand on her own. 

“I take back what I said yesterday.” He says suddenly. 

“Huh?”

“I’m not going on a date with Sol B anymore. I don’t want to.” He blurts out. Sol takes a moment to register his words. Immediately, anger floods in. She can’t tell if it’s residual anger from being mad at him for playing her, or anger on behalf of her roommate. 

“What? What do you mean? But Sol B likes you so much! You should at least give her a chance!” Sol argues back, making her way to the other side of the table at the same time, dumping her bag there. She’s proper angry now, letting her emotions take charge of her actions. Her eyes are frustrated and her face frowns. Joon Hwi stops her and grabs her wrist, stopping her from moving away from him and pulls her back to the same side of the table that he is. 

“I don’t like her. And I don’t think I ever will.” He admits. Sol is breathless, taking in all this new information. But during the court, it was so clear that it was her roommate. She can’t do it, having Joon Hwi so close to her, wanting to be with him, yet getting told that he harbours no feelings for Sol B. The tension she felt was driving her crazy.

“But...” Her speech comes out breathless, almost suffocated out of anger and frustration. 

“Sol.” His voice is an octave lower, as he leans towards her, his face closing the distance. “Listen to me.”

“It’s you. It has always been you. From the beginning, it was always you.” 

Sol lets out a breath, almost suffocating from the tension. 

It...it was her? 

All this while...? 

“I thought... I thought...” She hates how her voice is so full of breath. She’s leaning against the table, and his hands have shifted from her wrist to the side of the table, trapping her.“I thought you liked her. I thought this entire while, she was the one you liked.”

“Maybe this will make you trust me.” 

And he presses his mouth against hers. 

Sol’s startled, not used to Joon Hwi being so dominating. But his soft lips against hers distract her. She removes her hands from the table, bringing them up to his hang around his neck. His hands slowly make their way to her waist as they move in sync. When they finally part, Sol’s face is blushed bright red. She feels his hot breath against her face.

“Believe me now, sunbae?” 

-----

bonus:

Sol B tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ears when she stops in her tracks to meet Joon Hwi.

“Hey, um, can we talk?” He asks awkwardly. She doesn’t know why she feels so calm, knowing that she should be feeling butterflies for having her crush talk to her. Nodding, they head to a spot until the staircases. 

“I don’t know how to put it...” Sol B realises where this conversation is going. In fact, she has been waiting for this day, ever since Yeseul’s court hearing. She knows what he’s going to say before he even says it. 

“You don’t like me, you like Sol A, right?” She completes his sentence. Joon Hwi fumbles in his speech and finds ways to defend himself quickly. But Sol B is quick to cut him off.

“It’s okay.” She says, the closest thing to a satisfied face she can make on her face. “I fully support you.”

“You’re... you’re not sad? Or angry?” Joon Hwi is cautious with his questions. Sol gives a slight scoff. If she’s honest, she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know what begin her crush for him, to begin with. She can’t remember if it was the way he answered questions, or the time he helped her put on her glasses. All she knows is that he didn’t like her, and she felt peace with that.

“I’ve seen the way you look at her. Your smile and your eyes are enough to prove it. Besides, that's who you were talking about in court, wasn’t it? You wanted to protect her.” She asks. He nods, eyes unable to meet hers. 

When Sol B went to bed the night before, she noticed that her roomie was nowhere. Assuming that she was out studying, she went to bed. But when she woke up the next morning, Sol B found her bed still the same state as last night. It was obvious she didn’t return to the dorm. 

“She didn't come back last night.” Sol B says and Joon Hwi’s eyes widen in panic. 

“What?”

“Check the study room. She might just be studying there.”

“Okay.” He says and turns around. But he turns around once more before jogging away.

“Thank you, for everything.” 

Sol B gives a suppressed smile as she watches Joon Hwi get further and further from him. She tries all she can to find anger, jealousy, sadness, brokenness, denial. 

But yet, all she feels is calming peace. 

[myhockeyworld87]

What Happens In Vegas...Doesn’t Always Stay There - Jacob Markstrom - Part 3

Word Count: 4,050

POV: Reader

Warning: Language

Notes: Well I’m finally at home for a night and I definitely owe you guys a story. So since I had the next part of this one ready, I dediced to post it. When last we saw these two, they had decided to divorce, and our reader had signed the papers and sent them back to Jacob. Who had forgotten to sign them. Let’s see what happens now, though I think some of you have an idea. As always feedback is welcome. Happy Reading!

What Happens In Vegas…Doesn’t Always Stay There Masterlist

It had been almost seven weeks since Jacob met you. For six of those, he’d talked to you every day, sometimes two and three times. It was just these last few days that you wouldn’t answer his calls or texts. Jacob was confused, to put it mildly. He wracked his brain trying to recall the last couple of conversations that you’d had, wondering if he’d said or did something to anger you, but nothing came to mind. In Jacob’s mind, he thought the two of you were actually starting something. Sure, it had been one of the most peculiar beginnings to a relationship ever, but the last several weeks' things had been nice, better than nice actually. He thought the two of you might have a chance at a real relationship. Of course, the distance between you played a part, but he thought the two of you could work that out; apparently, he was wrong.

 Jacob knew the moment he stepped poolside, that you were something special. The longer he talked to you the more he knew he’d been right. If he was being honest, it was probably one of the reasons he suggested marrying you, even though that marriage would be over soon. Just like lightning striking in the middle of a storm, it hit Jacob then why you were pissed. He’d forgotten to sign the divorce papers. He’d had them for well over two weeks now. Rushing into the office, he started rifling through all the crap on his desk looking for the manila envelope that you’d mailed it to him in. He was just in the process of opening it when the front doorbell rang, so back on the desk it went, as he headed to the door to answer it.

 Jacob was shocked to see you standing there. “(Y/N), what are you doing here?” He didn’t mean for that to come out the way it did. It took him a moment to recover before taking you in. There were dark circles under your eyes that made it look like you hadn’t slept in days, not to mention how puffy they looked as if you’d been crying. Jacob wanted nothing more than to take you in his arms and make whatever seemed to be causing you this much pain go away.

 “Hey,” you mumbled out weakly. “Can I come in?”

 “Of course.” He stepped aside, letting you into his home. It was your typical bachelor pad. Walls stark and devoid of any real character that you knew Jacob possessed. He led you over to the couch in the living room, an enormous piece of furniture designed for his large frame. It almost seemed to swallow you whole. “(Y/N) is everything ok?” There was concern in his eyes and you knew he was probably questioning your presence there after you’d been radio silent the last few days.

 “No.” The one-word answer was hard to push out without tears falling down your eyes. You could see how Jacob’s fingers itched to touch you and honestly that’s all you wanted right now, for him to just take you in his arms and somehow have all the answers, but he had to know the problem first. You took a deep breath trying to steel yourself for what you needed to tell him. “Jacob, I don’t know how to tell you this.” At that moment Jacob grabbed your hands and engulfed them in his giving you his support in just that simple touch. It gave you enough courage to blurt out the last part. “I’m pregnant.”

 You felt his hands slip a bit on yours at the shock of the news; his mouth working trying to form a sentence yet nothing coming out. It took a minute but he finally found his words. “Wow, um…ok…I hate to ask this…”

 This was the part you knew was coming, expected it really and you didn’t blame him at all. So, to spare him, you found yourself answering the unspoken question. “It’s yours.” He nodded but you felt the need to explain more. “I haven’t been with anyone since Vegas, and even before that, well, work was really busy, and…well let’s just say it had been over a month or longer.”

 “You don’t have to say anymore, (Y/N). I believe you.” His hands tightened on yours, the shock of everything starting to wear off. “Plus, we didn’t use protection.” It was something you didn’t give much thought to when you were with Jacob, which was odd because you’d always been extra cautious with hookups, but then everything with Jacob was different than anyone else. “Do you…do you know what you want to do?”

 This time you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. “I tried, Jacob. I really did.” He looked confused, unsure of what you meant by that. “I went to get an abortion yesterday.” He blinked hard but other than that showed no expression. “I was sitting there on the damn table in a gown just waiting for the doctor to come in and then I looked around. There was this damn chart that showed what the size of your baby is every week compared to fruit of all things. It’s a blueberry by the way. A damn cute little blueberry, like the kind they put in muffins and stuff.” Why it had to be an adorable little fruit like that you didn’t know. Why couldn’t it be honeydew? You hated that fruit. Well maybe not hate, but it wasn’t your favorite that’s for sure. “Anyhow, I was just staring at that poster and looking at each week and I don’t know. I couldn’t breathe.” Kind of like now, even telling him brought back all those feelings. “I started thinking about the doctor telling me that I could hear the heartbeat next week when she did the ultrasound, and I’m not sure what happened, but I couldn’t go through with it; so, I left. I’m so sorry.”

 You weren’t quite sure if you were apologizing to him or yourself. This was something you didn’t want, at least not right now, or at least that’s what you always thought. Now, you didn’t know what you wanted anymore. You took a deep breath, composing yourself. “I booked a flight once I got home. I couldn’t tell you this over the phone or text. You deserved to hear it in person.”

 “Thank you for that.”

 You slipped your hands out of his, distancing yourself from him for this next part, but also pulling out the envelope you brought. “I’m going to keep the baby.” As if that part wasn’t obvious, but you somehow felt it needed to be said. “I had Aaron draw up some papers. They absolve you from any obligations to the child both financially and emotionally. All you have to do is sign them. You won’t even have to be listed on the birth certificate.” He took the envelope from your hands, glancing briefly at the contents inside. “I’m sure you’ll want to have your lawyer look it over.”

 Jacob didn’t know what to think. Ten minutes ago, he was wondering if you were ever going to speak to him again and now you were telling him you were having his child. A child you apparently didn’t want him to be a part of. But did he even want a baby? He certainly hadn’t wanted a wife, yet here he was still married to you. He should come clean right now and tell you that he hadn’t signed the papers yet. That some indescribable feeling had taken over him, and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to sign them anymore. And now, well, now he felt like he shouldn’t sign them. Maybe this was all some force in the universe steering his life in a different direction; a route he hadn’t planned on taking until later, yet here he was on it. “And what if I don’t want to sign them?”

 Well, that certainly wasn’t what you thought he’d say. You didn’t think this was something either of you wanted, but you couldn’t be certain. It wasn’t like the two of you had had this long talk about where you saw your life in five years. Hell, this wasn’t where you saw your life in five months, but here you were, on the verge of being divorced with a baby on the way. “Well, I guess we’ll need to figure things out then.”

 Jacob got up and started to wander around the living room. You weren’t sure if he was trying to decide whether or not he wanted to sign the papers or how he was going to be part of his child’s life. “Do you want a drink or something? I need a drink. Oh shit, you can’t drink, can you?”

 “It’s not advised, but please don’t let that stop you. Though if you have a water that would be great.” He headed towards the kitchen, which gave you a chance to just breathe. The hardest part was telling him, all the rest you’d figure out. He was back quicker than you expected, a bottle of water in each hand. He handed one over to you and sat back down beside you. “You know, you can think about this if you want. You don’t have to sign or not sign them right now.”

 He nodded and pursued his lips before answering, though not how you expected. “How long are you here for?”

 “A few days. There’s a movie being filmed not far from here. I offered to drop off some of the specs for the campaign, as long as I was here, but it also gives you some time to make a decision.”

 “I already have. I want to be in our baby’s life.” You don’t know why but it felt like a thousand pounds had been lifted off your chest. It was nice to know that you weren’t in this alone. “But there’s a lot to figure out.”

 “Yes, there is.”

 “(Y/N), this is going to sound crazy, but I want you to move here.”

 Pregnancy did weird things to the body and maybe your hearing things was one of them because you were pretty sure Jacob had just said he wanted you to move to Vancouver. “I’m sorry, you want me to move here, as in Vancouver?”

 “Well, yeah but I want you to move in here, like in my house.”

 He seemed dead serious and you weren’t sure how to take his suggestion or him at the moment. “But my life and my home are in LA. That’s where my job is.” Couldn’t he see that?

 “I know, but moving here just makes sense. I’ll be able to help you then, not just after the baby is born but before as well. I have plenty of room in this house. There are three spare bedrooms; we can turn one into a nursery for the baby.”

 How could go from finding out you were pregnant to a full out plan of attack in less than a half-hour? God, it took you a day to wrap your head around it when you found out and then another to make the decision about the abortion, and even then you still didn’t figure out you wanted to keep the baby until you were sitting in the doctor’s office. Jacob seemed to be processing everything much better than you were.

 “I don’t know Jacob, just because we’re having this baby together doesn’t mean we have to live together.” Everything with Jacob was still in this weird transition phase like you went from being wildly attracted to each other, to being married, to getting a divorce, to now having a baby, and now he wanted you to live together under the same roof. You didn’t even know if the two of you would get along that great. Sure, the sex was amazing, well really better than amazing if that was even a thing, and you seemed to get along if your conversations over the last several weeks were any indication, but to live together; that could just be a whole other problem altogether.

 “Look I know it’s a lot to ask and believe me if I could, I’d be willing to move to LA. It’s not like I can just ask to be traded there though. But I don’t want you to have to do this on your own.” It was awfully sweet of him to want to be there for you, and not just the baby. You’d just assumed that he’d want to see the baby on some weekends and maybe an extended time during the summer when he was off. “You don’t realize this yet, but there’s going to be a whole hockey family here for you. That’s just the way it is in this sport.” He grasped your hands then, the gesture one pleading in and of itself for you to see his side of things. “We can do this (Y/N), together.”

 Together, it sounded so nice. You knew that if he had decided to sign the papers that being a single mom was going to be tough, but now knowing that he wanted to be there every step of the way eased some of the burden you felt. It was just hard to think about giving up the life you’d built for yourself in LA. You were already giving up so much as it was. “I get what you’re asking, I really do. I just…it’s a lot.” His thumb started to run back and forth across your knuckles, softly urging you to his side without him even knowing it. “Can I think about it?”

 “Of course.”

 “I mean we don’t have to decide everything tonight.”

 “No, we don’t.” He smiled at you. The same one he gave you when you’d been in Vegas. It gave you butterflies in your stomach back then as it did now. “How are you feeling?”

 “Pretty good, I get a little queasy now and then; mostly when I’m hungry. I’ve learned to carry crackers with me everywhere.”

 “Well, I could make you something or we could order.” The fact that he even offered scored points in your book and was definitely a check on his side of the box for moving to Vancouver, and you were kind of hungry.

 “I mean, I haven’t really eaten.” He gave you a disapproving stare and you felt the need to justify why you hadn’t. “I was too nervous before.”

 “Well, then let’s get you something to eat.” Jacob led you out to the kitchen, where he took out some chicken along with some vegetables to stick in the oven. The two of you worked side by side getting dinner ready. You were midway chopping up some zucchini when Jacob brought the baby back up again. “You mentioned something about the heartbeat. Were you able to hear it?”

 “I have to schedule an ultrasound when I get back but they said that I should be able to.”

 “Mmm.” You weren’t exactly sure what that little hum meant. Was that a good hum, or a bad one? You stayed silent waiting for him to say more. “Do you think you could record it for me?”

 Why did your heart just flutter when he asked that? Was it because he wanted to hear the baby or was it because you were realizing how much he would be missing when you went back to LA? “I will,” you finally told him, but then had an even better idea. “Though you know, I’m here for four more days. Maybe we could find a doctor that would be able to do it while I’m here.”

 His face lit up, like a little boy on Christmas morning. “You would do that?”

 “Yeah. If we can find a doctor to squeeze us in.”

 “I’ll take care of it.” He pulled out his phone, you weren’t sure if he was searching for gynecologists or texting someone, either way, it was adorable how he just jumped in at the first mention of being a part of this whole pregnancy. Again, he was showing you just how nice it would be to share this with him. Ten minutes later he had an appointment all set for you in two days.

 During dinner you talked about how you had found out you were pregnant, telling him the story of how Kennedy was the one to point out your nausea wasn’t normal and that you should take a pregnancy test. She was the only one that knew you were pregnant. You swore her to secrecy, hoping that she wouldn’t spill the beans this time like she had about a certain movie star. Surprisingly, he wanted to know everything, though there wasn’t too much to tell. By the time you got the mess cleaned up from dinner, you were starting to feel the weariness of the day.

 “I think I’m going to head over to the hotel. I still need to check in. Hopefully, I’ll be able to sleep better tonight, now that you finally know.”

 “Stay.” The word fell out of Jacob’s mouth in almost an authoritative manner, which belied the puppy dog look on his face. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I mean you could stay here if you wanted. Sort of like a tryout or something.”

 “You mean trial run?” Leave it to his athletic side to call it a tryout. It made you laugh.

 “Yeah. We could just take the next few days and see how we do together.” It wasn’t a bad idea. “You call and cancel the hotel and I’ll go grab your bag from the car.” He was halfway to the door before you actually agreed.

 As Jacob went outside, he contemplated with himself as to where he should put your things. Did he just bring your luggage to his room or should he give you one of the spare rooms? Despite the fact you were carrying his child, his body still wanted you as much, if not more, than when you were in Vegas. He just wasn’t sure where you saw things going.

 You were just hanging up the phone when he walked back into the house and unbeknownst to him, you were wondering the same thing. However, your head kept telling you that if the two of you were going to make this work, you needed to keep things out of the bedroom, at least for now. Jacob must have had the same thought as you, for when he came in, he said, “Here, I’ll show you where the spare bedroom is.” The room was spacious but again, it wasn’t that homey, and occurred to you that if you decided to live here, you’d definitely need to make some changes. “Did you maybe wanna watch a movie or something, or are you tired?”

 You could see he was struggling in this unchartered territory as much as you were, and while you were exhausted; you still wanted to spend time with him, to see if moving to Vancouver was even an option. “I’d love to watch a movie. Do you mind if I change first?”

 “No, not at all.” He fidgeted with the back of his neck a bit, before turning to leave. “I’ll meet you back downstairs.”

 You really wanted to take a hot shower and crawl into bed, but instead, you opted for just washing up quickly and slipping on a pair of pajamas you’d brought. It was still warm in LA, though the nights were a bit cooler. All you brought to sleep in were a couple pairs of shorts and some comfy t-shirts, thinking that you’d be in a hotel room by yourself. Now, you were wishing that you’d thought about it a little more and packed something a little warmer, if not more modest. Why you cared, you weren’t sure, considering this man had seen you completely naked several times.

 Jacob had changed into some sweats by the time you got downstairs. He had bottles of water for you both along with a pack of crackers laying on the coffee table, and you had to admit your heart melted a little bit when you saw that. “So, what kind of movies do you like? I remember you saying no horror.”

 “We don’t have to watch a movie. I know the Bruins are playing tonight and that you play them tomorrow. Why don’t you just turn the game on?” He looked surprised that you knew his schedule, but you did a deep dive finding out as much information as you could once you found out you were pregnant. He was going to be the baby's father, even if he would've decided not to be in your child's life, though now that he decided he wanted to be, the information was even more useful.

 “Are you sure?” You nodded giving him the go-ahead to watch his opponents’ play. “Speaking of that, would you be interested in going to the game? I mean I know someone who could get you a ticket on short notice?” He looked so adorable when he asked you couldn’t tell him no.

 “I’d love to.” You’d watched very few hockey games live, though ever since Las Vegas, you’d been following the Canucks, well, more like Jacob. It would be fun to see him in action.

 “Great, I can leave you a ticket or have Erik’s fiancé come and take you. You’ll love her.”

 Jacob really wanted you to jump in with both feet, didn’t he? You weren’t quite sure if you were ready to meet all his friends and teammates, but you supposed that if you moved here this would be a part of your life. “If she wouldn’t mind that would be great.”

 “I’ll text him now.”

 “Jacob,” you stopped him, just by saying his name. “Can we keep the baby our secret for now? I know Kennedy knows and I don’t expect you to keep it to yourself, but I don’t want to broadcast it either. At least until we know what we’re doing.”

 He took your hand in his, the gesture reassuring. “Yeah (Y/N), we can do that.”

 It wasn’t long before your attire got the best of you and you found yourself tucking your feet underneath you on the couch trying to keep them warm. You thought that Jacob was fully absorbed in the game, but he caught the subtle movement. “Are you cold?”

 “A little.”

 He scooted your closer to him, his large frame wrapping around yours. You weren’t sure if it was his body heat or him just holding you, but it was definitely warmer in seconds, though Jacob still covered you with a throw blanket that was on the couch. “Better?”

 “Much.” It wasn’t long before you found yourself dozing off. The stress of the day and travel wearing on you. Your head fell softly against his shoulder and you sighed in contentment.

 Jacob felt your body relax against him and he savored the feel of it. He’d honestly missed this closeness to another person in a completely non-sexual way and having you in his arms just felt right. He should’ve been paying attention to the game, scouting out his opponents but instead all he could do was watch you, even before you fell asleep. His fingers were idly stroking your bare arm under the blanket, slowly inching their way down to your wrist. He didn’t realize they’d made their way to your midsection until they were there; just lightly caressing you, scared he would wake you, but he had to touch you there. He’d been dying to all night but been afraid to ask as if it was almost an invasion of your privacy even though you were carrying his child. His child. The thought both terrified him and thrilled him. Jacob always wanted kids; knew that someday he would have them. He just didn’t think it would be this soon. He always assumed that he’d start his family after hockey was over, but here he was with a wife and child on the way. It was something he hadn’t bargained for and never saw coming. Apparently, what happened in Vegas was a lot more than he gambled on.

 taglist: @iculyrea​  @fiveholegoal​  @raysofcrosby @leafs-lover​ @sexysidney87​ @lovethepreds​  @miranda0102​  @stbluesbrat21  @perrieeloise  @mandypants95​  @hockeyunits​  @liz96893  @golfergirl1982​  @princessphilly​  @ajstylesworld​  @zinka8  @dontworrybeekappy​  @hiimana  @meishaabae​ @heatherawoowoo @beauvibaby @hockeybabe87 @leafs-forever

.

[qjhughes]

Tell Me You Want Me

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: You play truth or shot with Harry, Mitch, and Sarah backstage and things get a little out of hand.

Warning(s): drinking, jealous!h, fluff, talk of sex but nothing explicit, cursing (but what’s new)

A/N: cleaning out my inbox!!!!! @harryskittenxox​ requested: Please can I request a fluffy angst imagine with H where you’re all playing drinking games backstage at one of his shows and he gets protective and jealous - thanks so much! Thank you for requesting this!!! Here’s what I came up with based on this request, so I hope you enjoy it!!!!

Masterlist | Taglist | Request - Guidelines | Come Talk!!

Reblogs help so much to support creators and they are greatly appreciated!

*

You and Harry have been in a pretty unconventional “relationship” for quite some time now. You’re friends, nothing more than that, but you sleep together. It had started as a way to relieve stress, a way for the two of you to release some steam while also satisfying your needs. It had started as nothing more than meaningless sex.

But now, four months later, you’re touring the world with Harry because he swore to you that he couldn’t go more than a few days without you by his side. Your late night rendezvous with Harry had stopped ending with you sneaking back to your house (or in this case, your hotel room) and progressed to you just spending the night.

As much as you hate to admit it, you’ve become the one that falls for their best friend as they go through a friends with benefits agreement. Regardless of how much you try to deny it, it hits you every single time that you see his face. Coming on tour with him made it ten times worse, as well. Seeing him on stage every night, exuding power and confidence, is going to be the death of you. He just looks so fucking good up there, entertaining thousands of people.

Every night, including tonight, you’ve been there to greet him as he runs offstage. Normally, he’d be high on his adrenaline, and you’d help him calm down and get to bed. Tonight, though, things are a little different. 

As soon as he got off the stage tonight, he flung himself into your arms, letting you hold him for longer than normal. You didn’t really question that, though, just chalking it up to him being a little more affectionate after this show. It’s happened before, so it was easy to decide that was most likely what was happening.

When Sarah and Mitch come over with a bottle of Tequila and shot glasses, however, you know why he’s giving you a little extra attention. He knows that whatever they have planned will lead to a very drunk Harry, and in turn a Harry that’s not able to perform like he normally does. 

It’s not like you really mind, though, you’d rather spend time with Harry getting drunk that having sex that you have to pretend means nothing to you.

“Okay so, since we’re on different floors of the hotel, I figured that we’d just sit here and play truth or shot.” Sarah chirps, smiling wide.

“I haven’t played that since I was a teenager.” Harry drawls, looking over at you and smirking. Why he did so, you have no idea, but you have a feeling that you’ll figure it out at some point soon. 

“Yeah, well, you’re about to play it again. Let’s go!” You follow behind Sarah as she leads you to Harry’s dressing room. There’s a table already set up with four chairs around it, so you make your way to it and take the seat closest to the door. Harry quickly slides into the seat next to you and tries his best to pull you closer to him.

Sarah gives you a look as she sits down, but you just wave her off. There’s no need for her to question anything between you and Harry when there’s not even anything going on. It’s not like he actually has feelings for you, so there’s nothing to discuss. 

“Alright, bitches, I’ll start.” Mitch, surprisingly, speaks up. He waits until Sarah pours the alcohol into each pint tinted shot glass and distributes one to everyone. Clearing his throat, he points at you. “Y/N, what’s up with you and Michael.” 

Of course, Mitch would start with that. Sighing, you pick up the shot glass and throw it back, letting the alcohol burn your throat on it’s way down. You wince slightly as you place the glass down and watch Sarah refill it. 

Harry looks over at you and furrows his brows. Fuck, you forgot to tell Harry about him. Michael wasn’t really anything to you, just a guy that had begun flirting with you at work. He had gone so far as to ask you out a few times but every time that he gives you a time, you already had plans with Harry. You had planned to tell him about Michael if something actually happened, but since nothing had, the only person you had told about him was Sarah (who apparently thought it was a good idea to share with Mitch).

You mouth “later” to him and turn back to Sarah and Mitch. You can feel how stiff Harry’s become next to you, and you can’t figure out why. Maybe he thinks that you’ve been sleeping with Michael and not telling him about it. That would explain why he’s upset, it was in the rules after all. If either of you started seeing someone else, the arrangement was off. Neither one of you were okay with cheating, so you get why he could be reacting the way that he is.

Since you were asked the last question, it’s your turn to ask one. Smirking, you turn to Harry. “So, Styles, when are you putting fans out of their misery and releasing Anna and Medicine?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. He’s still stiff, but you can tell that he’s trying his best to calm himself down. “Probably never.”

You zone out as you watch his lips form around the words. It’s almost sad, really, how fast he can consume your attention. You let your eyes trace his face as subtly as possible until you hear your name being called.

Shaking your head, you look over at Sarah. “Yeah?”

“Harry asked you a question.” Your eyes widen in recognition.

Turning to him, he’s smirking at you. The smirk falls almost immediately once he starts talking, however. “Who’s Michael?”

“H, I said later.” You respond immediately.

“Well I want to know now.” He reason, although he just sounds like a whiny child.

Pushing up from the table, you flash Mitch and Sarah a smile. “Have fun with him, I’m going back to the hotel. I don’t want to play anymore.”

By the time Harry catches up with you, you’re already outside of the venue, pulling out your phone to call an Uber. “Listen I’m sorry, okay? Just, why won’t you tell me who Michael is?”

Scoffing you turn to face him. “Why do you care, Harry? Me and Michael aren’t doing anything, and all me and you do is fuck. So please, tell me why it’s so important.”

He flinches back, like your words physically hurt him. “You think that all you are to me is a fuck?”

Laughing, you run a hand through your hair. “Harry, you’re the one who made the rules. You’re the one who said “this is just sex” so do not pull the “that’s all you think of us?” card.” 

“Yeah, I made the rules because I was fucking scared, okay?” He sighs, taking a step closer to you.

“Scared of what, Harry?” You cross your arms over your chest to block him out. You know that without doing that, his arms would have been around you in just a few moments.

“Of falling in love with you.” He hangs his head as he says the words, and you have to strain to hear them. When you register what he says, you scoff.

“How does that make any sense? Harry, you started a relationship that’s based on being intimate with one another, but you’re scared of falling in love with me? Yeah, okay.” You roll your eyes as you turn away from him and go back to ordering an Uber.

“Okay, listen. I know it sounds stupid, alright? I get it. But I wanted you close. Hell, I still want you close. I just didn’t know how else to do it. It’s not like you’re in love with me.”

Turning on your heel you send him a death glare. “Do not tell me how I feel, Harry. I am so in love with you. I literally can’t get you off my mind, okay? But you’re not making any sense.”

You can’t help but mirror the smile that breaks out on his face. “Listen, just come back to my place, okay? I’ll explain everything there. I know that how I went about it was fucked up, but I love you, and I just want you to be mine.”

Sighing, you slip your phone back into your pocket. “Take me home, H.”

*

Thank you so much for reading!!! Friendly reminder to reblog the fics that you enjoy!!

Permanent Taglist - @jackiehollanderr​, @scarletsoldierrr​, @thewayilookatbacon​, @parker-barnes-af​, @lost-in-the-stars03​, @kisses-holland​, @josiemara​, @god-knows-what-am-i-doing​, @fanficscuziranout​, @akila-stilinski​ , @babebenhardy​ @write-from-the-heart​, @slytherinambitious​, @miraclesoflove​ @quaksonhehe​, @dummiesshort​, @sleepybesson​, @sunshine96love​, @itstaskeen​, @wotamelonsugar​, @fallingfordolans​, @missleahlin​, @urbandcal​, @5-seconds-of-mendes​, @bookwormmusiclover15, @mary-jabami, @sarcasticallywitty15​, @emsma11​, @mrstomllison​,

Harry Styles Taglist - @alwayshave-faith​, @hufflepuff-always-and-forever​, @sucker-09​ @just-chillin-out-in-me-box​, @macksmedicine, @xo-spidey​, @afterhoursharry​, @shawnieeboyy​, @mrspeacem1nusone​, @harry-styles-l​, @y0uresogolden​ @ficnarry​, @sucker-09​, @niallbestie3​,

[nerdzzone]

The Aftermath

Summary: Dealing with the fall out of their first night together isn’t easy for Whitney Taylor or Chris Evans, but given the complicated results of their frivolous activities, it isn’t something they can avoid forever.

Chris Evans x OFC

Part One: Luckless Romance

Note: I was originally going to leave Luckless Romance as a one shot, but I had some requests for a part two. I had it all planned out in my head anyway so I figured I’d write it up to explain more of where our two lovely character’s heads were at!

Please let me know your thoughts! Or if there’s any other parts of their story that you’d like to hear about!

_____

When Chris woke up, the first thing he noticed was the throbbing in his head.

The second thing he noticed was the warm body curled into his side.

His initial reaction to that sensation was confusion, but as the events of the night before quickly came back to him, he was filled with an unignorable sense of dread.

He'd fucked up.

He'd spent a year burying his feelings for her to protect their friendship and all it took was a few drinks and flirtatious remarks for him to risk it all. He cared for her, there was no doubt about that, but he knew she didn't feel the same way. Clearly, she was at least attracted to him, but he'd hazard a guess that her loneliness was the driving factor in why she'd chosen to indulge in the activities they'd partaken in a few hours earlier. She’d had no luck in the dating scene, so she'd settled for him and now, when she woke up, she'd break his heart.

She didn't want him.

She didn't want the life that he could offer.

She'd made it clear that she found the world of Hollywood exhausting when she'd talked about her discontent with living in L.A. and that was a world he couldn't escape from. Plus, his fans had given her a hard enough time when she was just a close friend. If she was to become something more, they would tear her apart. He didn't want that for her and he knew that she didn't want that kind of hassle in her life either.

But he couldn't stand to hear her say it. He never did well with rejection and rejection from this woman - who he knew was absolutely perfect for him - was more than he could handle.

So, after carefully extracting himself from her grasp without waking her, he left.

He felt sleezy and awful not even saying goodbye, but he needed to quiet the noise in his brain before he could face her and he figured she would probably appreciate his absence. He knew firsthand how awkward it was to let down a one night stand the morning after so, really, he was sparing her just as much as he was protecting himself.

The heat outside was stifling already and made Chris realize just how desperate he was for something to quench his thirst. They'd drunk more than he normally did and he was feeling the effects. Perhaps that was why his mind was so fuzzy and unable to process what had happened, but he figured it was a safe bet that he could pin that on his anxiety.

And there were only two people who had much luck soothing him when his mind started racing: his mother and his brother.

He knew his mother would be disappointed in him if he told her what happened. He'd poured his heart out to her several times about the confliction he felt with his feelings for Whitney, he dreaded to think what she would say about him finally doing something about those feelings in such a reckless way and he was definitely too hungover to deal with her reaction to how he'd handled things that morning.

So, that left Scott.

Pulling out his phone, he glanced at the time and cringed. It wasn't even six thirty yet and with it being a Sunday there was a good chance that Scott was in a worse post-inebriated state than he was, but he took a chance and hit 'call'.

It took a few rings, but eventually Scott answered, his voice still groggy from sleep.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Scott," Chris greeted him as he crossed the street. He needed to flag down a cab to get home, but figured the quiet park across from Whitney's apartment was a better place for this conversation. No extra ears listening in. "I fucked up."

"Chris, it's not even seven o'clock in the morning. How badly could you have fucked anything up this early?"

He sounded tired and Chris felt bad, but he needed someone to talk to.

"I slept with Whitney."

There was a moment of silence before Scott let out a cheer.

"Finally!" He practically squealed, but then he paused as he took in what Chris had said. "Wait, how did you fuck up? Did you not use your best moves?"

"What? No, nothing like that," Chris' brow furrowed in annoyance. "I fucked up by sleeping with her at all. She's one of my best friends, Scott, and now that's ruined. It’ll never be the same, if she even wants anything to do with me now."

"Did she not seem happy about it? What did she say when you left?"

"Nothing," Chris admitted. "I left this morning before she woke up."

There was a moment of silence as Scott processed his brother's words.

"Okay, I'm starting to see where you fucked up. You shouldn't have done that."

"No, I fucked up by sleeping with her!"

Chris' tone was snappy and uncalled for, but his headache was getting worse by the minute and he was feeling exasperated enough without Scott's judgment.

"Alright, alright, calm down," Scott sighed. "If you want my honest opinion, I think you're overreacting. You two have always had a 'will they won't they' vibe about you. She's clearly just as interested in you as you are in her."

"Why 'clearly'?" Chris questioned. "She's never acted like she sees me as more than a friend."

"Uh, yes, she has. She blushes and giggles like a schoolgirl every time you compliment her, she practically drools at the sight of you and listens with hearts in her eyes whenever you talk. She's got it just as bad as you do."

"Don't do that," Chris groaned. "Don't put ideas in my head that aren't true."

"It is true. I wouldn't lie to you about that," Scott insisted. "I think this is just your anxiety talking. Go back to her place before she wakes up, hear what she has to say and go from there. She might surprise you."

"I'll think about it," Chris lied, knowing already that he couldn't face going back. "Thanks for answering. I'll let you get back to bed."

"Don't mention it," Scott assured him. "I know you're stressed now, but I'm happy for you. It's about time the two of you came to your senses."

Chris smiled despite his disbelief in what Scott had said. He laughed it off and said his goodbyes before walking towards the nearest road to catch a cab.

He saw Whitney's message a few hours later, but he ignored it. He needed to get his head straight and steel himself for however she chose to let him down before he would be ready to talk to her.

It took days for him to get to the point of acceptance, but she never messaged him again. So, working on the assumption that she was relieved by his silence or didn't care enough to demand any explanations, he got on a plane and headed back to Massachusetts with plans to spend the next few months drowning his sorrows and pushing her from his mind.

-

Three Weeks Later

My period was late.

For the last ten years of my life, my period had arrived with impressive reliability and now, a few weeks after having unprotected sex, my period was late.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on. There was no doubt in my mind that I was pregnant.

"It's not that easy to get pregnant," Hannah insisted as we sat in my living room, counting down the minutes until the pregnancy test would be ready. "A lot of people who actually want to get pregnant have to try for months before it happens. It seems super unlikely that you'd get pregnant from a random one night stand."

"Yeah, but it does happen to plenty of women," I pointed out. "And knowing my luck, I would get knocked up by a man who then flees the state without another word."

Hannah winced as I paced in front of her.

"Still haven't heard anything, then?"

"Nope, nothing," I sighed. "I haven't reached out again, but he made himself pretty clear by leaving before I woke up and then ignoring my text."

"I just don't get it. He was so obviously into you. I would have bet money that you two would live happily ever after."

"You did bet money," I reminded her. "I'm still waiting for that thousand dollars you promised me."

"You didn't accept!" She smiled. "I owe you nothing!"

While I didn't really expect her to pay me, I was going to argue the point, but the timer we'd set for the test went off and snapped our focus back to the task at hand.

"Oh god," I groaned. "You read it. I can't deal with this."

Hannah nodded and carefully picked up the little stick before looking up at me with a grin.

"It's negative!"

I felt a wave of relief, but it was quickly replaced with doubt. I felt like I was pregnant. My period was late for the first time in years, I'd had sex without a condom and I was nauseous and my boobs hurt. It seemed too good to be true that it was all some kind of coincidence.

"What? Are you sure?"

"Yeah!" Hannah smiled. "There's two lines!"

Her words hit me like a truck as my stomach dropped.

"Hannah, two lines means positive."

"No, it doesn't," she insisted, reaching for the box. The fall of the smile on her face told me all I needed to know before she even spoke again. "Shit. Sorry, babe. You're pregnant."

I let out a groan as I flopped onto the couch next to her.

"This is a nightmare."

"Shall I get my shotgun?"

I raised an eyebrow at my friend.

"What?"

"For a shotgun wedding?"

I laughed at that suggestion, but shook my head.

"No, I don't want him to be forced into anything."

"Well, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "It doesn't really seem real yet."

"Are you going to tell him?"

I looked down at my still flat stomach and nodded my head.

"Yeah, I'll have to. I know it's still new, but I want to keep it so he'll have to know," I sighed. "If he even answers my calls."

"He will," she assured me. "Or we'll fly out to Boston and you can tell him after I kick his ass."

The image that statement conjured in my mind pulled another laugh from my lips as I felt an overwhelming wave of appreciation for my friend. I knew that no matter what, she was in my corner and that was a comforting thought even in the midst of all the uncertainty that was swirling around me.

"Thanks, Hannah," I smiled. "I really appreciate all your support."

"Of course," she reached out to squeeze my shoulder. "Are you going to call him now?"

"No, I think I'll do it later," I informed her. "I want to wrap my head around it a little bit first."

"That's probably sensible," she agreed as a grin slid onto her face. "Wow, you're gonna have a baby, Whit. I know it's scary, but that's really cool."

"Cool isn't the word that I'd use. Try absolutely terrifying."

My earlier smile was still on my face despite my bleak words as I thought about what she'd said. It was somewhat good news. Definitely worrying, especially given my situation with Chris, but I'd always wanted to have kids so it would have been a lie for me to say that I wasn't at least a little bit intrigued by the idea.

-

When Hannah left my house, about an hour after we read the test, I planned on taking some time to fully comprehend the news before I shared it with Chris. However, almost as soon as I closed the door behind my friend, I remembered the time difference. Chris was three hours ahead of me which meant that even though it was only five o'clock for me, it was already eight o'clock where he was.

I felt the anxiety bubbling in my stomach as soon as I came to that realization because I knew that if I wanted to call him that day, I had to do it right away and if I didn’t call him soon, I was worried I’d lose the nerve.

I took a deep breath and went straight for my phone, dialing his number before I could change my mind, but I was crushed when he didn't answer. I waited a few minutes and then tried again, but still, there was no answer and I let out a growl of frustration as I frantically typed out a text.

Hey. Call me as soon as you can. It's important.

I paced around my apartment, the reality of the situation starting to creep in now that he, once again, seemed to be rejecting me. 

I didn't want to tell him news like this over the phone, but I'd seen the paparazzi pictures of him arriving at the airport in Boston so I knew that I had no other choice. However, if he wasn't even going to answer my calls, I'd have to get the news to him another way. My mind immediately started racing with all the possible ways I might have to break the news to him as the panic of potentially having to do this alone started to rise.

But luckily, all those concerns were irrelevant when my phone lit up with Chris' name on the screen.

"Hey," I answered quickly before he had the chance to change his mind and hang up. "Thanks for calling."

There was a moment of silence before he replied.

"Sure," he kept his tone cool and steady, but there was an underlying tension. "What's up?"

The sound of his voice brought tears to my eyes. This was it. This was the make or break moment and I felt my palms start to sweat as it hit me just how devastated I'd be if it didn't go well.

"I, uh, I don’t really want to tell you this over the phone, but I guess I don’t really have much choice," I started. "I got some news today that you have a right to know."

It seemed obvious to me what I would be hinting at considering our current situation and the silence that followed my words led me to believe that he had a pretty good idea what I was going to say. When he stayed quiet, wordlessly waiting for me to continue, I took a deep breath and dove in.

“I’m pregnant.”

I hadn't thought much about how I was going to tell him, but I figured there was probably a better way than blurting it out that bluntly. I cringed slightly at my harsh delivery as his silence was almost immediately broken and he started spluttering and stuttering, stumbling over his words until he managed to blurt out one clear sentence.

"Is it mine?"

A burst of anger flashed through me at such a suggestion.

"Yes! Oh my God, Chris, of course it's yours!" I insisted. "How many people do you think I've slept with in the last month?"

Maybe he thinks you're a slut, the voice in my head taunted me. Maybe that's why he left without a word.

That thought was enough to get the tears flowing and, when Chris didn’t answer my question, I let out a sob. I covered my mouth to hopefully stifle the sound, but I knew he heard it loud and clear.

"Shit, Whitney," he sighed. "That was a dumb thing to say. You just caught me off guard."

"Well, how do you think I feel?" I hissed. "I'm scared, Chris. What are we going to do?"

This time there was no hesitation before he answered.

"I'll get the first flight out tomorrow morning," he informed me. "We can talk about it then."

"Okay," I sniffled. "I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry," he assured me. "It's just as much my fault as it is yours."

My emotions were overwhelming me by that point and I stayed quiet, knowing I'd fall apart if I opened my mouth to speak, but Chris didn't let the silence last too long this time.

"Are you, uh, are you gonna keep it?" He asked, sounding heartbreakingly similar to a small child asking his parents if he could keep the stray dog he'd brought home. "It's your call, but I'm behind you one hundred percent."

"I am going to keep it," I told him quietly. "But you only have to be as involved as you want to be."

"I want to be very involved," Chris answered quickly before letting out a sharp laugh. "Fuck, I'm gonna be a dad."

The sound of more laughter floated through the phone after that realization, but I couldn't tell if it was giddy or hysterical.

"You are," I agreed, feeling some relief from his reaction despite how complicated I knew things would be. "But we can talk about it all when you're here. If you really don't mind coming back."

"Not at all, this is important." He assured me. "I'll be there as soon as I can. I'll text you with the details as soon as I know."

"Okay, thank you."

He insisted that I didn't need to thank him before we quickly wrapped up the conversation.

There was a lot to say and a lot to discuss, but it wasn’t something to be talked about it over the phone. We needed to discuss it in person once we'd both had time to understand exactly what it meant.

And we needed to figure out what the hell we were going to do about us.

-

I thought having almost twenty-four hours to compose my thoughts would make things easier, but as I waited for Chris to get to my apartment I still had a lot of questions and concerns

But I had decided one thing for certain: we were better off as friends.

When we were friends, he didn't ignore my calls. When we were friends, he didn't run out of my apartment without saying goodbye. When we were friends, he hadn't broken my heart because I never gave him the chance. I was frustrated by his behaviour since the night we spent together and it made me angry. When I thought about it too hard, it made my blood boil and I wanted to tear a strip off of him for making me feel so used. When we were friends, I'd never felt more than a hint of annoyance towards him.

So, the only solution as far as I could see, was for us to stay just friends.

That would prevent any more heightened emotions and if we didn't do it that way, I would end up resentful and bitter. I didn't have much experience with children, but even I knew that those feelings would create a very toxic relationship for raising a child.

Which is why, as soon as he stepped into my apartment, I was on the defensive.

"I think we both know that we're better off as friends," I blurted out before the door was even shut behind him. "What happened was a mistake and now we just have to find a way to work together as friends."

Chris looked surprised, which I found surprising, but he recovered quickly and nodded his head. I'd be lying if I said that wasn't bittersweet. I didn't have the energy to argue with him, but part of me was definitely hoping that he'd put up a bit more of a fight.

"Yeah, I think you're right," he agreed after a moment of thought before changing the subject. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," I shrugged. "A bit nauseous and very emotional, but nothing I can't handle so far."

"Good, that's good," Chris smiled. "Have you been to a doctor yet?"

"No, not yet. I have an appointment tomorrow."

"Can I-" Chris paused to clear his throat, looking nervous. "Can I come?"

I felt my heart flutter at the thought of him caring enough to want to come to a doctor's appointment, but I shut those feelings down as fast as they popped up. He cared for the baby, not for me.

"Sure," I nodded. "But it won't be very interesting. I think it's mostly just checking all my basic information so they can keep track and probably some blood tests and vitamin recommendations."

"Doesn't matter," Chris insisted. "I want to be there for it all. We're in this together."

Those words brought more tears to my eyes, but I blinked them back and looked away. In a move that I wasn’t expecting, Chris noticed immediately and took the few steps needed to put him right in front of me.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

His hands settled on my arms and the way he rubbed them would have been soothing if it didn't break my heart. How could this supportive, comforting man in front of me right now be the same man who slept with me and then never called me?

"I'm just overwhelmed," I choked out. "We really fucked up, Chris. How could we be so stupid?"

"I don't know," Chris sighed. "It was a dumb mistake, but we can make the most of it. We can do this."

"I know, I know," I took a deep, shaky breath to try and pull myself together. "It's just a lot to take in and I don't think it's really hit me yet."

"It is a lot," he agreed. "Here, let's go sit down."

I let him lead me over to the couch and then flopped down on it. He sat next to me, but we stayed quiet, neither of us really knowing what to say. After a few moments of tense silence, Chris finally spoke.

"I know this might be asking a lot," he started, the hesitation in his voice making me nervous. "But would you consider moving to Massachusetts?"

It wasn't an unexpected request. I knew Chris was happier there and considered it his home and I had told him how tired I was getting of living in Los Angeles. It was probably the better place for raising a child as well. I'd heard plenty of stories about Chris' childhood and it was pretty idyllic - full of experiences that children growing up in a big city like L.A. didn't often get.

However, it meant that I would have to leave my entire support system behind. All my friends and my family would be here and I would be completely alone except for Chris - who I wasn't even in a relationship with - and a child - who was hardly going to be able to provide much emotional support.

It seemed like the best option for everyone involved except for me and I wasn't sure that was a sacrifice that I was selfless enough to make.

I realized how long his words had been hanging in the air between us as I got lost in my thoughts and my head fell into my hands with a groan.

"I don't think I'm cut out for this," I whined, tears filling my eyes again as I felt a strange mix of emotions There was plenty of regret and with that came guilt because this poor child deserved a mother that didn't dread it's existence. "I'm not mom material, Chris. I don't have the instincts."

"It's all still fresh," he reminded me. "The instinct isn't instant. But I didn't mean to upset you, if you don't want to move to Massachusetts then we'll figure it out."

"No, no, it makes the most sense," I sniffled, lifting my head to look back up at Chris. "It's just scary. I don't want to leave my family and friends and I'll have to move soon if I'm going to so I can find a doctor, it's a lot to think about right now."

"It is, but I can ask Carly about a doctor. My family will support you one hundred percent."

I forced a weak smile, but I felt more nerves bubbling in my stomach.

"Have you told them?" I asked. "Does your mom hate me? I hope she doesn't think I'm trying to take advantage of you."

"No way!" Chris insisted with a chuckle. "She gave me a very stern lecture about being responsible, but I've talked about you enough for her to know you're not some crazed fan looking for a payout."

"That's good." I breathed out a sigh of relief. I knew he was incredibly close with his mother and I didn't want her to think badly of me. "I haven't told anyone yet, except Hannah."

"Downey's gonna kill me, isn't he?"

He shot me a sheepish look as he spoke, but I shook my head.

"Nah, I think he'll be thrilled. He loves babies and he's been teasing me about us getting together since the night we met," I informed him, watching his face for a reaction to that statement. There wasn't any. "He'll probably have a bet to cash in on as soon as I tell him the news."

"Well, that's reassuring," Chris smiled. "I think we'll have enough people who'll be mad at us..."

He was clearly referring to his fans and I cringed.

"What are you going to do about that?"

He shrugged.

"What do you want me to do?"

I took a moment to think before I answered him.

"I don't want you to publicly deny that the baby is yours," I warned him, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to bear hearing that even if I knew that he really had no doubts. "But I don't care if you don't make a big announcement. We can just let people draw their own conclusions."

"Making a statement might be better. It would stop the rumours from getting out of hand. There'd be an uproar, but it would eventually die down," he pointed out. "I'll talk to my team and let you know, but you should probably make all your social media private whatever we decide."

I didn't use social media much and I definitely never posted pictures of Chris, but even so I'd felt the wrath of his fans more than once after we were spotted out together so I knew how they could be.

I nodded in response to his instructions and another silence settled between us.

My mind was racing with questions that I wanted to ask. I wanted to know why he'd left, why he hadn't called, why he'd even slept with me if he really didn't see me that way. Part of me even wanted to cry and plead with him to give me a chance, to let me show him that I was good enough to be more than a friend, but I knew I couldn't handle the rejection. Whatever his explanation would be, it wouldn't change the situation and with everything else we had to deal with, I didn't have the strength for more heartbreak too.

-

When Chris left almost an hour later, we had a firm plan in place.

I would try to get out of my lease - or Chris would pay whatever fee I was charged for breaking my contract - and I would move to Massachusetts by the end of the summer to stay with him. I'd argued that point at first, but his reasoning made sense. He would be in and out once they started filming the last two Avengers movies so I would have the place to myself a lot, but when he was home he'd be able to help with the baby. After the first year, when the newborn phase was done, I would get my own place and we'd work out an official custody agreement.

He promised to come to as many doctor's appointments as he could and offered to pay for absolutely everything that I needed. I assured him that wouldn't be necessary, but I appreciated that he was already committed. Many men probably would have run for the hills in our situation or, at the very least, demanded a paternity test before they made any promises, but Chris was enthusiastic and supportive and I couldn't ask for anything more.

Well, I wanted to ask for something more. I wanted us to be together - I wanted us to be making plans to be a family, not to be co-parents - but I knew that wasn't what he wanted and I was determined to accept that. I needed to focus on counting my blessings and being grateful for what I did get out of our relationship instead of focusing on what was missing and unobtainable.

Even if it broke my heart and hurt me more than the loss of any other romantic relationship I'd ever had, I was going to make the most of it for the sake of our child. It didn't ask to be born into such a messy situation and it's safety and security were quickly becoming the most important things in my life despite the fact that it was hardly more than a bundle of cells at that point.

And as that thought hit me, I realized that maybe I wasn't as lacking when it came to maternal instincts as I had thought.

-

@maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @firoozehmoon @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker

[css1992]

Guilty Pleasure

Summary:  Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM. All the warnings listed on Part I apply. 

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V /  Part VI /  Part VII /  Part VIII / Part IX / Part X /  Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

Living with Ned and MJ was both a dream come true and a bit of a nightmare.

A dream, because when they were kids, they always talked about how they would all go the same college and live together one day, and Peter would finally have a real home – and a real family, he used to think to himself,  in secret.

A nightmare, because he couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of his friends, and that was the worst kind of feeling to have for the people who opened their arms and their home for him when he needed the most. Still, he couldn’t avoid it and he felt awful for that. They were both attending NYU; Ned was majoring in Computer Science and MJ in Journalism. All according to the plans they made in high school.

When Peter was younger, he made plans, too. He wanted to study Biochemistry, his teachers used to say he could probably get a scholarship to a good college, he was smart enough. Mr. Harrington, his science teacher, even offered to write letters of recommendation for him. Instead, Peter’s life choices led him to his current predicament: a 20 year-old porn actor, selling dirty pictures for a living, crashing on his friends’ couch, not a single dollar in his wallet.

He was definitely not getting any awards for good decision making, that was for sure.

He had been staying with Ned and MJ for a week when he was finally able to set up his Just4Fans account. He knew that had to be a temporary thing, it couldn’t last, even if he wanted it to. He wouldn’t be young forever, let alone a “pretty twink”, as his subscribers loved to call him. He had maybe three or four years left of that hype, at most, then he would be too old for that, and/or people would start getting bored of him. So he had to be smart, the plan was to save up as much as he could while he thought about what he was going to do once the fountain of youth dried up, and the clock was ticking fast.

But for the time being, porn.

Good thing he had his own Instagram account with a few thousand followers. All the other social media accounts were under Beck’s name, and those had hundreds of thousands of followers, but Peter no longer had access to them – he checked. He also checked and noticed that Beck hadn’t announced that they had split up yet, his last post dated from five days earlier, when he released their last video together – two days after kicking him out of the house, the asshole.

So Peter posted a few Instagram stories explaining to his followers that he and Beck weren’t a thing anymore – he didn’t give many details, he didn’t want any drama, specially not with Beck – and that he had set up a Just4Fans account for the time being. In minutes, his Instagram blew up. Apparently, people were either heartbroken over their breakup; relieved he “got rid of that perv!”; or devastated they wouldn’t get to see them doing porn together anymore.

He got a hundred subscribers in just a few hours, which was incredible. The subscription fee was ten dollars a month, so even after the website’s cut plus tax deduction, it still was a good start. He wondered what kind of money Beck made with their videos, because they had thousands of subscribers on their channel.

Once he got the hang of the site, he tried to post at least two sets of pictures a day – which was challenging at that moment, because the apartment was tiny and he didn’t have any outfits or toys with him, they were all at Beck’s. He made plans that as soon as he got the subscription money in around fifteen days, he would try to buy a few things and take tons of pictures to last a few weeks.  

He also made sure to answer people’s messages every single day, which often earned him a little more money in tips. It was shocking how many people were willing to tip him just because he answered them. Some other people asked for extra content, like specific pictures, videos or even voice notes, which he sent via “pay-per-view messages”.

In the end, he felt like he was prostituting himself. Again.

He would never judge a person for earning their living in any way necessary, as long as it didn’t hurt anyone, he just never thought that would be him. Never ever. As a kid, he thought he’d be an astronaut. Growing up, he wanted to be a physicist. As a teen, he made plans to study Biochemistry. And somehow he ended up selling his body online, one way or another.

He didn’t dwell on that for long, he focused on the fact that it was temporary. If he managed to retain at least some of the people that had subscribed to his account for two or three years, then he would be able to start a small business of some kind in the future. Maybe he could go back to school. Twenty-three wasn’t too old for college, right?

Right.

It was two weeks later when he got a weird message. Not a weird message, actually, a weird tip. Someone under the username of YKWIM had sent him ten thousand dollars for no reason, there was no prior conversation, nor did the person ask for anything in return. Peter was sure there must have been a mistake, maybe they had typed in some extra zeros or maybe they had sent it to the wrong person, so he decided to reach out.

“Hey. I think there must’ve been some sort of mistake with your last tip. Lol.”

He left his phone on the counter and got started on dinner. He was a terrible cook, but to be fair, they all were, so it was fine. Ned and MJ were both at work, but they would be home soon and they were having a quiet night in. Those few weeks at their place had been good for Peter, it felt nice not to be alone after what happened, but at the same time, he was starting to feel like he really needed his own space. He was already looking for an apartment to move into as soon as he got the money. He was hoping to get one in the same building or at least close by, so that they could still see each other often.

His cell phone beeped as he sliced some onions and he stopped to check.

“Hey, gorgeous. There’s been no mistake, it’s correct.” Peter was taken aback by the answer, so he checked again to see how much the person had tipped him, and sure enough, there it was. Ten thousand dollars. Ten thousand. American dollars.

“Oh. Wow, that was very, very generous of you. Is there any particular content that you’d like to see from me as a thank you? I could send you exclusive pics and videos, whatever you want.” Inwardly, he was thinking that no amount of pictures or videos from him would ever be worth ten thousand dollars. Ten thousand dollars, holy fuck.

“That would be excellent.”

“Great. What would you like to see?”

Please don’t be weird, please don’t be weird, please don’t be weird… Usually, Peter’s subscribers liked to see him in cute outfits or with cute toys, but some people liked very messed up stuff. He usually said no, but that person had just sent him ten thousand dollars. Fuck, that was so much money, it would cover rent for at least a few months.

“I’ve enjoyed everything you’ve put out so far, baby, so surprise me. I’m sure I’m gonna like whatever you send.”

God, generous and reasonable? Had Peter died and gone to porn heaven?

“You flatter me.” He typed in quickly, leaving the sauce unattended for a few seconds. “Give me a few hours to work on it, I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Take your time, but I don’t think you could disappoint me if you tried.”

Peter felt so stupid when he blushed and giggled to himself, because that was exactly how Beck lured him in when he was seventeen, with charming, easy words. He was an adult now, for Christ’s sake, and he didn’t even know who he was talking to. To be fair, it was probably a woman. For some weird reason, according to his Just4Fans statistics, a surprisingly large percentage of his subscribers were middle-aged, cisgender, heterosexual women. Peter supposed those were the ones who used to follow his “love story” with Beck – most of them hadn’t got over them yet, apparently they were “the perfect couple! So cute!”.

He couldn’t blame them, they sold them the perfect love story. And for a time, it was true. Peter really thought Beck was it for him, the love of his life, his soulmate. He didn’t know at which point it all became an act to Beck – or if maybe it had always been an act.

He sighed, shaking his head, he couldn’t afford to waste time thinking about him, so he focused on what he should send YKWIM.

As he finished making dinner, he tried to come up with ideas. They said they loved everything Peter had posted so far – he had posted thirty pictures and five short clips over the past two weeks. The pictures were all in MJ’s bedroom – she offered –, most of them in her bed. There were only a few pictures in which he was completely naked, in the others he had some sort of underwear on –  lingerie or tight briefs.

So, he decided he should do something similar, but different enough that YKWIM would feel somewhat special. He had a few good ideas, but they would have to wait for the next morning, he would need good lighting and privacy.

“Hey, nerd, what’s up,” He almost burned his fingers when he heard MJ’s voice, and realized he had spaced out for a minute there. He shook his head quickly and smiled at her.

“Nothing, how was you day?”

The next morning, once Ned went to visit his family and MJ left for work, Peter started working on the pictures. For some reason, he didn’t want to tell his friends about YKWIM, just like he didn’t want to tell them about Beck when they first met, three years earlier. And if he really was as smart as his teachers used to say, he would have seen the pattern. But as it was, he just focused on the fact that YKWIM was probably a woman living on the other side of the world, who just liked to get off to pictures of pretty boys in lingerie.

But.

For the sake of getting in the mood for the pictures, he imagined YKWIM was a guy. Not too tall, but taller than him. He imagined he had a beard, but not a full one, like Beck’s, no, perfectly trimmed, scratchy, in a good way. He’d have dark, warm eyes, not blue and cold. He’d be older, older than Beck, more mature than him. A real man. Maybe he’d have a few streaks of gray amidst his otherwise dark hair.  

He’d be gentle, despite Peter’s past. He’d treat him like he was the first one to ever touch him, even if he knew that was far from the truth. He would be careful, mindful of his pleasure. He’d start off slowly, kissing along his collarbones, fingers brushing the sensitive skin on the inside of his thighs, just shy of where Peter wanted him to touch, as his mouth traveled down his chest; hot, moist breath leaving a trail of kisses down his stomach.

He sighed. Yeah, that would do to put him in the mood.

He put on a white t-shirt that was just long enough to graze the tops of his thighs, and a simple, plain black thong. He decided to take the pictures in the shower – the classic wet, white t-shirt, he couldn’t really go wrong with that. He positioned the camera on top of the bathroom sink, set the timer, and started posing.

First, he rested his back against the wall, one hand pulling the t-shirt down to cover the front his underwear, eyes staring directly at the camera lens as water ran down his face, neck and chest, making his nipples stiffen, becoming visible under the wet shirt.  

Next, he pressed his chest to the wall, looking at the camera from over his shoulder, lips parted, just a peek of his exposed ass cheeks showing where the t-shirt ended, but by then it was so wet it was mostly see-through.

Then he turned so his side was facing the camera and stuck his head directly under the stream of water, running his hands through his hair, back arched obscenely, eyes closed. He let his hands travel all the way down his neck, chest, and stomach, hearing the familiar “click” as the camera took several pictures.

He turned around again, placed his hands on the wall and lifted his t-shirt just over his lower back, sticking his ass out, showing off his provocative underwear.

He got out of the shower and turned the camera into filming mode, then got back under the water and also shot a short clip of he sensually and slowly taking the thong off, but in a way that the viewer couldn’t really see the skin that was revealed. He pulled the wet t-shirt down so it covered everything, but by then it was so see-through that it left nothing to the imagination. Peter twirled a little, then threw an innocent, shy smile at the camera.

That should do it.

He finished his shower, put the wet clothes in the washer, then went to edit the pictures. He didn’t do much, just adjusted the light and contrast, then cut them into squares, because he though it looked classier or whatever. He chuckled to himself at the absurdity of that thought, as he attached the photos and the video to a direct message to YKWIM.

“Hey, gorgeous! Hopefully these won’t disappoint. Let me know if you’d like something different.”

He cringed re-reading the message, he thought he sounded desperate and insecure about himself and he supposed that wasn’t very attractive, so he decided to change it just a little.

“Hey, gorgeous! Hopefully these won’t disappoint.” And he finished off with a hot face emoji, because why not.

He sent the message and went on with his day. Ned and MJ were both back for lunch and since none of them felt like cooking – and they all sucked at it anyway –, they ordered something to eat in front of the TV, as they binge-watched the first seasons of The Office.

“Oh, hey, Pete, I almost forgot, I talked to our landlord earlier and he said there’s an apartment on the fifth floor that should be vacated by the end of the month, if you’re interested,” Ned told him around a mouthful of pizza and Peter’s head snapped up.

“I’m definitely interested!”

“Cool, I’ll talk to him for you, I’m sure I can get you a good deal on rent.” He winked, and Peter smiled, feeling hopeful.

Things were getting better. Slowly, yes, but they were. He was spending time with his friends – who he had neglected for the past two years–; he had a good amount of money to withdraw in the next few days, that could get him going for a while; he was still doing porn, yes, but at least he was in control of the whole thing, including his own body, which was nice; and he only cried for Beck every other night instead of every single night, so he had that going for him.

All in all, things were looking up.

Ned and MJ convinced him to go out for a bit in the afternoon, they said he had been cooped up in the apartment for three weeks and should breathe in some fresh air, and since it was the first somewhat warm day of March, they decided to go jog at Central Park in the afternoon. They didn’t really jog, but they walked around some and Peter must admit that it felt good to stretch his legs and feel the sun on his skin for a change.

They were lying on the grass, resting for a bit, when they saw a blur of red and gold fly overhead. People started cheering and clapping and Peter smiled when MJ groaned, because he knew exactly what she was going to say.

“How can people cheer for that guy, he’s an egocentric, misogynistic, elitist, disgusting asshole.”  He laughed to himself, because he knew what came next.

“He’s a genius, he changed the world multiple times and he even saved it at least twice. I think he’s pretty cool,” Ned argued without any heat and Peter could hear MJ rolling her eyes.

Peter didn’t love or hate Tony Stark or Iron Man, like most people, he just – didn’t pay him any mind. Sure, when he was a kid, he was obsessed with him, he was New York’s first superhero after  Captain America, who was still in the ice when Stark announced he was Iron Man. But as he grew older, he had other concerns in mind other than who was the coolest Avenger, so he kind of forgot they existed, except for when there was some crazy alien threat looming over New York City – which was, like, a biannual thing since they found out aliens existed back in 2012.

The fact that Iron Man was flying over Central Park on a Saturday afternoon was a little alarming though. From what Peter knew, Stark was mostly retired since around 2016, he only ever “avenged” when there was a big threat, like the near-end-of-the-world they had back in 2018.

“Do you think we’re under attack?” Peter asked and Ned shook his head calmly.

“Nah, I think he must be late for something. I read an interview recently and he said he uses the suit sometimes when he needs to get some place fast.”

Seemed like overkill, but who was Peter to judge, he would probably do the same if had a suit like that.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the park and then headed home for the night. MJ turned in early, she said she was beat from a busy week, and Peter and Ned stayed up until a little later, re-watching Star Wars movies. It was close to 2AM when Ned said his goodnight and Peter went to check his Just4Fans, because he hadn’t answered any messages all day long.

There were quite a few, but he did notice there was one missing. YKWIM hadn’t answered him yet and Peter immediately felt like a failure. They probably hated the pictures, they must have thought “ugh, ten thousand dollars for that?”. Peter should have photoshopped them. He could have made himself look at least a little bit better, if only–

Before he could hate on himself too much, YKWIM messaged him, like they could read minds. Peter quickly opened their chat, still a little worried about their reaction to the pictures.

“Damn, baby! You have no fucking idea what those did to me. Fuck! Can I show you? Please?”

Peter was oddly relieved to read that, and was endeared by the fact that they actually asked before sending a dick pic. Or a clit pic? Was that a thing?

“Of course, gorgeous, I’d love to see it.”

Within seconds, they sent a video in the chat. Peter was a little surprised by that, but pressed play anyway, and almost fell off the couch when he did.

It was a thirteen seconds video. He could see the man’s midriff, all the way down to the tops of his thighs. His belly was toned and spattered with dark hair that led down to perfectly trimmed pubes that framed the most beautiful cock Peter had ever seen. There was no other way to put it.

It was long and thick, but not so much so that it would hurt – Peter knew better –, it stood proudly between his thighs, attached to a heavy set of balls that made his mouth water. He was jacking it mercilessly, Peter could only hear him grunting quietly before his balls recoiled and he came, covering his stomach in thick, pearly white come. Peter whimpered, pressing down on his hard-on, and almost cried when the video was over.

“Fuck, daddy, that was so fucking hot.” It was probably the first time ever that he actually meant that answering a DM from a subscriber.

“That was the third time today, baby, I have been thinking about those pics from the minute you sent them. Spent the whole day with blue balls, even after coming twice.”

Fuck.

“Wish I could have helped you with that.”

“Who knows, honey, maybe someday.”

Yeah, Peter thought, biting his pillow on the couch so he wouldn’t be heard when he came embarrassingly hard in his pajamas pants, face burning with shame. Maybe someday.