#'you spend years hating being a girl and hating everything puberty did to you'

[aeide-thea]

the thing abt this website (and probably other websites as well) is that like. posters will complain that readers get mad at posts for not encompassing Everyone's Experiences, when they were just talking about their own experiences

and it's like. okay but did you phrase your post in the universalizing second person or.

cue janet-with-cactus gifset.

[topguncortez]

Dead On Your Feet || Whumptober Day 9 - J. Seresin

whumptober masterlist || whumptober taglist

synopsis: you were born with the family flaw that left you missing a part and scared

word count: 4.2k

@ailesswhumptober prompt: scar reveal

Warnings: heart transplant, mentions of scars, teasing, unwanted sexual contact, mentions of sexual assault.

You were only a mere hours old the first time you had open heart surgery. They had whisked you away from your mother’s warm embrace, heading straight into the cold, sterile field of the operating room to try and fix a heart defect. It had been successful, but the doctors told your family that it wasn’t the end. 

“The family flaw,” Your mother said to you, as she combed through your hair one night. You hated how matted your hair got when you would have hospital stays, “Your granddad had it, I have it, and I passed it to you.” She placed a kiss on your forehead, “You’ll get through this. And live a happy, healthy life.” 

And she was right. 

You had your first-ever heart transplant at twelve years old. You couldn’t remember much before that surgery. You could remember not being able to go play with your siblings. You could remember your parents crying when talking to the doctors outside of your hospital. You could remember your mom praying and telling God how awful she felt for asking for a heart for you, knowing that it would mean some other child had to die. You also remember asking the doctor if it was going to leave a scar. 

“There will be a scar, it’ll go down the center of your chest,” The doctor said, making a straight line from the top of your sternum to about halfway down your chest, “You’ll be able to cover it up.” 

The surgery had been successful, you came out of it with flying colors. It was a bit odd to think about at twelve years old, how you had some stranger’s heart beating inside your body. Your parents didn’t like to talk about it, but you wanted to know about the heart you got. Who did it belong to? Were they a boy or a girl? How old were they? Did their parents wish for someone else to die to save them? 

You never had any reason to be ashamed of your scar. Sure, it was ugly and jagged and pink. Your doctor had told you that the cuts were all clean and that everything would heal nicely in due time. Your parents told you it was your battle scar, and to wear it with pride. And of course, at twelve years old, you thought it was cool. How many kids your age had battle scars? You loved it when you got to go back to school and bring the surgical photos that the doctor had given you. Everyone thought you were pretty cool when you showed them the top of your scar, the part that peaked out just above your shirt collar. 

But then, you grew up. Puberty happened. Girls were suddenly obsessed with their looks and the attention of the guys. Just like many girls, you went through that stage of staring at yourself in the mirror for too long. Spending more time than necessary on your hair and make-up just to go to the pool one hot summer day. But it was the summer before sophomore year of high school, everyone knew it was the summer to make an impression. You had gotten through that awkward first year of high school where everyone was trying to figure out how their new bodies worked, and how to properly use body spray. You had gotten your braces off at the end of the school year and finally knew how to straighten your hair without frying it. 

Your friend, Julie called to tell you that the football players were going to be at the pool after practice. You rode your bike to the local pool, meeting your friends and finding the perfect spot where you’d get the most sun and the boys would have to walk right by. You didn’t even think about how your scar would be on display with the two-piece baby blue swimsuit you picked out until you pulled your shirt over your head and heard a squeal. 

“Y/N! Your skin!” Julie gasped. 

You quickly pulled your shirt down and looked at her confused, “What? Do I have backne?” 

“No,” She whispered, “Your scar. . . I thought it would be like. . .I don’t know. . .not like that.” 

“Like what?” You asked, your eyebrows pinched in confusion. 

“It’s kind of fugly,” Laniey said, with a snort. Laniey was drop-dead gorgeous, with long beautiful legs and tan skin on display. She had hit puberty first and wore it with a badge of honor as she fixed her swimsuit top to make her breasts perk up. 

“No, it’s not,” You scoffed, “It’s a battle-” 

“No one is gonna wanna make out with the freak who has a dead person’s heart in their chest,” Lainey shrugged, putting her earbuds in her ears. You looked over at Julie, who gave you a sympathetic shrug, before sitting down in her own chair. 

You wanted to cry as you sat down next to Julie, your oversized t-shirt still on your body. The football boys passed by, smiling and winking at Julie and Lainey, but they seemed to chuckle and shake their heads when they looked at you. You suddenly felt like you were put back into the box you were in freshman year. The box of band geek with braces, the one who couldn’t run for more than 10 minutes before getting winded. The one who had a heart transplant at age twelve and had an ugly scar running down their chest. You wished that your boobs had grown big enough to cover it up, but you weren’t blessed in that department like your friends. 

You had given up being noticed by any of the football guys until one sauntered in. His hair was the perfect shade of gold, the sun making it seem like he had a halo around his head. His skin was perfectly sunkissed, and he looked like he didn’t have a single pound of body fat on him. Julie and Lainey seemed to know who he was as they both sat up a bit in their sunchairs, fussing with their hair and pushing their chests out. 

Unlike the other guys, this one paid no attention to Julie and Lainey as he walked by, noticing the empty lounger next to you. You held your breath as he set his towel down on the empty lounger. His body was clad in baby pink swim trunks and a white tank top, barely hiding his ripped abdomen. Oh, how you wish that you could have a flat stomach like that. A scarless body like that. 

“See something you like, sweetheart?” He asked you, snapping you out of your trance. You hadn’t even realized you were staring at him. Your cheeks instantly flushed at his words as you turned to look back towards the pool. He chuckled as he shucked off his tanktop, and tossed it down on the chair, “I don’t mind, sweetheart. You’re not too bad yourself.” 

“Thank you,” You muttered, playing with your fingers and trying to hide the fact that all the blood in your body had rushed to your cheeks. He winked at you, before turning and running towards the pool, doing a flawless dive into the cold water. 

“Jesus Christ, Jake Seresin is fucking hot,” Julie swooned as he broke the surface of the water, the droplets running down his chiseled chest. All you could do was nod your head, sparing a glance in his direction as he met up with his football friends. He had a smile on his face that would make girls weak in their knees. 

“Yeah. . . I call dibs,” Lainey smirked. She looked over at you, “Y/N, switch me spots.” 

“Why?” You furrowed your eyebrows. 

“Because,” Lainey rolled her eyes, “He’s the type who doesn’t want damaged goods. Now switch me.” You did so wordlessly, grabbing your things and moving to where Lainey sat, “You’ll thank me later. I’m saving you from embarrassment.” 

You never did go back to the pool with Julie and Lainey again after that day. Hell, you hardly even talked to them for the rest of high school after that day. Maybe Lainey did do you a favor, as she ended up dating Jake Seresin off and on for the last three years of high school. Julie ended up with a football player as well. The final straw for you and your friendship with them was when they tried to pair you up with a football player during your senior year of high school. You knew what his end goal was when you had shown up to the party that night. 

All you wanted to do was hang out with your friends before senior year pulled you in different directions. You had somehow been roped into playing seven minutes in heaven, Lainey’s idea. You spun the bottle, your heart hoping that it would land on Jake, but it landed on Toby Mitchell, a total sleazebag. 

“C-can I skip?” You asked, your hands shaking. 

“Nope!” Lainey shook her head, “Rules are rules.” 

“C’mon Lainey,” Jake pleaded, “She doesn’t have to.” 

Lainey looked at Jake confused, “And who are you to dictate the game? She spun the bottle, it landed on Toby, she has to go fuck him in the closet.” 

“I’ll be gentle, baby girl,” Toby winked at you and you felt nauseous. 

“Y/N,” Jake called your name softly, catching your attention, “You seriously don’t have-” 

“Yes she does,” Lainey demanded, “You can’t go to college a virgin.” 

“Shit! Even better!” Toby hollered, clapping his hands together. 

Your face was turning red and you wanted to cry as all eyes were on you. But you were only looking at Jake, his green eyes soft and pleading with you to not go into that closet with Toby. Lainey looked between the two of you, the feeling of jealousy growing in her body. She smirked as she climbed into Jake’s lap, straddling him and planting a sloppy kiss on his lips. The crowd of drunk teenagers around them cheered as Lainey dry-humped Jake in front of everyone. You felt your heartbreak as Jake’s hands wrapped around her. 

You knew having a crush on your friend’s boyfriend was stupid, but there was nothing you could do about it. 

Except, maybe one thing. 

You willed your eyes away from Lainey and Jake to look at Toby. You stood up and stuffed your hands into your back pockets. 

“Let’s go,” You mumbled, nodding your head towards the closet that other couples had gone into during the game. Toby scrambled up from his spot, and grabbed your hand, dragging you towards the closet. 

“Get it, Toby!” Someone yelled as Jake broke away from his kiss. He looked over to the closet just in time to see it shut behind you. 

“Holy shit, she’s doing it,” Lainey laughed and looked over at Julie, “Pay up, bitch.” 

But the seven minutes in heaven didn’t even last seven minutes. You hated the way Toby kissed you, too rough and with too much tongue. He pushed you up against the wall forcefully, making your back throb. He didn’t even ask permission before pushing his hand into your pants. You froze as he touched you, his mouth placing disgusting wet kisses on your neck. You tried to bite back the tears that rimmed your eyes as he pushed a finger into you. His other hand pushed up your shirt, roughly grabbing your breast. You had always imagined your first time, and it was nothing like this. You closed your eyes tightly, trying to imagine that you were anywhere else than here when you felt his fingers touch your scar. 

“What the fuck?” He mumbled, pulling away from your neck. He pulled his hand out of your pants, and pulled up your shirt, exposing your scar, “What the fuck?” He said again, “The hell is wrong with you?” 

“N-Nothing,” You said, “I had surgery when I was a-” 

“You’re the chick with the dead person’s heart!” He laughed, “Fuck, Lainey was right, you are a freak.” 

“I am not-” 

“It’s okay baby girl, I like my girls a bit freaky,” Toby gave you a disgusting smirk as he leaned back in to try and kiss you. Your fight or flight took over as you rammed your knee in between his legs, “Fuck!” He groaned out, cupping himself as he doubled over. You quickly pushed past him and opened the door. All eyes snapped to you as you stood there, wild hair and your pants undone. 

“I-” 

“This bitch is a freak!” Toby yelled. The whole house erupted in laughter as everyone pointed fingers at you. Tears clouded your vision, as you quickly made your way out the front door. You didn’t even bother to grab your bike, choosing to walk home instead. The words that Toby and Lainey said filled your mind as you cried the whole way home. 

— — — 

That night almost a decade ago, never left the deep dark parts of your mind. You still remember the feeling of Toby’s hands on your body and the crude words he spoke to you. That whole interaction was enough to push you away from all forms of intimacy. You were now 27, still a virgin, never had a boyfriend, and your first kiss was still Toby Mitchell from that stupid back-to-school party. 

After graduation, you decided to get as far as you possibly could from Texas. Your mother cried as you packed up your car. You were their baby, and they had almost lost you once before. Now, seeing you move out, was worse than watching you in a hospital bed. You promised to call them every other day and come home for Thanksgiving and Christmas. You remember watching their figures fade in the distance of your rearview mirror as you hit the road. 

The road took you to California, and from there you found North Island. You didn’t know the first thing about living in a military community, but you found a welcoming family in a local bar and its owner. Penny Benjamin all but rescued you from the streets, offering you your first-ever job. She was a bit weary at first, but you proved your worth quickly. In a short amount of time, you became one of her best servers and one of her closest friends. When you weren’t working at the bar, you were babysitting or tutoring Amelia. Penny had helped you move into your first house, and always invited you over for Sunday dinners. 

The bar was exceptionally busy on this Friday night. Penny had told you that some new squadron had arrived for a mission. You had come to know quite a bit about the Navy and the Aviators. You could tell an ensign from an admiral just by looking at them. 

You were standing with your back to the bar when he came in. His green eyes surveyed the place as he stood in the entryway. Javy had been the one to suggest going to get drinks tonight to celebrate their first night in North Island. His friend clapped him on the back as they made their way to the bar. 

“What can I get you?” You heard Penny ask someone as you were restocking glasses. 

“Two Budweisars,” The glass in your hand almost slipped out of your grip at the sound of his voice. You turned around and came eye to eye with those beautiful green eyes. 

“Jake,” You breathed out. 

“Holy shit,” He smiled, “Y/N?” You nodded your head, a small smile crawling on your face, “How long have you been here?” Jake asked, sitting down on a barstool. 

“How long have we been out of high school?” You asked with a smile. 

“Damn,” Jake flashed you that smile that always made you weak, “Look at you. All grown up and out on your own.” 

“I’ve done nothing compared to you Lieutenant Seresin.” 

“You flatter me, sweetheart,” Jake winked at you. You couldn’t help the blush that arose on your cheeks. 

“Alright, Hangman,” Penny said, coming to graciously save you before you said anything to embarrass yourself, “How about you stop flirting with my best server.” 

Jake held his hands up in defense, “I apologize, dear. I’m a sucker for a pretty girl with a pretty smile.” 

“Yeah, yeah, shoo,” Penny playfully rolled her eyes and shooed Jake away. 

“You wound me,” Jake said as he grabbed his beer and walked back to his friends. You couldn’t help but stare at his perfect ass as he walked away. 

Penny looked at you, a knowing smirk on her face as you glanced over your shoulder at her. She wiggled her eyebrows up and down, and you scoffed. You gently whacked her with your bar towel, making the woman laugh as she walked back over to the other side of the bar. You couldn’t help but take a glance to where Jake was at with his friends, and noticed him looking back at you. You bit your lip, trying to hide your smile as you went back to looking down at the bartop. 

You had never been happier in your life to call the last call. The bar had been packed and busy all night with new crew members flocking to North Island for this new mission. Friday Nights were always your good nights, but this night left you exhausted. You had finished polishing and putting all the glasses away when you heard the bell above the door jingle. 

You groaned, “We’re closed!” You yelled. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” You quickly turned around at the sound of that sweet southern voice. Jake stood there, still in his khakis and with a soft smile on his face, “Came to see if maybe I could get one last drink.” 

“We’re clos-” 

“A drink won’t hurt,” Penny said, walking out of the kitchen, “After the night you had, you deserve one.” 

“Okay, let me just,” You reached for your tips envelope but Penny snatched it, “Penny.” 

“On the house,” She smiled, “And if you so much as leave money on the bar, I’ll put it right into your paycheck.” You narrowed your eyes at her as she handed you back your envelope, “Have a good night, kids!” She turned quickly on her heel and walked back the way she had appeared. 

You let out a shaky breath and turned back towards Jake, “Budweiser?” He nodded and sat down on a barstool. You poured him his beer and made a vodka lemonade for yourself. 

It was truly just supposed to be one drink. But then one drink turned into two, and two turned into three, and three turned into you walking with Jake back to your house. Jake watched as you talked animatedly about going on a sailing trip with Penny where she let you steer for the first time. You had never felt anything like it in your life as you felt the cool, crisp breeze from the saltwater on your skin. You imagined if you could fly, that’s what sailing would feel like. 

“This is me,” You slurred a bit, as you pointed to the cute white cottage with a purple-painted door. Jake smiled, noticing the small touch that reminded him of his hometown. 

“Just like your parents’” Jake nodded, and pushed open the small front gate, inviting himself to walk up the sidewalk towards the house, “It was always my favorite house on my paper route. Your dog, what was his name, the one that everyone always called a mop.” 

“Alfred,” You replied. 

“Yeah, Alfred,” Jake smiled, “He’d always come down and take the newspaper from me and run it back to the house.” 

“Dad taught him how to go fetch beers out of the fridge in the garage,” You laughed, “He was quite the sight.” A palpable silence fell over the two of you, as you fiddled with your thumbs and looked up at your house. You weren’t quite sure what to do. You had never gotten this far before. But before you could even open your mouth to invite Jake in, he answered the question for you. 

“I’m gonna get going, I just wanted to make sure you were home-” 

“Come in with me?” You blurt out. Instant red filled your cheeks as you looked anywhere but at Jake. You thought your dumb high-school crush had gone away, but here it was back to slap you in the face, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean-” 

“I’d love to,” Jake answered for you. You smiled at him and held your hand out, which he generously took. You led him up the small walkway to your front door. Your parents would kill you if they knew you left your front door unlocked when you weren’t home, but you grew up in a small town, and habits were hard to break. 

“This is it,” You said, looking over your shoulder as you walked into the house, “It’s not a lot but it’s-” You were cut off by Jake’s lips on yours, backing you up against the front door. 

You hesitated for a second, your brain trying to figure out if this was actually happening or if this was another one of your dreams. Your hands went to his hair, pulling gently on the soft locks that you had dreamed of. He tasted of beer and the mint gum he had been chewing on the whole walk home. His hands found your waist, one going to cup your backside and the other gently pushing up your shirt. It was when his hand touched your bare stomach, that the dream bubble came crashing down. 

“No one is gonna wanna make out with the freak who has a dead person’s heart in their chest,”

 “The hell is wrong with you?” 

“You’re the chick with the dead person’s heart!”

“This bitch is a freak!”

“Stop,” You said as you felt Jake’s lips on your neck, “Stop. Stop! Stop!” You pushed him off of you frantically, as tears clouded your vision. You pushed off of the door and paced into the living room, wiping at the tears on your cheeks. Jake took a couple of steps back, his eyes flashing with a bit of disappointment and then concern, as he looked you over from head to toe. You righted your shirt and took deep breaths trying to stop your pounding heart. 

“Are you okay?” Jake asked, keeping his hands splayed out in front of him, “I’m sorry, I thought that. . .I just that you. . . I thought. . .” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair, “I’m not sure what I thought, but I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault,” You said softly. You cleared your throat, “I’m sorry that I led you on, that was not my-” 

“No, no, no,” Jake shook his head, “Do not apologize for something you didn’t do. I was the one who jumped to conclusions. I’m sorry for making this weird and awkward.” He looked at you for a moment, and then hung his head, “I’m just gonna-” He nodded his head towards the door. 

“Wait,” You said, reaching out to him. Your heart was still beating fast as you looked into his eyes. Those same green eyes that had watched you walk into the closet ten years ago. Those same green eyes that always looked into yours when he talked to you, and never at the scar that peeked out of the top of your shirt. Those same green eyes that you had fallen in love with all those years ago. 

You let go of Jake’s arm and took a step back from him. Your fingers grabbed the hem of your shirt, and you peeled it over your head, leaving you in your bra in the middle of your living room. You let out a shaky breath as Jake’s eyes trailed from yours to the scar in the middle of your chest. 

“I know. . .” You swallowed, “It’s ugly.” 

Jake took a small step forward, looking at you for permission to get closer. You nodded your head and he took another step, so he was basically chest to chest with you. Ever so slowly, he lifted his hand to the scar, his middle and pointer fingers touching it lightly. You gasped at the feeling of his skin against yours. 

“Does it hurt?” He whispered. 

You shook your head, “No. It’s just. . . No one has touched me, well except my doctors, but. . . no one has touched me like this.” 

Jake nodded again and proceeded with the utmost care as he ran his fingers down the jagged skin. 

“When? When did you get this? Jake asked, looking into your eyes. 

“I was twelve,” You answered, “My mom calls it the family flaw. Open heart surgery when I was a couple of hours old, and then a transplant at 12. . . I’ve always had this ugly sc-” 

“Who said it was ugly?” Jake basically growled. 

You gulped, “Everyone. Toby, Lainey-” 

Jake scoffed, “They’re wrong. So fucking wrong. This-” He touched your scar again gently, “Is powerful. It shows you’re a fighter. It’s power and beauty.” 

You felt tears in your eyes as Jake gently cupped your face. He wiped tears away from your cheeks and placed a soft kiss on where the tears once fell.  

“I should’ve told you before,” Jake whispered, running his thumb over the apple of your cheeks, “I wish I was as strong as you to tell you before that you’re beautiful. You’re everything.” 

“Jake,” You sighed and melted into his touch, “Take me upstairs.” 

You watched as a glint of lust filled Jake’s eyes, as he took your hand and led you to your bedroom.

taglist: @els-marvelvsp @sarahsmi13s @topgun-imagines @cassiemitchell @xoxabs88xox @seitmai @a-reader-and-a-writer @bradleybeachbabe @kmc1989 @senawashere @beautifulandvoid @ohtobeleah @rogersbarnesxx @oatmealisweird @dempy @devil-angel-winchester @gillybear17 @cornylovers

[onmywaytofanfic]

The Phoenix's feathers

So here is a tiny bit about how come that Takeo and Reina had those peculiars earings and how they started. A short scene to introduce a little bit of the flamboyant Hana, Reina's mother.

— Takeo and Hana —

It was quite a warm spring, the flowers started to bloom early. Hana took the chance to wander around the forest, knowing that among the highest branches of the trees Takeo was there, following her every step. She won’t deny that she enjoyed the attention that the big buff Aburame had lately given to her. She was pacing through the forest and with a laugh shouted so he could hear her “What would I give for some company!” She giggled and kept walking. Just a few meters went by and there he was leaning on a trunk, pretending that he had always been there “Oh! How come that you are here?” Takeo did not respond, instead he just straightened himself out. Hana’s smile was broad, her big full lips made her even rounder face work in communion. As a sequence of spheres that interlocked to form her face. “So tell me moth-man, what are you doing here?” 

“Walking”

“What is the reason behind your walking? Some meaning must be that you are so far away from your training field?” she mocked him while kept walking. Two of her steps were one of his. Puberty had hit both of them, and with 15 years old Takeo could perfectly pass for a full grown adult. Little did he know that he would reach 2 meters of height. He rumbled a small “Break-time” 

“So you have decided that the best place to spend break time is in the forest? Would it not be better to rest yourself in a hammock? “

“We do not have those” 

She hated when she was so “facty”. Stop in place and gave him a mean look, with her arms folded and started to scold him “You should have a wider vision as a shinobi. Technically everything could have the potential of being a hammock. We do not need the fancy things of those shitvilians…”

“Civilians”

“No! shitvilians, to be a civilian you first need to be a civil being able to have morals and mind of your own. They have their heads covered in dirt, those being the most civil that are out there.” Takeo grumped 

“We shouldn't…”

“Speak ill of those that we protect? To be able to protect someone that someone needs to be in danger. Here the only ones that need protection are us from their bullshit and their stupidity. You know that well, you have started to do labor work like a full-grown-up. Do you think that someone that needs protection would have so many stupid parties just because there is rain? You know how much they are forcing HER to overgrown everything so they can have their stomachs full every single minute. They throw away tons of food! I have seen what they do!! Like it cost nothing and here we are harvesting a field that is killing my sister! Here we are mending their pants and shoes, being the slaves of a full village who is just full of …” The tears started to fall down. Takeo stood still “They fucking called you this morning to you and your father to amuse some people with your freaking insects! They are monsters ….They…” The tears fall uncontrollably. 

The Aburame stood there waiting for a clue to what to do. He sat near her, she hugged him although she did not receive the same. Buried her face on his shoulders. “I started to bleed…” confessed the girl. Takeo felt a cold chill down his spine, he grabbed her clothes “If I am bleeding already… my sister….” She let out a shriek and cried, covering the Aburame in tears. He let his cheek rest on her head, inhaled the familiar aroma and tucked her closer to him “She would be fine…” “Until they bleed her out birth after birth…” Silence reigned in the scene. “Takeo…” He raised her cochin to look at her “Do you know any…funny story?” That only meant one thing, she needed to ease her mind. He would help her “Do you know the old myth of the phoenix?” She let her lips form a small curve. “I have heard it many times,  Keiyodoshi and the phoenix…” silence, she bumped his abdomen “C’mon tell me. It is one of my favorite tales, I do believe that those things existed before we “ruled” the world. If not, how come people can describe those ancient tales so vividly?” Takeo looked at her “It is more probable that he was a shinobi with an affinity towards fire that did those things for money.” She gave him another push, he barely moved the giant. “Do not take the magic out of it!” She still had tears on her face, he started to tell her the old myth. 

On the way home, she stopped near a tree and grabbed something from the floor. “TAKEO!” 

“I am …right here.. do not need to shout” 

“Look!” two bright red feather in her hand

“The phoenix is blessing us! Now we can invoke him and fly out of here!” Takeo raised an eyebrow. Hana started to do the hand signs needed to do Kuchiyose no Jutsu. “C’mon!” she let her palm on the Earth. Nothing…

“It was worth the try”

“You need to have a deal with the creature…”

“And chakra…” Finished her. An awkward silence grew in them. Her chakra channels being completely destroyed was something that they discovered when Buna rescued her. A sudden blast of chakra when she was born broke her tubes, failing her to canalize that energy and letting it all go to waste constantly. She could not perform jutsu, and on the rare occasion when she could do something it never went as it was supposed to go. 

She looked at the feather “I am gonna make some earrings” Takeo raised both eyebrows “What is the utility of earrings?” 

“Trying to look pretty” She kept walking, starting to fantasize how they could make  her look once they were pierced in her ears. Takeo was behind her, he thought that she was already pretty enough and that those filthy feathers would not accentuate her beauty more than her smile did.

---- Here is a little drawing of the earign that both, father and daughter, wear in honour of her mother. A quick sketch of Hana when she was 14, that is the time that this scene happened.

[kissingmilfs]

what is yellowjackets actually about? because I’ve seen hot edits and stuff and the plot really interests me and i think it looks cool but i don’t wanna be freaked out if like they all start eating each other one episode

but i think it looks really interesting and i would love to give it a try so i’d love to know ur favourite stuff about it and stuff

i love the new fic! i missed ur writing so bad

-😊

my special interest here we go 😭 buckle in everyone!

there’s two timelines - the 1996 timeline & the 2021 timeline !

the 1996 timeline follows the yellowjackets hs girls soccer team — their plane crashes in the canadian wilderness on their way to nationals. people do die in the crash. they’re stuck out there for 19 months. the first episode does start off with someone being hunted, slaughtered and eaten asdjfbfjdb. we all call her pit girl. but the meat looks like bear meat (important to remember for 2x08 😔)

mm you don’t see them actually eating a body until 2x02 and the other cannibal scene happens in 2x08. that’s one rlly sad and just 😔

oh and 2x06 there’s one kinda but it’s one of the girls hallucinating.

then the 2021 timeline follows the core 6 (taissa turner, natalie scatorccio, misty quigely, shauna shipman, lottie matthews (s2) and van palmer (mid s2)! and it’s rlly about how trauma still impacts you years later.

“the wilderness” is the really big focal point in both timelines. it’s both physical and this big metaphysical idea. and the things they did out there really follows them. they don’t process anything out of fear of being shunned.

there’s a lot of homoerotism throughout both timelines. the only canon gay couple is taivan (taissa a black femme and van a ginger butch) and then tai is married in the 2021 timeline to a woman named simone. but the show doesn’t really deny any of the ships people claim, ya know? it’s definitely a bit of queerbaiting, but also not? like spending your last formative years of puberty surrounded by girls you share trauma with but also sportsmanship from playing together since who knows honestly!!

i can’t even pinpoint all my favorite things about the show. but i do love milfs and the milfs man…the milfs 😭 and taivan are really near and dear to my heart. i see a lot of myself in both of them but especially van!

s2 is little campy and kinda different from s1 but i still love it dearly. the show will make you laugh and cry and fall in love and hate people. it’s genuinely everything i love about horror 😭

my favorite ships are: taivan, lottienat, parkinglot, and mistynat!

i highly recommend watching it and if you need more cw for episodes if you watch im happy to do it!!

- @pocolottie (if u have anything else to add pls feel free )

[haitaniplug]

OBLIVIOUSNESS PT 1

haitani ran x fem!reader

summary: you and ran both like each other, but are so oblivious to each others feelings.

genre: best friends → lovers , childhood friends , angst, smut , fluff

cw: fem!reader, mutual pining , secret crush , masturbation

part 2

"ran! meet my new friend!" rindou jumped on ran's back, causing ran to stumble and fall face first into the sand. "jesus rin, calm down!" ran adjusted himself before sitting up. "who's your friend?"

"her name is y/n! she's in my class and she's over there." rindou pointed over to the swings were you were at. ran's eyes perked with interest, rindou never had a female friend before.

"y/n! meet my brother ran!" rindou yelled out making everyone in the school playground stare at him. you planted your feet on the ground, pausing your swinging session from the sudden call of your name. that was when you saw rindou waving you over and pointing to ran, who had his face huffed in a pout from his clothes being covered in sand.

you jumped off the swing and ran over to where rindou was, huffing and panting since he was on the other end of the playground. "i hate you for making me run this far."

rindou just laughed and helped his brother off the ground. "y/n meet ran, my older brother." you turned to face ran who looked up at you with a neutral experssion. "hi ran, i'm y/n." you held your hand out infront of him waiting for him to shake it, but instead he grabbed your hand and yanked himself up and off the ground.

the sudden action, made your feet stumble a bit but you caught yourself before you could fall down. by the time you looked back at ran, he was practically towering over you. "oh lord you're taller than i thought."

ran smiled at your blown out expression.

"how old are you ran?"

"just the year above you both." ran shrugged and rindou rolled his eyes.

"elementary 3! lunch time is over, come inside now!" you and rindou heard your teacher call out from the classroom. by the time you both turned back to face ran he had a smug look on his face. "you kids better get onto class now."

"kids?!" you and rindou said simultaneously, "you're only a year older!" rindou frowned and ran laughed loudly, "and that year between us gets me longer lunch! now go on somewhere." ran playfully shoved rindou towards the classroom.

you grabbed rindou's hand before waving goodbye to ran. both of you entering the classroom whilst ran went to find his friends.

from that first day you met ran, you him and rindou spent all lunch times together. you three became best friends. since ran kept on teasing rindou for having shorter lunches, rindou eventually teased ran for being able to spend lunchtimes only with you.

since you and rindou were in the same grade, you were in the same class for the entire year, whilst ran only got to see you during lunchtime.

ran acted like he didn't care, but deep down he was sad that rindou was spending more time with you. rindou knew everything about you from your favourite colour, to your favorite number. whilst ran knew nothing.

the next year, you and rindou were in seperate classes which made ran feel better because rindou was no longer able to spend more time with you. they made it a competition to see who could spend the most time with you.

you found it adorable. whenever your class ended, 50% chance ran would be standing outside your class, the other 50% went to rindou. you had no clue why they were doing all this, but you enjoyed the attention.

and so did every girl in your class, jealous at the fact that you had an older boy waiting for you outside class almost everyday.

"we're just friends, calm down." you responded to each of them.

that whole ' we're just friends ' bullshit went away real quick the day you turned 13, because that meant that ran was 14 and if you thought he was tall before, now he was a giant. already 5'10 at sucha young age.

and with a growth spurt, also comes puberty. ran's voice got deeper and his whole face as a whole had just changed. you remember him waiting outside your front door one day to walk you to school and trying to hide the heat on your cheeks when he grabbed your hand.

you spoke to your mother the day after that incident, asking why your whole body feels tingly when you look at this boy.

"what boy honey?" your mother asked and you blinked fast, trying to come up with a fake name. "you don't know him! he's in my class and he's a, um, transfer student."

"transfer student? from where?"

....

"france...?"

your mother's eyes widened with excitement, "oh wow! does he have that nice french accent? is that why you feel all tingly?"

"sure mom yes he does." lies lies lies. you could've been straight up with your mom and told her it's ran, but your mother has a big fat mouth that would only lead to trouble one day.

"well, i think you might have a crush on him."

a crush hm? you knew about crushes since all your friends at school were already starting to develop crushes at school and it was all they spoke about.

it made you mad honestly, because they could gossip about their crushes out in the open. but you wouldn't dare speak about ran. he's your best friend! you just thought that this silly crush would go away. you're only thirteen after all!

you couldn't have been more wrong.

now 16 years of age, still getting butterflies in your stomach when ran even looks in your direction. and he looks at you a lot. at first, you just thought you had something on your face.

but you checked the mirror, and saw your face was spotless. so you were confused as to why he would always be looking at you. it wasn't even a look of disgust— just a look of neutrality.

it confused you. one day you confronted him bout it, telling him to "stop staring it's creepy."

to which he just laughed and said "you're cute y/n." he stood up and patted you on the head before exiting the room.

im cute?

his words replayed in your head every single day of every single hour. it was mentally breaking.

"rin?"

"hm?"

"why does your brother keep staring at me?" you faced rindou from where you were both sat at the lunch table. rindou shrugged, "dunno." before he took a huge bite from his sandwich.

you noticed how quickly rindou responded to the question, almost as if it was rehearsed. "why did you respond so quickly?"

"is that a bad thing now? want me to talk.....slow..............like........this?"

"shut up rindou, " you huffed, "it wasn't the speed you said it, it was the pace."

rindou had a puzzled look on his face, "isn't that like the same damn thing?"

"no."

"you're doing too much. i answered your question, now leave me alone. my food is getting cold."

you groaned loudly before resting your cheek on the table. an awkward silence fiiled the air, the only sounds being rindou's annoyingly loud chewing.

....

....

"why do i feel like you're hiding something from me?" you sat up abruptly making rindou jolt. "jesus y/n drop it!"

"fine!" you huffed, standing up, "i don't know what you're hiding, but i'll get to the bottom of you and ran's secret." before rindou could respond, you had already walked off.

rindou rolled his eyes before bringing out his phone.

rin:

1:23PM she's onto you

ran:

3:45PM what

rindou ignored ran's message as he walked home from school. by the time he entered the house, ran was already bombarding him with questions. "she's onto me? who is?"

"yn, fuckin' idiot." rindou shoved ran off him and headed straight for the fridge. after taking out a water bottle and downing it, he faced ran, "she kept asking why you kept looking at her. then i told her dunno but she didn't believe me. now she turned into sherlock homes saying and quote 'i'll get to the bottom of you and ran's secret' end quote."

"she won't find out." ran had a grin that rindou just wanted to wipe straight off.

"find out what? that you're too scared to tell her you like her?" rindou teased before dodging the couch cushion being thrown his direction. "dude!"

you:

4:01PM ran can we meet

ran:

4:01PM sure where?

you:

4:04PM skate park

ran:

4:05PM coming ;)

you scoffed seeing the little wink he sent at the end. ignoring the fact that it gave you butterflies in your stomach. but at this point, you'd gotten used to it. almost everything ran did gave you butterflies.

one time he just said your name and you felt your stomach doing backflips inside of you.

by the time ran arrived, you were sat ontop of the ramp. you didn't notice him arrive until he sat down next to you and nudged you with his shoulder.

"why'd you call me here?" ran asked and you took a deep breath before turning to face him. "i need to ask you something."

"go on."

you stared at him deeply in the eyes. "are you and rindou hiding something from me?"

ran was a master at hiding his expressions, but the way his eyes widended just a teeny bit gave it away. you were also a master at reading rans expressions. you kinda had to become a master since he only had two faces. that signature smug smile on his face and his resting 😐 bored face.

"no, i'm not hiding anything." ran covered himself up but you didn't believe him one bit. you kept on staring at him, eyes moving to a glare to tell him that you weren't believing his bullshit.

"okay fine, you got me. me and rindou are hiding a secret from you."

"ah HA! i knew it!" you squealed in excitement from being correct. "now what is it."

ran flicked your forehead, "it's called a secret for a reason yn."

"but-"

ran placed his index finger on your lips, "no buts. drop it." you were about to plead again but ran grabbed your jaw with his hand, squishing your cheeks together so you looked all swollen, "no buts."

"fine." you pouted as he finally pulled away. "is that all you invited me here for?" ran asked, standing up from where you both were seated.

"yeah. that's all." you grabbed onto ran's hand as he helped you stand up.

"you couldn't have asked me that over the phone?"

well i could've but i want to be next to you all the time.

"no because it's hard to tell if you're lying to someone over the phone. when i asked you here, i saw your facial expressions which proved to me that you were lying."

"so you wanted to stare at my face?" ran's neutral face now turned smug and you rolled your eyes, hitting his arm to hide the fact that he wasn't wrong. "why would i want to stare at you?" your voice was laced in fake disgust.

ran shrugged. "probably to get me back because of how much i stare at you."

"speaking of that, why do you stare at me so much?"

because you're pretty.

"you just happen to be in my line of vision." ran shrugged but you scoffed loudly. "just admit im hot ran. it's ok."

i already do.

"you're not hot."

"yes i am." "no you're not."

it was as if god was testing ran, because that same night after you both said goodbye at the skatepark, ran had his first wet dream about you.

he's a teenage boy who's obviously had wet dreams before, but this was something else. he just thought you were pretty before, and never looked at you in a sexual light, but the dreams kept getting more and more constant.

it’s safe to say that the dreams are haunting him. it’s every single night. and they get even worse if he spoke you to recently before going to bed.

one night, you both were texting and you sent him a voice note because you were simply too tired to type anymore but you still had so much to say.

it was if it his hands were moving before his brain could process it. as the voice note kept on going, ran’s hands seeked refuge further down his pants till he made contact with his bulge that was already hard.

from what ? you and him had just been texting, yet his body is reacting like you’re naked right in front of him.

as the first voice note finished up, ran was only rubbing his buldge through his sweats. until you sent the next voice note that was a minute long.

adrenaline started to flow through his veins the more he listened to your tired voice, rambling on and on about something going on in your class.

you’d think that you’d be talking about something sexy because of how hard his cock was right now, but that’s just not the case. it frightens ran how much you turn him on by doing literally anything.

at the end of your voice note, you stretched and to ran it sounded like a moan and that was all he needed to send him over the edge. he finally reached underneath the waistband and palms himself through his boxers. his head dipped back into his pillow as he re-listened to the moan stretch that you made at the end of the voice note.

ran:

00:32AM did you just moan 👀

you:

00.32AM what??!!, when.

00:34AM i hate you. made me re listen to the entire voice note just to find out that i in fact did NOT moan at the end

ran:

00:34AM liar i heard it😭

you:

00:35AM ran i think ur hallucinating :( time to sleep

ran:

00:36AM wtf no. keep sending more voice notes. they’re entertaining

you:

00:36AM okay

ran couldn’t take slow teasing and pulls his cock out from his pants, looking at it as it stood tall from just a few non sexual voice notes.

he heard a ding from his phone, a message from you. opening it and playing the voice note immediately, he started to palm himself faster than the slow pace from before.

the more he heard your voice, the faster the went. his hand squeezes his aching erection, groaning from the contact. he takes his time to thrust into his fist, picturing you under him as he fucked you deep and slow.

the more you spoke, the more tired your voice became. ran eventually managed to squeeze another stretch moan out of you and started to practically tug at his dick now.

you were driving him crazy. this is so so so so wrong. he thought as he reached closer to his orgasm.

you:

0:45AM ran did you fall asleep you’re not responding ?

little did you know, his phone was face flat on the bed as he continued to fuck his fist, panting hard as his eyes fluttered shut, imagining you calling out to him as he thrusted inside your warm cunt.

your name slipped through his lips ever so quietly as he gasped, cum painting his hands and inside his imagination, cum painting your walls as he filled you.

he took a few minutes to catch himself as that was probably one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever had. by the time he cleaned himself up, you had already fallen asleep.

your status reading Active 7 min ago.

ran sighed before typing out a quick response.

ran:

00:56AM didn’t fall asleep, rindou needed me for something. good night yn

[all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney]

This Boy (George Harrison x Female!Reader)

A/N: Hey y'all! welcome to my first oneshot! a lot of my stories are very plot-driven and they end up becoming these long chapter fics but I'm gonna see if I can make a handful of oneshots in the next little bit to kind of give yous something to read while waiting for the longer fics to finish up. this is my first one, and it's for Georgie!

Summary: It's date night, and you're more than ready to meet your mystery date; George, however, is not.

WARNINGS: Swearing is in almost all my fics, so this one isn't safe either probably, hints of suggestive behaviour, slow burn, friends to lovers, lack of self-editing probably, etc. *This fic is also LONG AF so I would advise y'all to start reading this when you have nothing else to do*

I'll rate this one as a T. Enjoy, folks!

George checked the clock on the wall again and sighed gently.

You were still getting ready.

As much as it disappointed him, George agreed-- well, more like offered-- to drive you to your blind date one of your girlfriends set you up on.

It's not that he wasn't excited or proud of you for getting yourself out there. He knew you'd been meaning to do that since graduating school.

He was just frustrated at the fact that whichever lucky man was going on a date with you that night wasn't him.

When he found out about the date, he immediately vocalized his distrust for the mystery person, despite knowing absolutely zero about him. You seemed heartbroken at that, and to make it up to you, he offered to drive you to the date.

So there he was, sitting on the sofa in the living area of your flat, waiting for you to finish getting ready.

George had taken you to school dances in the past, and while your mother let you wear makeup to them, it never took you this long to apply it.

You were definitely dressing to impress tonight.

"Lucky man," he just mumbled under his breath at the thought of that boy.

You and George had been friends since you were children, and he deemed you his Best Friend Forever only an hour into your first playtime.

You spent your days as children riding your bikes to the park to play, and helping each other with homework at each other's houses every night.

However, that sort of platonic "buddy-buddy" dynamic changed when the both of you hit puberty.

It wasn't until a boy at George's school questioned him if you were his girlfriend, that George realized he had a crush on you. Some of his friends had girl friends, and they were always teased about whether or not they were dating, but this was the first time anyone had put you and George together.

After this discovery, (which he would endlessly thank the young boy who opened his eyes to the truth in the first place) George began to notice lots of little things about you that he hadn't before.

You would run your fingers through the hair on the back of his head during hugs, you never took your eyes away from him when he was speaking; there hadn't been one time to name that you'd ever made him upset or angry, but more or less excited, and free, and joyous.

And not to mention, the way you called him "Georgie" made his heart pound so loud and hard in his chest that he might as well have just completed a marathon...

He was in love with everything only when you were around.

Actually, as awkward as George thinks it is, Paul helped him realize he was physically attracted to you.

The boys were on their way to George's after school, a few years after George realized he had a little crush on you, and the teenagers both caught sight of you watering the front garden of your home at the request of your mother.

George stopped in his tracks when he saw you, his mouth hanging open as he watched you do your thing. After being enrolled in his boy's school, you never had much time to see one another, as much as it hurt him; so he cherished every moment he could see you.

"If her ma catches you out the window starin' at her daughter's arse the way you're doin' right now Harrison, they'll rip your tongue right out."

George's face went bright red, and he turned to look at Paul in horror, slapping him on the arm for saying such a thing. "I wasn't staring at her like that!" But he couldn't help but steal a glance at your behind since it was now the topic of discussion, though he really didn't want it to be.

Paul knew George felt compelled to say something to you, and he smirked as George awkwardly raised his hand to wave as he called to you from the other side of the street.

"H-hey, Y/n!"

You turned around, and grinned at who you'd seen.

"Hey Georgie! Hi Paulie!" You twiddled your fingers at them, and George's stomach churned in jealousy at the fact you had a nickname for Paul, as well.

"Your garden looks beautiful, Ms. Y/l/n!"

Paul stole George's line. He fucking stole his line!

"A-and you look just as lovely as ever!" George added to one-up his friend.

You put a hand to your heart. "You boys make my heart sing." George took pride in your words despite them partially being for Paul as well.

"We need to see each other more, yeah?" George never expected his question to really get him anywhere, but he was wrong.

"Why not tonight? I don't have any homework and my parents are leaving town 'round five for the weekend to visit my auntie and uncle."

George's answer came quick, and effortlessly. "I'll be 'round for six. Sound good?"

"Perfect! I'll see you tonight then." You waved to the boys again, and then went back to watering the garden after bidding farewell.

The rest of the walk home was just Paul making fun of how lovestruck George was with you, and by the time they got to his house, just down the road from yours, Paul looked over at his buddy and smiled.

"No wonder you value your time with your darlin' over there so much, Magpie. Looks like she would definitely be a fine birdie in bed."

George looked over at Paul, eyes wide, and his voice broke. "... What?!" The thought of going to bed with you never crossed his mind-- well, until that moment.

"Hey, her folks'll be gone by the time you go over! You can make your move then! It's perfect!" Paul's words laced with excitement made George feel panicked, and the boy shook his head worriedly after a moment. "M-maybe it's not the best idea to go tonight..."

"Why not? All you ever wanna do is be alone with her!" Paul set a hand on the other boy's shoulder when he didn't answer. "What's up, George?"

"Paul, I've never even kissed her. She doesn't even know I like her like that! What if she likes someone else?! What do I even do?!" Paul was the biggest heartbreaker George knew. He'd had like... ten girlfriends since they met, and he kissed a whole three of them. They didn't last long, much like the fate of other young relationships, but George took Paul's advice as serious guidance; he needed to in a time like this.

"You just need to be calm. Take some deep breaths. You'll know what to do when the time comes. I know you will."

That night, George had many opportunities to dive in for a kiss, or mention his feelings for you; some of those opportunities he even believed you encouraged, but he didn't budge out of utter fear of rejection. George knew for a fact that Paul was going to facepalm when he asks him for details on the visit to your place.

Instead, the night only consisted of talking, and the only contact you made were a couple of hugs and a kiss on the cheek (which left George a stumbling mess again), though you did agree to spend more time together, which is how your friendship lasted so long.

He was so close to having you, and because he was too scared to make the move Paul (and maybe you) were encouraging him to make so long ago, you slipped through his fingers; and since, the thought of not being able to have you that way never left his mind.

Especially not when you were now a gorgeous young lady, blindly torturing poor George, who beat himself up every day because he lost his chance.

You were like a piece of artwork to George. You could be loved, admired, and looked at by him, but he could never hold you or touch you.

And George hated that.

George wanted you to be his girl.

And you were his girl-- well, in a twisted way. You were always with him, smiling and laughing about nothing and everything, holding onto each other in your darkest nights and guiding one another through personal struggles...

But when other boys started to want you too, George wanted to make it a point to keep the majority of them away.

Some didn't heed George's threats and went on to pursue you anyways, only to be turned down on your front steps by yourself. George never understood why you never reciprocated anybody's feelings, but it's not like he was verbally complaining.

And that's what lead up to tonight. George had wanted you for so long, and the sudden knowledge of a blind date had him in shock, especially since this was your very first time giving in and agreeing to go.

It killed him to know some rando was going to appear out of thin air to whisk you away, whisper sweet nothings in your ear and eventually put his hands on you, thinking his love for you is stronger than any other despite knowing absolutely nothing about how you should be loved, and treated...

But George hid his fury from you because you were excited about this date.

And he would do anything for you.

George's rage-inducing, mind-racing thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your bedroom door clicking shut from behind him. He turned his head, heart in his throat, and you stepped into the room.

You wore a lovely high-waisted navy dress, and a pair of black flats. Your hair was half down, the rest coming together at the back of your head by a matching clip-on bow.

As expected, your makeup was quite noticeable. The burgundy colour of your lips and dark brown eyeshadow had George's head spinning, and he couldn't resist ogling at the way that dress fit you so well...

"So… How do I look? Like, if we were about to go on a date..."

A date? Us? We?!

George's palms began to sweat, and his heart did somersaults. If only.

It was only then that he realized his mouth was hanging slightly ajar, and after snapping it shut, he swallowed in embarrassment, not daring to look anywhere but your eyes again in fear of falling victim to your appearance again.

Imagine not being able to trust your eyes?

"... What would you think?"

George squeaked, his lips moving hesitantly though he didn't make a sound. His face was surely an embarrassing shade of red, and the longer he waited into answer, the more anticipated you looked for a response.

George rose to his feet and approached you, bravely deciding to give you another good onceover after a deep breath, though he kind of lost all sense of feeling in his legs when you smiled at him with that perfect mouth of yours...

"Wow." George sighed, eyelids falling heavy over his brown irises as he admired you.

"I just... you... wow, Y/n." He couldn't come up with a coherent sentence with the way you were staring at him like that.

God, he was absolutely smitten with you.

Your eyes shone joyously as you placed your hand on your heart, and George, as impossible to him as it seemed, fell so much more in love with you than he was just moments before. Your presence rendered him speechless, and the thought inflated your ego a lot more than you would have expected it to.

George remained silent, but his gaze was still glued to you. He'd looked at you for long enough in his life to probably draw you perfectly by memory, but he still took his time to drink in what he was given; because who knew if he'd ever be able to see more of you than this?

"I... I'm-- I'm speechless, is what I am." He cleared his throat after a moment and said, "I... honestly hope my eyes are doing all the talking for me."

"Aw, you're just a sweetiepie, aren't you?"

You beamed at George, blushing as you took another step toward him. "Well Georgie... if you keep looking at me and sweet-talking the way you are..." your warm words were carefully chosen, and it was obvious that George was hanging into every single word you were saying.

"I may just have to pass on this date and spend tonight with you." Your eyelids fell heavy over your eyes, and you offered George a smile that was suggesting something maybe not so innocent.

"Wh-what?!"

"... I said I'm ready to go." You raised your eyebrow in a little confusion at George's flustered state.

Oh my fucking God she didn't even say that?!

Idiot.

Idiot, idiot, idiot.

"... R-right, yes, of course." George shook his head as if to rid his brain of the idea of tricking him like that again. He offered his arm out to you, and you linked yours with his before walking to the door together.

You passed a mirror on the way out, and George caught a glimpse of the both of your reflections, and his chest felt like it was on fire.

He looked so happy to be with you in that moment.

And you looked so happy to be leaving to spend time with another man.

George just hoped at least the reflection of him and you were going on this date together, and both of those smiles were meant for each other.

George pulled up to whatever restaurant this guy wanted to meet you at, which was on the other side of town. George did not approve of this and even reminded you of this on the way there, though you insisted you'd be fine, like you had the couple of times he mentioned this before.

You looked at him after he threw his car into park, and he gave you a little smile after a moment, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"You do look beautiful, Y/n. This guy... he's very lucky."

"I... I don't know what to say."

"Say you believe me."

You didn't say anything. Instead, you smiled sadly, and leaned in to kiss George's cheek. His skin darkened to pink beneath your lips before you could pull away and leave the car with another goodbye, though his ears were ringing and he missed your final farewell.

She doesn't believe me...

George waited until he saw you were seated in the restaurant to put his car back into drive, but something kept him from lifting his foot off the brake. He watched you adjust your silverware at your table, and clasp your hands together in wait.

... Maybe George wanted to wait for this guy to show up.

But would he really want to kill himself by spying on you and watching you fall for someone who wasn't him over the course of one night?

That was the question that made him decide to look back, and pull out of his parking space before he could spot anyone even go near the building. He was in drive and speeding home moments later.

The car ride back to his flat was a quiet one. George kept the radio off, and his fingers drummed against the steering wheel the whole time as if he were almost impatient to get home and do nothing.

Every time he looked in the rear view mirror and saw his eyes stare back at him, it just reminded him that his reflection left that restaurant alone and just as disappointed as his real counterpart.

It wasn't long before George pulled into his building's parking space and sulked out of his car, slamming the door shut. His eyes and nose were burning from the assault of unfallen tears.

He dropped you off to meet this guy. This was all on him this time.

George loved you. He loved you with all his heart, enough to swallow his pride-- sacrifice his happiness for your own.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, dropping you off that night felt like he was letting you go.

And was he?

He pretty much stumbled through the door because his fucks to give for himself were pretty much nonexistent at this point. He kicked his shoes off, not caring if he scuffed up the wall with black marks.

He just wanted to have a long hot shower, crawl into bed, and hide from everyone.

And that's just what he did.

His shower was well over an hour long, and that's where he broke down and cried for the majority of the time. He cried about you, and the situation his own decisions put himself in. He cried in jealousy for the threat sweeping you off your feet right now, and he cried as if that was the last night he'd ever see you again.

When he got out of the shower, well after the stream went cold, he had no more tears to shed. He was dehydrated, and he felt broken. He did a half-assed job of drying himself off before leaving the bathroom and collapsing into bed, only a towel secured around his hips.

His face was pressed into his pillow, and he tucked his arms beneath it and submerged himself even further into the soft fabric.

He recently switched detergent to whichever one you regularly used, and he just took in the familiar scent; anything to make him feel more at home without you actually being present...

George had no idea how long he was in that position for, but he fell asleep like that, only to wake to the sound of the phone ringing.

He got up and stumbled out of his room to ease the obnoxiously loud phone by picking up the call, shouting, and hanging up on whoever decided to phone at this hour-- whichever hour it was.

"Yeah," George rasped through the receiver, his tone laced with underlying irritation. He just wanted to be left alone in his sadness.

"George..."

"... Y/n?" He was rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the palm of his hand before you spoke, but your voice made him freeze.

"Oh Georgie..." your voice was breaking over the phone, and he could tell it wasn't the connection.

"Y/n, my Love, what's the matter?!"

"George he... He didn't show." George's heart stopped.

He didn't show.

George's grip closed tighter and tighter on the phone receiver, and he could feel the pure rage bubbling in his chest, and the plastic receiver crackling from the force under his fingers.

"Where are you?" He demanded. "I'm coming right now to get you," George was about to start throwing his shoes on, despite wearing absolutely nothing to start off with, his towel discarded and still on the bed from when he passed out.

"The same place you dropped me off."

God dammit, this fucking guy had you go to the other side of town just to be forgotten about.

It was finally settled: if George ever found out who this guy was, he'd kill him for doing this to you.

"Don't move. Be there in five." As soon as George hung up the phone, he took off to his room. He was ready in record time: under a minute. Up until the day he died, George wouldn't have been able to dress as quick as he did that night, and he never knew how he did it.

What really mattered was that George got to the other side of town in about five minutes, as he said over the phone.

George whipped into the parking lot and got out of the car. He hurried over to the front of the building to go in and search for you, but he caught a glimpse of you sitting at the curb as he grabbed the door handle.

His grip eased on the lockset, and he slowly turned to you. You were facing away from him, arms folded as you tried to shield yourself from the cool evening wind. You had no clue he was even behind you.

George sighed gently, shedding his jacket off and placing it on your shoulders without another word. He could see your whole body relax from the weighted piece of clothing, and he wondered if his scent was comforting for you too, as it was vice versa.

George heard you breathe out, but you sniffled afterwards. It broke his heart to see you like this. George looked around to see if anyone was watching, because if there was a chance this guy was cackling away in a parked car at the sight of you in tears, George would have had no problem kicking his headlights in and slashing his tires.

He dropped to the curb and sat down right next to you, not hesitating to circle his arm around your body.

At his touch, you curled yourself into a ball, and George scooped you up to squeeze you tight. And against his chest, when you knew you were safe from all harm, you gently sobbed.

George let you cry it all out, and the tighter you held onto him, the tighter he held onto you.

"Am I just unlovable George...? Is that it?" Your words were quiet and muffled, but George heard every syllable you mustered.

He pulled away from your embrace to look you in the eyes, and his grip on your arms were firm, but not tight. "Now Y/n, you do not for one second even think you're unlovable. That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." His eyebrows were lowered in anger at the very idea of you feeling unloved.

Tears began to well up in your eyes, and George's expression softened. He reached his hand up to your face, and he could feel you shaking. He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow again.

George wished then more than ever that he was the one who was supposed to see you. He would have shown up.

"Y/n, you deserve so much better than this. If you were mine, I’d make sure sitting alone on the curb, stood up, would be the last place you'd ever find yourself, especially when you were so excited to go out..."

George didn't know where his little spurt of confidence came from, but he was more focused on the words he was choosing to use with you, and what he was all going to say.

"... If I were yours...?" You sniffled again, cheeks and the tip of your nose turning pink and George paused at the sudden realization.

You still had a chance to be his.

And all because that boy didn't show up, he still had time to figure out how he could pull it all off; but it had to be tonight.

He took a deep breath.

"I mean, anyone would be lucky to date you. I just... I sometimes wonder why you were never mine. Why you're not mine..." his voice lowered throughout the sentence, and the end of his confession was barely above a whisper.

You watched George for a moment, lips parted, as if you couldn't believe your ears, and the young man panicked a little, deciding to disregard his last words before it suddenly became the topic of discussion.

"Oh, my Love," George's eyes suddenly saddened as he reached out to wipe away your fresh tears and smeared makeup with his thumb. Your bottom lip trembled at the contact, and he sighed.

"Just because he didn't show up doesn't mean your evening has gone to waste." He stood up and turned to look down at you.

"The night is still young." He then held his hand out in front of you, and you looked at it for a moment as if you didn't know what he wanted from you.

"Y/n... give me one night. Let me show you how a man should always treat you."

He wasn't quite sure if he just unintentionally asked you on a real life date, or if you thought of all this as an act, but even if you didn't reciprocate his feelings, it gave George the chance of a lifetime to at least pretend you were his, even if this opportunity only lasted one night.

"Please."

You didn't move at first, but George was patient. You eventually slowly reached your hand out, and George helped you up, not making the effort to let go of you afterwards.

George looked up at the restaurant, and did a double take. "... You... you don't even like fancy places like this, am I wrong?"  All you could think about when looking at him was that he knew you so well.

"A place like this on a first date is a clear sign he'd leave halfway through and I'd be stuck with the bill." George smiled a little, and so did you.

You wiped your final stray tear from your cheek and George gave your other hand a squeeze. "... I'd rather get a burger and go for a walk, to be honest."

"Then that's what we'll do," George confirmed with a nod. It was settled, then.

George and you strolled to the car, still hand-in-hand, and he courteously opened your door to help you in. He ran over to the other side afterwards and climbed in behind the wheel before pulling out and taking off to find somewhere for you both to eat.

You both came across this quiet burger place downtown, and the both of you were able to get a booth in the back for privacy so you could both scarf down your meals in peace.

George ordered the same food you did, and you both settled on sharing a milkshake together (a single milkshake eventually became two).

"God," you looked around the nearly empty joint before turning your gaze back to George. "Do you know how much more comfortable I feel in here?"

"Even when you're dressed like you belong in a dress shop window?" George smiled around his straw and you matched his grin. "Shut up. At least my hair is brushed out."

The poor guy had no clue until now that he forgot to comb his hair out after his depression shower, embarrassingly clawing his fingers through his locks to at least tidy up the mess on his head.

You just laughed out that you were teasing him, and the joyous hiccups from your laughter had George briefly forgetting everything negative that had happened so far that night.

After settling down a little, your food was brought out and you both started eating.

There wasn't much for the both of you to talk about other than the part of your day when you weren't together, and it wasn't like George wanted to mention what happened to him in the last two hours or make you upset by talking about your night.

Instead you both settled on joking about old times. Before the both of you knew it, George had you giggling and smiling once again before your dessert even came, and when the waitress came around to your table with your two-person cookie skillet, you grinned even wider.

You thanked the waitress before she went on her way, and you looked up across the treat to George, whom you were half expecting to be drooling over the cookie. Instead, he was in a dream-like trance, soft gaze fixed on you, and only you. You weren't too sure if he even knew the skillet was in front of him, he was so distracted.

"George...?" You called to him gently as to not frighten him when coming back down to reality. His response was almost immediate, like he could hear you.

And maybe he did.

"... I'm sorry, I don't know how many times I've tried to say this already tonight but have chickened out, but you look just..." George was examining every inch of you that he could see and you blushed, casting your eyes down to the table.

"Angel, look at me." George reached over the table and rested his hand over yours. You lifted your head to look him in the eye, and he hesitated for a moment. Your full attention flustered him, then again it always did, but he took a deep breath.

"You look heavenly, Y/n."

You said nothing. This time, he had you speechless, but nothing wasn't the response he was looking for.

"Dontcha believe me...?" His question echoed through your brain, and you blinked. George scanned your eyes after giving your hand a squeeze. He knew you had something to say, and he was at the edge of his seat in anticipation for your words.

"... Do you really think so?"

"Are you kidding me?! Y/n, I... when you came out of your room tonight I just... looking at you right now, I'm at a loss for words. Heavenly doesn't even scratch the surface. No word exists that perfectly describes how you look to me. Now, or ever."

There was yet another spurt of confidence that washed over George. He had a feeling his words and actions were getting the both of you somewhere, especially when his final sentence had you blushing the way you were.

At least he knew he was doing something right.

George's grip on your hand tightened a little, and he flipped your hands over so your palm was face-up in his. He brought your hand closer to him, and he kissed your fingertips before leaving a final one at the centre of your palm. His eyes never left your red face as he did this, and he grinned against your hand when you offered him a shy smile.

Oh... she IS actually liking this.

When he pulled away, George looked down at the still-untouched dessert, and he smiled, releasing another nervous breath he was holding as he finally let go of your hand. "Let's finish up so we can go on our walk. Sound good, my Love?"

You only nodded before digging in with him, every nudge of his hand against yours reducing you to a blushing mess, and George, who was gaining more confidence as every second passed, would just smile to himself knowing he was successfully turning the tables on you.

But it wasn't yet the time to give in and confess, as much as George wanted to. He still had a nice long walk to woo you on, and then he had to do the important step of walking you to your apartment door at the end of the night, and God knows that was the part he was dying to get to.

You finished your dessert not long after and George payed the bill. After helping you out of the booth, you'd left hand-in-hand again.

The both of you stepped out into the cool night and you looked up at George. "Are you cold? Did you want your jacket back?"

You were holding it in your other hand since you'd taken it off at dinner, and you shoved it in his direction without another word.

He laughed and took the jacket from you, unfolding it and pulling it back around your shoulders before rubbing his hands up and down your arms to keep you warm.

"You'll catch a cold without it. Besides, you look better in it anyways." He leaned in and kissed your cheek, smiling proudly to himself when he pulled away and continued to lead you to the car, deciding it'd be smoother to not turn around and gauge for a reaction from you.

Like before, George courteously opened the car door for you, and closed it when you were in. Their destination was his place. It wasn't for the reason one would think, but the idea of driving you to his home and inviting you in with every intention of walking right past the kettle made George's legs restless.

In reality there was a park down the road from his flat that cut pretty much directly to your own humble abode. You'd walked the trail hundreds of times together to look at the pretty flowers growing in the garden, but something told George that this time, like everything else happening that day, was going to be very different.

When you pulled up to his building he raced you to get to your door for the second time of the night; the first being at the burger place when you first arrived. He took your hand and helped you out of the car, and he didn't let go, even after locking the doors to his car and leading you both down the road.

There was a silence that fell between the both of you. It wasn't bad. You took this time to think about your night, as did George. With every step down the road and into the park you took, the smile on your face only grew wider. As for George, he began to sweat with every step he took.

Every foot forward led him closer and closer to your door, where he was going to finally let everything off his chest and confess to you. The problem was that George's confidence was quickly draining, and this was something he needed to do.

He eventually let go of your hand to wipe his palms off on his pant leg, and at the immediate loss of contact, you were turning to him with a confused look on your face.

"Sorry uh..." he breathed out slowly, cheeks dusted pink. "I-I don't know why, but I'm kinda nervous."

Your look of confusion faded into an unreadable one. "Was it holding my hand?"

George shook his head. "No no, not that, I want to hold your hand."

"So what's the problem?"

He just shook his head again. "Maybe it's just... the stress of making sure tonight is perfect for you."

"What?!" Your reaction was sudden, and George's eyebrows were raised high up on his forehead at your exclamation.

"George, tonight has already been perfect for me! I had a great meal, I'm on a lovely walk with you..." you reached out to take his hand again, and he lifted his gaze from his shoes to look you in the eye. You smiled up at him from under the streetlight, and George smiled back a little.

"Georgie, I would never have asked for a better night." You squeezed his fingers with yours and tugged him forward gently. "C'mon, Magpie. Let's get home. It'll be cooling down soon, and I don't want you walking outside much longer than needed tonight."

George followed behind, but you still took your time coming home since the both of you got caught up in another conversation. This time, it was about the flowers you were passing in the park.

"... I used to water those for you, y'know." He pointed to a cluster of marigolds. To think that was ten years earlier and they still stayed put, growing outwards and stronger than ever.

"I used to check on them every day to make sure they weren't dying. You told me one time you really liked those flowers and I just..." he smiled a little at the memory. "I just couldn't get enough of your smile every time you saw them."

You turned to look up at him. You had absolutely no clue he did that for you. It made you love the flowers even more, and your heart jumped a little when you realized that the marigolds were the very reason George insisted you both took the trail all the tine.

"I'll still come across them when passing flower shops. I always think of you when I see them."

"Wow. George, I... I never knew you paid that much attention to me."

"Why wouldn't I? You're my best friend."

And George didn't say anything after that, especially when you didn't respond to his last comment, which he didn't even mean to say.

By the time George could think up a sentence to save himself from friend-zoning the both of you right then and there, he felt like he'd left it for too long.

His heart was sinking, and he tried to shake off the comment best he could, and walked you the rest of the way home.

His stomach was in a knot as he looked up at your apartment building. The front door to the lobby looked intimidating, and his palms began to sweat again. You slipped your hand out of George's, and it distracted him from his racing thoughts.

"You think I'm gonna just leave you here?" His question was sudden, and you blinked once.

"I'm sorry?" You looked from George, to the apartment door which was ten feet away from the both of you. "But George, I'm home?"

"I have to walk you to your door." You laughed at his response, head thrown back as you sighed. "You mean to tell me you, George Harrison, are gonna walk up five flights of stairs in the next two minutes just to make sure you can hear me lock my door and know I'm safe?"

"Would it be a real date if I didn't?"

There was another beat of silence as George watched your eyes shift from left to right in thought. You pursed your lips a little, and then looked him in the eye.

"... Suppose it wouldn't be then, no."

"Then may I walk you to your door, Y/n?"

You finally answered him with a simple nod of your head, and George reached out to take your hand again. He wordlessly led you to the door which he opened for you, and then brought you to the flight of stairs. Nowhere else to go but up.

In about two minutes, you and George got to the fifth floor. As soon as he entered the hall, it felt like the walls were slowly closing together as you both took quiet, careful steps towards the end of the way.

The entire time, your hands were glued together, and no one let go, even when you were both finally stopped, and standing in front of your door.

"I'm sorry about tonight, Y/n. I know you were saying earlier tonight turned out perfect and everything but..." George's brain was still on that platonic comment he made on the walk.

"George, there is no one I would have rather spent tonight with than you. No one."

George squeezed your hand, and then sighed. "I just wish tonight happened under different circumstances."

"Different circumstances?" You repeated a little confused, and the boy in front of you pursed his lips and nodded his head.

Deep breaths. Here it goes.

"Y/n, ever since I found out about this date, my blood has just been boiling with jealousy for that boy. Hell, I still don't even know his name and I could tell you he isn't good for you."

You looked taken aback. Jealousy was definitely not where you thought he was going with all of this.

"I fell in love with you, Y/n. Years ago. And because I feared rejection, I didn't want to take my chances and say anything. But the truth of the matter is that I'd be the happiest person alive just to be able to love you openly. I can't stand to see you cry the way he made you tonight."

Again, you stood there, no words coming to mind to respond with. Your silence didn't make George stop.

"To think for years my feelings for you haven't gone away. I've always thought you felt the same, yet you were never mine." George paused. "When can this boy get you back again, Y/n?"

There was a long silence, his eyes searching yours for your answer, and you were staring up at him like a deer in headlights.

"I-- if I'd known-- I never thought-- George, I had no clue." He could see the lost look on your face, and it made his heart ache, especially when your lip began to tremble and your eyes started filling to the brim with tears.

"Why do you think I turned down every guy who's tried to get with me? I just... I never thought you'd love me back, Georgie." His emotions sank into a deep dark guilt. All this time, and you felt the same way about him...

And then he blinked.

You feel the same way about him!

George reached out to you, his hand cupping the side of your face and stroking your cheek with his thumb. Your tears began to fall, and he pulled you into his chest tightly for a moment. "My Love," he mumbled, pulling away just far enough for him to see your face again.

"Oh, even when you're crying, you are the most beautiful thing I've ever set eyes on..." There was a beat of nothing; just the sound of shallow breaths shared between the both of you before George began to inch in slowly towards you.

"... George, what are you doing...?" Your question was gentle, and you didn't stop him from coming any closer. You didn't want to stop him.

"Something I should've done a long time ago."

His attention fixated to your mouth once before your lips finally clashed together.

For over a decade, George had waited for the moment he tasted your lips; and now that it was here, he was almost scared he wouldn't know what to do.

The both of you were holding your breath since you both felt a little unsure at first, but it was a given, he was kissing his childhood best friend, and you were, too. You kissed back a little, and George exhaled lightly through his nose, a little relieved knowing you were getting a little more comfortable with the situation.

George's hands fell to your waist, fingers curling around your body as he eventually pulled you even closer. You parted your lips a little, and he bit down on your bottom lip, pulling away after hearing you gasp.

"Oh! Did I hurt you? I'm--" George could barely rush an apology out before you pulled him down to kiss him again, and pushing him backwards until his back was flat against your door. He watched as you closed the space between you again, and your lips were on his again.

His heart was pounding, ears ringing loudly as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, and all the boy could remember thinking about was how blissful it all was in that moment. George threw his arms around you and started pushing back just a little.

You pulled away from him to gasp in a breath, George's hands grabbing your arms and pinning you against your door so he could put you in the place he was moments before; to give you the moment to experience just a fraction of all the love he would be able to eventually give to you.

His lips briefly found the crook of your neck and you moaned quietly as George sucked at your skin a little, which only resulted in him pulling away just to lean back in to kiss your lips and swallow your pleasant hums.

You eventually pulled away to face him again, lips swelled and pink, and breaths quick. You never thought you'd have so much trouble breathing while kissing someone.

Then again, it's not everyday that the man you're kissing is George Harrison.

"I know it's rare to ask this on a first date but..." George leaned down to attach his lips to the column of your throat, and he hummed against your skin when you moaned gently, delaying your question for a moment.

"... Did you maybe wanna, I don't know, come in, stick around for some tea?"

"Is that even a question?" George asked lowly against your neck, and you smiled. You reached into your purse to retrieve your apartment keys, which you blindly stuck into the keyhole since George was back to kissing you again, and the both of you stumbled through the door as soon as you got it open.

You and George kicked your shoes off after shutting the door, and you pushed him up against the wall in the front corridor to kiss him once again.

Ten years was way too long for the both of you to be deprived of one another any further, and George gladly let you migrate your lips to his neck after a moment, tilting his head back for you to make things a little easier.

With your head buried into his neck and your arms circled around one another, George lazily opened this eyes to watch himself in that same mirror across the hall he looked into a few hours prior.

All the boy could do was smile to himself, breathing heavily as he watched your reflection switch to the other side of his neck after leaving a mark on the right side of his throat.

Not only was his reflection successful in this date tonight, but George himself pulled off the biggest risk he could imagine and it paid off.

He finally got the girl of his dreams.

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

A/A/N: honestly, this fic lives rent free in my head and it has been since I wrote it, so I gotta show it off to y'all. Again, I know it was long, but I really hope you enjoy it <3

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backdoor

member: jaehyun (hyunjae) genre: fluff (requested) word count: 3,120 synopsis: jaehyun has always been your rival. so when he bets that he could make you fall for him, you can’t back down and say no. but when you’re too confident, you let your guard done.

backdoor: a term used in league of legends; when you secretly attack the enemy’s nexus while they’re focused elsewhere. this is done by sneaking into the enemy base and taking them by surprise

Lee Jaehyun was the cockiest and most annoying person you had ever met. You would think that growing up as childhood “friends” would make you two close. After all, your parents were best friends with his parents.

But no, you and Jaehyun had been rivals ever since you were both enrolled into a tennis club as young children. You always had the upper hand until he suddenly hit puberty and became a lot more physically fit than you. Once he started beating you in nearly every match, he became your #1 enemy.

He had always been super competitive and made everything into a contest. Who could run to the car faster? Who could receive a higher score on the exam? Who could make the other lose their temper first?

With high school came his sudden increase in popularity. It inflamed his ego to the max, which irked you to no end.

Every Valentine’s Day, he would brag about all the gifts and confessions he received. And every White Day, he would compare the numbers to yours.

He was loved by the girls for being a casanova and admired by the guys for his athleticism and gaming skills.

You, on the other hand, could not comprehend why the entire school was infatuated with him. You had your eyes on someone else. Kim Sunwoo. He had caught your attention since the first day of freshman year. Now, as a senior, you were about to graduate without ever making a move.

You were too shy to approach him. You couldn’t even find a common interest to naturally bring up and talk about. All he ever did was make music and play League of Legends.

So you found Jacob during lunch and practically begged him to teach you how to play the game.

“Please please please?” you whined.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s that I can’t,” Jacob said apologetically. “I have basketball practice every day. Besides, I haven’t played in almost half a year. I’m rusty.”

“I just need you to teach me the basics!”

“I’m sorry, Y/n.”

Sighing, you gave up and slumped in your seat. You poked at the food in front of you with a pout.

“Did I just hear the Y/n ask Jacob to teach her how to play League?” Jaehyun suddenly popped out of nowhere.

“Fuck off,” you rolled your eyes at him as you set your chopsticks down.

“You know, I’m the highest ranked player in our school,” he said smugly. You wanted nothing but to wipe that look off his face.

You ignored him and took a sip of your water. Jacob awkwardly glanced between you and Jaehyun as he tightly held onto his spoon. He could sense another argument coming.

“I can teach you if you want,” Jaehyun offered.

“I don’t want,” you coldly rejected.

“Of course you don’t,” he scoffed. “You’re too afraid to spend time with me because you might realize that you actually like me.”

“Oh please. There are a few things in this world that will never change. The sun rising from the east, the sun setting in the west, and my hatred for you,” you said.

“Well if you hate me that much, then let’s make a bet out of it. The first one to fall for the other’s seducing loses,” he smirked.

Still stuck in the middle, Jacob shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“You don’t have to accept the challenge if you’re not confident,” Jaehyun shrugged, making you narrow your eyes at him.

A list of pros and cons was being made in your head as you contemplated the crazy suggestion. The logical part of your mind wanted nothing to do with him. You knew that stooping down to his level was childish. You had much better things to do than go along with his bet.

The competitive part of you, however, couldn’t bear to back down. You would have to deal with him flaunting over you and calling you a coward if you didn’t agree to this.

So you disregarded all rationale and crossed your arms with a curt “deal”.

The walk to school the next day was full of complaints as you whined about falling for Jaehyun’s trick and Kevin chided you for it.

“I don’t know why you thought it would be a good idea,” Kevin tsk-ed. “He makes your blood boil within seconds. How are you going to hold back from tearing him apart? Never mind flirt with him.”

“I’m already regretting it,” you groaned.

“Speaking of the devil,” Jacob coughed, nudging you.

You looked up to see Jaehyun waiting by the school gates. He was holding a bouquet of flowers and every girl who passed by whispered to their friend about it. To everyone’s shock, he walked up to you and handed you the flowers.

“So it starts now?” you stared at the roses. “You call this seducing?”

“I call this romantic,” he grinned.

Rolling your eyes, you handed Kevin the bouquet and walked away. He awkwardly chased after you as Jacob offered Jaehyun a pat on the shoulder.

“She doesn’t like roses. She thinks they’re cliché,” he said before leaving.

When the dismissal bell rang, Jaehyun was waiting for you outside of your classroom. Hushed whispers erupted again as your classmates tried to figure out why he was being so affectionate to you. It was no secret that you two never got along.

After gathering your belongings, you grabbed your backpack and left without sparing him another glance. Unfazed, he easily caught up to you and slung his arm around your shoulder.

“What? Are you wavering already?” he teased.

“Not a chance,” you scoffed.

“As a part of the bet, I can teach you how to play League. That’s what you wanted anyway. Think of it as killing two birds with one stone.”

You ignored all the incredulous looks you received with Jaehyun by your side as you left the school grounds. You didn’t realize that you weren’t headed home until you stopped in front of a PC Room. Puzzled, you stared at the building in front of you.

“I promised that I’d teach you. Our first lesson starts today,” he said as he dragged you inside.

Your brain was bombarded with a whole new world. You struggled to keep up as he rambled on about bots and gold. He was showing you a demonstration by playing a round but your inability to multitask made it difficult to understand what was going on on the screen.

“My main is Jace and I usually go jungle,” he explained and you pretended to understand by nodding. At your silence, he eyed your expression and chuckled.

“So is Sunwoo the reason why you’re suddenly interested in League?” he asked, catching you off guard.

“How did you know?” you gaped.

“You thought I wouldn’t notice your little crush on him?” he raised a brow.

You were taken aback to say the least. You didn’t think he paid much attention to you other than when he was bored and wanted to mess around.

“Anyway, he usually goes mid as Zed,” he shrugged. “To be honest, the best way for you to bond with him through the game is for him to play ADC and for you to be support.”

“As if I know what all that means,” you frowned.

At that moment, his character died and the screen went gray. You snickered, earning a light flick on your forehead.

“ADC stands for attack damage carry. It’s the champion who usually does the most attacking. They go in the bottom lane with whoever’s playing support. Supports are supposed to aid and heal the ADC. So you would follow and communicate with them.”

“Sounds complicated,” your nose wrinkled in distaste.

“Sounds fun,” he corrected before turning back to the computer.

The next day, Jaehyun surprised you with a small potted plant in front of the gates.

“Since you don’t like roses, I got you a succulent instead,” he said proudly.

Next to you, Kevin giggled and Jacob let out a soft “aww”. Slightly touched yet also slightly embarrassed, you took it from him in a hurry and stormed off.

“You’re slowly getting there,” Jacob laughed as Kevin shot him a thumbs up.

Smiling, Jaehyun watched as they ran to catch up with you. He heard you yell at them after what was probably a teasing remark. You then began to chase Kevin, who ran away shrieking.

After two weeks of spending hours at the PC Room after school, you were starting to get a hang of the game. You found Teemo, who you insisted was a dog (he’s actually a rodent), and gushed over how cute he is.

Jaehyun made fun of your champion choice and shook his head as he explained that Teemo was the most hated character.

“Why? He’s adorable!” you defended. “And I love the little eggs he plants.”

“For the nth time, those are mushrooms! Not eggs,” he exclaimed. “And that’s exactly why everyone hates him. He’s so annoying.”

“You’re annoying,” you shot back.

“Well, Teemo’s not an option right now,” he pointed out.

He was teaching you how to play Howling Abyss that day. And playing ARAM meant your champion would be randomly given.

“Oh! The cute cat is available,” you excitedly clicked.

“That’s Yuumi and that’s actually not a bad choice,” he nodded in approval. “You just have to attach onto me and heal me.”

You hated to admit that you had grown closer with Jaehyun. Only a couple of weeks had passed by since the bet and you didn’t completely despise him anymore.

He gifted you something small each morning, whether it was a plant or piece of bread. He was always waiting for you at the gates. Dating rumors were already circulating the school but you hadn’t forgotten about the bet. You were determined to win it.

Which was why you began to wake up earlier to put on makeup and even complimented him during games. It was easy to make him smile. All you needed to do was throw a lame joke in here and there and he would burst out in laughter.

It was almost suspiciously easy. He was too willing to respond to your advances and never put up a wall.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t get on your nerves. His antics still bothered you to no end.

On the way home, he insisted on feeding you ice cream instead of having you hold it yourself. Except he kept pulling the spoon back when you opened your mouth to eat it.

The first time, you gave him a dirty look. The second time, you punched his arm. The third time, you gave him the finger and walked off after a “fuck you”.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” he laughed.

Once again, you were reminded of how immature he was.

“So has there been any progress?” Kevin asked.

It was gym period and all the students were running around in the field. Jacob was playing volleyball with Jaehyun while you and Kevin were sitting on the sidelines.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged.

“It would be the best enemies-to-lovers trope if you two actually end up dating like this,” he commented.

“Never,” you snorted in disbelief.

You had seen Jaehyun ever since he was a snotty little kid. Even back then, he was a mischievous brat. There was no way you could ever see him as anything but that.

The teacher blew his whistle, signaling the end of gym class. You got up, dusted your pants, and skipped down the steps. Unfortunately, you landed wrong and felt a sharp pain in your ankle as you fell down.

After Kevin shouted your name, Jaehyun turned his head to see you on the ground. Without thinking twice, he ran towards you and asked if you were okay. When you couldn’t reply, he put you on his back with Kevin’s help and sprinted to the nurse’s office.

Your heart was beating fast but you couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why. Was it because of the pain? Or all the attention you were receiving from your classmates?

By the time you reached the office, your ankle was throbbing and swelling up. The nurse was nowhere to be seen so Jaehyun retrieved an ice pack himself and wrapped a towel around it before applying it.

You were sitting on a cot while he was bent down to tend to your wound. His forehead was wrinkled with worry and you stared at him. This was the first time he had ever treated you with such gentleness.

“I don’t think you broke anything but it’s definitely gonna hurt for at least a week,” he winced in vicarious pain.

You suddenly didn’t know how to act around him. You weren’t used to receiving sympathy from him.

“Uh that’s okay,” you coughed to cover up the awkwardness. You’d rather have him make fun of you for being clumsy. But instead, he seemed genuinely concerned for you.

“You should’ve been more careful,” he scolded.

There was something about the way he looked at you. His eyes were no longer playful but you couldn’t figure out what emotions hid behind those eyes.

Those eyes. His eyes clouded your mind. For some reason, you couldn’t get it out of your head.

You found yourself avoiding him as you struggled to organize your thoughts. Or rather, your feelings.

Wanting to distract yourself, you decided to finally talk to Sunwoo. Surely, spending time with him would help you forget about Jaehyun.

So you mustered up the courage to ask him out on a date. To your surprise, he happily agreed and suggested that you watch a movie together. There was a new romcom film that came out and that he had been wanting to watch.

The date wasn’t as awkward as you thought it would be. Sunwoo’s goofiness offset any nervousness and it was fun to be around him. But yet, it also wasn’t as heart fluttering as you thought it would be.

Perhaps you had idealized him too much in your imagination. Your romantic feelings for him dissipated and you saw him as a good friend. Luckily, he felt the same.

However, word about your date had already spread by the time you got to school on Monday. It had reached Jaehyun’s ears and his expression hardened when he saw you laughing with Sunwoo at lunch.

He knew what the ugly feeling in his stomach was. And he wasn’t happy about it. So he reacted in the only way he knew. By clinging to your side and pestering you.

He spent the whole day messing up your hair and being sarcastic. Eventually, you finally snapped and told him to piss off.

“I’ll consider it if you can beat me in tennis today,” he said.

You crossed your arms, wondering what was going on in his head. You hadn’t been able to defeat him since middle school.

“If you can get a single ball past me, I’ll leave you alone,” he proposed. With a huff, you reluctantly agreed. It would be faster to just get it over with.

That was how you two ended up at a tennis court after school. He never went easy on you but he was going especially hard that day. He gave you no breaks and flung the ball back at you with what felt like all his strength. Ball after ball flew past you as he grabbed another one to start again.

“What the hell, Lee Jaehyun?” you yelled across the court. “Why the fuck are you so aggressive today?”

“Are you giving up?” he taunted while bouncing the ball.

“Oh hell no,” you grumbled as you got in position.

Another half an hour passed by with him beating you again and again. You were drenched in sweat and starting to feel sore. But you refused to give him the pleasure of watching you admit defeat.

So you kept going until the ball accidentally hit your shoulder. The amount of force he put into that backhand made you yelp in pain as you dropped the racket.

Startled, Jaehyun ran over to make sure you were okay.

“You just can’t bear to see me win once, can you?” you glared as you shoved his hand away. “You turn everything into a competition and act like you’re superior over me.”

“I-I didn’t mean to do that,” his brows furrowed in guilt.

“Didn’t mean to do what? Make my childhood a living hell by ruining my favorite sport? Use my crush on Sunwoo to trick me into another stupid bet? Confuse me into thinking that you might actually not hate me?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Then why are you so clingy?”

“Because I like you!”

His words brought upon silence. The tension in the air was thick as you both stared at each other.

“You’re so dense,” he sighed. “I wanted your attention, okay? But back then, I was a kid and didn’t know how to stay by your side without annoying the hell out of you. And then I didn’t know how to transition out of that.”

He fidgeted with a loose string on his shirt and took a deep breath before continuing.

“This stupid bet was supposed to change our relationship. I was supposed to show you that I’m not as bad as you think I am. That I’m a guy too. That I’ve been in love with you for a whole decade now.”

To say you were surprised would be a massive understatement. All your life, you had been sure that Jaehyun’s purpose in life was to irritate you. So when your heart began to skip around him, you cursed yourself for giving into the hormones that made you see him in a different light. You never thought that the feelings would be reciprocated.

“You don’t feel the same way? At all?” he carefully asked.

Your mouth opened but no words came out. You couldn’t find the right words to answer his question.

“You’re not saying no,” the corners of his lips curved up.

He took a step closer to you and held your cheeks. You felt your heart race at the proximity and froze.

“For confirmation?” his lips ghosted over yours. You barely managed to nod slightly before he closed the gap between you two.

As cheesy as it sounded, you felt sparks fly the moment you had your first kiss. By the time he pulled away, you felt your cheeks heat up.

“So I guess that means I won the bet before it even began,” you joked, making him laugh.

“Yes, yes you did,” he smiled as he hugged you.

[mypoisonedvine]

Consolation || Bucky Barnes x reader

summary: you know it’s probably not great that you always turn to your best friend Bucky whenever you’re especially hurt by your husband.  you know your husband should probably care that you spend so much time with him, but he doesn’t.  which is good, in the end, because you two really are just friends… until you’re not.

word count: 4k

warnings: smut!, infidelity (see summary, reader is married), descriptions of failing/sexless marriage, angst, fluff, ~feelings~

You were good at hiding it— the real reason why you showed up at Bucky's apartment unexpectedly, that is.  

It wasn’t entirely unexpected: you sent a text first, asking if he was down for a movie night, telling him you missed when you used to hang out more.  He did, too, but he had always been afraid your husband would be an issue.  Nice enough guy, but he didn’t seem to trust Bucky entirely… certainly didn’t seem to love that you two were so close.

And who could blame him?  A beautiful, sweet, smart girl like you… he understood why your husband didn’t want you hanging out with other guys when avoidable.  I’ve told him a thousand times, you’re just a friend— you’re just Bucky, you would tell him when you were recounting arguments, explaining why it had been a while since you two had had a chance to catch up.  But Bucky never told you that your husband was right to worry, that he had dreamed since he met you of being more than ‘just a friend,’ that he himself was the reason you two didn’t spend more time together: because he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from confessing his feelings.

Because of course he would never make a move on his best friend— on a married woman.  It would be so overwhelmingly inappropriate, such a colossal waste of time; and it wasn’t like he couldn’t handle just being your friend.  Sure, it killed him a little bit sometimes, but it was worth it a million times over to be near you at all.  He would take what he could get… and if that meant platonic movie night because you’d had another argument with your husband, then so be it.

“I stopped by the store on my way; heard your ice cream reserve was depleted,” you explained as you brandished the Ben & Jerry’s before slipping past him to put them in his freezer.  

He watched you walk there, silently hating how comfortable you were in his apartment.  He loved it, but he hated it, too.  

“What are we watching?” you asked, snapping him back to reality.

“Uh, I dunno…”

“You were supposed to pick while I was driving over, genius,” you grumbled sarcastically.

“I narrowed it down to The Ring or You’ve Got Mail,” he decided suddenly.

You chuckled lightly and the sound lifted his spirits. “Okay, so, two drastically different evenings."

“I mean, if you think about it, they’re both about meeting new people through technology,” he corrected.

“Do VHS tapes count as technology?” you raised an eyebrow incredulously.

“They do to me,” he shrugged.

//

With the ice cream supply exhausted and Bucky’s largest plastic bowl now containing only the unpopped kernels and little broken pieces of popcorn that didn’t make the cut, the third act of The Ring was beginning and you were spending more time covering your eyes than not.

“Let me know when the scary part is over,” you requested weakly from between the hands on your face.

“It’s a horror movie; the whole thing is one long scary part!” he laughed.

You peeked out through your fingers only to see another terrifying moment, yelping and hiding yourself in his chest.

He froze, not sure at all what to do with your face pressed against him; he held his breath in case the inflation of his chest would disturb you.  

“I can’t look!” you whimpered, voice muffled by his shirt.

He lifted his hand in consideration of stroking your hair comfortingly, but ultimately decided against it and set it back down.

Thankfully, the movie was almost over and you wouldn’t stay cuddled up to him after it ended— meaning he’d finally be free from the glorious torture of your nearness.

But then the credits were rolling and you still didn’t budge, holding him tight.  At first he thought you were just still scared, but then you took a slow, shaky breath… and he realized something was wrong with you, way beyond just a spooky movie.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, preparing to hear you explain what really happened with you and your husband that made you come here.

You just shook your head a little against his chest, making him sigh.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he continued, and you hesitated before pulling back and sitting up straight again.  As painful as it had been, he missed your touch already.

“Yes,” you answered, “but I shouldn’t.”

“Okay,” he nodded.

“But I need to.”

“Okay.”

“But I can’t.”

“...okay…”

You groaned and hid your face in your hands— not from fear this time, but exasperation.  “I told myself that if it ever got to this point, I’d tell someone.  But now I… I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” he soothed.

"He doesn't… we don't…” you started and stopped a few times.  “God, Buck, I can't even say it…"

"You don't have to—" he began to tell you, but you said it anyway, tearing your hands away from your face and looking back at him sternly.

"He hasn't touched me in months.  And today marks an entire year since the last time I had sex."

He tried not to choke when he heard that.  He figured you were just going to say that he was texting a female coworker too much or flip-flopping about if he wanted kids or not.  This was something else entirely.  "Oh… um, wow."

“Yeah.”

He wasn’t sure where to start.  In spite of all his obliviousness, he was pretty sure he should say something, he just didn’t know what.  “And he… he knows that you… want that?  I mean, you’ve like… tried to, you know… initiate things, right?”  He cringed at his own voice, and stupid question.

You laughed a little, in a sad way.  "I've begged him for it, fuck, it's so humiliating.  It doesn't even work.  He's always too tired, not in the mood, busy with something.  And of course I want to respect him and not pressure him into anything but at the same time, I feel so fucking unlovable— so hideous."

"You're not hideous,” he said firmly, more sure of that than anything else he’d said so far.

“I try to believe that, really,” you mitigated, “I try not to take it personally— but fuck, it feels personal.  Do you know how often people talk about sex?  It’s like society has this idea that men just wanna bang twenty-four hours a day and the only thing stopping them is women being prudes.  Do you know what it’s like to hear people talk like that when your husband rejects you every night?  Do you know how it feels to hear your girlfriends complaining about how their boyfriends are pestering them for sex too often, and you’re just sitting there screaming inside your head ‘at least he wants you’?  Bucky, you can’t even imagine…”

“I can’t,” he agreed.  

"It's been so long…” you sighed shakily, collecting yourself before you started again.  “It's been so long since somebody touched me.  I wondered if I would forget what it felt like."

His hand shook a little as he reached out with his flesh hand and brushed it against your arm, staring into your watery eyes and finding less fear there than he expected, thankfully.

"Did you forget?" he asked softly.

"I must have," you mumbled, "it feels better than I remembered."

The heartbreak in your voice made anger bubble up in his chest, amazed at how your husband ever allowed this to happen; ever allowed you to become so touch-starved that even just a brush on your arm made you emotional.  "I can't imagine being with you every day and not wanting to touch you whenever I could get the chance,” he admitted.  “I can't imagine being your husband and not making love to you every day, every hour, whenever you wanted; whenever you'd let me.  I can't imagine having you beg me for something and not giving it to you— I'd give you everything."

He had to fight a gasp as you suddenly grabbed him and pulled him into a kiss, a bit sudden at first but melting into something gentle and patient and soft.  

“Then do it,” you whispered as you finally pulled back; he could barely think straight to even process what you were saying.  “Give me everything.”

He nodded a little before he kissed you again, rough but deep and slow.  His hands roamed your body like he'd wished to for so long; his tongue slid against yours and the taste of you drove him wild.

As hard as it was to break from your lips, he moved his kisses down your jaw to your neck, sucking at your pulse as you groaned and clutched at his shoulders through his shirt.

"Fuck," you whispered under your breath, and he must've heard you swear a million times but this time it sounded so different.  

His cock was straining against his jeans already, just from this— it was like he was a fucking teenager again, but to be fair, you'd always had that effect on him: sweaty palms, stammering, sudden boners.  It was like lifelong puberty with you around.

When his fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt, just barely brushing over the skin right above your sweats, you pulled back briefly to pull your shirt off over your head.  He thought it might be awkward if he just stood there gawking at your chest, so he only allowed himself a moment of it before he got back to work holding you tight and kissing your collarbones.

He pulled you closer and you must've felt his cock pressed against you because you gasped a little.  And you must've liked it, because your hand slipped down and rubbed him through the front of his jeans, making him choke on nothing.

“S’big,” you mumbled, and he grinned a little.  

“Feel what you do to me?” he asked softly, and you nodded a little before grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand down your body and into the waistband of your pants.  He shuddered when he felt how warm your skin was, the lacy fabric of your panties, the slick folds you guided his fingers through.

“Feel what you do to me?” you shot back, but your cockiness faded when he circled his middle finger over your swollen bud.  He loved the way your body reacted so easily, subtle little gasps and shivers, your hips jolting forward for more stimulation.  You both moaned when he pushed a finger into your channel, your walls already pulsing around him.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

You whispered your approval and he twisted the finger inside you.  Even just that made you let out a heavy breath, your hands reaching down to grip his wrist— they didn’t push him away, thankfully, just reminded him to be gentle with you as he added the second finger, pushing a bit deeper than before.

“More,” you whimpered your plea, “I want more.”

For a second he thought you meant more fingers, but then you opened your eyes and gave him a look… that look.  

It made it abundantly clear that fingers weren’t going to be enough.  After all, you had asked him to give you everything.  So he gladly obliged when you started to tug at his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside.  You lifted your hips to let him pull down your sweats, not giving him much time to drink in the sight of you before you started opening his fly for him.

Being undressed by you made his heart race; the way you rushed, like you couldn’t wait a moment longer to have him, was flattering yet relatable.

You sighed when you got his cock out, instantly wrapping your hand around his shaft and stroking.  He shuddered at the softness of your hands, at your gentle but persistent exploration.  Clearly it had been a while since you’d gotten the chance to interact with a dick, but it didn’t show in any lack of skill— if anything it just made you more eager, your grip firm but your touches gentle.  He kissed you again, holding your face in one hand and leaning you back with the other until you were laid on the couch and he was hovering over you.

He guided your hand away from his cock, replacing it with his own as he guided the weeping head over your slick folds, smiling at your gasp when he bumped against your clit.

“Do you want this?” he asked, fully prepared for you to back out now before you did something you really couldn’t take back.

“Yes.”  Your answer was more confident than he was expecting, but he still couldn’t really believe it.  It was just too good to be true.  So he had to check again.

“...are you sure?”

"Don't make me beg, Bucky," you whimpered, "I've done it enough, I can't do it again.  Just make love to me— I need you inside me, please…"

Your head fell back as he pushed into you, your nails digging into his shoulders until he stopped from fear of hurting you (even though it took more willpower than he knew he had).

"Don't stop," you whined, "need to feel all of you, Bucky, please please don't stop—"

He definitely didn't have enough willpower to resist that.  Slamming into you all at once, he hissed as you cried out, baring his teeth at the sight of you quivering and moaning beneath him.

"I— I need a second," you explained, voice tight with ill-concealed pain, "it's been a while.”

"I can wait," he nodded, "I won't move until you're ready."

He could tell you were struggling, because how could you not be when you felt so fucking tight around him?  He guided you to breathe slowly with him, feeling your body relax slightly and noticing the way your face untwisted as you became more comfortable.

You nodded a little, but he needed to hear you say it.  "Fuck me," you whispered.

And he did.  

He still kept his pace measured and relaxed, savoring every inch of you— savoring your reactions to every inch of him.

But watching your face was going to push him towards the edge too fast, and he wanted to make this last if possible, so he leaned down to suck on your neck, thoroughly tasting your skin as you moaned and writhed beneath him.  It felt incredible to surround your body with his, to cage you in and pin you down with his weight— it made him feel like he could protect you, keep you safe, even though he knew he couldn’t save you from heartache as much as he wanted to.

If you wanted someone to touch you, to give you affection, to make love to you and make you feel loved, then you’d come to the right place.  That came to him naturally; the hard part was going to be letting you go, letting this be the one-time favor for a friend that he already knew it was.

“You feel so good,” he found himself whispering against your skin, just beside your ear, “so good for me.”

The praise must have had a strong effect on you, because your walls tightened around him suddenly.

“So perfect,” he continued, wanting to feel it again, “my perfect girl.”  And you weren’t his girl, but maybe he could pretend you were; you certainly seemed to enjoy pretending, with the way your moans egged him on.  “God, baby, your pussy feels so fucking good around my cock.”

“Bucky,” you whined, arching your back, and he grinned because it was obvious that you responded even better to dirty talk than praise.

“You like that, huh?  You like makin’ me feel good?” he pressed, laughing a little when you nodded feverishly.  “Fuck, such a good girl… takin’ me so good, so fuckin’ deep…”

You grabbed him by his hair to make him kiss you again, hungry lips smashing against his.

Inspired by your passion but afraid of what he’d do with all of this control, he wrapped his arms around you and hoisted you up until he was sitting while you straddled him, looking up at you with a grin.  "Ride me, pretty girl, show me how bad you want it," he instructed lowly.  The way you rocked your hips and threw your head back was everything he'd dreamed it would be, increased exponentially.  Of course, he'd never told anyone that he dreamed about that, but he'd also never thought it could ever come true.  He ran his hands over every part of you he could reach, just to make sure it was real; just to make sure he memorized the feel of you while he could.

He leaned forward and wrapped his lips around a hardened nipple, sucking gently and smirking a little when you moaned loudly.  “You’re sensitive here,” he noted aloud, kissing his way to the other nipple but still teasing the first with his metal fingers.

Your moans came faster and louder, your fingers combing through his hair and pulling seemingly unintentionally.  He noticed that you let your eyes fall shut, your head crane back, and although he was glad that it was a sign of pleasure, he wanted to see you; he wanted you to see him, know that it was him making you feel this way.  so, he reached up and cupped your face in his hand, cradling your cheek, pulling you closer to look at him, staring into your eyes— and he knew it wasn't a subtle move, wasn't believable as a guy just helping out a friend, but he didn't care anymore.  When he kissed you again, it almost felt like you meant it, too; like you wanted him first, and not just as a consolation prize.

But you pulled back a little too soon, a reminder to both of you that this couldn’t be anything more than what it was.

Your hips gyrated faster and more vigorously, his hands gripping you tight and guiding your movements while you sighed and bit your lip.  You looked so indescribably good when you were immersed in pleasure like this, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly for balance, your chest swelling and deflating with quick breaths.

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispered below his breath as his hand softly trailed from your collarbone down to your thigh.  The sounds you made were constantly changing, a little more high-pitched and needy now as you rode him faster.  He was already picking up on the little signs that you were getting closer: your thighs flexing where they were straddled beside his own, how your body jolted and shivered in his grasp, your eyes wrenched shut and your skin breaking out into goosebumps.

Already he knew your body so well, but he knew there was so much more he would never get the chance to discover.  For now, he’d just have to settle for a preview of all the perfect little ways you fell apart.

And, in the interest of speeding that process up a bit, he reached down to where your bodies were joined and circled a thumb over your clit.

“Fuck!” you yelped, your inner muscles bearing down on him out of nowhere until he was forced to groan from your tightness.

“You close?” he stammered out, way less confident than he meant it to be.  He should’ve said something cool like ‘I know you’re close’ or ‘aw, baby, does that feel good?’ but no, he was too far gone and gave his own desperation away.

"Yes, baby, I'm so close," you sighed, "I'm gonna come— you're gonna make me come."

You said it with a hint of shock in your voice, like you could barely believe it.  He couldn't believe it, either, because it was surely too good to be true.

"Come for me," he instructed firmly, pulling you closer until his nose brushed against yours, "say my name when I make you come."

It was unfair, but he needed to pretend you were his for just a moment.  Only his.

"Bucky," you whimpered shakily.  Your walls tightened around him so perfectly, over and over, until it took everything in him not to bust right then.  "Bucky, I'm coming, fuck, I'm coming—"

"I know," he whispered, "I know, pretty girl, keep going."

Your nails dug into his skin, but he couldn’t even notice the pain when he was watching your face as you came— it was tight and twisted at first, before falling into a gasp and a moan that made his heart swell along with his cock that painted your walls the absolute second he knew you’d come.  It was intense, not just from holding back for so long, but from knowing he was coming inside you.

He sighed and started to catch his breath as you slumped forward and buried your face in the crook of his neck.  His arms wrapped around you and pulled you closer, the warmth of your body nearly overwhelming now as he felt little aftershocks ripple through your channel around where he was still within you.

"Thank you," you whispered, so quiet he could barely hear it.  But he did, and he nodded a little as he rested his face against yours, stroking your hair gently.  You held each other in silence for a long time, so long that when your breathing slowed down significantly and he could feel your body relax entirely, he realized you had fallen asleep.  

Carefully, he held you tighter so he could stand up and carry you to his bedroom, your body instinctively wrapping around him like a koala… like even in your sleep, you could act all adorable and break his heart just that much more.  

He did his best to tread quietly and gently, laying you down onto the bed and only then pulling his softened cock out of you, finding his discarded boxers to put back on before joining you between the sheets.  

He knew you would be gone in the morning but he indulged himself in holding you tonight, breathing your scent and pressing your back against his chest.  He didn't want to fall asleep because he didn't want to miss a second of your body wrapped in his, but it was impossible not to with the soft pace of your breathing almost rocking him to sleep like a beautiful lullaby.

Where there was warmth and peace before, he awoke to cold and emptiness— both between his sheets and in himself.

It’s not like he really expected you to stay, and even if you had it wouldn’t mean that you would leave your husband for your best friend, that this would have ever been anything more than a glimpse of what could’ve been in another life or another universe.

He could still smell you, barely, and he buried his face in the sheets to take it all in before it faded away.  When it was gone, he pulled back only to find a wet patch of his tears there instead.

[lottiebagley]

Voodoo doll - Draco Malfoy

I don't even like you Why'd you want to go and make me feel this way? I don't understand what's happened I keep saying things I never say

Draco Malfoy despised her. He despised everything she was. He despised mudbloods. He despised Gryffindor's. He despised Harry Potter and his stupid friends.

And yet, Draco Malfoy finds it hard to pull his eyes away, finds it hard to focus on anything other than the way she bites her bottom lip to keep from laughing at something Ron Weasley is muttering to her.

Draco despised Ron. He despises his family. He despises his loud laugh and the way when he glances at her from across the hall he sees Ron chewing with his mouth open. He despises, more than anything else, that Ron seems to always make her laugh. Since first year she had surrounded herself in Weasley's and she seemed to think they were the funniest people walking the earth and Draco despised it.

He also despised the pit of jealousy in his stomach at the way she leans closer to whisper something back to the ginger boy who is smirking wildly. Draco watches as the worst of their little group, Harry, laughs at whatever it is she whispered from his seat next to Ron, styling it into a cough when Professor Flitwick shoots him a disgruntled look. Draco watches as her best friend, a mudblood Draco had no weird and confusing feelings towards, rolls her eyes at her friends laughter.

He continues to watch despite Pansy pawing at him for attention, as she lets out a yawn, stretching a little in her chair and allowing her head to drop to Ron's shoulder. He watches as Harry reaches across and ruffles her hair to which she swiftly leans over Ron, Draco tries to not think about the view this gives Ron, to flick Harry's nose, the entire interaction going unnoticed by the charms professor.

Almost as if she can feel eyes on her, she leans forward a little in her seat, glancing over her shoulder and smirking when she sees the pair of grey eyes staring right back at her.

Their relationship could only be described as confusing.

In first year Draco mercilessly bullied her, although she never seemed to care all that much, content in her little trio that Hermione soon joined, and spending very little time thinking about the boy, although, that would change soon enough. She argued back of course, a strong minded young girl, but it never seemed to get under her skin.

In second year they ignored each other, dirty glares and muttered remarks but Draco backed off her for the most part, he did it because he hated the feeling in his stomach, the way it flipped in excitement when she walked into a room. Without his rude remarks to fight back against she lived blissfully without the boy.

Third year was the worst for everyone else around them. Puberty well and truly hit and she returned to school with boobs, something Draco greatly enjoyed. In turn she developed a weird crush on him, he was taller and his hair was longer and he walked with an undeniably attractive confidence. Neither of them wanted to admit to fancying the other, after all they hated everything about each other, so rather than confronting their own feelings they would fight. They would scream at each other, pick insults that were way too low and yet they both looked forward the the arguments just to be in such close proximity to the other.

In fourth year, at Fred Weasley's suggestion, rather than insulting Draco she would flirt with him constantly. It got under his skin more than any insult, although she didn't realise the reason it did was that it made his heart practically glow. He hated her and she hated him and yet they seemed to always be talking and flirting, yes it often ended in passionate rows but they were some how addicted to each other. Draco lived for the minutes she would bat her eyes lashes at him and smirk widely and for a second he almost let himself feel, almost let himself bask in the emotions, almost let himself ask her to the ball and let go of what everyone would think and say. Until he saw her kissing Dean Thomas in Hogsmeade.

And now, in fifth year, it was a weird combination of it all. They were hot and cold, on and off. One day they'd be flirting, the next ignoring each other, the next screaming at each other in the courtyard. Both feeling so much towards each other and not wanting to process what that meant. No one knew what to expect from them, they didn't even really know what to expect from each other.

But as her eyes fall on Draco she smirks, sending him a wink before turning back to the front of the classroom.

Draco despised how much he looked forward to the flirting days. He also despises the fluttering of his heart at the fact today seems to be just that.

I can feel you watching even when you're nowhere to be seen I can feel you touching even when you're far away from me

Draco can't help the smirk on his face when he sees her, she's standing in the corridor that leads to the Slytherin common room, a warm glow illuminating her distant figure from the candles lighting the dungeons.

"Lost, darling?" he drawls, his smirk widening when she turns at the sound of his voice

"You wish I was your darling," She taunts

"It's in my dreams every night," He speaks dramatically, glad she doesn't quite seem to pick up on the element of truth behind it.

"Well for that I can't say I'm surprised," She grins, the gap between them has closed and she stands now only a small distance from him. A distance so close he could extend his arm, wrap it around her waist and pull her flush against him. He forces himself to drop that thought. "What're you doing out so late Malfoy?" She questions, smirk ever present on her face.

"I could ask you the same thing," He comments, eyes scanning her, greedily taking in her body. He would tattoo the image to his mind if he could.

"I asked first,"

"Prefect's rounds," He shrugs, she smirks even wider

"Well of course the uptight self proclaimed Slytherin prince is on his prefect rounds,"

"I live to serve my house," He mocks, enjoying the small giggle that she treats him too, enjoying the fact it was him making her laugh and not a stupid Weasley. "So, why are you out so late and wondering so far from your tower? Anyone would think you were looking for someone," He smirks expectantly

"That would be my secret Slytherin boyfriend," She chimes, for a second his heart stings until he notices the mischievous glint in her eyes.

"And here I was thinking that I was your favourite Slytherin," He speaks slowly, a low tone that makes her knees weak

"Whatever gave you the impression you were my favourite anything?" She questions

"We both know you have a soft spot for me darling, no need to deny it,"

"Draco Malfoy, I utterly and truly hate you,"

"Same to you," His tone is sharper than before, his heart hurting in his chest, until she shoots him a small smile. "You still haven't told me why you're out of bed. I should punish you," His tone is low again and she can't convince herself he doesn't know what he's doing.

"Oh you'd like that wouldn't you Malfoy?" She chimes, he gulps a little, but remains cool.

She reaches up, pushing her weight onto her tippy toes, face so close he could feel her breath on his skin readjusting the silver and green prefects badge pinned to his front, straightening it before drawing away.  "I should get going, Harry'll have a fit if I'm late," She comments, Draco wonders what she could possibly be doing that involved Harry so late and in the dungeons, he questioned why they wouldn't have walked together. He seethes at the idea of her leaving his company to go to Harry's.

She turns and walks away, leaving Draco staring after her. She turns back once she reaches the end of the corridor. "Dream of me Malfoy," She calls, her voice light, before she turns around the corner and disappears from his sight.

Draco had no doubt that he would do just that and he absolutely hates it.

Tell me where you're hiding your voodoo doll 'cause I can't control myself I don't wanna stay, I wanna run away but I'm trapped under your spell

Draco isn't sure why he can't wipe the thought of her out of his head, he just knows he doesn't like it.

He doesn't like that he finds his eyes scanning every room he enters in case she's there. He doesn't like that his breath catches in his throat when she smiles at him from across the room. He doesn't like that his friends seemed to have picked up on the entire situation.

"Who would of thought a mudblood would be the one to turn Malfoy soft," Blaise smirks widely as they sit in the library

"You don't know what you're talking about Zabini," Draco snaps, his eyes give him away though. They're trained on the girl three tables down.

She's resting her head in her hands, looking mildly exasperated as Fred and Ron argue in front of her. Each boy earning dirty looks from the librarian due to their loud volume, she smirks a little at something Fred says that seems to anger Ron even more and Draco's stomach flips at the sight, she yawns, stretching in her seat a little and it's then that Draco notices how tired she seems.

Sensing eyes on her she looks away from the boys, eyes quickly falling on Draco, she surprises him a little when instead of sending him a cold glare or dramatic wink she's seemingly a little more honest than usual, sending him a small smile.

His heart feels like it's being squeezed, he's struggling to find air in his lungs and he hates the feeling, he hates that it's her that caused it, he hates that he wants to feel it over and over again.

He vows in that moment to stop. Stop letting himself fall for her.

He doesn't return her smile, instead fixing her his usual cold glare, before turning to Blaise "Never let me go soft for her again," He mutters, Blaise chuckles under his breath

"You're already soft Malfoy," Theo comments

"Shut up. I don't and won't have feelings for a dirty fucking mudblood," Draco scoffs, turning back to his book with a new found bitterness in his chest.

And it hurts in my head and my heart and my chest And I'm having trouble catching my breath Won't you please stop loving me to death?

He doesn't so much as spare her a glance for the next week. No matter how badly his heart longs for him to turn his head at the sound of her voice, no matter how much he wants to kiss her when he sees her laughing in Hogsmeade, no matter how much he wants to tell her to shut up and stop asking for trouble when she talks back at Professor Umbridge.

As much as she denies Hermione's constant pestering about her crush on the Slytherin boy she had come around as of late to admit it to herself. That's why it infuriates her so much. How dare he choose to just suddenly act as if she doesn't even exist.

"Look, it's your boyfriend," George comments, shoving into her side a little as she walks between the twins on her way down to the Hufflepuff V Ravenclaw quidditch game.

"I'll meet you down there," She announces, storming away from the twins with a determined rage in her heart

Draco is leaning against a wall outside a class room that lays empty due to it being a Saturday. The minute he feels a hand wrap around his wrist he moves to tell whoever it is to fuck off, but his heart warms at the sight of her as she pulls him into the class room, slamming the door behind them.

He reminds himself of his resolve to ignore her and despite desperately wanting to kiss her, he attempts to move out of the room.

"Don't even think about it Malfoy," She spits out, arms crossing over her chest

"What the fuck do you want?"

"To know why you suddenly seem to have forgotten I exist!" She demands, voice growing louder with her anger.

"I need to go and meet Pansy," He states, tone as cold as ice

"We both know you fucking hate pugface,"

"I haven't forgotten you exist. You have forgotten your place," He informs, his voice dangerously haughty and she can just tell whatever he says next is going to piss her off

"Well why don't you do the honour of reminding me?" She demands

"You're a dirty mudblood who's associated with blood traitor's and wizarding embarrassments alike. So clearly your place is below mine," He reels off

"No, that is incorrect. You are a self centred, self loathing, pretentious arse with raging daddy issues and given we are both human beings we are on the same fucking level! Don't you ever think you are superior to me!"

"You don't deserve a second of my time!" He argues back, voice raising out of anger. The anger is clearly more at himself, because it's true, he was raised believing people like her didn't deserve a second thought and yet she was all he could think about.

"Then why are you so infatuated by me? Why do you care so much about trying to hurt me! If I'm nothing to you why do-"

His lips slam against hers. Cutting her off as his hands push her backwards against the wall behind her. He kisses hard and fast and groans when she returns it, her hands going to his hair that she'd want to run her finger through for as long as she could remember.

"What the fuck was that?" She demands, the second Draco pulls away, he groans loudly

"What the fuck do you think you idiot?"

"A kiss," She mumbles quietly and god does it make Draco's heart skip a beat

"Obviously," He snaps, suddenly feeling insecure because christ what if she had never wanted this and what if it hand't been everything she'd been dreaming of and what if he misread everything and she really did just hate him and now he-

"Do it again," Her demand silences the voices in his head and his lips are back on hers in a heart beat.

I don't even see my friends no more 'Cause I keep hanging out with you I don't know how you kept me up all night Or how I got this tattoo

Draco lives for the moments he makes her laugh. Eveything else melts away and it's just her, pressed against his chest in whatever broom cupboard he's tugged her into, giggling as he smiles widely, shushing her a little when her laugh rings louder, not wanting to ruin their secret rendezvous.

"You look really beautiful," He smiles gently, it's late at night and Draco had dropped a note on her Potions desk that morning asking her to meet him in the astronomy tower that night.

She'd shown up with a giddy grin and a bag full of snacks. He'd been waiting, wrapped in a blanket that he was quick to offer her half of. She'd accepted with a smile and her heart beat a little too fast when his scent wrapped around her shoulder.

"So do you Malfoy,"

"Think we are past the surnames thing now darling," He grins

"Took our time getting here," She comments, moving her head to rest it on Draco's shoulder

"Well, I blame that on your bad taste in friends," He teases, a playful smirk on his face as she rolls her eyes

"I'd put it on your blood and house supremacy," She shrugs making him laugh

"It probably was mostly that," He admits, she hadn't meant anything by it and truly didn't hold anything against Draco

"Hey, it's in the past," She smiles, he nods, glancing down at her as she grins back up. He can't help himself from pressing his lips down to hers.

I can feel you watching even when you're nowhere to be seen I can feel you touching even when you're far away from me

"So are you guys dating?" Hermione whispers, it was very unlike her to be talking during class but she was clearly much more interested in her friends sneaking around then whatever Professor Binns is clamouring on about at the front of the room.

"No, I've told you a million times 'Mione, it's casual," She speaks, ignoring the way Hermione rolls her eyes.

Casual.

It was a word that she couldn't get out of her head.

She'd questioned Draco on what they were actually doing one day when he'd snuck her into his prefect dorm. He had blanched for a second, stammering over his words, announcing something about secrets and casual flings and she'd figured it best not to push it any further. She'd rather have that than nothing.

Draco Malfoy was utterly addictive and the thought of loosing his presence didn't sit right so she would take what she could get.

Draco on the other hand was furious.

He hadn't expected her to question what they were, kind of assuming she would naturally know that he had liked her forever and as much as he wasn't ready for the backlash of publicly dating. He had been hers for years and he'd kind of hoped she felt the same.

That's why he had frozen. Been so surprised by the question that he'd lied. Trying to sound cool and act like he didn't spend his every waking moment thinking about her.

"That's so ridiculous. You clearly care for him," Hermione protests, both girls are now staring at the back of Draco's head a few rows in front of them

"I'm not denying that," She reminds

"So tell him that you don't want to be casual,"

"It was his choice Hermione, not mine, alright?" She snaps. Hermione sighs but drops the subject turning back to the chalk board at the front of the class, sensing her best friend doesn't want to continue with this conversation.

Tell me where you're hiding your voodoo doll 'cause I can't control myself

I don't wanna stay, I wanna run away but I'm trapped under your spell

She smiles when he enters the empty class room, it's late on a Friday night and most students were in their common rooms or dorms relaxing with their friends meaning the couple had enough freedom to meet up without it being the middle of the night.

"Hi there," She grins, pushing herself off the desk she had been perched on

"Fancy seeing you here," He smirks, she rolls her eyes as he arrives in front of her, his lips finding hers and kissing gently before he pulls away, chuckling when her lips chase after his.

"Good day?" He questions, hand reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear

"Alright, Umbridge is a right cow though,"

"Theo mentioned she gave you detention,"

"Yeah cause I was standing too close to Nev apparently," She shrugs, Draco smiles gently, he knew how much she hated the woman and based on how bias she was felt lucky he'd fallen on her good side "How was your day?" She asks

"Alright, Daphne and Theo broke up yet again so that's been all anyone's been talking about all day,"

"Those two are more off and on than a fucking tap," She comments he laughs a little

"They live for the drama," He shrugs, it's when he goes to grab her hand he notices it, the way she winces slightly "You okay?"

"Fine," She nods

"Why did you wince when I grabbed your hand then?" He demands, he doesn't mean to sound quite so harsh and almost angry but he hates that she isn't opening up to her, in honesty he truly just cares and wants to make sure she's okay, but isn't really sure how to go about it.

"I hurt it playing quidditch,"

"You haven't had practice in a week because Angelina's been in the hospital wing," Draco presses

"It's nothing. Just drop it," She snaps but Draco is fiercely protective over the people he cares about and he would be damned if he didn't find out what's going on.

He grabs for her wrist, pulling it closer and he's seen it before she can pull her arm away.

"Who did this?" He demands, the red scarring on her hand faded a little from the lotion George had given her but still a little inflamed

"It doesn't matter,"

"I swear if it was Potter-"

"Are you a fucking idiot?" She demands, snatching her hand away from Draco "Of course it wasn't one of my best friends!"

"Then who?" Draco is practically shouting and wondering how just seconds ago they'd been perfectly fine

"Umbridge," The girl mutters

"She's a teacher! She wouldn't-"

"Oh my god! Draco pull your head out of your arse long enough to realise the world around you isn't fucking perfect! Everything is falling apart and we are on opposite sides and so yes the people who treat you well probably don't do the same to me!" She's shouting now and despite his anger he's starting to realise he may have been wrong, his stubbornness refuses to let him admit that though.

"I'm not an idiot! I know that! but I don't believe that a ministry official and teacher is using illegal physical punishments!" Draco argues, sticking to his argument simply because he won't be the first to back down.

She doesn't even bother to respond instead turning on her heels and marching towards the door

"Wait!" He demands, she stops but doesn't turn around "At least let me help you fix it and we can talk about this,"

"It's none of your concern," She spits out, turning only to glare at him

"And why is that?"

"You aren't my boyfriend Malfoy," She sneers before leaving the room.

And it hurts in my head and my heart and my chest And I'm having trouble catching my breath Won't you please stop loving me to death?

Realistically Draco knew she was right. He had been the one who said casual and so yes, he wasn't her boyfriend even if he wishes he was.

So, with this in mind, as he sits in the great hall he wonders why he feels like he's going through a break up.

His chin rests in his hand and a large pout on his face, he sits amongst his friends but doesn't join in the conversation, if they try to include him the only response they receive is icy cold glares and so they leave him to his moping. When he's not glaring at his friends he's staring at her.

She seems fine, although she isn't and it's all one giant and stubborn act. Draco doesn't know this though and it makes him even more mad, had he really been falling for someone who cared so little for him?

She's sat next to Harry, chatting excitedly with Hermione from across the table, Ron is on her other side, talking despite his mouth full of chicken and Draco ignores the feeling of disgust at the sight, deciding looking at her is worth it. Ginny and Neville are on either side of Hermione, seemingly also excited by whatever the group are discussing.

He watches as she smirks, eyebrows wiggling at Ginny as she says something that makes the group laugh, Ginny rolls her eyes and flicks a forkful of peas at the girl before laughing along.

He'd tried a few times over the last week, since he'd so badly ruined what they had going on with his own stubborn ignorance, every time she would ignore him.

If he approached her she would turn and walk in the other direction. She always seemed to have one of her friends by her side, glowering at him when he attempted to talk to her. He would pass her notes and watch as she never even bothered to read them.

It hurt, he wasn't ready to admit it allowed but it did. He resented her stubbornness and his own alongside it for getting them in this position in the first place.

When he finally catches her eye from across the hall, he is pleasantly surprised when she doesn't immediately turn away. He smiles, a small smile that an onlooker wouldn't even notice. She still stares emotionless, almost like she's waiting and he feels that now is his chance, mouth an apology, motion with his head to follow him and get up and leave. All of these would be better plans than just staring right back but that's what he does.

She rolls her eyes, admittedly beginning to feel bad and like maybe she's over reacting but not prepared to back down, before turning back to her friends.

Every time you're near me suddenly my heart begins to race Every time I leave I don't know why my heart begins to break

Draco hated that for whatever stupid reason she was still friends with her ex-boyfriend. He'd always hated it, but now, staring at her from across the library he hated it.

She was a few tables away, feet tucked under her and a wide smile on her face. Dean was next to her, laughing at whatever she's saying as he flicks through the open text book in front of him.

"Just go and say something," Theo groans, thoroughly sick of his friend moping and complaining

"I'm not her boyfriend," Draco mutters, sighing a little

"Yeah no shit. You're not her boyfriend cause you've been stupid and tried to act like you hate her and then you've been stupid and unable to admit to your own emotions but just walk over there and tell her how you feel and hey presto, you're her fucking boyfriend and we can all stop having to listen to your complaining," Theo rambles

"Don't call me stupid or I'll end you Knott,"

"You have been stupid," Blaise mutters, not bothering to look up from his essay

"Oh you can fuck off and all," Draco snaps, eyes still glued to her and her fellow Gryffindor.

Draco watches as Dean leans across the table, hand cupping her cheek as his thumb swipes across her cheek bone. His entire body feels like it's on fire as she does nothing to stop him, smiling at whatever he says before he pulls his hand away, she leans forward and blows on his thumb and god if Draco doesn't hate the intimacy.

"Okay that's it, I'm going over there," Draco shoves his chair aside as he stands, marching across the hall.

"I need to speak to you," he demands

"Uh, why?" Dean questions, looking at the boy in confusion

"Not you fucking idiot. Why would I want to speak to you?" Draco snaps, arms crossing over his chest

"What do you want Draco?" She snaps, he feels a little relief at her calling him Draco, maybe he hadn't fucked this up as much as he'd thought.

"To talk to you,"

"You are talking to me,"

"Alone,"

"I'm busy," She sighs, turning back to her work

"Not too busy for me," Draco decides, he's expecting her to argue but she rolls her eyes, tells Dean she'll be right back, and marches out of the library knowing he'll follow.

Tell me where you're hiding your voodoo doll 'cause I can't control myself

I don't wanna stay, I wanna run away but I'm trapped under your spell

"So you're dating him again?" Draco interrogates the second they're in an empty, relatively small broom cupboard.

"No I'm not," She returns, pulling the string to turn the light on, a yellowish glow entering the room and wavering a little.

"So, why are you with him?"

"We are friends and we are studying together. I don't assume you're dating Blaise and Theo because you were studying with them do I?"  

"Well, they weren't stroking my face,"

"I had an eyelash on my cheek so he got rid of it for me because I kept not getting it," She explains, letting out an exasperated sigh.

Draco feels like an idiot.

"Even if I were dating him it would have nothing to do with you," She adds

"We both know that's not true," He snaps

"You were the one who said you wanted casual and then tried to act like you owned me!"

"I was concerned about you!"

"You accused me of lying when I was honest with you!"

"Well you had just lied to my face and blamed it on quidditch!"

"It's none of you business what happens to me and wethe-"

Once again, Draco cuts her off by slamming his lips against her own. Pushing her against the wall behind her as he kisses her. Hard and fast and god his hands are every where and she can feel her anger melting away as she pulls him impossibly closer by his shirt.

"You should stop kissing me when I'm trying to argue with you," She lets out as he pulls away, breathless as he keeps her caged between his body and the wall

"It's the best way to get you to shut up," He smirks, looking her up and down, eyes full of lust and longing and crap maybe even a little love but she's no where near ready to think about that yet. "For the record it is my business what happens to you,"

"And why is that?"

"I'm your boyfriend now," He announces, pressing one last hot kiss to her lips before pulling away and exiting the cupboard leaving her breathless and flushed, heart melting in her chest.

And it hurts in my head and my heart and my chest And I'm having trouble catching my breath Won't you please stop loving me to death?

MASTERLIST

[charlie-pippin-faraday]

House of Anubis birthday headcanons

This is a branch off my previous post where I talked about birthdays and star signs. Now I’m gonna talk about more detailed and ~fun~ headcanons

They are the 1995-96 school year

Nina and Joy are the oldest (I’ve already had lengthy discussions about this, about whether they’re the oldest or youngest. I personally believe they’re the oldest, so that’s what I’m going with in my headcanons). Their birthday is July 7, 1995 (Cancers 🦀). And yes usually July birthdays are on the younger end, but the wiki says Amber’s September birthday and Eddie’s November birthday are 1995, and fall birthdays are definitely on the older end. This means that the January-June birthdays of that year are gonna be in 1996. It’s not totally out of the question for a summer/July birthday to be on the older end instead of the younger one. Because Eddie’s November ‘95 and he’s in their year, they kind of have to be the oldest. So, conclusion: Nina and Joy are the oldest ones in the house

Both Nina and Joy definitely had pool parties for their birthday as kids. One or both of them almost definitely had ice cream cake at least once. Nina also thinks the idea of being in school on her birthday is barbaric

Season 3 is their senior year, meaning it’s the year they’re all turning 18. This is part of the reason Amber was making such a big deal about her birthday in S3; 1) it’s Amber so of course and 2) it was her 18th birthday, so she absolutely wanted it to be special

Because they were all turning 18, Amber wanted to make everyone’s birthday special. She planned to throw parties for everyone’s birthdays (except Joy, RIP, who turned 18 in the summer before the school year started). However, Amber wasn’t actually around to throw any of those parties. But she did leave all her party stuff behind, so the rest of them use her party supplies for everyone’s 18th birthday parties

Amber’s birthday is September 9 (a Virgo 😘), so every year she sees her birthday as the celebration to kick off the school year. She wants a huge celebration and a party and cake and presents for her birthday every year. She’s also definitely the high school girl who had her friends decorate her locker and had birthday balloons tied to her bag that she carried around all day on her birthday every year. She also definitely wore like a birthday tiara

I believe that Mara is a Libra (⚖️), and that her birthday is in early October (my headcanon is Oct. 6). She likes having a fall birthday because she likes how cozy it is and she likes to indulge in a pumpkin spice latte. She doesn’t like to make a huge deal about her birthday, and whenever people try to make a fuss she’s like no no there’s no need to make a big deal. She doesn’t want like the world’s biggest party, however, if anyone tries to make her do anything she doesn’t want to do on her birthday, she gets very pissy

Eddie’s birthday is November 19 (fuckin Scorpio 🦂), meaning that it is very close to American Thanksgiving. As a child he would always say to his mother that Thanksgiving “got in the way” of his birthday

Patricia’s birthday is December 8 (Sagittarius 🏹), and originally she’s not a big fan of her birthday and it makes her angry because she has to share her birthday with Piper (obviously) like she has to share everything. Birthday parties as children were not fun for Patricia bc obviously there would be one party for the both of them and her parents would skew it towards Piper. Patricia resented her birthday for awhile. However, Joy, always tries to go out of her way to make her birthday special and just for her (“You will have a good time on your birthday, Patricia!”), and eventually she comes around to enjoying her birthday as long as it’s exclusively her birthday

Fabian is absolutely a Capricorn (🐐), everything about him screams Capricorn. Which means his birthday is anywhere from late December to mid-January, and I believe his birthday is definitely two days before Christmas. He gets really grumpy and bitter about his birthday because of that; his birthday constantly gets pushed to the side for Christmas, and he can never spend his birthday with his friends because it’s always over the holidays. He says it’s fine (“it’s fine”) and that he’s just not a big birthday person, but that’s a lie he’s just grumpy about it. He was gifted many combo birthday-Christmas gifts as a child which he was not a fan of. He also does a little bit of “i hate my birthday out of spite” in the vein of Chandler Bing and Thanksgiving, but like only a little bit [side note: my dad’s birthday is two days after Christmas, so I can confirm that people with Christmas-adjacent birthdays are absolutely grumpy and “woe is me” like this]

I believe KT is an Aquarius (🏺) and that her birthday is at the very end of January (my headcanon is Jan. 29). She was definitely that kid in school who brought cupcakes into school on her birthday, and she continues this tradition at Anubis House. She wakes up early on her birthday so that she can make cupcakes to bring to class. Alfie’s a big fan

Willow is for sure a Pisces (🐟), and her birthday is in late February (my headcanon is Feb. 24). The thing she wants the most for her birthday every single year is for it to snow on her birthday. She wants her birthday to be “a winter wonderland.” And whenever it does actually snow on her birthday, it’s the best thing to ever happen to her in her entire life, and she spends all day in the snow

I believe Mick is an Aries (🐏), and his birthday is in late March (my headcanon is March 30)

I believe Alfie is also an Aries (🐏), and in my mind is birthday is on April Fool’s Day. No one believes him when he tells them at first. His birthday is always a riot. Everyone feels bad about getting mad at his April Fool’s Day pranks because they don’t want to make him upset on his birthday, and because of this he goes just a little bit mad with power

Because their birthdays are 2 days apart, Alfie and Mick often had joint birthday festivities. Alfie loves sharing; Mick is not so keen about it. Alfie often takes over the birthday festivities and tends to make them more about himself, which steams Mick a little bit. However, Alfie also enthusiastically calls the two of them “birthday buddies” which Mick can’t help but like

I can totally see Trudy either A) making two cakes or B) making one of those cakes that’s split down the middle, like one half is chocolate/chocolate and one half is vanilla/vanilla or whatever. And she totally puts their faces on the cake (which they both would love) and puts the face on each respective half so they know whose is whose. “Whoever’s cake you pick is who you love more,” Alfie declares every year, making the whole house choose sides

Now Jerome, I believe, is a Gemini (👯‍♀️), and his birthday is in mid-June (my headcanon is June 11). This means he’s the youngest one in the house, which he absolutely fucking hates. He tries to keep his birthday a secret from everyone for the longest time. For awhile, they think that Alfie is the youngest, and he would prefer to keep it that way. He absolutely does not want anyone to know that he is anubis house baby. He declares the day they find out the truth the worst day of his life. Everyone makes jokes about it which angers him to no end. “I am the tallest one here!! Don’t disrespect me like this!!” “Yeah but you’re still the baby of the house. Have you hit puberty yet?”

Once Jerome’s 18th birthday hits and they have the final 18th birthday party, Trudy gets incredibly emotional because all of her babies are adults now. She definitely cries a little. Or a lot

[urmomsmainbitch]

american idiot - chapter one

link to wattpad story // link to series masterlist // link to writing

word count: 2.7k

warnings: the bowers gang, weapons, violence, basically the whole thing (if you're not comfortable with violence or abuse -- which henry faces during the movies and during the book -- then i recommend you don't read, but i'll try to tag appropriately!)

a/n: i hope you don't think it's ass but this is probably going to come out every other friday or so but this is more of a trailer than the start of the actual series

HENRY DIDN'T REMEMBER a better time in his life than when he heard the news that Tommy 'Gun' Lee was coming back to Derry for the summer. To him, nothing topped the moment where is dad was slurring over his dinner (leftover hot dogs -- again), and let it slip that the "ungrateful little bitch" was coming back for a few months over the summer, and that "your whore of a mother" didn't mention if she was staying for the year or not.

He remembered huffing and puffing, grumbling something under his breath before excusing himself, and running to call Patrick like it was fucking Christmas morning.

Something about his darling little sister coming back made his heart race and a smile light up his face, and it was evident from the way he stepped into Derry Middle on the last day of school.

Oh, this summer would be perfect! His deal with Denbrough was over, the gang was all together, and his perfect sister was coming back from San Diego for the summer. Tommy Lee Bowers, he knew, would make this the best summer he;d ever had -- and by fucking God, he wasn't going to let anything stand in his way. Not that stuttering freak or the stupid Tozier kid who's mouth ran a mile a minute or his father's thriving alcohol addiction -- absolutely nothing.

His Tommy Gun would rule that fucking school the second she stepped in to pick him up, and every one knew it.

Word travels fast at Derry Middle, and when it got around that Bowers had a little sister coming, the first thing Bill Denbrough did was panic.

She couldn't be too different, could she?

The same blood ran through their veins, the same color skin on their bones, and most likely, the permanently upturned smirk tattooed to their lips. His hopes didn't improve when he saw the girl himself, waiting outside on the hood of Butch's car, throwing rocks at little kids passing by as she sat patiently for Henry to come outside.

He'd promised her a tour of the school -- it's only fair, he put it, that a queen knows her kingdom before taking it over. Henry had no doubt that Tommy would run the school when it was her time in September. A grade below Tits and the rest of his ugly friends, it would be more embarrassing than anything else to watch them suffer socially at the hands of a twelve year old girl.

(Henry very much looked forward to that moment. So much so, in fact, that he near goddamn skipped his way to the front of the school to open the door so they could start the tour. It helped that he was getting out of math class.)

It was only in the few moments before she walked in the door (immediately claiming the whole goddamn building with a footstep) that Bowers caught him by the bag and dragged him into the bathroom, away from the rest of the kids, and most likely, where he'd lay dying for the rest of the school day and foreseeable future (Stanley refused to shit in the school bathrooms, and seeing as he was the only one on this side of the building, he was screwed.).

Bill had never liked being alone with Henry Bowers. Nothing good ever came out of it, and he didn't want to stick around this time to find out why he'd been pulled into a bathroom and away from the rest of the student population. Henry let go of Bill's bag, letting him stumble around for a second or two before straightening up and backing him up against the wall.

"W-what d-d-do you w-want, B-Bowers?" Bill nearly spat, looking the older boy in the eyes. Henry's permanent smirk seemed to grow a few inches on either side, because he just chuckled softly -- albeit cruelly -- and looked down at the Denbrough boy. Bill could smell his breath, even though the two weren't standing particularly close to one another.

"Well, B-b-billy," he mocked, nearly laughing as he relaxed his posture a little bit and backed away from him. (Any one is passing who didn't know them might have said, "Hey, I bet those two boys are damn good friends.") "I have some news for you and your group of stupid fucking friends, and let me tell you" -- Henry stopped to laugh for a second, like he was cracking himself up -- "it's going to make your life a living hell."

Bill gulped. He didn't think, realistically, it could get much worse.

"You got a free ride this year because of your little brother," Henry reminded, smiling a little bit, seeming genuine. "But the ride's over Denbrough. This summer is going to be the worst summer of your entire life."

(Bill didn't expect him to say anything else -- but honestly, every summer was the worst summer of his entire life. He didn't catch a break from the older boy and his group of goons, but there was a feeling down in the pits of his stomach that told him that this time, this time, for real, was going to be the worst summer vacation he's ever going to have as long as he lives.)

"But I do have a little piece of extra advice I'm gonna give you."

Bill huffed. "You're so generous," he started, rolling his eyes, as he tried to walk out of the bathroom. Henry grabbed onto his backpack, "but I think I'll have to pass with this one."

He was cut off as Bowers kicked him on shin and onto the cold bathroom tiles. So much for being brave.

"I think you might want to hear this." Henry squatted down to look Bill in the eyes. There was still a hint of a smile on his face. Boy, this is gonna be good. "If you think I'm a pain in your ass--"

"I d-do think you're a p-pain in m-my a-ass."

Henry paused for a second, sending a menacing smile, and pushed him back on the ground as he got up and stepped over the boy on the floor, before beginning to make his way out of the bathroom before looking back, before lending Bill a hand to get up. He hesitantly took it and brushed off his pants, lips pressed tightly together as he looked at Henry. "Then you're gonna hate the girl sitting on Belch's car."

"Why's that?" Bill asked, feigning confidence, already knowing the answer. Henry could tell, just exhaling and giving him a big mischievous smile, hands behind his back.

"Not important, but she's not gonna be as nice as I am," he said with a grin, "but I'm just looking out for you, Billy Boy. Wouldn't want Tommy Gun to whip your ass without some working, right?"

With that, Henry left the bathroom, a smile plastered on his face as he went to greet his sister, and Bill raced out of there like his ass was on fire -- warning Richie not to talk to or about the pretty girl sitting on Belch's car.

-- -- --

"Best feeling ever!" Stan groaned, grinning ear to ear as he dumped out everything from his backpack. School had finally let out for the summer — no more stupid math classes or dumb reading assignments and annoying history tests, just Stanley and his bird book for three whole months.

A piece of his own personal heaven. Points if the pretty girl on Belch's hood was with him but hey, he wasn't picky.

"Really?" Richie asked with a grin on his face, "Try tickling your pickle for the first time." Eddie rolled his eyes, but Bill smiled. Stan let out another groan -- not a good one, this time -- even though, if he had to be honest, this seemed like it would be the best summer of his whole entire life.

Richie felt it too, if he were going to tell the truth (as he so rarely did -- or at times, so bluntly did), that this felt like it was going to the be the absolutely best summer he would have for the rest of his life. He had a whole checklist and everything for things he wanted to do (kiss some girls), things he wanted to see (some girls' boobs), and things he wanted to experience (there were a number of interesting things on this list).

And quite frankly, he felt as though every single thing on every one of his lists could be accomplished with the girl sitting on Belch Huggins' car hood, smiling mischievously as she watched the kids coming out of school.

God, did she really and truly look like an angel. Deep brown hair, straight in some parts and wavy in others, came down a little bit past her collarbone (not super cared for, but neither was his), cherry red lips, and a cute line of freckles going across the bridge of her nose. She was the most impressive tan he'd ever seen in his whole life, a very deep beige from the summer sun — even though it was only June.

The top part was being held up by some clip, and Richie could see his own Hawaiian shirt going over her tank top instead of the open button down she was wearing on top. It was lazy looking and careless and little bit disheveled, but that day, Richard Wentworth Tozier II was convinced he saw the hottest girl to ever be created.

Eddie interrupted his dream, snapping him back for only a second. "So what do you guys want to do tomorrow?"

"I start my training," Richie responded immediately.

"Training for what?"

"Street Fighter."

"You're going to spend your whole summer inside of an arcade?" Eddie couldn't imagine that prospect, but with Richie, anything was possibly -- no matter how disgusting it might seem.

"Beats spending it inside of your mother, oh!" Richie's goofy grin came back in an instant and leaned over for a high five from Bill when his hand was brought down by Stan. "And, 'course, my summer bucket list."

Eddie sent him a pity glance, "No girl's gonna let you fuck her this summer, Richie. If they have any brains at all, no girl is going to let you go within a ten foot radius of her without realizing what she's doing." Richie pressed his lips together. Of course Eddie would be cynical, it's just because — "and don't tell me that I think it because I just haven't hit puberty yet!"

Richie gave him a toothy grin, "Aw, shucks, Eddie Spaghetti, you know me so well. When you see a pretty girl, like say, that one over there—" he pointed discreetly towards the girl on the hood —"you'll get that feeling of butterflies in your stomach and just think, 'Wow, I've just seen an angel.' I don't mean Bowers, I just-"

"Yeah, you mean his little sister." Eddie looked up to Richie for a response, only to see him at a loss for words, jaw dropping and face paling.

For once, Richie Tozier was speechless as Eddie laughed and slapped his back as Bill mentioned something about the Barrens and Georgie and finding him — even though everybody had long accepted the fact that Georgie wasn't just missing.

It was like a switch. Everything changed in that instant. It was like she grew fangs and claws, and he watched Patrick look at her like she hung the fucking moon. It was incredibly painful, but he assumed, in a sense, they deserved each other. It took a second before he realized what this would actually mean for him: having to worry about a double in the hallways — a hot double that could potentially fool him into forgetting her Bowers-ness — and someone else to make fun of him in ways that he'd never tjough imaginable.

Sure, Bowers wasn't awfully bright, but he sure as hell was creative when it came down to it.

"Gunner!" Richie heard Bowers (the boy one) laugh as she shoved him in the side, cackling along herself, cigarette never leaving her mouth — opting just to talk out of the side of it.

Oh, so her name must have been Gunner. That's unfortunate, he thought to himself. But then again, she seems awful, so maybe she just deserves it. He smiled to himself. "Tommy Lee, we've gotta start heading out soon."

Wait, so was it Tommy Lee? Or was it Gunner? Was that just the gang's nickname for her? More importantly, if it was, why the fuck would they choose a name like Gunner for her? Nothing was settling about that fact, and although Richie wasn't typically one to spiral, it was hard to control himself.

"You didn't tell me you had friends, Henny!" Tommy exclaimed girlishly, making Patrick spit out his sofa and slam his hand on the car hood, flicking out her cigarette and letting Patrick snuff it out. She put a hand on her heart. "Oh, you've grown up so fast! I remember it was just yesterday you took a massive shit in that kids backpack and had to do forty hours of community service!"

Richie could tolerate a lot of things. One thing he couldn't tolerate though, was not being able to chime in when his story was being used and told all wrong — or mentioned without his name. Luckily, he was spared his intervention by a howling Belch Huggins.

"It was four eyes!" Huggins nearly screamed, warning a howling laugh from Tommy and shove from Victor, followed by a point led by Patrick. "Yeah, him!"

Richie could feel his face heating up, but before he could say anything, the bright blue TransAM was firing up the engine, and was getting ready to peel out of the school parking lot like a man man was driving.

Bill was the first to say anything. "Sorry about that, Rich. Bowers is a real asshole."

"So is his sister," he made out through his teeth.

Richie saw himself as a 'go with the flow' kind of guy, but goddamn it, he wasn't going to let Tommy Lee shit all over him and get away with it.

He was too stubborn, too arrogant, and too proud to let that happen, but with only a second or two of knowing she existed, he knew she was the exact same way. He could get tell it with the way she walked and talker and immediately took control of some of the scariest kids in Derry Middle.

But she wouldn't come out on top of this one.

There's no way. He refused to let it happen. Letting her win would show everyone else that he was just a loser who couldn't stand up to a girl who's was going to beat the living daylights out of him if he looked at her the wrong way.

She already had Henry and Patrick and Belch on her side — an even, if not better, match to four decently sized seventh graders. There was no excuse for them to get beat.

Grinding his teeth and tearing his eyes away from her, laughing mischievous and almost secretly as she put her cigarette out on Belch's hood as not to be noticed by he coo around the corner (Rich didn't know that the cop around the corner was her father who would beat her till she couldn't stand if he caught her smoking) he said, "So, Barrens tomorrow, right Bill?"

And right as Tommy Lee Bowers and her newfound gang pulled out of the parking lot, she and Richie Tozier locked eyes and made a silent pact — an agreement — something they both agreed on — something he'd be thinking about all night and the whole next morning:

Derry is two small for the two of us.

[sleepysnk]

Hello!! I saw that your request is open

May I request an Erwin x Fem! Reader were they had a daughter and Erwin would be really protective over her daughter and being soft on his daughter and spending much time with her

Lots of fluff please, Thank you!!!

aw! this request is so cute 🥺, i feel like Erwin would be the perfect dad. i decided to make his daughter a bit younger, like about 4 or 5. if you need this changed let me know! i hope you enjoy 🖤. i also decided to do this a bit different, so let me know if it needs changes!

Erwin x Fem!Reader: Our Princess

Warnings: None

(Y/N) and Erwin were in his room. It had been a long day, and the two wanted to relax in his room. Erwin was working all day, even with the titans being eradicated, and humanity being free the man was still busy.

Their life was perfect, he married (Y/N) after everything happened. He didn't want to waste any moment. Before they were married though, he got quite the surprise one day.

(Y/N) was a cadet when they met, she was in her 20's, and he was the Commander. It started off as friends, but eventually it turned into flirting, and then one night (Y/N) confessed her feelings. They had a pretty low relationship, some days he was scared he'd die, or even (Y/N) but with the hell they've been through, neither were harmed.

Then one day he got a shock. (Y/N) came to him after being sick, and admitted she was pregnant. With his position, she didn't know if she wanted to keep it, but Erwin insisted that she should keep it. To her surprise, he was extremely supportive of the baby.

She gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. Her name was Angelice Faith Smith. When Erwin held his baby for the first time, he was overcome with emotion, she looked just like him. She had his eyes, and her mother's (h/c) hair.

Years passed, and the girl grew up within a blink of an eye. Erwin wasn't extremely close to his baby when she was growing, due to his position and the war he had to fight, he didn't have a lot of time. He did make it up to (Y/N) by spending time with her, and doing a lot of extra things.

When one day someone tried to harm his daughter, Erwin turned into someone (Y/N) couldn't even recognize. Ever since then, he became very protective of Angelice, like any dad would.

(Y/N) lied on her lover's chest as Erwin ran his hand through her hair. "Did you have a busy day?" she asked.

Erwin nodded. "I did my love, but the days are getting easier" he said and kissed the top of her head.

"Angelice tired me out, all she did was ask where you were" she said and giggled a bit.

Erwin smiled at the thought of his daughter. "She's definitely a daddy's girl, I told you" he said and chuckled.

(Y/N) looked up and rolled her eyes. "No way! She definitely is a mommy's girl, we spend so much time together" she said.

Erwin and (Y/N) were at a war trying to see if Angelice was a daddy or mommy's girl. Of course, both argued about it jokingly, and neither would win. Erwin believed she was a daddy's girl, because whenever he is away, she asks for him.

"You should take her out tomorrow, give mommy some time for herself" (Y/N) said and looked up at him.

He nodded. "I can do that for you" he replied and smiled a bit.

"Sounds great!" she said and turned off the light to their room.

The next day, Erwin awoke to Angelice trying to wake him.

"Daddy" she whispered and shook his arm trying to wake him.

He thought it was (Y/N), but her voice isn't soft like that. He opened his eyes to see his daughter standing there.

"What's up sweetheart?" he asked and looked over at her.

"Mommy said to wake you up, she's going to leave soon" she replied and looked around their room.

Erwin sat up and looked at the clock. It was 9:30 already!? He forgot what it felt like to sleep in that late, even during the week.

"Alright, let's go find mommy" he said and lifted up Angelice.

He went into the kitchen and saw (Y/N) sitting at the table. "Good morning handsome" she said and walked over to give him a kiss.

He placed Angelice on the floor. "Good morning beautiful" he replied and smiled.

"I have to run errands, and then I'm going to catch up with Hanji. Could you watch over Angelice for me?" she asked and nodded.

Erwin looked at his wife. "Yes of course, go on babe. I got her" he replied and smiled.

She gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Great! Thank you so much babe" she said and smiled.

He looked down towards Angelice who was playing on the floor. "Want to say goodbye to mommy?" he asked.

The (h/c) haired girl looked over at her mother. "Bye mommy! I'll miss you" she said and gave her a wave.

(Y/N) smiled and waved at her daughter. "Be good for daddy, okay?" she replied and looked at Erwin.

The little girl smiled. "I will!" she said and continued playing with her toys.

(Y/N) left the house, leaving Erwin and Angelice alone together. He had a few things planned for them to do together, and he was excited to spend time with his daughter.

"So Angelice, have you ate?" Erwin asked as he looked down at her.

She nodded. "No, mommy was in a hurry" she replied.

He scooped her up. "Well why don't we make some pancakes?" he said and smiled at her.

The little girl's face lit up. "Yay! Yes!" she replied.

Erwin carried her over to the kitchen and sat her down in her chair. "I'm going to make them, okay? Don't run off" he said and walked over to the stove.

He looked around for the ingredients. (Y/N) usually did all the cooking since she hadn't been working very much.

"Daddy!" Angelice called from the table.

Erwin looked towards his daughter. "Yes sweetheart?" he asked and nodded.

She was holding onto her doll. "Can we play after pancakes?" she asked.

He laughed a bit. "Yes we can sweetheart, what do you have in mind?" he asked and continued grabbing things to make breakfast.

She thought for a moment. "We should play dollies!" she replied and grinned widely.

Erwin never played with dolls as a kid, he was most interested in books, and his smarts. He wanted to give his daughter skills she could use once she got older. He didn't mind though, he wanted to play with her, and make her satisfied.

He began to make the pancakes for the two of them, he made a few extra for (Y/N) just incase she wanted some later.

"Angelice! Pancakes are almost ready!" he called and looked around for her.

She was in the living room. She wanted to play, even though Erwin told her to stay in her spot at the table.

She came into the kitchen. "Yay! Pancakes!" she yelled happily as she got into her chair.

Erwin couldn't help but smile, his daughter was growing up so fast. Pretty soon she'd be thirteen, and going through puberty. He wasn't ready for the hormone days just yet.

"Here you go sweetheart, be careful though, it is a bit hot" he said and placed two pancakes onto her plate.

Angelice looked at the plate with big eyes. She loved pancakes, and she always scarfed them down whenever her parents made them. Erwin cut them up for her, and she started to eat them.

"Slow down Angelice, they aren't going to disappear" he said and laughed a bit.

They both ate, and Erwin put the dishes in the sink. "Daddy! Can we play now?" she asked and looked at him with pleading eyes.

He laughed. "Sure why not?" he replied and walked into the living room.

Angelice was one spoiled little girl. (Y/N) hated to admit it, but she did anything for her. Of course, she would have limits on certain things, but Angelice had so many toys. Erwin lost count on how many she had. Even as a kid he didn't have this many.

Meanwhile, (Y/N) and Hanji were catching up at the cafe. "So how is Erwin doing with Angelice?" Hanji asked and nodded at her friend.

She sighed. "I couldn't ask for a better man to raise her. He's the perfect dad being honest, and I'm proud of the way he stepped up" she replied and looked at her coffee.

The brunette nodded. "He was so mesmerized when she was first born. I remember how excited he was" Hanji said and smiled.

(Y/N) laughed a bit. "I remember too, it felt like yesterday" she said.

"(Y/N)!" the girl turned and saw her doctor standing in the cafe.

She smiled and stood up. "Oh my gosh! Dr.Martin! It's good to see you" she said and gave him a hug.

"I was actually going to stop by your house. I have your physical" he said and took out some papers.

(Y/N) looked at them and smiled. "Thank you" she said.

He nodded. "We need to chat about a few things though" he replied.

She wasn't sure what he meant, but she decided to listen to what he had to say.

Back at the house, Erwin and Angelice were laying on the couch. They had played a game of tag, and she was totally tired out. She was napping on top of him, and he didn't want to move and wake her up.

The sight was adorable. Erwin really was the perfect dad.

He heard the door open, and saw (Y/N) with a few bags in her hand. "Hey" she said and closed the door.

Erwin smiled and stood up with Angelice in his arms. "Hey, she's pretty tired out" he said and laughed a bit.

She smiled and lokked at him. "We need to talk, I ran into Dr.Martin at the cafe" she said and crossed her arms.

Erwin decided to put Angelice in her room. He came back and sat next to (Y/N). "What's up?" he asked.

She smiled and showed him the paper. "I'm expecting!" she replied excitedly.

Erwin was shocked and excited at the same time. Another baby was on the way.

[shawtygonemad]

Here, With You.

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Requested by the amazing @lilythemadqueen! 💙

Daryl and I have known each other since high school. At least before he dropped out. Everyone saw him as a hot headed trouble maker like his brother. I saw different. I saw a boy who was quiet and reserved. Who actually enjoyed going to school just to get away from his home life.

We had been paired up for a project. No one wanted to work with him, so as the new girl I thought this would be a chance for me to introduce myself. He was very standoffish at first. His snippy attitude and grumpy appearance would have driven anyone away. However, I had a feeling it was an act. I was pretty good at reading people and this boy seemed hidden under a shadow of what everyone expects him to be.

It turned out my theory was correct. The project gave me the excuse to spend time with him. To pry past his steel walls and get to know the real him. I continued to insist on being friends even after the project was over. He claimed he didn't want anything to do with me. However, little did I know he actually enjoyed the time I spent with him, and appreciated the kindness. He always joked he couldn't get rid of me even after he dropped out.

Unfortunately, he decided to become a drifter like his brother. I hadn't seen him for a few years after that. Then the apocalypse happened and the dead started to walk the Earth. I ended up in some camp on the outskirts of Atlanta. By some way of fate, Daryl was at the camp as well.

It was a pretty emotional reunion, on my side at least. Daryl had to play it cool and nonchalant due to his brother. Although he did tell me in private how glad he was that I was alive and here.

From the day I stepped foot into camp Daryl has kept me on a tight leash. Sure he was protective of me in high school. Even beat some guy up from asking me out at a joke. However, now was different. I was hardly allowed to leave his sight, and when he left he always asked some other guy to "keep an eye on me".

I know he means well, but man does it piss me off! Im a fully grown adult woman! I can handle myself! I know how to use my knife and kind of take down a walker with some help. He always treated me like I was completely defenseless.

I wanted to prove to him that I could help. That I could handle myself! That I was strong and brave enough to possibly become his girlfriend. Yes, I still had a stupid childish crush on him. Even more so now that he was a man. Puberty was VERY kind to him. I'd find myself unconsciously staring at him while licking my lips. Studying his broad shoulders, and muscular arms. Imagining how those arms would feel to wrap around me and bring me close. To imagine those large calloused hands trailing under my shirt and playfully pinching at my nipples.

I had to do this. I had to prove to him that I could handle myself. That I could handle HIM. Which is how I ended up in the middle of the woods trying to be as quiet as possible.

Daryl went hunting alone, which he knows I hate. If I could catch an animal or maybe take down a walker by myself then maybe he wouldn't think I'd be useless. I was following behind him at a decent distance. I tried to be as quiet as possible, but the leaves and twigs were too loud.

Daryl stopped and his shoulders went ridged. Within a second he spun around with his crossbow raised. He was ready to shoot his stalker.

"Come out," he gruffly yelled.

I stayed frozen behind the tree. My heart pumped and palms became sweaty. I was suddenly nervous and lost all confidence. What was I going to tell him? This was all so stupid thinking on it now.

My plan was to stay quiet and hopefully he'd continue on. However, the squirrel the jumped onto the tree beside me started me. With a small gasp and quiet yell I fell backwards into sight.

Daryl growled and lowered his crossbow at the sight of me.

"What tha hell is wrong with ya!? I coulda shotcha," he yelled.

"Sorry," I quietly said as to got to my feet. "It's just... you were out here alone and it's not safe..."

"Not safe for you maybe. A damn squirrel made you jump outta yer damn skin," he scoffed. "I can handle myself."

"So can I," I practically pouted.

"No ya can't," he yelled as he stormed over to me. I instinctively took a step back. "Yer too trustin'! Ya try ta befriend anything that comes into yer direction. It's gonna get ya killed!"

"Befriending things isn't always a bad thing," I argued. "That's how I become friends with you."

That made him scoff. That infuriated me more. I hated when he thought down on himself.

"Get yer ass back ta camp. I can't hunt and keep an eye on ya at the same time," he grunted.

"Excuse me," I questioned harshly. "I am a big girl who can take care of myself, Dixon. I can do whatever I want! And I'm choosing to be here, with you."

"No ya can't," he challenged while backing me up into the tree. "I've been savin' yer ass since we first met. That ain't gonna change now."

My heart picked up the pace, and I couldn't help but breathe heavier. I was trapped between an angry Daryl and a tree. He was intensely staring down at me with those gorgeous blue eyes. Why did he care so much?

"Why?" I blurted out.

"What?" He asked.

"Why do you want to protect me so much," I asked.

"Cause ya can't take care of yerself," he said simply.

"You could just let me die like everyone else back at camp probably would."

"Don't say stupid shit like that," he growled as he got closer, practically pushing his body against mine. "I won't let that happen."

"Why," I pried again.

"Wouldja stop sayin' that," he said, annoyed.

"I need to know why, Daryl," I informed him.

A light blush dusted his face and he suddenly couldn't meet my eyes.

"Cause I lo...." he mumbled as his face turned a darker red.

"Cause of what," I asked as I furrowed my brows, unable to hear him.

"Cause I love ya! Okay, Y/N! Fuck..." he blurted out.

He loved me. He just admitted it, so there was no denying it. Daryl Dixon love me. The butterflies in my stomach fluttered with excitement. I wasn't sure what type of love he meant, but it was worth finding out.

Still red in the face, Daryl went to step away. He was embarrassed by my lack of response. He was afraid he just ruined everything with you. All because he let his stupid feelings get the best of him.

Before he could step away I grabbed his face and brought it down to me. Our lips met with such sweet bliss. Both of us reacted instantly by dancing our lips together. Daryl’s arms instinctively wrapped around me and pulled me close. His tongue flicked at my bottom lip asking for entrance. I gladly granted it to him.

He swirled our tongues together as we made out. I could taste the tobacco from the last cigarette he had.

Unfortunately, we needed to breathe. As we parted I laid my forehead against his. We were both breathing heavy. Our gazes met.

"I love you too, D."

[angeli-marco-writes]

∘◦ ♥ ◦∘ Peter Parker - Everything Happens for a Reason ∘◦ ♥ ◦∘

A/N - I only wrote it a couple of months ago and due to the close nature of it, I haven’t uploaded it anywhere. I hope you like my first (10k) Peter Parker fic. I know that the timeline doesn’t make sense, but in all honesty, Endgame and FFH messed it up plenty so I just kinda placed this in no-mans-time. And I know the compound was destroyed during Endgame, so just bear with the fact that I’ve made it so that Strange and his wizards rebuilt it for survivors :)

Warnings - making out and shadows to sex, SWEARING, bad parenting, mentions of grief, mentions of injury and disability, angst, death of parents etc. Also, don’t read if you haven’t seen endgame because it’ll be spoiled in the first paragraph of this. 

Summary - Stark!reader x Peter Parker, post endgame. Months after the death of your father, your aunt, and the retirement of your uncle, you find yourself in a sticky situation, and to make it even worse, your childhood crush doesn’t even recognise you now. Then again, doing most of your growing up while half of the population is dead doesn’t exactly bode well for your love life nor your commitment issues. When things finally start to turn around while learning to live with a disability, will you still be taken away to live with your step-mother, or will love pan out at last? After all, everything happens for a reason. 

IT'S BEEN JUST OVER THREE MONTHS since the final battle, and therefore just over three months since you said goodbye to the only three role models you had for the most important five years of your life. Well, the three are debatable. 

Your dad had died, still holding your hand, after saving humanity like he always did, allowing the burden of the Stark name to fall onto you at long last. Your uncle Steve - tutor extraordinaire - had officially retired and moved away, and you haven’t seen him since the final goodbye, leaving you more and more doubtful every day you’ll ever see him again. And your aunty Nat let herself go, she pushed herself away from that cliff, and let uncle Clint live, to help give you a better life, but what Nat didn’t realise was that you lost them both that day, because Clint hasn’t been back since. He’s never coming back now from the trauma, the man who was more of a father than your dad ever was.

It was quite possibly the worst period of your whole life, but then again, when half of the world is destroyed before you’ve even hit puberty, you don’t really have much to hold it against.

But here you are again, stuck in your room in the semi-rebuilt compound, grounded by FRIDAY while the step monster and child are at the lake house, living happily ever after. What the issue is, you don’t know. All you did was get a piercing... and be rude to Peter. And Sam. And everyone in the building- ok maybe she has a point, but hey, you’re grieving the loss of everyone major in your life, and you can barely do anything for yourself.

It’s like five years ago all over again. Everyone you’d grown accustomed to, your friends, your mom, your idols - even if they weren’t dead, they were lost for a long time - and your crush. The one and only Peter Parker. Much to your surprise, you got over most of the deaths pretty quickly. There wasn’t much to understand - they were gone and they wouldn’t come back no matter what, so what good would worrying and crying do? Obviously, as a young girl, this was the wrong response, so this is when Pepper got her name. “Don’t be so insensitive! Those were your dad's best friends, people he worked with for years. Those people were his family, and mine, and yours.”

You scoffed at her, the way you always seemed to do. “Yeah, ok. But my mum died, and am I making a fuss? No. She died for a reason, they all did,” and under your breath, you added “I still just need to figure that reason out.”

You held back from the obvious “they were my family too” bullshit, because your dad never believed that, even when you spent most of your time at his house with the Avengers instead of him. It wasn’t that you hated your mom or your dad, you loved them both equally and spent time with them both, but when one dies and one goes missing and spirals into lord knows what after going missing in space with a blue alienoid, everything gets a little complicated and stops making sense. Spending more time with your dad was scary too, seeing the intricacies of Avengers life in a capacity which you didn’t understand for a long time growing up. That only lasted for a year before he took off and made you be a tennis ball in a flawed game between him and Rhodey. Every weekend for five years you drove from the compound to the lake house. You lost out on a lot from that, and your dad didn’t even seem phased, because he had Morgan. 

But beneath all of the hatred that had made you so rebellious since you turned fifteen, there was something deeper.

Considering how stone faced and resolute you are and always have been, considering how harsh you are about the realities and never getting caught up in mindless emotions, no matter how much you claim that your grieving time was over the second that you pushed your dad's heart away, mere weeks after feeling his pulse drop as you laced your fingers with his, no one would believe that it was all a lie.

Every night since that snap more than five years ago, you’ve done the same thing. Make a cup of hot chocolate (an iced decaf latte if it was summer), and you’d take it to bed and just cry until you could no more and simply fell asleep. You weren’t even sure why you cried, because after all there wasn’t really any reason to. The world was moving on, albeit slower than before, and your life  was about as much locked into place as it could be with Tony Stark as your father, but the crying just felt obligatory. After ten, FRIDAY always turned off in your room, that was the agreement your mom had with your dad whenever you stayed there, although you weren’t sure why it made a difference, and it just stuck, so no one saw the pointless tears, no one heard, and no one cared. The only one who ever did care enough whenever you cried had been snapped away, and now he was back, you were just another repugnant face in the crowds, or so you’d guess with the way he looked down upon you.

 “It’s ok dad,” you said with a completely straight face, your hard eyes locked onto his, your entire being completely void of emotion, “you can go to sleep.”

He squeezed your hand with his forefinger and middle finger, very lightly, and he just croaked out his final words to you, “my beautiful Sloane, so brave.” So quiet that they were only decipherable to you.

“Life functions critical,” the Irish accent rang in your ears.

Pete had already said his goodbyes, but now it was Pepper’s turn as she wiped your dad's tears away. This time you should’ve been there for each other, a support for one another, after all, they were losing him together and were in the same boat, but sometimes even grief can’t bring people together. 

“Tony, look at me. We’re going to be ok..” she pleaded. 

Your dad's eyes moved from yours to hers, a sluggish movement that took the remaining life from him. He moved his lips to form two words that broke your heart, because you knew that they were directed at all of you, and they meant so much more than anyone else could understand. Those words were his attempt at making up for being such a shit dad. ‘I’m sorry.’ 

Pepper kissed him. “You can rest now.”

You didn’t even look around to see anyone else’s face , especially not Peters or Peppers, because as soon as his pulse stopped and his skin slipped from your grip, his body cold, you knew that the chapter of your life with your father in it was over, so you pulled your mask back over your face, and strutted away, as far as possible. You ignored your limp completely, because with all of the numbness, it was like you couldn’t even feel the pain. Except you didn’t disappear, no way, you couldn’t. You watched as they all knelt for him, for the man who missed all of your firsts in life, who was absent when you needed a father and a friend and a leader, and even though you were chronically broken within, every terrible emotion gnawing at you, screaming at you to just feel something and express it; you didn’t. You suppressed it all, and walked away. And of no surprise to you at all, no one followed, or even noticed you were gone.

After all, Tony Stark died for a reason, and at least this time you knew what that reason was. 

 “Miss?” Someone’s snapping their fingers beside your ear, driving you mental but also snapping you awake from whatever dream that was, reliving the scariest day of your life. “Miss, you fell asleep at the table. We’re clearing it for dinner, please.”

You roll your eyes up at him, instantly recognising Pete’s voice, but you just don’t care. He doesn’t even know who you are. So you scoff, the way you did at Pepper so long ago, and you leave without a second glance.

“Are you a relative of Nat’s? I- I heard someone was coming over to stay...” his voice yells down the corridor.

“You can’t be serious Peter. You don’t recognise me at all?”

And with that, you snatch your water bottle from the edge of the counter with your spare hand and resolutely stamp off down the corridor, your feet loosely wading in your docs with your crutch assisting you along the way.

You’re leaving soon, so you won’t have to deal with him. But you still have another year or two of high school to compete with, and with your tutor gone - your dad refused to send you back to school after the snap, so it was left up to whoever wanted the job, and Cap wanted it a lot more than he did, so you spent your weeks driving from the city to the lake house after finishing the weeks tutoring, to spend time with your ‘family’ - and now, you seriously doubted that anyone else would want the job. Bucky is too hormonal and grieving the loss of his best friend, Banner is freaking you out, Clint is off the grid from another breakdown and it’s like he’s not even human anymore, Wilson is too busy with his new training regime and fighting Buck, and Scott doesn’t know the first thing about what you need to learn thanks to his ditsy persona. Which only leaves Pepper and Rhodey, and which forces you to go back and live in the lake house, away from the shambles of the rebuilt compound, all thanks to Strange and his wizards.

Maybe this is what you need, because now you don’t have to see Pete and get offended every single time he forgets your name and doesn’t have a clue who you are.

That night, you skipped your crying routine, and felt no better nor worse off for doing so. You simply dosed up on your painkillers and drifted off to sleep, filled with irritation and dreams of a mousey hero.

 For the next couple of days, you’d just gone about your business and avoided the funny looks from all of the other Avengers at your foul demeanour. None of them that were in and out of the rebuilt compound ever really took notice of you anymore, and you weren’t sure that any of them recognised you anymore, not with all of the piercings and hair dye and the crutches. After all, the last time most of them knew you, you were an annoying child who watched them work and ate dinners with them, and your dinners consisted of smiley face waffles and chicken nuggets. And besides, you were perfectly able back then, and you often had little friends over, or your mom would pop in to say hi on your way home. There’s no chance of that happening anymore. Bucky had recognised you, smiled at you, and occasionally made jokes about you being crippled together, so with any issues you could just turn to him, but this Peter thing annoyed you too much to talk about it, and you didn’t know why. 

Speak of the devil-

“Hey, can I sit?” He asks, standing just behind the sofa and hovering awkwardly.

“I don’t care,” you say, all of your words merging and slurring. You signal to the seat beside you yet far enough away for him not to be a bother, and he takes it.

“So h-how are you?” 

You watch him suspiciously out of the corner of your eye, because you can just feel his eyes on you, namely on your tits that had suddenly appeared in the last few years. 

“I’m fine thank you, Peter. It’s not like no one knows who the fuck I am and I’m living in a literal post war, dystopian, apocalyptic world all alone. How are you, Spider-Man?”

He blanches before your eyes, and you can physically see any words die in the back of his throat.

“I-I’m good.”

Everything stills for a little while, and the only sounds are what's playing on TV and Peter’s occasional swallows, making his Adams apple Bob in your peripheral view. He doesn’t dare look at you, and you can just sense his agitation, mainly from the way he fidgets and weighs the sofa cushions down weirdly with his weird spider legs. 

It only takes half an hour for you to wear down and ask him the burning question, his presence beside you enough to make your skin tingle in anticipation and anger bubble within, not to mention the girlish sense that overwhelms you, so contrasting to your dark clothes and self-given bridge piercing. 

“Why don’t you speak to me anymore, Peter? Do you seriously not recognise me?”

His eyes fall and his face turns sallow, and he stammers over a few consonants, unable to form any real words.

“I’m Tony’s daughter.” You announce, facing him head on. “Y/N Stark.”

Only after you’ve said that do you realise that he’ll have absolutely no clue what you’re saying, but you can see the cogs whirring in his head as everything is pieced together. His eyes lock onto yours, and they’re the one feature you haven’t changed about yourself in the years that he was gone.

“I changed my name last year, I used to be-”

“-Sloane Stark.” he finishes with you. 

He doesn’t take his eyes off yours, too lost in them after he’s been without them for so long. Something’s clicked inside, but scepticism overtakes him. You grasp your hair into a makeshift ponytail at the base of your neck, all the loose ringlets in different shades tickling your neck, but it reveals a thin, pale, bumpy scar on your skin; a thin and jagged line that runs from the base of your ear to the start of your clavicle. You’ve had it since you were 11, when Peter first became a regular at the compound and you began to play together, but then an accident happened, and Peter stayed by your side as you got the stitches, holding your hand. 

Finally, he cottons on, and you can see the tears welling up in his chocolate brown orbs.

“Sloane…”

He virtually leaps from his seat and throws his arms around you, completely overcome with all kinds of inexplicable feelings. Love seeps from his body into yours, he clings to you, and even buries his nose into your hair, taking a deep inhalation before sighing in contentment. Even when the average hug time has passed, he doesn’t release you, and keeps his arms wrapped like a koala around your shoulders, his body slowly getting closer and closer towards you and for some reason making you blush. Your arms remain limp around him, and your forefinger traces figures on his lower back, but you don’t squeeze him as much as you did when the surprise of his cuddle attack first hit you. 

He eases himself away, but still keeps his hand on your arm, a gentle and warm presence. 

It doesn’t hit you for a while that it’s the first hug you’ve received in months, and the first one from Peter in five and a half years.

“I’m guessing that you didn’t snap away like the rest of us then…?” he asks shyly. 

His spare hand immediately retracts and rubs the back of his neck anxiously, just the way he used to, but only now do you understand why.

“Nah, I didn’t,” you say, “Sadly I was stuck here in this shambles of an earth, dealing with everyone else's depression and having a little sister forced upon me. I couldn’t even go to school, it was awful.”

His face falls into a deep frown and he searches your face for any sign of your words being cynical, but he finds nothing.

“W-why did you change your name then?”

You shrug, for what feels like the hundredth time in his presence, “Sloane is an awful name, it means ‘raider’ in bloody Irish. None of my family is Irish, my dad suggested the name when he was drunk, and my mum couldn’t think of anything better. Y/N makes me feel like me.”

He nods understandingly and doesn’t push the matter, so you offer a half smile and move your attention back to the TV.

“Why did you change you?” he asks all of a sudden.

The question instantly ingrains itself into your brain, and makes your heart ache. Why would he ask such a thing? Doesn’t he understand what's happened? Why does he even care? But the last thought makes you sick to your stomach, because you know that he always has cared and he always will, he promised you that the first time he was babysitting you and you got all het up over something on the TV. Maybe a part of him knew that it was you all along but he just couldn’t broach the subject, or maybe he didn’t and he thought you’d been snapped away and you simply hadn’t returned. No matter what it was,you knew that you couldn’t blame him, but as his question bounced around your brain and repeated, you had no idea what happened, but you felt any compassion shrivel up, your heart grew cold, your demeanour turned harsh, and your kind response died in your throat. You look him dead in the face and straighten yourself up, your eyes devoid of all feeling.

“My mom died, all of my idols and my family and school friends died - Scott, Buck, Sam, you - and my dad was never the same again. I was left with him and the step monster who, who for the record doesn't even like me because of my mom, and Morgan came along, so they forgot about me, and I only stayed three days a week because the rest of the time I was stuck here with a depressed Nat and  counsellor Steve, and the latter had to teach me everything I needed for the finish of middle school and my freshman and sophomore years, which was hard in itself. Dad was so depressed, he wouldn’t listen to the words I said about the other Avengers, so apart from Steve tutoring me, I basically raised myself for two years, without friends or anything, and they were two of the most important years of my life . Everyone forgot about me. I was just turned fifteen and more adept at coping in this world than any adult I’ve known. I hated my name and what came with it, and I never really liked myself, that's always been the case. I hated my appearance and I had no one to make me feel nice when you died, because you always told me that I was pretty, just like a princess, and you kept me sane. Fuck, Pete, you held me together, and all of that faded when you died, because as soon as you were gone, everything else around me crumbled.” You inhale a sharp intake of breath, and move to stand, snatching your crutches from the floor. “Long story short, while all of you were gone, I grew up. I’m 17 now, I may be different to how you remember but at least I feel comfortable now. I really did grow up peter, and you need to start doing the same. My dad is never coming back.”

And just like the days before, you scurry off back to your room and bury any inhibitions beneath your pillow, leaving Peter in the living room, completely crushed and left to mull your words over alone while he waits for May to get home.

 Five days later, and you can’t take the silence anymore. Peter practically hides and runs for shelter each time he hears you approach, you saw the footage on FRIDAY’s cams. It really upset you for the first two days, but with each shy, rushed smile and fleeting glance he takes at you, each one that makes your stomach do little flips, they just remind you how cruel you were to him, how brutally honest, when Peter needs more time to heal than you do most likely, as your dad meant more to Pete than he did to you, and if anything then that's a reflection on Tony. He wanted a son. Maybe Peter feels guilty, mabe he’s sad, maybe he just straight up doesn’t like you, but whatever it is, you don’t fucking like it, so you’re preparing for the move in two days time. Far earlier than planned. 

With each piece of clothing you fold, with each piece of metal shrapnel you toss into your jewellery box, with each eyeliner you tuck away in a bag, you run everything that's happened in the past week through your head. You called Scott up to see how he’s getting on with Hope and Cassie, you spoke to Laura - no longer a secret - who just told you that Barton is in almost as bad a place as before, just without the machetes and with a lot more crying and whiskey, you spoke to Rhodey for an update on the lake house/new home situation and put all of the plans in place, but you did shut down his heartfelt offer to be another father figure, starting with a controversial suggestion to send you to therapy or rehab for your ‘lashing outs’, and you’d made amends with Sam who was surprisingly okay with your whole new thing going on, and he said he loved your vibe and gave hair dye suggestions, making you rethink your decision to leave all over again. Bucky had taken you shopping, hoping for retail to cure both of your depressive episodes, but it didn't really help even if the long, deep conversation over milkshakes at a nearby diner did help, and he cradled your head in his lap as you told him you’d miss him more than the others. He told you that you were being stupid about Peter and that the kid really likes you, but you retorted with a scoff, saying he’d never fancy you the way you fancy him.

Ah, yeah, that revelation, the one which makes you throw a sweater full force into your open trunk, sitting at the base of your bed. With a loud groan, you throw yourself dramatically down onto the bed and savour the soft comforter for one of the last times; after all, the place will probably be gone, along with the remnants of FRIDAY by the time you return, if you ever go. 

“Where are you off to?” Peter asks from the doorway, his voice inquisitive and startling you from your angered daze. 

He must’ve seen your bags half packed in your room, lying out on your bed beside you. You turn your head to look at him, your eyes thin and bullet-like.

“I’m leaving.” You snap rather viciously, and prop yourself up on your elbows. “The Cap’n has gone, and I’ve been out of school too long to go back. The Step-Monster needs to ‘tutor me’, and I need to teach the little brat.” You’re referring to Morgan, but Peter doesn’t seem to pick that up by the looks of his furrowed brows. He certainly looks relaxed though, leaning against your doorframe. 

“Why can’t you stay here?” Peter asks and You shrug, unsure how to respond. “I- I’m sure Mr Falcon would help teach you, or- or Wanda?”

Shit, Wanda. You’d practically forgotten she existed from how much of a recluse she was now. You should probably go and check on her or at the very least have a chat with her. She was dead for five years, just like Vis, but when she comes back she’s still not over him after months? Sounds fake but ok...

“Wanda has even less of an education than I do.” You retaliate with a foul attitude and an even fouler taste in your mouth, turning your back on him when you stand, and going back to your packing. You try your best to ignore his presence, but you can just feel him hovering metres away, itching to do or say something to you.

“Well then you can stay living here and enrol in Midtown High with me. We’d be the same year now and I could show you the ropes.”

Ok now you know he’s fucking with you.

“Peter, I can’t go to midtown.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve been out of co-ed for too long, let alone education, as I haven’t had any since like fucking February, and I’m too traumatised and crippled for them. How would that look eh? Y/N Stark enrolling for junior year after the death of The Tony Stark?” Peter goes quiet. “And anyway, it’s not like I have the brains, at all. I’m not smart like you, Peter. I’m as thick as two short planks. I got my mom’s brains and some of my dad's abilities. I can chuck on suits all I like, I can build shit all day, and I can play sports like no one's business; or at least I could.” Having your one ankle completely useless is a complete bummer, maybe even more so than losing everyone, because now you actually have to live with being this way. They don’t have to live. “But the second you give me a math equation, I’m gone.”

“Couldn’t you live with your mom then? Mr Stark said she doesn’t live too far out of state, nowhere near as far as the lake house.”

“My dads fucking dead Peter, he doesn’t control shit anymore” You find yourself shouting, your eyes burning into his with a fire of fury behind them. “My mom came back after the snap but she hasn’t answered any of my calls, and she fled the house when I turned up on her goddamn doorstep. She ain’t no option anymore, my authority is Potts.”

He gives you a sad smile but slinks away. No surprise there, last time he saw you, you were twelve years old and tugging on his trouser leg to get him to play basketball with you. You didn’t have anywhere near this level of anger, and you’d never have dared scream at him, let alone repeating the words that hit him like daggers mere days ago. 

 The next day comes too soon, and you’re just chilling , finishing up the last of your packing, and trying to ignore anything pushing you to stay. Why did your chat with Peter compel you to want to stay here instead? What is it about him that always brings you full circle, and makes you feel like that love struck child again?

From your mirror, as you’re adjusting your blouse and switching out your nose stud, you see Peter approaching, steadily advancing down the corridor. Twice he stops, and takes a step back, as well as turning and looking the other way as though doubting his decision to come into your room, but when you see his knuckles come in contact with the wood of your door, as he knocks gently, and the sound floats into your ears, making you turn around to see his meek smile with his head hung low.

“You can come in Pete,” you exhale, “I won’t bite your head off.”

He chuckles lowly and advances towards the bed. He gestures, and you nod, giving him permission and hobbling over to join him moments later. He seems flustered, you can tell me by the way he’s struggling to maintain eye contact and the manner in which his hands are convulsing in his lap. Seeing him like this makes you uncomfortable, and you can even feel bile rising in your throat. 

“Peter, I-”

“No, Y/N, please let me, I mean, I wanna talk.”

You smile and bow out, allowing him space to align his thoughts with his words, after all, you’ve known that it takes him a while to do that, but it’s necessary in any kind of emotional situation with someone as awkward as Petter; just the thought causes butterflies to flutter around in your stomach and windpipe.

“I’m sorry for yesterday, for nagging you and insisting, and for asking you those questions and trying to make you stay. I just, I really just don’t want you to leave. I was insensitive, and I should’ve recognised you beforehand.” You can feel tears pooling behind your eyes, and it takes all of your willpower to not let them fall. “I just want you to do as well as you can, and I wish you all the best, I just wish I could’ve gotten to know you better  before it was too late; ok Stark?”

His lips quirk into a smile, yet his voice breaks as he calls you Stark. It physically hurts to hear him say that, and you want to tell him that it’s okay, and he has every right to be upset and grieving, and you know you shouldn’t have shouted at him and gotten so defensive because after all he’s one of the only people you can let your guard down around. You just want to say that it’s not his fault, except you can’t find the words.

“Why can’t you stay?” He asks sincerely, even a touch of desperation there.

Your heart drops to your feet at his expression, and your next words come out as a hushed, pained whisper, your words slow and detached. “I have no reason to stay.”

He nods dejectedly, almost like he’s giving up on something, and he even moves to stand up while your eyes are glued to the way his muscles ripple with each movement, but halfway to being upright, he changes his mind and turns towards you.

The next thing you know, you feel the soft pressure of his thumb on your chin, followed by the pads of his fingers on the soft skin underneath, tilting your head up to look him in his gorgeous eyes, like molten honey in the soft sunlight of your bedroom. Just the sight of his lips slightly parted causes your mouth to go dry, but you don’t have too long to think about that, because all of your thoughts dissipate with the featherlight pressure and sweet, intoxicating taste of his lips on yours. His nose nudges your cheek ever so gently. It’s barely there, and over far too soon, it still makes your head spin. Christ, you’ve been waiting for that to happen for upwards of five years, and it was just as beautiful as you hoped it would be.

“How about now?” He inquires, a stark contrast of shyness and courage written all over his face.

“Why don’t you kiss me again and we’ll find out?”

You fist the fabric of his t-shirt and pull him towards you, leaving Peter shocked by the strength in just one hand, seeing as he finds his body hovering above yours just seconds later. He looks hungry, already ravishing you with his eyes as you kiss and kitten lick just below his ear. He holds his weight up but leaves no time to press his lips against yours, urgently, passionately. You moan a little at how desperate he is to get his hands on you, the way he knots one hand in your hair, splayed out on the pillow beside you, the way he’s senselessly grinding his crotch onto you. You don’t mind at all, especially not the breathy calls of your name he lets out when you knot your legs around his lower back to pull him closer. It's a primal desire that keeps you moving. His tongue glides across your lower lip, prying its way in, and you just let it happen, too caught up in the moment to do anything else.

“Pete, fuck…”

Your one hand slides under his shirt and runs across the ripples of his abs, you savour the way he tenses beneath your touch, the way the scars feel tenders beneath your hungry touch. You other hand threads into his soft brown locks. You pull gently and elicit the most perfect guttural groan from him.

“Y/N,” he almost pleads, and his lips move to gently suck on your jawline. 

You’re surprised that he isn't calling you Sloane, but you certainly aren't complaining. Your name from his tongue does things to you that you can’t even explain.

You dance your fingers from his hair across to his face, and push his cheek gently. Your eyes are thin, focussed on him, but Peter’s pupils are heavily blown with lust, leaving only a faint rim of golden brown around the edge. 

“You’re so perfect,” he rasps out, and your stomach coils in desire. Your face must look so pouty, so wanton, but you can’t find it within yourself to care.

“Fuck me, Peter.”

He looks like a deer in headlights momentarily, but gets over it quickly, attaching his lips back on yours and allowing his tongue to roam your mouth, savuring and swallowing every whimper and moan that escapes your pretty lips.You let your hand, the one still beneath his shirt, skim over his muscles to where his heart is, beating at a double pace, thrumming gently beneath your hand. It makes your ego inflate tenfold, knowing that you’ve gotten this flustered and needy.

Just as you’re really getting lost in the pleasure, Peter’s hand cupping and massaging your breast as his mouth works wonders on intoxicating you, you hear a rather loud cough from your doorway, and everything stops. You and Peter both freeze at the same moment, and you drop any stance, fully detaching yourselves to glance at who’s there.

“You kids should be careful, and next time, close the door.”

And with that, Bucky’s gone from view as quickly as he appeared, leaving you both with a mere glimpse at him in his sweats with a coffee cup in his hands, no doubt filled with earl grey tea being the old lady he is. 

In the heat of the moment, you’d both forgotten to close the door and turn FRIDAY off. And Rhodey can access all of the footage. Fuck. Oh well, you’ve already been caught once, why stop now?

You wrap an arm around Peter's shoulders and pull yourself up until you’re straddling his lap and upper thighs, eagerly rubbing yourself against the material of his jeans to try and get some kind of friction. He slides an arm around your waist, and you move in to kiss him, only for him to turn his head the other way. 

The moment couldn’t have been lost from Bucky’s playfully snarky comment, could it? You want nothing more than for him to kiss you again, earnestly, fervently, but he doesn’t even spare you a glance, not even when he pushes you from his lip and stands up with his head in his hands.

Apparently he doesn’t feel the same.

“Crap, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. Why did I do that? Y/N…”

He even begins to pace, that’s when you know that he thinks he’s fucked up.

“You know why I shouldn’t have done that right, don’t you?” he asks, stuttering random syllables in no specific order, but you do notice that with each pace, he paces his way closer to your open door.

“Yeah,” you lie, but you’ll work that out tonight, “I get it. But it’s fine. And I need to pack…”

He smiles nervously, and with a few careless gestures and no words, he stalks into the corridor and closes your door behind him. You can hear him lettering a long-held breath out. 

All of a sudden, you feel completely sick to your stomach. Why would he do that? It was so God damn cryptic. One second he’s apologising, asking you to stay, pashing you senseless, and the next he’s keeping as much distance from you as possible, apologising, and treating you like a child.

That’s when it hits you.

He feels like he’s kissing the old you. You grew up without him there, and in the space of what was merely a nap to him, you grew five years older, grew tits, matured, changed every aspect about yourself, and developed a sex drive; whereas he didn’t change one bit, he’s still the same peter that he was when you were an aggravating child, crushing on him from afar and trying to be like him. He feels predatory at kissing you, because all he’s ever known you as is a child, and this is all new territory, a territory he’s too scared to broach because he can’t get permission from the man himself.

Maybe that’s why your dad had to die, so that you’d never end up with Peter, and that’s Earth punishing you for some godforsaken reason.

So you just lie there, far salty tears involuntarily dripping down your cheeks as you sit there and think. Will you ever just be fucking happy?

 Happy’s set to pick you up at noon today, and after a night of scarcely five hours of sleep, you are not in the mood for anyone and their funny business, especially not Peter, and you aren’t exactly peppy for the hour long drive to arrive there with the Bimbo and the Brat. Well, at least everyone has low expectations of you, so it shouldn’t be that much of an issue when you simply scowl at them and flip them off until you chuck yourself into the car and wave them goodbye for the last time. You’re not sure if the gravity of the situation has hit you yet, maybe you’re repressing it, or maybe it simply just does not bother you, the same way that most things don’t.

You don’t even bother with your appearance, and stick to black trackies and a cropped tank top, with a mildly colourful button-down open over the top. Seeing as your docs are packed in the ‘hide from Pepper’ box, you toss on your worn down black converse and begrudgingly throw your hair up in what you hoped would be a messy bun but ends up looking more like a lopsided half-up ponytail, so you snap the hair tie and throw it away. Hey, that’s an easy way to deal with the Peter issue. Snap him in half and chuck him in the trash where he rightfully belongs after yesterday. 

All you have for breakfast is an iced coffee, and justly so, no one dares even make eye contact with you. By ten, all of your bags are out in the hallway, and not a single personal affect is left in your room. You say a quick goodbye to FRIDAY, and hobble out into the living room, where you spend the next almost two hours either staring blankly ahead of you and ignoring what’s on the screen, or picking at your crutches while you analyse the previous day with Peter. No matter how much you want to hate him, you can't refute the way he made you feel, completely under his control, so willing and malleable, so eager and hungry and loved.

 Happy pulls up at 11.55, and you begin to help him load everything into the car, but get refused after two bags and therefore two trips downstairs after you nearly fall face first and your crutches slip from your arms. The rest is down within seconds by Sam and Bucky.

You said goodbye to Wanda a couple of days ago when you popped in for a chat, but she’d still made her way out here, so you give her a quick hug and wish her well, and you see that May has made her way out to see you off, but Peter is nowhere to be found which makes your cheeks burn with anger.

“I’m so sorry for now knowing who you were my love,” she tells you, running a hand through your hair, “Peter told me all about you before it all happened, he said you were such a cutie, and I know that he would’ve made more of an effort had he recognised you.”

You chuckle softly, hug her, and simply don’t reply. What are you supposed to say to something like that? Bucky and Sam appear back at the top of the stairs and advance towards you, knocking each other out of the way in a playful battle to hug you first. Sam wins by tickling Bucky just beneath his ribs, and bear hugs you, making you feel like a baby koala. 

“Use protection next time, and please, God, shut the door.” He whispers in your ear, making you jump away, your jaw slack, utterly aghast, but he just laughs at your expense.

“You told him about that?” you accuse Bucky, shoving a finger at his chest.

He raises his hands in surrender and even lets out a chuckle before cuddling you, his metal arm somehow a comforting presence around you. 

“Of course I did, Doll. It was too good not to tell.”

You swat him gently on his chest, but instead of pulling away just yet, you bury your face in his t-shirt for possibly the last time. 

“You two kids get along, or I might have to come here and whip your asses.” you glance between Bucky and Sam, making them laugh, but they nod nonetheless and step backwards to join May, allowing you to leave. You grasp your crutches and let your arms fall through the rests, your hands slipping around the handles like second nature, and you start to make your way out. Something that resembles hope begins to blossom in your stomach, so you muster all of your courage and take a fleeting glimpse over your shoulder, but much to your disappointment yet not very much surprise, he isn’t there. You feel something within your chest physically break, and with the pain all over your body, emotional above all else, stemming from betrayal, you wouldn’t be surprised if it isn’t your heart strings. Oh well, you tell yourself, and in recovery from bowing your head down in embarrassment, you hold your shoulders high with any remaining pride as you take the few steps to the door, ignoring the tears that begin to fall. Your tears are possibly the most confusing thing about this ordeal, you never cried before, not from emotion at least. 

“Stop- Y/N, wait, please Sloane…” you hear breathless shouts, followed by hurried footsteps on the linoleum. Instantly, you recognise his voice. “Please stop, I’m begging you.”

You halt your steps, and prop your crutches against the wall, but are slow to turn around, and even when you do, it takes you a moment to actually meet his gaze. His eyes hold all of the hurt he’s feeling. He hardly slept, you can tell by the red rims and deep, sallow bags. The warm chocolate colour is slightly murky, something of an anger in them, maybe even a sense of loss.

You can’t track anything more, because you take one step forwards, and he begins to virtually sprint towards you, his hair bouncing as he dashes across the floor and entwines his arms around you like vines, relentlessly squeezing you and ceasing to let go. He simply just stands there, glued to the spot, holding onto you, and once more you feel the tears well in your eyes. You’ve never been hugged this way, not by anyone, so you make the most of it and gently grasp his t-shirt to draw him impossibly closer, his scent enveloping you in a blanket of warmth and adoration. He moves one hand up to knot in your matted hair, and buries your head closer into his shoulder, which you welcome, even if you’re wetting the shoulder of his shirt with your tears. You lose count of the time until you let go, just savouring the way he holds you so lovingly, and you don’t particularly ever want to let go. All of the rest of the world has disappeared. But still, you both detach yourselves just a little, and you find your lips mere inches away from his perfect lips. Without another thought, something otherworldly takes over, and you find your lips planted together in the most intimate way possible. The tip of his tongue barely has to swipe your lower lip before you grant him access, and as you do, your mind and soul proclaim thanks to the gods. He tastes like heaven and cherry pie - his favourite - and he feels even better. The way his tongue dances with yours is like a massage, second nature, and God, you never want it to stop with how crazy he’s making your mind go, let alone the flock of butterflies fluttering around your stomach. His one hand shifts to the small or your back, and you find yourself wrapping your arms even tighter around Peter until your hands touch, and you have him held in place, in the most perfect position, the one where you know he belongs.

You separate, gasping for air and gulping as much down as you can in such a short amount of time before his hands are in your hair again and he’s kissing you just as sweetly, yet hotly, as before. The sensual way he gazes at you makes your insides turn to mush in seconds, and you have to look away even before he kisses you again because you fear you shan’t be able to keep his gaze if you ever want to leave this place with your heart intact. This kiss isn’t as long, you realise that as your hands drop to his waist and stay there lightly, feeling the skin above his hips rippling beneath his tensing muscles. His body shifts, as does his grip on you, and he starts to pepper kisses on your lips and cheeks, just small, precious pecks that keep your heart beating with joy and longing. Just the feeling of his lips kissing away your tears as he hovers above you makes you feel alive at long last, and he makes you feel more cherished than you ever imagined you could.

“You need to go, Happy’ll start honking for you any second.” he breathes, the softness of his breath running your eyelashes and allowing your eyes to flutter clothes, his freckles disappearing from your view for a second. Then, as if on cue, Happy's horn resounds. “I’ll walk you down.”

He looks so crestfallen as he pulls away from your and passes you your crutches, keeping a safe distance. And although you both know that everyone saw, it doesn’t matter, and no one says a word, they all just observe quietly, but you can tell that they’re smiling down on you both. You can still taste your salty tears mingled together pressing on your lips, the taste of just indescribably, distinctly Peter stuck in your mouth, a taste you never want to stop tasting. 

When Peter crushes, you oblige and scramble onto his back as he carries your crutches, and the walk down the stairwell to where Happy’s parked on the sidewalk is a silent one, but it’s still comfortable. There are so many things the two of you want to say to each other, but it’s too hard to express them given that you’re about to be shipped off somewhere that he’ll probably never make your acquaintance again, no matter how much he wants to spend all of his time with you. You’re more conflicted than you’ve ever felt, so stressed, so hurt, but at the same time you’re so happy that you got to make those memories with Peter before you leave, elated that you made up with him, pleased that you got to feel him kiss you one last time. 

When you reach the concrete, Peter gently places you down on your feet, and he puts your crutches into the open door at the back of the car and proceeds to stand nervously beside you, his hands behind his back as he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. You have your head down, anxious beyond comparison, just staring at the gravel, until one of Peter's hands comes out from where it was and takes your trembling hand into his palm, his fingers slowly tangling around yours and giving you a gentle squeeze. He switches his gaze over to you and catches your eye. He smiles briefly before bringing your knuckles up to his lips. 

“I’ve fancied you since I was eleven,” you tell him, “That’s almost six years, that’s a long ass time.” a brief hint of humour creeps into your pained, quiet voice.

He just chuckles and rubs his thumb over your knuckles, making you smile, despite the pain of the situation. He speaks to you real soft. “I know.”

Your hand feels like it was meant to fit in his and sends a new sort of warmth shooting through your body, but it doesn’t last long before he’s helping you into the backseat of the car and reluctantly removing his nimble fingers from their grip around yours, and placing a gentle, chaste kiss to your forehead for good measure, a kiss you’ll always treasure.

“Don’t,” you plead, feeling a sob suddenly choke your throat when all that’s left are his fingertips grazing yours. “Don’t let go, Peter, please.”

It’s difficult to remain stoic around Peter now, it’s like everything just completely pivoted the day he kissed you, and if you’re honest, you don’t want to go back. You don’t want to be the hateful girl you once were, just longing for him to come back. Now he is back, you don’t have to wait anymore, and he can help you be your old self again. If only he’d just hold your hand forever, and you could actually be together.

And then it hits you. You need Peter almost as much as you need air to breathe, and if he lets go, you’ll be lost, and it’ll feel like it did for five whole years, you’ll be lonely and isolated, and even in the few days that you’ve had him back in your life, that feeling has completely dissipated and been replaced with an albeit confused elation and a warmth of love. 

“I have to,” he whispers back his eyes already red, “I have to let you go. It’s what Mr Stark would want.”

He pulls away and closes the door in one swift movement, turning his back on you. You see his mop of brunette curls slip down from view when you peer out the window, hot tears burning your cheeks. You know he’s sitting on the side, his head in his hands, but you can’t look that far, so instead you listen to the soft purr of the car as it comes to live, and you let your laboured breath steam up the glass that your hands are placed on. As you begin to pull away, your final glimpse at your old home escaping you, you see Peter waving frantically and beginning to job alongside you, only stopping once you exit the driveway. Thanks to the tinted windows, you know he can’t see you, but you see him anyway and wave back before your pain overwhelms you. That happens the second he’s gone from your peripheral vision, and your chest caves in loud, wrenching sobs that’ll leave you in pain for days. 

Is this what it feels like to have your heartbroken? 

Of course it is, you know this, but all of the times you’ve felt it before, it still hasn’t felt this bad. You know that it’s happening for a reason, that God is punishing you this way for a reason, but no matter how hard you try, it just seems endlessly painful, and all for nothing. What could possibly be the reason for this?

You’re so locked in your thoughts that you barely realise that Happy has slowed the car down, and is looking over his shoulder at you, trying to bring you back down by asking how you are and how you feel. Did he not just see that display?

“If I was allowed to stay,” you slightly pant, your teeth gripping and your first clenching of their own accord, “then it could’ve been me and Peter. Just the two of us, the way it was supposed to be as I was growing up. But everything happens for a fucking reason, right?”

Happy just swallows and mumbles something incoherent before sliding the glass back over and starting up at another steady speed. You don’t know why you’re so... angry all of a sudden; you shouldn’t be angry, you should be upset and almost grieving, crying for the loss of an old home but excited for a new one. But yet, what’s the point in all of that? You’ve felt those emotions plenty of times in your short life, and you always thought you felt them for a reason, but where the ever loving fuck is that reasoning right now when you actually need it? 

Grieving has lost its effect on you by now, and your mind feels hostile from all of the thoughts whirring around. You’ve had the same thoughts every time someone died - every time you thought your dad died, when your mom died, when Peter died, when everyone else just turned to dust. Then you felt them all over again when your dad died, for real this time, but what was the point? Nothing good ever came of it… nothing except grieving for Peter. You felt the same way you do now, only now it's somehow worse, yet he isn’t dead. You grieved for him more than you did your own mother, because he cared, because he actually paid attention, because he told you that you were pretty for the first time in your life. He always treated you like a person, like an equal, even when you were just a clingy child, vying for someone's attention when neglected by both of your parents because they had better things to do. But even now, now he recognises you again, he’s treated you like an equal, maybe even put you on a pedestal after you were extremely terse and treated him horribly. He still kissed you and cared for you and loved you-

SHIT.

You love Peter. Surely that must’ve been obvious for a long time, but now you’re finally admitting it. You really, genuinely, wholeheartedly love the little shit. Your stomach churns with nerves, and your mind tells you that you’re insane, but your heart… your heart has known all along, despite how much you fought it, and it’s now telling you to go along with it. You’re so… overcome with emotions that you don’t even know where to start or how to react or even try to begin to suss them out to deal with them so you do what feels like second nature the past few days, and you begin to cry, unable to choke it down any longer.

“Turn back happy,” you plead, “Shit! I said turn back now Goddammit!”

“I can’t, Sloane, you know I can’t, bosses orders.”

His words just hurt you more, if that was even possible, and pile something new onto the burning pile of emotions battling for territory within your exhausted brain. 

“Happy, turn back right the fuck now, or I will scream until the glass breaks.”

When he does nothing, your sobs become harsher, and something in your throat snaps, forcing you to become hysterical. It’s something primal that takes over your body, a demon's force, because God knows you wouldn’t usually have this in you. You scream. It’s just a shrill sound to begin with, until your heaving chest and tears break through, and make it into a full hysterics game.

“HAPPY! TAKE ME HOME, TAKE ME TO PETER!” you screech, and you repeat the same words until you can’t breathe any longer, but even when your lungs fail you, your hands don’t. 

You clip your seatbelt undone and begin punching the glass. It starts off just to be the dark tinted window separating you from happy and the wheel that would allow you to drive home, but even though the glass begins to wobble, it isn’t enough, so you move to the windows, your knuckles and palms coming in contact with the night shaded glass again and again until they’re rattling and even beginning to crack, but the second you feel you can, you release the most bestial, guttural scream that you can muster, and punctuate it with a rough shove to Happy’s chair.

You want to stop, but with all of the loss you’ve been through, you just need this one thing, this one person, this one place to feel complete, and none of it’s happening. It’s unspeakable, indescribable the way you feel, the turf war that’s occurring all over your body driving you insane. 

“Just take me to Peter,” you finally beg after what seems like an eternity, collapsing completely into your seat, “I need him, Happy. I need Peter, please… please.”

You’re drained, dehydrated, hurt, and it doesn’t seem like that’s going to change any time soon. You’re driving away from the only happiness you’ve ever known to live in the arse end of nowhere with two people you hate, and so a void just takes over everything that previously embodied you, and you succumb to the emptiness, your last thought being of all the tears you’ve cried over one boy, the only one you’ve ever loved, and now you can’t even tell him that. 

It was hard to grieve for someone, only for them to come back, the same way it was hard to grieve for someone who never gave a toss about you. That's what you’re finding so hard about all of this. But now, none of that matters, because he’s gone.

Two months later

The doorbell to the house rings for the third time today, driving you utterly up the wall. First it was the postie with some kind of oversized parcel for Morgan, then it was Happy, here again to help outside and be a ‘watchful eye’ while Pepper is out grocery shopping, apparently since they still don’t trust you rough to take decent care of your own sister.

“MORGAN!” You yell from your place at the back of the house, knowing that from her spot on the sofa in front of paw patrol or whatever shit she’s watching, she’ll hear, “Get the fucking door!”

“Mummy told you not to say bad words, Y/N.” She shouts back, and you can practically hear the signature Stark smirk in her words, although it should be far too early for her to actually be making that face.

That’s one thing they got right with Morgan, though, at least she calls you by your actual name instead of fucking Sloane, even if Pepper does ‘accidentally’ slip up and call you by that awful legacy name from time to time when you really annoy her, say by breaking a vase or some china, or screaming at her using all of the profanities you can think of. She’s really regretting taking you in, now, because you’re simply that much of a handful that she had Happy and Rhodey actually build a quiet room for some respite. You’re still in the rebellious phase, and you don’t seem to be leaving it any time soon, although you have let the dye in your hair grow out and you haven't bleached it… yet, and some of your piercings have naturally closed over, although that was more so that Morgan wouldn’t continually take a metal detector to your face. 

Abrupt, your thoughts escape you, and you can’t catch the thread, because after multiple attempts of Morgan’s to click open the reinforced vibranium locks on the doors (Rhodey’s suggestion), and the shifting of a stool to allow her to climb to it, you hear a shriek and some mess of words that sound like ‘Peter’. But no, that's simply impossible. You’re imagining things in your annoyed state, knowing it would’ve been a lot faster and quieter if you just made your way over there yourself. 

“It’s for you!”

Now this peaks your attention. No one has been to see you in the whole time you’ve been here, nor have you ever gotten mail. No one comes to see you, so maybe your ears didn’t deceive you.

You leap up from your seat and begin charging to the door, running as quickly and carefully as you can over Morgan's toys, but you’re also careful to not aggravate your injury. One good thing that came from your time there - the only good thing - is that you were able to work with your dad's remaining technology and do intensive physio, resulting in your mobility improving tenfold, also meaning that now you can not only walk but kind of run without assistance. But that doesn’t matter as soon as you see the man standing in the doorway, a bunch of flowers in his hand, and an expression of pure delight on his puppy-like features. 

“Y-you can walk?” he blubs, his cheeks red with joy.

The flowers fall from his hands onto the deck, and your eyes fill with tears as your hands fly up to your mouth, only just containing your sobs. Your whole being is overcome with happiness like you’ve never felt before, and it seems like all of your depression since you left him has melted away, and a new you is born.

“You came back for me…” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear, and in response, he draws his lips into a tight line to contain his smile, and nods his head at you, soft brown curls falling into his soft eyes.

“Why are you sad, Y/N?” Morgan asks, and tugs at your shirt, but you don’t even realise, because the sight of Peter coming towards you is all that you can see and feel, and you begin advancing towards him too, until you collide in a heated kiss. Everything just seems like a tangle of limbs, a clash of teeth, and a battle of tongues. You’re too wrapped up in the feel of him, the passion of the moment, the intimacy of the kiss, that you don’t notice that Peter’s already got you picked up with your whole body tied around him. He tastes utterly delectable, the same as before, and his tongue feels incredible as it sweeps your mouth.

“Morgan-” you pant, “Go find Uncle Happy in the yard, now.” When she doesn’t move, you open your eyes to glare at her, stunned and traumatised into silence with her mouth slightly agape. You can’t bear detaching from Peter’s lips for even a second, so your words are all rushed. “Morgan get out now, I can see him there, in the yard, go!”

The little squirt smiles wryly up at you, but does as she’s told, and scurries off into the mass of flowers and perfectly cut grass. Seeing her gone, you let out a long held breath and smile into Peter’s passionate kiss. All of the love floods back to you, and you feel whole once again. But before you can get too caught up in the sappiness, Peter is already blindly stumbling through the house and kicking the front door closed behind him. Your fingers in his hair, you guide him to the couch.

As he kisses you so tenderly, even in the heated moment, you finally understand what everything was for. Every trial and tribulation in your life was teaching you, helping build you up for this very moment, where it all makes sense.

Everything in life has been for a reason, and that reason is this very moment. The thought makes you smile, but nowhere near as much as Peter’s own smile does.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Soldier Boy (Part 2)

Summary: The reader spends the day with Dean getting to know him some more when she catches him in a lie and discovers one of his most dark secrets...

Masterlist

Pairing: Superhero!Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,600ish

Warnings: language, mentions of death, angst

A/N: Enjoy!

____

“So how old are you, Solider Boy?” you asked the next day as you walked around the park. 

“Thirty,” he said with a smirk.

“Solider Boy’s been around since the second world war. So. How old are you really?” you asked.

“I was eighteen when I was injected. I’ve aged very slowly. I do age, but it’s slow. They...I shouldn’t talk about this stuff,” he said, kicking at the ground with his boot. “Ah, fuck it, it’s in the news anyways.”

“The compound V?” you asked and he nodded.

“First successful try right here. I was still going through puberty so it took,” he said. “I guess. The science is very complicated they said. They just said you want to serve your country and I signed up.”

“What year were you born?”

“January 24th, 1926,” he said. You paused and he chuckled. “I know some women aren’t into older men.”

“I must seem like a child to you,” you said, walking again and crossing your arms.

“You’re twenty nine. I’m thirty. What’s such a big deal about that?” he smiled.

“You’re sweet,” you said. You dropped your hands by your sides, Dean taking one of them in his. “Old man ain’t wasting his time.”

“Keep it up, kiddo,” he laughed. You laced your fingers together with his hand and smiled as you looked at him. A flannel and t shirt. Jeans and boots. A baseball cap on his head. He looked so ordinary and yet he was the first superhero in existence. “I’m sure you’re wondering if I ever had a family.”

“A bit. It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” you said. 

“No, I want to. I don’t talk to anyone anymore. Aside from the people at Vought to try and get in The Seven but that’s like beating a dead horse at this point,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Apparently I’m too similar in the market sector as Homelander. Go ‘merica and color scheme and that shit. I didn’t ask to be the leader or anything. I just...want to get off the kiddie squad, go do real shit out there, help people, not the stupid stuff I do now.”

“Maybe that’s why you don’t fit on The Seven. You want to help people, you don’t care about the photo op,” you said.

“I’m gonna keep trying,” he said. “But to answer your other question you didn’t ask, no, I never had a family. I had parents and a brother but they’ve all passed away. All my friends are gone. It never seemed right to love a girl and have a family and watch them all grow old and...honestly I didn’t want to watch my children grow older than me and die. I can’t imagine anything worse than outliving them.”

“You’re a good man, Dean.”

“I had the occasional acquaintance, don’t get me wrong. But it was always casual, no titles, nothing formal.”

“Is this casual?” you asked. He shook his head and you bumped his shoulder. “What’s different this time?”

“A chemical made me this way. Maybe a chemical can unmake me this way. We are so advanced now compared to back then. Maybe I can age normally with some other combination. Maybe I’m stuck like this forever. I just know that the numb pit inside of me woke the fuck up when I met you and it has been quiet for a very, very long time.”

“My mom’s quiet a bit older than my dad. Age gaps don’t scare me,” you said. He chuckled and you held onto his arm. “You don’t sparkle like the twilight guy though right?”

“Oh my God, no,” he laughed. “No sparkles here. I do make sparks when bullets bounce off of me though.”

“Well now you’re just bragging,” you said. You rested your head on his arm, thinking back to a movie you used to watch as a kid, Solider Boy the lead in the thing. “Dean.”

“Hm?”

“Why did you just lie about not having a family?” you asked, pulling away from him. You knew you could have let it go, should have let it go for the sake of the mission but damn you were pissed off at him for lying to you. You crossed your arms and he frowned, going over to a nearby bench. You sat down next to him, Solider Boy rubbing his hands together. “You were in this movie my brother loved so I watched it all the time. He was a huge fan and he would never shut up about you. I never paid much attention but I remember. You had a wife and kids once.”

“You’re gonna leave after I tell you this part,” he said, a sad smile on his face.

“I’m gonna leave if you don’t tell me the truth right now. You will never see my face again. You promised you would not lie to me. Out with it Dean.”

“I wasn’t always a good person. It’s very...difficult to stay good when there’s so much bad around you. When there’s no consequences.”

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

“My son and daughter died hating me, thinking I was a monster. They died because of me. That was the breaking point for me. I walked away after that, I started over. I’d turned into this thing I didn’t recognize. I became Soldier Boy. Dean Winchester...he died back in that war. Not until the nineties did I realize what had happened to me. So I left. Went away from the world. Brought Dean back to life and Soldier Boy came back but different. Good this time. Greed, corruption. It’s not happening this time. Then you said...you made that comment about me being naive, that I’d turn eventually into an asshole supe like the rest of them. I’m terrified of that happening to me again. Maybe that’s why I like you, cause you’ll remind me not to be a monster again.”

“Why do you call yourself a monster?” you asked quietly.

“The first time I killed someone, I was mortified. The last time I did it, I laughed. It made me happy. I hurt him before I did it even. I stopped caring about people. My wife wanted a divorce. I thought she was hot, she fit my image. I told her I didn’t want one so she took some pills and told me she’d rather die than live with the devil. My kids were young adults, late twenties. I snapped at them when they blamed me for their mother’s death. My son hit me so I pushed him and he hit his head. My daughter ran out, afraid of me and was hit by a car. They died because I didn’t want to lose my image. I wasn’t even that upset at first. I thought a widow superhero, that’ll boost my numbers.”

“If that didn’t…” you said, Dean running his hands over his thighs. “What made you change?”

“I found a drawing my daughter had made me when she was small,” he said. He took out his wallet and unfolded a laminated sheet of paper holding it out to you. It was done in crayon, a few stick figures with one of them wearing a superhero outfit and the word “daddy” written above it. “She loved me once. I ripped it away from her. I found that cleaning out the house and I realized what I’d done. I’m worse than any bad guy there ever was for doing that to them. I stopped caring. When you stop caring is when you lose those bits of your soul. They break off until there’s nothing left. I am a monster, Y/N. Nothing I ever do can make up for it and save whatever shattered pieces are in there. But I owe it to my kids to be good and stay good.”

You handed the sheet back and he tucked it away, his wallet going in his pocket as he stared out at the trees across the path. 

“I understand if you would no longer like to see or speak to me again. Or if you want to slap me in the face. That’s also acceptable,” he said.

“What year was all of this?” you asked.

“They died in ‘92. Then I ran away to Kansas, worked as a farmhand for a while,” he said. He rubbed his palm and stared down at his lap. “Just...be careful at night and try to stop walking down alleys for me, okay?”

“Why are you saying that?”

“I’m never going to see you again after you get up from this bench.”

You stood up and he let out a sigh. You took a step to your left and sat down closer to him, turning your head as Dean looked so horribly confused at you. You couldn’t walk away. It wasn’t an option. But while you knew you couldn’t walk because of the mission Butcher had you on, you didn’t want to. There was so much self-hate inside of Dean he hid well and part of you ached that he considered himself sub-human.

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

“Dean. What happened to your family was horrible but they were accidents. Your daughter, your son. Your wife, did she even let it sink in for you before she did that? If I was married to someone and they suddenly asked for a divorce my gut reaction would probably be no too. I’m not saying you didn’t play a part but those were her actions that trickled down and affected the rest of you. Letting yourself become corrupted means you’re human. We all make fucking mistakes. Yours are a little big, I admit that. But you try to make up for it. All you can do after the fact is try and you’re doing that. There’s a soul in there Dean. If there wasn’t this wouldn’t be eating you alive. Cut yourself a break. I gotta process everything you said but I’m not walking away. Promise you will never lie to me again and I can promise you that I won’t judge you, no matter what you’ve done.”

“I’ve been around 95 years and I’ve never met anyone like you,” he said. “That’s a good thing. I will never lie to you again. I swear. I’m sorry. I was...frightened of telling you who I was deep down. I like you. I’ve never felt like this before. It’s the first bit of happiness I’ve felt in a long time and I don’t want it to go away just yet.”

“It’s okay that you were scared. Maybe on our third date we can have a less intense conversation. We can talk about how you’re older than sliced bread,” you teased. 

“You youngin’s don’t know how good you got it,” he chuckled. You took his hand into your lap and he smiled. “Not a monster to you?”

“No. Just be a good guy and I’ll be happy,” you said. You leaned over and kissed his cheek, Dean looking you up and down.

“I wish I knew you when I was a dumb kid that let them shove that stuff in me. I never would have said yes if I had a girl back home.”

“Well, from now on, maybe just ask if you think I’d be proud of what you were doing. If the anwer’s no, maybe don’t do it,” you said.

“I’m gonna keep that one,” he said. “Also did you subtly drop that I’m getting another date despite all of that?”

“You told me the truth, even though it was hard. That’s why I like you too,” you said. “Plus you’re really old so you must have like, sex down to perfection by this point.”

“Gonna blow your fucking mind,” he teased. “Eventually. I know things are different nowadays but…you’re special. You’re not a hookup.”

“When you’re ready, you let me know and we’ll go from there, okay?” He nodded and you gave him a hug, Dean hesitant at first but he quickly relaxed into it. “You alright?”

“Been a long time since I had a hug is all.”

“You need one, just come to me,” you said. You sat back and he smiled. “So. Let’s go do something fun. You look like you could use it.”

“Night,” murmured Dean as he kissed you at your doorstep that evening.

“Night,” you said, not moving away from him just yet. His ears perked up and he forced himself away. “Trouble?”

“Yeah. Nothing major. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

“Bye Dean,” you said, watching him take off running far faster than any human man could. You smiled as you locked up, a loud thud coming from your kitchen. You unlocked the door and looked around. “Hello?”

“For such a nice house you have an incredibly small kitchen,” said Butcher as he walked out with the bottle of your nicest bourbon.

“Oh come on, that was a housewarming present,” you said.

“I swipe you some more,” he said, taking a long swig. “How’s it going?”

“Good. We got close today but Butcher you seriously can not come back here again. Dean was this close to coming inside tonight.”

“Dean. I thought he was Solider Boy.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You want to wind up like his last broad did? You give him the puppy dog eyes and then we make a move,” he said.

“I’m starting to think we might get further with sugar over spice. Billy he wants to make up for his past. If he gets into The Seven he could be a serious asset.”

“Are you going soft on me?” he asked, an edge in his voice. 

“Let me work him the way I know best. Trust me,” you said.

“Don’t forget what this is for. You call when you’re ready,” he said. “Don’t take too long.”

He left out the back and you sighed, running your hands over your face. Sure, Dean had done some bad things in the past but who hadn’t? He wasn’t playing you, he had no reason to. The part of you that wanted revenge was still there but he didn’t cause your brother to die, not really. He was simply a prime target at the moment.

You swallowed and went to the kitchen, taking the bottle of alcohol to the family room. You sat on the couch and took a swig, letting it burn your throat.

You didn’t want him to get hurt. You liked him. A lot. Maybe you could convince him to go away, be someplace safer. Your head turned when you got a text, the alert saying it was from Dean and him asking you if you wanted to get out of the city and go hiking tomorrow.

Maybe that’d be a good time to tell him the truth. He was bound to find out eventually and if he got mad, at least you’d be the only one in danger. Billy’s voice was at the back of your head but you ignored it. He’d been angry for too long, couldn’t see the good in people anymore. Dean wasn’t what you thought he was at first. He was good deep down.

You’d tell Solider Boy the truth tomorrow and hoped you lived to see the next day.

______

A/N: Read the Final Part here!

[sasa-gay-yo]

Just Us (Chapter Eleven: Break Up)

← Chapter Ten

“A little higher, yes, right there! Now to the left, put the nail right below that truss. Perfect! I’ll hand you the sign.” I reached down and picked up the newly polished piece of wood with the cafe’s name on it in a fresh coat of paint for the year-end opening. 

Flynn’s 

Jonas took it in his hands and hung it up on the new wooden post. This time, it would hang off over the street so that people could see where we were. Before, the sign was nailed next to the door and was now fading drastically. While I kept the old sign there for memories, the new sign was a fresh red color and had been sealed by the carpenter to make sure it lasted longer than the last one. It was something I had meant to do for years, but never got around to it. Now that I was just sitting and making bread for the refugees, I had time to design the shape and font I wanted. The sign was a light wooden rectangle with dark, red cursive lettering and had another small circular sign with a cup of tea attached to it, indicating we were a café. 

“It looks nice, Eva. You picked a good wood to contrast the letters,” Ben marveled up at it as Jonas came down from his ladder. Whenever I had added or changed something about the café, I asked Ben his thoughts about it, seeing he was the only one, second to me, who cared the most about it. When I went to him saying I was buying a new sign, he rejoiced. 

Jonas shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at it too. He couldn’t grasp why this was such a monumental change to Ben and I who had to fight Mr. Flynn to even make a sign in the first place. There weren’t many visitors to Trost when he had built the café, but when we came along, things were changing and he hated it. The first time Catrin gave out fresh squeezed juice, he grumbled about it for weeks saying a café should just have bread and coffee. It was funny, but if we left Mr. Flynn alone with his precious café, he would have ran it into the ground.

“You think he hates it?” I looked up to Ben and he nodded and mirrored Jonas’s stance. There was almost some undertone of weirdness being friends with Jonas because when he hit puberty, he morphed into a younger version of Ben. It was also a bit awkward that the mirror image of my brother still had feelings for me. Maybe that was one of the reasons I didn’t see Jonas as someone other than my best friend or another brother. They looked too similar.

“Most definitely. The old man is rolling in his grave right now. I wouldn’t be surprised if a strong winter wind knocked it down.” We stood there for a few, marveling at the sign as the sun went down. Jonas was the first one to whine it was too cold and we took that as a sign to go back into the café. I still had to clean up and get ready for opening tomorrow. Ben and Jonas had promised to help me run the café tomorrow to hold off the rush of people coming. 

When I took out an add in the paper to announce my holiday hours, people had flocked to my door, there to confirm if the newspaper was right. When I told them I was, in fact, opening back for year-end only, people were already trying to put in orders. I think the people of Trost wanted normal back, and my café would give them some of it. 

“So the Garrison just dropped you like that? Without any warning?” Jonas swept some dirt into the dust pan. 

“It wasn’t like, out of the blue. I knew it was coming. They have nothing to give me for pay and I demanded pay. I would have done it for a few more weeks as well, just for the refugee’s sake, but with the allotted flour for year-end, I just couldn’t continue without them giving me their stores. I wish they did it a little after year-end though so I could have brought pastries to the refugees. Maybe next year will be a better harvest.” Ben looked up from the book he was reading and moved his feet so Jonas could sweep under them. Jonas mumbled something under his breath about his father not doing anything, but he left it unnoticed. 

“Could you just show up with some things? Maybe you could make enough to give the children?” Ben had also worked closely with the refugees, trying to help outsource jobs and employment opportunities for them when people still trusted them. By now, no one would take in refugees for work. 

“No, they aren’t letting any outsiders into the stockyards now. That might be another reason I can’t make bread anymore. I have no idea why they’re doing that, and I hope it’s not another isolation policy because Trost citizens are complaining again. I even asked a person in the Garrison who likes me, and he said he couldn’t say.” Jonas, again, grumbled something under his breath, probably about the refugees, and I threw a rag at his head. 

“Hey!” 

“You are almost thirty years old and have no regard for other human lives. Tch!” He threw the rag back at me a little harder and glared. Ben just looked on, smirking at the two kids he was used to bickering back and forth. Ben had said the first day he introduced Jonas to me, he knew we’d be best friends and perfect enemies.

“Well, we always seem to forget that two refugees attacked you and that our food supply is little to none because we have to give half of it to them. It’s not just Trost either, Aunt Catrin told us that Stohess is also struggling with the weight of a whole district. We’ll be starved by next spring, the titans won’t even want to eat us!” I put down my rag and just sighed, glaring at him as he swept quickly, wanting to get out of the café. Jonas had broken up with his third girlfriend of the year and he wasn’t in the mood to have a heated argument session with the girl that was still pushing him away. That was the reason she had broken up with him: he still had feelings for me. I was afraid to bring up Levi to him because of this, but I wanted to tell him. Everyday, I would get more and more uncomfortable lying to him.

“I’m sure the titans don’t want to eat you anyways, Jonas.” He stopped sweeping, glaring at the ground. Uh oh. 

“I guess no one wants me then.” It was Ben’s turn to widen his eyes at his son’s sadness. He had spent a few minutes lecturing Jonas about how long it took Ben to find Analee, but it didn’t help soothe his sadness. In all honesty, Analee was Ben’s first girlfriend and he got her pregnant before they were even married and both eighteen. He wasn’t the right person to give his son advice and neither was I. We both agreed to just forget Jonas said that and move on with whatever we were doing. 

“Well, you two, I’m going to get back home. Your sister was adamant I help her build that new desk before tomorrow. I’ll be here tomorrow at opening, Eva, like old times. Don’t come back late Jonas, or you’ll wake up your mother.” I smiled up him, casting away the mood Jonas put me in, and waved to my brother. Ben and I were the closest, probably because of our locations too, and I always felt calm when he was around me. He was the most like Mr. Flynn. Jonas was such the opposite, and I’d always wondered how Ben had made him.

When he left and the bell stopped ringing above the door, Jonas and I just let the silence consume us. At this point, he wasn’t even sweeping up dirt, but he didn’t want to talk to me in the bad mood he was in. Did she really have to break up with him when I was about to spend every day of the next week with him? It had nothing to do with his feelings for me, but everything to do with the awful mood he’d be in. Last break up, I had to pull him from the bar at least three times, waste a pale of water to sober him up, and he fell asleep completely on top of me, cutting off my breathing. I had told Levi about this and he threatened to break off his fingers in letter form, even if it was back when we were eighteen. Levi gave Jonas no chances.

“How many people do you think will be here tomorrow?” He broke the silence first and I was glad he’d changed the subject. I could talk to a regulars Jonas.

“I couldn’t say. I’ve had at least thirty come to the café in the past week asking. I don’t think there will be a lot of people at the tables, but most will be coming in and out.” He nodded and set the broom down, sitting with it. He’d probably swept the floors twice, but I guess the extra cleaning won’t hurt. 

“My dad’s been on my ass about learning how to work at the café. Something about character building…” Sounds like Ben. Well, sounds like Mr. Flynn, but same person. 

“I wouldn’t mind the extra help. Elias can’t really count money reliably enough to let me bake while he runs orders. I let him just take things in and out of the oven and to customers. Sometimes, I’ll even let him use the mixer. Elias is getting that vital character development. I’ve also thought about giving him this job when he gets old enough so he doesn’t have to work under his father.” I jumped back up on the counter and forgot I had just cleaned it. I’ll do it more tomorrow. 

“I hated this place as a kid. Grandpa always forced us to clean if we were staying with him and Duran tried to always beat me up for no reason. When I was old enough to get my own job, I was ready to leave it behind. Funny to think the kid likes it here. I guess since you’re basically his older sister, it’s probably a you and dad situation.” Jonas and his younger sister were forced to come help at the café since Mr. Flynn was getting older. Duran would always run off somewhere and I stayed and baked, so Mr. Flynn needed some others to do the dishes and lift heavy boxes. Jonas stayed because I stayed. The café work at least helped Jonas prepare for delivery work at Reeve’s. 

“I loved this place, still do, but you know that already. It wouldn’t be mine if I didn’t like it.” He rolled his eyes, knowing how much I stupidly fell in love with the bakery at one point. It was during secondary school when Mr. Flynn’s lessons of life actually go through to me. I was finally getting out of the Underground depression and having a purpose fueled me. The bakery was something I did every day, almost every hour, and sometimes neglected my school work to do it. I had finally found something that was mine and I wasn’t going to let any amount of slacking take it away from me. 

“Do you think you’ll stay here forever? I mean, like Grandpa did. Pass it on to your kids and what not.” I nodded, looking out at the hanging sign in a crack of the front window blind. 

“There’s nowhere else I want to really go. I have everything I need here in Trost and I can go visit the other districts when I want. Plus, we’ve already lost four places I can go, so it’s slim pickings for retail locations. If I somehow don’t end up having kids and Elias takes my offer, I’ll give it to him probably. ” He hummed in agreement and leaned back in his chair, tilting the front legs of the floor. This reminded me of when we were in school and Mr. Flynn would make us close up for him when he wanted to sleep early. We’d clean and then sit here talking for hours about anything. I’d force Jonas to help me with math homework and sometimes pay him to do it. After Jonas got a job, it would be just me closing. It’s been a long time since this ex-tradition has occurred, so it was mildly comforting. We sat like that for a while, just staring somewhere in the café, probably thinking about when we were young.

Mr. Flynn acted like he hated us, but I knew a day never went by when he didn’t smile down at us and was thankful we were there. Jonas, Duran, and I were a lot to handle sometimes, but it was just the joys of youth. I would pay to go back them, too. Just to be able to tell myself that I needed to remember times like this, because when I was older, it would all change. I would be alone in the café.

“You know, Dad wants us to get together. He said it’s the thing that makes the most sense.” I sighed. There goes the comforting feeling that we’d just developed. Goddamn it, if he didn’t have to mention that, I would have had a great night, even a drink or two to celebrate opening. Now, his attitude changed and he suddenly wanted to talk about feelings. Didn’t you just get broken up with?

Ben had even taken me aside after Wall Maria fell and mentioned to me what he thought was right. Humanity’s time seemed to be fleeting and it wouldn’t be fun to die without a family. I fended him off, not telling him that I was not alone and very much in a relationship, but he would still leave hints here and there. Today was one of those days talking about keeping the café in the family and remembering the times when little kids ran around the tables. He’d even start telling us stories of how him and Analee would take care of the café as it’s first employees and how they fell in love. He was hoping the same thing would happen to Jonas, and that’s why he was forcing him to work here now. That was probably the only thing Ben and Jonas agreed on. 

“He’s mentioned it to me a few times. I’ve always told him no, but I guess when he gets his mind set on something you can’t tell him to lay off of it.” I looked warily at Jonas, trying to gage where this conversation was going. Why does it always have to be around year-end when he tries to pull all of this stuff? Wasn’t he just crying about his girlfriend breaking up with him yesterday? Now he’s talking about how bad Ben wants us to get married? 

“You know what I think about it. If you gave me a chance then may-” I cut him off before he could dig himself into a deeper hole. How could I tell him he wasn’t the one for me without telling him about Levi? While Levi and I weren’t nearly as serious as our time together would allow, his letters have shown me no reason to think we’d be ending our relationship soon. I was busy with bread and the café, he was busy with training, and at the end of the day we would sit down and write letters to each other, looking out at the same moon over Trost. It wasn’t the best situation, but it wasn’t one that was so hard I’d give into Jonas’s easy way. 

“Jonas, you also know my opinion. You’re like my brother or my cousin. We were raised together and you look almost exactly like Ben. I don’t need to keep listing out reasons to hurt your feelings more.” He sighed, looking up at the ceiling. 

“I know, but it’s just… Actually, I don’t know what it is. Never being able to advance your relationship with someone you have feelings for? Always getting into relationships you know will end because you don’t really like the girl? Maybe, I’m just tired of doing that.” 

“You’ll find someone, Jonas. You just aren’t looking in the right places. What was the girl’s name? Nana? Nora? Whatever it was she was annoying and self-centered.” I laid back on the counter looking up at the ceiling. I wasn’t going to be able to cheer him up like this forever because it’s always at the expense of me not liking him. He makes me feel like all of these breakups are my fault.

“She wasn’t you.” There it is. The direction we were going to. 

“You need to stop thinking about me, Jonas. What do you need me to say or do so that you move on from me?” I put my arm over my eyes, trying to stop the headache that I knew was about to come soon. I guess he was holding this in for a few months since he was dating that girl. It started with an N, I know that for a fact.

“No clue, Ev, but when I find it, I’ll tell you. If knowing that you’re in love with the Captain of the Scouts doesn’t deter me, I don’t know what will.” My eyes snapped open. 

“If knowing what?!” What the hell does he know? There’s a very serious possibility that he was sneaking around and found the letters in my desk. Maybe he saw Erwin’s letter carrier handing me the envelope? It didn’t make sense that he would know from Levi and I’s actions because he was pretty cold to me when Jonas was around. We’d taken most of the precautions we needed to. It had to just be his hunch… but his hunch was right. 

“I heard you that one night when he was bandaging you. There was just… something didn’t sit right with me when I was leaving. I sat there outside of the café listening to you two for what felt like hours. That confirmed it for me, but I still can’t believe it until it comes out of your own mouth. I guess I’m not good enough for you, Eva, but how could you fall for a Scout? I didn’t think you were that stupid.” The anger enveloped me as he said that, but I knew what he was saying was from deep down inside. If he knew this long, his heart beat with anger at every and any mention of the Scouts. His unexplained hatred for their presence in the last few months now made sense. Every time he saw a Scout he was reminded that even though they die young, are never around, and go on suicide missions, I’d rather pick that over him.

Laying there on that counter with Jonas’s eyes on me… it made me uncomfortable. Every layer of privacy and secrecy was shed in front of him now knowing that he knew for that long. That means he must have noticed the letters. Noticed how I always cleaned Levi’s table twice and had peppermint tea stocked even when the café was closed. He might have even heard me crying at night over how much I just wanted to see Levi again when he’d crashed on my couch… and every time I did that, he wanted it to be him. 

I couldn’t deny our relationship and try to make him feel better about himself. He knew and had heard everything we had said to each other that night. I’d have to face this feeling head on and I didn’t want to. I just didn’t want to tell Jonas that it will never be him. It was better to have him in limbo and still have my friend then to break his heart completely and never see him again. Jonas was my first friend and is my best friend. He was there the first day I was above ground. He was there for me when Samias broke my heart. He knows almost everything about me, but here I was about to lose him over something I couldn’t control. I wasn’t going to give up Levi so that Jonas would feel better. 

That probably hurt him even more though; me lying to him about Levi. 

“How much are you going to hate me after I tell you everything?” I was hesitant to tell him anything. I know deep down he wanted to know all about Levi and I. He wanted to see where his shortcomings were and judge Levi’s actions and intent. He wanted to be able to reach deep down and find some string of hope in one of Levi’s downfalls. However, this emotion he’s had was pent up for months.

“I’m never going to hate you, Ev. That’s the problem.” I let the tears fall then and curled up into a ball on the counter top. This wasn’t the Jonas I liked talking to. This was the Jonas that made you feel every emotion he was going through too so that you gave him pity. You wanted to love Jonas because you didn’t want to see your best friend hurting like this. It was my fault that he was hurting and I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t do what he wanted me to.

I knew he was in pain when he didn’t move to comfort me like he usually does. Whenever I would cry, he would always be next to me, a soothing hand on my back. I would never shy away from it before, but looking at the situation now, I wish I would have created that distance. It was good that he didn’t do that because it would have made the situation worse. We just sat there and I tried to mute my cries with my arm. It wasn’t working. 

“One day he’s going to die, Eva. If he doesn’t leave you before that.” Now he was trying to hurt me directly. Maybe he thought if he broke me enough, I’d go to him and not Levi. 

I didn’t answer him as I was too busy choking on my tears. 

“He won’t marry you. He won’t give you kids. He can’t give you anything you want in the future if he knows someday he won’t have one.” I wanted to beg him to stop. He doesn’t think at night, when all I have are the thoughts to pull me out of loneliness, I don’t think about all of this? Will I be happy with just Levi or will I want more and he can’t provide that? Can I not be up to his standards? After Hange mentioned kids, I thought about how horrible it would be for them to live in a world like this. We’re fighting to stay alive and to eat, and their father would be gone for months on end. I didn’t want to think about the future and Jonas was forcing me to. All the negative emotions I tried to push back in these past months were coming to the surface with every word. 

“Does he really like you or are you there just to fulfill his fantasy of a relationship? What man leaves the woman he loves alone for six months?” I clenched my jaw hard. His words started to stab too deep.

“Shut up.” It was soft and muffled by the sounds of my tears, but he heard it. He was waiting for my response. He wanted to see if I agreed or not; to see if he broke me enough. 

“Eva, I know you know what I’m saying is the truth.  It’s best to stop this game of pretend before it’s too late.” 

Pretend. 

I pull my hands into fists and shot up on the counter. I was angry again now. He didn’t get to call my relationship a game. Whatever feelings of loneliness or sadness that Jonas wanted to make me feel had left instantly as he mentioned playing pretend. 

“You are the one who’s playing pretend! Pretending that I’ll come around and pick you. Jonas, if I wanted you, it wouldn’t have taken over ten years to realize it!” This time his face contorted into some type of negative emotion. His plan didn’t work. I didn’t cave like I normally do. 

“You’re pressuring me into something that I don’t want to do all because you don’t like that Levi makes you feel inferior. He’s stronger, smarter, and now he’s taken your girl from you. You know why? Look at this,” I gestured to him with both of my hands, “Levi has never talked to me at me like this. He would never call me stupid or try and insult me enough to change my mind. You’re right, I haven’t seen him for six months, but in that time he’s written more sincere words than you have ever said to me. I don’t care what Levi does and doesn’t give me, and I know you won’t be able to give me what I want either. Not like this!” I threw my left hand to my side and took the silence to catch my breath. 

“Eva.” It was angry and heavy. He wasn’t ready for me to come back at him like that. He never thought I could talk to him like he talks to me. 

“I have supported you through everything you have done. The countless girlfriends, the times when you were kicked out of your house, when you didn’t have a job; I was the one who comforted you and took you in. Now, I make a decision that hurts your feelings and you can’t live with it? You have to degrade me for who I choose to date, only because it’s not you?!” He stood up too, the chair flying back and hitting the floor. He stood almost a foot above me, but I wasn't backing down. 

“You will never understa-” 

“You’re right, Jonas. I will never love you the way that you love me, and I will never understand how you treat someone you love like this.”

It was tonight. I had always thought about when this would end. When Jonas and I would stop playing pretend. When I would stop pretending not to see how he looks at me across the café. When I would stop pretending that my best friend didn’t only have feelings for me and wouldn’t choose anyone else. When I would stop pretending I didn’t have to hurt him like this one day. Tonight was the night this friendship ended because he couldn’t pretend we were just friends anymore. 

“How long have you been with him?” The air had quieted and so did his voice. His face was now a mixture of anger and sadness, and he turned his eyes to look at the ground. I didn’t know what he wanted me to say when answering the question, but I was done hiding it from him. Even if it hurt him, he had to know. He had to stop playing pretend and be snapped into the reality he lived in. 

“Around Spring Equinox till now.” His fist clenched harder. 

“So you missed Spring Equinox with us to be with him?” I thought about this moment the day I didn’t show up. He never asked me where I was when he saw me and he must have assumed I just didn’t want to go out then. I’d even told Levi that I was going to be in a weird situation if Jonas asked me where I was and he helped me make a plan. A plan to lie to him. I guess that plan just flew out the window. 

“He was injured and I was taking care of him. I wasn’t going to leave him,” I let the last line out, underlaid with some remorse. I was angry with what he was saying and how he was coming at me, but I was at fault too. I should have told him sooner or at least tried to distance myself. 

“I don’t think I’m going to be in tomorrow, Eva.” He said, still not looking up at me. This was the softest he had even been. I think now he knew he couldn’t sway me towards him. He was giving up.

“Jonas-”

“No,” he held his hand up, finally looking at me with the faint gleam of tears in his eyes, “I’m going to be sick tomorrow and maybe the next day. So, don’t come looking for me.” He turned his back and I had to stop my hand from reaching out and touching his shoulder. I was angry at him, but unlike him I didn’t see this as a reason to end our friendship. It was coming, yes, but it didn’t have to end here. We’d change something. We’d adapt. He was acting like he’d completely given up that. 

“Jonas, you’re still my best friend.” He stopped at the door and straightened up. He was stiff and lifeless when he answered. It was fake and he was hiding his true emotion. If he turned around, what expression would I see on his face? 

“I know.” 

The door opened and closed, the bells ringing twice above it. With the windows closed, I couldn’t see if we walked away and I didn’t go up to the door in fear of him just sitting on the stoop. I didn’t want to hear his tears. Jonas rarely cried and I didn’t want to know that I was the person who did it to him. 

I turned to look at the clock at the back wall. It was nearly one. 

Anger. At him. At myself. Sadness. For him. For losing my best friend in some shape or form. Regret. For not telling him any sooner. But, if I told him, wouldn’t the situation still end up like this? He would yell at me, I would cry, and he would tell me how irrational it was to love someone like Levi. A fantasy he called it. It set the seed of doubt in my head. Levi hadn’t loved or liked before as far as I knew, not to the capacity we’ve set up. Was he really just using this as a test run? 

I put my towel down on the table and decided I didn’t want to be in the café anymore. I wanted to be in my bed, two blankets over me, thinking over and over again the conversation I had with Jonas. Where did I go wrong? When? I wouldn’t sleep tonight and I would be sluggish in the morning when Ben came. Ben was smart, too. He would probably connect the dots between Jonas’s absence and my attitude, but at least he never questioned. 

Walking up the back stairs, I tried to listen to see if Jonas was still there. Maybe something would pull me to go back to him and try to talk it out. I don’t think this issue can be talked over though. It was going to be the way it was. As of now, it was Levi and I, not Jonas and I. It would take Jonas months to turn around or feel like talking to me. It may not go back to normal. 

That thought stopped me on the last wooden step. What would I do if Jonas and I never went back to normal? He was a big part of my day and of my life. Every holiday, every arithmetic question I couldn’t answer, every broken heart; I was with him. It made so much sense to be with him permanently, but that’s not how life wanted it to be. If I was to be with Jonas, I was sure, it would have happened already. I would have feelings for him to the same degree he has for me. 

Maybe we shouldn’t go back to normal as that normal was fake. Pretend. Would it hurt Jonas more to act that way, knowing that Levi was one step ahead of him in every regard? Or, would it be better for him to keep distance and ignore me so he won’t have to deal with the pain he feels every time he’s around me now?

I shook my head and walked in. This was for me to think about, slightly drunk, and in two hours. 

“Here, for you.” Levi handed me a single flower as we sat in the meadow. He had found it on the ground next to where we were sitting and I laughed a little at the gesture before putting it on my ear. He looked at it too and smiled faintly, going back to look at the Scout HQ that was quite a distance away. No one would see us on our way back to Trost. 

I told Levi that I wanted to stop and sit since it was such a nice day. The spring was bringing warm winds to our area, and the whole time I had been with him we were inside his dimly lit office. We were far away enough from Trost and the HQ to be alone and outside. I thought of Jonas and the Equinox today. Where would he be sitting out here? 

“Thank you, Captain.” He laid back, still wincing a little at the pain in his ribs. The horse ride was a bit too much for him to handle, and we had to walk our horses out here to the open meadow. No doubt he would bear the pain to get me to the gates of Trost before we parted. Maybe I would convince him to walk so we had more time together. 

“After this expedition, I would like to start.” I looked over to him, putting a piece of the Scout’s cracker ration in my mouth. Did he have some hobby? 

“Start what?”

“Trying to be yours. I have no experience being in a relationship with someone, therefore, when I can give you my full attention, I will do that. I’ve never made you food. I will do that first.” It made my heart strangely warm, him always announcing his intentions. Maybe he felt that they needed to be approved. He was so apprehensive about anything, and he was not used to being wrong. In this uncharted territory, he needed to make sure he was right before he executed anything. So, I nodded. 

“I’m not picky when it comes to food.” Once he got his confirmation, he went to stand up. I just looked up at him as he did it. 

“Yes?” He put out his hand for me to take it. I just stared up at him again, smiling. I’d tease him a bit more because he was leaving soon. 

“So does that mean we’re really dating?” He rolled his eyes and his hand dropped. The nice gesture went away. 

“Did I not make it clear before? I said I required monogamy.” I shook my head, no.

“You have to ask me. You can’t just command me into a relationship with you.” He cocked up an eyebrow. 

“Ask? Why do I need to ask you when you already know?” I rolled my eyes at him and took another bite of the cracker. 

“We aren’t dating until you ask me to be your girlfriend.” He scoffed. 

“Girlfriend is a word for teenagers. We are almost thirty.” 

“Ask me.” 

“No.” 

“You have to.”

“No, I don’t.” I huffed and turned my head to the other side, faking anger. I knew he probably wasn’t going to do it anyways, and I didn’t really care, but it would be fun to hear. 

“Ask me or I’ll just sit here all day,” I said, folding my arms. There was no protest, or huff of annoyance. He was probably standing there with the same pose I had, just waiting for me to get this idea out of my head.

Huff. Huff. Huff. 

“Don’t tell me you-” I turned and screamed, scrambling to get away from what was to my right. It stood there, his body broken in it’s mouth. His eyes were stained with blood, and were looking at me, begging me to do something, anything. 

The titan crunched down once more on Levi’s body, and only a puff of air came out of his mouth. Not a cry for help. His body went limp, eyes wide staring into my soul. 

Help. Help. Help. 

I shot up, holding my head. My body was shaking and I was afraid to open my eyes. The bustle of customers could be heard below and I knew I had fallen asleep late in the morning and overslept till now. Ben would be holding the customers down fine, and I needed the extra minutes to calm myself down. 

Was that dream an omen? Was he dead? 

It left a bad taste in my mouth that I couldn’t shake, so I got up to get water. I needed to get this taste out of my mouth. Once I drank the water, I leaned over the sink and it came right back up. The shaking of my body stopped after I’d thrown up, but the feeling in my stomach was still there. Maybe I was just hungover. I had a whole bottle of wine while thinking my life away last night. Usually I was fine, but the emotions tied to the amount of alcohol I had could be making my stomach twist and turn. 

Setting the cup down, I quickly went to put on clothes and try to put something on my face to cover the dark circles. The clock was at ten, and I knew that soon Ben would hear my footsteps upstairs using his years of training his ears to identify the creaks of this building and yell up at me to come down. If Jonas really wasn’t here, he was having to remember how to make various coffee drinks himself. 

One day he’s going to die, Eva.

I help my stomach again, trying to position myself over the bathroom sink and not get the face powder all over the floor. When nothing came up, I tried to push that thought out of my mind and finish covering the dark circles under my eyes. To a trained eye, aka Ben, you could easily see through the layer of powder. Hopefully, it will last all work day so I won’t get comments on my tiredness. Those were my least favorite. 

“Eva!” It was muffled by the floorboards, but with one quick look in the mirror, I went to walk to the door. 

Does he really like you or are you there just to fulfill his fantasy of a relationship? 

Stopping on the stairs, I leaned over the railing, hoping that if I did vomit again, it would be away from a window so the customers didn’t notice a projectile falling from the sky. I’d have to get another drink of water before I started or else this hangover was going to kill me. 

I pushed the back door open, taking a look at the plastic one that separated me from the café. People were in there, sitting, talking, and buying pastries. I could hear them and it scared me. My first day open, and I’m in this condition? That wasn’t going to be the best look for business. I was also scared because this was the first customer rush I had in months. It was like my first day running the shop all over again. 

This time my stomach bubbled up with nerves and before I could turn back outside, Ben opened the door peeking in at me. He definitely saw the condition I was in, and had to take a double take. Now, the dots started to connect in his head. Did Jonas look like this to when Ben tried to wake him up only to discover he was “sick”? 

“There’s a line of people out here waiting to be served and to talk to you. I suggest you hurry out, yeah?” I just stared at him and nodded once, tying the matching apron around my middle. 

“Yeah.” Even my voice was shaking. He closed the door again and I picked up a random cup, filling it with water from the sink, and downing it in a few seconds. I coughed once, hoping it would help my throat, and despite my stomach, I walked out into the main café. 

“Eva!” 

“Miss Eva, it’s been so long!” The crowd of people at the counter greeted with smiles, and I did my best to give one back. It was comforting, their words, but my stomach still felt like shit. So did my head. And my arms. And legs. Either way, I willed myself to the crowd that was blocking my view into the café. Ben had done a good job curbing them because he didn’t know how to make a latte. 

“It’s a good thing you’re here, Eva. Ben’s a little rusty.” I smiled to the man who’s order I had memorized, but not his name, and took the personal cup he had in his hands. Ben tended the money while I turned my back to make the drinks. 

“I’ll pass, you make, pass back?” I turned over my shoulder to nod at him and this new angle made me catch a view of the table. The Wings of Freedom were draped over the chair and he was leaning back with the new addition of a book in his hand. There was no cup in front of him, nor was he staring out at the window anymore. 

Six months. 

My stomach churned again and before I could answer Ben, I had to run into the back, past the plastic door, open the regular door, and throw up in front of the trash can where the stray dogs like to eat our scraps.

I’d have to pass it off and I took another big gulp of water before picking up some random milk jug to bring it up. I hoped I didn’t wipe off the face powder that took ten minutes to apply. When I walked back in, people seemed shocked I had run so fast into the back, but once they saw the milk jug, they settled back down. Ben didn’t let it get past him that I’d set the new milk jug next to a completely full one on the table and went to work. 

We went back and forth for what felt like hours. He’d collect the money, write the order on a piece of paper, I’d make it, and he’d go set it down on their table or give it for them to go. We didn’t talk at all while I did it, and I only engaged with other customers. When I looked at him, he never looked back, just down at the book. When I looked at him… my stomach churned, but with a different feeling now that I was pretty sure all the alcohol was in my sink or by the trash in the back. I wanted him to look at me, or to come hug me, but he was Captain Levi right now. 

My dream. What was my dream about? He was here and he was alive, so it couldn’t have been an omen. Was it triggered by my fight with Jonas? Levi dying? It was a simple memory, but it had morphed into something graphic and depressing. He’d asked me to be his girlfriend, reluctantly, but why didn’t my dream get to that part? Why did it cut it off there? I just tried to mock it up as another drunken dream, ones I used to have often, and maybe a few times in the past months, but something wouldn’t let me mark it as that. 

“Eva!” I turned at the little boy’s call and saw all three of them at the counter. I was zoning out so much. Elias, June, and their father were there and I smiled at them, starting their orders. Elias and June: steamed apple juice. Their father: a cup of coffee, no cream, two sugars. 

“Where’s the boy? I thought Jonas said he was working today.” I froze up at their father’s question and I saw Ben glance back at me before answering.

“He felt really sick this morning and could barely get out of bed when I tried to wake him up. He slept at our house last night and came back really late, so he might have been out and drank himself sick,” he tsk-ed his son, but I knew that his message was really meant for me, “Dark circles, a bad attitude, and his face was all red. I’m glad he didn’t show up today.” I turned to them, handing the two steamed apple juices. Before I could turn back around, they started a conversation with me. I could barely focus on it with Ben’s gaze boring holes into me. 

“Eva, Mr. Chapel said I could start on my own books now! Isn’t that exciting?!” I smiled down at her and nodded. In the place in my brain that could still process a little emotion this afternoon, I was happy for her. 

“That’s amazing, June. I have some books upstairs that need to be rebound.” Ben had given their father his coffee and he was now pulling the kids to go. He probably had some cult stuff to do and just wanted to stop by for his morning cup like he normally does.

“Eva, do you need help on year-end? Like last year? With Jonas?” Elias’s face begged up at me to say yes. He wanted to know if we would do something like last year. With no festival, it would be hard to entertain them… and with no Jonas… 

“I don’t know about it his year, Elias.” His face dropped and he was pulled away by his father before he could ask why. I saw June looking disappointed as well as they walked out the door. When Ben turned to greet the next customer, I felt another pair of eyes on me. I looked up at him and felt my heart flip as we locked eyes. His were filled with concern and I knew he’d heard the exchange Elias and I just had. I had always taken the kids in for year-end, so why not now? 

The day went like that. My stomach never settled down, and I could barely keep up the energy of the people coming in and out to talk. Ben would mostly fill that job, but whenever the customer wanted to talk to me directly, I stared at the back wall, mustering a smile, and turned to act. I was glad that I’d decided to close earlier than usual so I wouldn’t have to go through a dinner rush either. My mind was tired from thinking over and over again about last night and the dream I had, that I could barely handle any more stimulus. 

Levi had sat there all day, reading through the book at least twice. I could feel his eyes on me throughout the day, but if I looked back into his eyes, my dream would play over again and my stomach would fight with me. He must have noticed, but he never approached me. Ben and the wave of people coming in and out must have stopped him, or he was waiting for me to go over and serve him tea. It was sitting right on top of the coffee filter box, ready to be made, but I could never pull myself to do it. I wanted to go over and talk to him, but with the amount of people here, I would be talking to Captain Levi. I decided to wait until close, knowing he would stay, so I could talk to the real him after months of waiting. The dream made my stomach feel awful, but the idea of having Levi back to me again made the butterflies stir too. 

“Alright, what’s up with the two of you?” Ben put the small bag of flour back up on the stock rack as I mopped the flour on the back room’s floor. It was closing, and I insisted that he could leave the cleaning to me, but I knew from the second I walked in to the café, he was ready to corner me and ask questions. I still feigned innocence.

“Two of whom?” He huffed and wiped off excess flour on the apron I left him. It didn’t help my case that I couldn’t look him in the eyes when I answered. I didn’t want to stare into Jonas’s eyes. 

“Jonas comes to our house drunk, red face, and mumbling things under his breath. He almost broke Analee’s favorite vase trying to take his shoes off. I thought it was a bit weird because he’d have to come back from your place, but maybe you two decided to do something. I didn’t care. Then, I drag his dead body weight onto the couch and he tells me he can’t come to the café tomorrow and starts crying. I mark it up to him being drunk off his ass. Come today, and you’re not up early like you usually are. I guess I thought you’d be as drunk as Jonas, and gave you a few hours. You come down here, looking pale as a ghost, go throw up outside by the trash can,” He pointed his thumb to the back door, “and anytime someone mentions Jonas, your face goes pale over and over again. You probably drank at least thirty glasses of water today… I really don't want you to answer this question, but I have to ask it. He’s my son, sure, but you’re also my little sister… also weird to say, but you know what I’m trying to get to…” Ben didn’t want to have to finish his statement and trailed off, trying to get me to fill in the blank. Did he think we… ? I pulled my face into a look of disgust, but still didn’t look at his face. 

“Are you trying to ask if he and I had-” He frantically waved his hands at me.

“Please, please, please. Spare me. I realized I don’t want the answer to that question anymore right as it came out of you mou-” I stopped him there. 

“We fought. That’s what happened.” He dropped his hands and let out a big sigh of relief. He was happy we only fought, because he could deal with that. He’d been dealing with that for years already. Mediator Ben was about to come out. 

“Thank gods. What did you fight about this time? Both of you look very upset.” He leaned against a random table, and I had stopped sweeping at this point. I didn’t want to tell Ben, but there was just something about him that made the words flow out. He’s always been like that, regardless of the situation. Comfortable to talk to about any and everything. When I first got my monthly cycle, I went to him and not Catrin, who was the obvious choice. Then later in life, Jonas started to take the same position in my life that Ben had. That made me feel worse again, losing him over something I had to be selfish with. If Jonas felt he couldn’t let go of whatever it was, I would permanently lose him. 

“I think this is the final time, Ben.” He sighed, probably not knowing what that meant. If I told him what the fight was really about, he would have to learn about Levi and I. I shifted my gaze to the plastic door separating us from the main café. Was he still sitting in his chair, waiting for us to kick him out? Waiting for me to lead him up the stairs to my apartment? 

“Did he bring up marriage again? When we were walking to meet up with you, I had mentioned something about it and he seemed to get quiet. Usually, he denies anything like that would happen.” So it was mentioned previously, that’s why it was on his mind. When Ben mentioned it to him, did his mind go to Levi and I?

“Yes,” I whispered, and set the mop against the wall. I was ready to spill all of my feelings to Ben like I always do. 

“Then, is it that man out there?” He pointed at the door and this time I looked him in the eyes. It was like admitting everything to Jonas all over again and it made my stomach twist and turn. I knew Ben’s opinions on the matter, too, so it was worse having to go against his wishes. 

“Yes,” I whispered again, waiting to see a streak of disappointment in his eyes that never came. He just sighed again and walked over to me, putting a hand on my back. 

“He was the first customer today and seemed annoyed that I was standing there instead of you. I was the one who gave him the book. I told him he’d have to wait a few hours to see you, and then another few to get to talk to you after lunch. I’m not going to pretend I didn’t see the way he kept looking at you either.” I clasped my hands together, looking at them. It made me a little less sad that he could see Levi’s emotions as well. Ben didn’t think it was fake like Jonas did. 

“I had a bad dream last night, too… and a few too many drinks. I’m just so… I don’t want to lose Jonas. This felt like it was it, Ben.” I put a hand over my heart and rubbed my collar bone with one finger. Ben shook his head ‘no’ and patted my back. 

“The kid can be moody, but he’ll come around. It may take him a bit longer than usual, but you two are best friends. He’ll just have to deal with the fact that it’s going to really stay like that now. I guess I didn’t help either, talking about you two the way I did.” I shook my head, making sure Ben didn’t take the blame away from me. 

“No, I did this. I didn’t tell him about… I didn’t distance myself from him and-” 

“Do you really think that if you tried to distance yourself from Jo, it would’ve worked? He once came home from secondary begging me to ask the teacher to transfer him to your class. He can’t be away from you for too long, no matter what emotions he has tied to it.” I laughed once at that comment, remembering the day Jonas randomly showed up at a desk next to mine. I reached up to wipe a tear off of my cheek. 

“I still feel awful. It’s my fault I made him feel like this.” Ben rolled his eyes. 

“I’m going to go home and he’s going to have this same conversation with me. You both fight like cats and dogs, and then feel bad that you said anything in the first place. He could have broken your arm and you’d still feel like it was your fault.”

“Yeah.” Ben did make me feel a little better, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling of regret. We sat for a few more minutes as I calmed down and my stomach hurt a little less. 

“Now, that boy out there. He’s the Captain of the Scouts, but I have to threaten him. I know he’s still sitting out there, if you just let me-” 

“Ben.”

“I’m serious. I was close to going over and telling him to stop looking at you. It’s annoying. Like that one kid you dated in the past.” It was my turn to roll my eyes at him. 

“Ben, I’m twenty seven.” Before I could protest more, he lunged at the door to open it. 

“Hey, you.” I quickly raced out of the back room, watching Ben walk his way over to Levi who had grabbed a rag and was cleaning the tops of the tables. 

“Ben-” Levi turned to give me a confused look as to why the giant man was walking towards him. They’ve probably only spoken two sentences to each other and now Levi was going to get reprimanded by Ben. 

“You’re dating my sister, correct?” Levi’s eyes widened a little bit, not expecting Ben to come right out with it. He probably also didn’t expect Ben to know anything, but with how obvious Levi had acted today, it wasn’t a surprise. Ben picked up on things probably to the same degree Levi did. 

“U-u-uh, we are?” He did the same thing I’d done to Erwin, and when he looked over at me again, confusion painting his face, I just nodded once, “Y-yes. We are…” A faint tint of blush painted his pale face. Mine was probably the same way. This was the first time he had admitted that out loud to someone from my world. 

“If you hurt her, I’ll beat you up. Her last boyfriend, he couldn’t walk for two days after Jonas and I jumped him.” He pointed his finger at Levi who didn’t seem that concerned about the threat. Ben was also lying, because he wouldn’t lay a hand on anyone. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ben swat at a fly, let alone a human. 

“My intentions are not to hurt her.” Ben took off his apron and slammed it down on the table Levi had just finished cleaning. Flour dust went everywhere. This was quite the show he was putting on. Levi, however, didn’t know he was playing with him. He was trying to keep his face as neutral as possible, because he didn’t want to, in some way, offend Ben and make him angrier, but he was also getting annoyed with the man’s display. If Ben was to come at him, would he be permitted to slam him on the ground, or would that just make this whole situation worse? Levi didn’t want to beat up my brother, which was nice. 

“What are your intentions then?” Levi was not going to like expressing his feelings aloud to a stranger, so I saved him from Ben who I knew was trying his hardest not to laugh. 

“Ben, just let him go. I have to clean more and you’re keeping me from dinner.” I think Ben was also glad I gave him an out because I heard that Analee was making porridge for dinner and that was Ben’s favorite. 

Ben walked a bit forward, using his height to tower over Levi. This time, Levi’s face hardened. If I did get Ben away from Levi, Ben might end up on the ground. 

“Next time, Captain.” Ben retreated back and grabbed his jacket, turning to me with a smile. 

“Have a nice night, Ev! I assume I won’t need to come tomorrow?” He glanced over at Levi who was now extremely confused at Ben’s 180 degree flip. 

“No, I think I can handle myself tomorrow. Thanks Ben!” He raised his hand up and waved once, exiting the café. There was a moment of silence as the ringing of the door bells finally stopped and Levi turned to me, that expression still on his face. 

“W-wha..?” I smiled at the door, not disregarding the butterflies that came to my stomach now that I was finally alone with Levi for the first time in six months. 

“That’s Ben, my brother.” His face dropped to his regular look and nodded. 

“I can tell.” I huffed and grabbed Ben’s apron, hanging it up behind the counter. I decided to clean the counter and wait to see what Levi was going to do. Heaven knew I wanted to run up into his arms, but again, the vow I took held me back. 

To my surprise, he moved to behind the counter after cleaning the flour from the last table. He put the rag down on the back table and stood there, staring at me for a bit. I just disregarded his stare and kept cleaning the counter and glass case which was ridden with Ben’s handprints from the amount of times he leaned on it. 

“I’m going to hug you.” I left out a huff of laughter and didn’t move, signaling that he could do what he wanted. 

“I told you, you don’t have to say it alo-” His arms went around my waist, chest touching my back, and his head nuzzled into my neck. I also melted right there and then. Who taught him how to hug like this? I used my free hand to reach up and play with his hair, leaning my cheek onto the top of his head. 

“Hi,” I said, breathing in his scent. It’s been so long, the shirt he gave me had lost its smell, so it was nice to have it back. It was also nice that he had given me such an intimate display of affection after how long he’d been away. It told me that he missed me as much as his letters would insinuate. Maybe even equal as much as I missed him. 

He lifted himself up, leaving one arm wrapped around my waist. 

“I thought I’d personally deliver this letter to you,” he handed me the envelope with my name written on it. 

“Do you come with the letter?” I turned to face him and blushed at our closeness. He looked down at me slightly, examining my face. I’d cried the face powder off in the back, so my dark circles were at full force.

“You haven’t been taking care of yourself again.” It was low and had a tinge of disappointment in it. I looked up at him, examining his face. Tired. Large dark circles. Nothing out of the ordinary, but I could still yell at him for it. 

“I can say the same for you, Captain.” I reached up and put my hand on his cheek like the last night we had together. I figured that wouldn’t be off limits and I felt his face heat up a little before pulling back to lean against the back table across from me. He had hit his daily cap for affection and needed to cool off. 

“Erwin gave me the rest of the month off. So, I guessed that the best place to stay was here. He also told me to go see you after my work was done, and then proceeded to give me one more month’s worth of work.” He crossed his arms, his face pulling into one of annoyance for Erwin’s actions. 

“I did ask him to give you more breaks, but he didn’t promise me anything.” His eyes narrowed at the mention of our meeting. 

“Don’t think you three can keep it a secret about what you talked about. I told them I’d get you to tell me.” I smirked back up at him. 

“They aren’t telling you what we said?” 

“No details. I just know they asked you about us and to support the Scouts, and you accepted. I know that they left out everything important and Hange always laughs when I try to get her to tell me.” I guess I’d have to keep up this secret promise with Hange and Erwin. 

“Well, if they aren’t telling you, then I guess I can’t either, Levi. It was a confidential meeting, you know how that goes.” He shot off the table, pushing my stomach into the one I was cleaning. His arms were on either side of me, trapping me against the wood. My heart beat shot up at this sudden, aggressive touch, and I almost jumped as I felt his breath on the right side on my neck. This was the first time he had done something like this. Intimidating, aggressive, and very exciting. My heart wasn’t the only thing that fluttered when he whispered into my ear. 

“I have ways of getting you to tell me, Eva.” He lingered there for a few moments before pushing away and going back to rest on the table. I had to take at least ten breaths to calm myself down, and my face was still definitely the color of a cherry. That was the first time Levi had done something so… hot. One moment, he was pushing back because he was getting uncomfortable with the affection, and another he was shoving me up against the counter, making my brain race a million miles a second with the things I was imagining. The ways to get me to talk. Levi wasn’t like that was he? Did he have experience with that? He did live in the Underground and was extremely good looking, I’m sure he had girls at his feet at some point. It made me curious about his life in the Underground again… and what or who he did there. 

“I-I’m… done cleaning. We can go up to the up, upstairs.” He didn’t even hesitate and slung his cape around his shoulders, following me to the front to lock the café. 

We walked upstairs without saying anything, Levi walking a few steps behind me. He had retrieved a bag from the side of the alleyway and my eyes widened. I didn’t think he’d be staying here the whole rest of the month. That was almost three weeks. I remembered how dirty I had left it this morning and the empty bottle of wine next to my bed. 

Once we got inside, he set his bag on the couch and took off his boots and cape, hanging it up. I was a bit upset he didn’t take off the ODM gear straps, because now that he had done that little act downstairs, my mind was thinking about them. I had felt the buckle of the one on his chest dig into my back ever so lightly. 

“Did you really forget what I looked like? Stop staring at me.” He mumbled it, but it made me blush a bit and stare at the ground. Did he know what I was thinking about him? How did he get so bold in the last few minutes? 

“Can I shower? The ride here was long, and I sat in the back of the cart on some dirty hay.” 

“O-oh. Yes, you can. It’s that door right there, but you knew that already didn’t you. Sorry.” He smiled and laughed once, digging through his bag for his shower supplies. I just watched him as he did it, staring at the mundane task and letting my mind run wild. I don’t think he’s ever taken a shower here before. 

Without saying anything else, he walked into the bathroom and closed the door. I instantly let out a breath of frustration, but the room did cool down after he left. 

“He’s bold when being like that, but he’s still afraid of sleeping next to me?” I shook those thoughts out of my head and blinked when the bathroom door opened a little bit, the light shining through my dark apartment. 

“I forgot soap for my body, do you have any?” He yelled out. 

“Uh, there should be some in the cabinet below the sink. It’s Jonas’s.” I heard the cabinet open, along with a little grumble about ‘Why is he in your shower?’ before I heard them close again. 

“I don’t see it.” I did not want to go into that tiny bathroom and show him, but I knew that’s where this was going to end if I sent him on a hunt. I’d just let him use mine. 

“There’s a bottle in the shower. It’s glass and has pink liquid in it? You can use mine. I hope you don’t mind rose.” I heard the shower curtain rip back and a tiny laugh. 

“There’s about twelve bottles with pink liquid in them, Eva.” That was simply false. All of my shampoos, conditioners, and soaps were different colors. He wanted me to come in there and show him. I started walking slowly to the door. 

“It should be on the second shelf.” 

“Just come here and show me, I don’t have the patience.” There it was, and I was already halfway to the bathroom anyways. Ignoring my heart, I opened the door. 

“It should be in…” My eyes widened as he leaned against the sink, giving me access to walk to the shower as the room was only meant for one person at a time. My eyes widened as he leaned against the sink shirtless. I instantly flushed and something churned in the pit of my stomach. I glanced for one more second, and pushed on after seeing his smirk. I shoved myself up against the other wall, so there was no way for me to touch him as I walked past to the open shower. There the soap was and it was even labeled. I gripped hard around the bottle, turning to shove it into his hands. I tried so, so hard to only look at his face. When I glanced down at his chest again and back up, his smirk got deeper. It made me angry, but it also made me want to look even more. 

His body was completely toned and looked like it had no ounce fat on it. He was completely lean like I predicted in our last encounter in a bathroom. Every single possible muscle was defined in a sleek way that was easy for him to hide this… this Adonis of a figure beneath a regular shirt. His waist was probably smaller than mine and shoulders broad from carrying the heavy ODM gear on them for years, but I didn’t try to get another look at it as I walked past him, pressing up against the wall again. 

“I told you I’d let you see it when I got back,” he said jokingly as he set the bottle down on the sink. My face was burning and I didn’t dare turn around to look at him again as much as I wanted to. I had a free pass to look at him all I wanted if I took it, but I was too embarrassed right now. This combined with what happened downstairs wanted to make me scream. How long had he thought of doing this? The first time he’s seen me in six months and this is what he planned. 

“I-I’ll make food!” I half yelled, getting out of the small bathroom that was heating up to a hundred degrees. I could hear him laugh a little bit before closing the door behind me. The air outside was so much cooler, it gave me goosebumps and I stood out there for a bit, waiting to hear the shower turn on. When it did, I went to the kitchen and instantly sat in front of the open ice box trying to cool down my face. 

“Why are you like this, Eva? It’s not like you haven’t seen a shirtless man before. You’ve seen more than one and you’re never like this.” I hit my cheeks over and over again, trying to get them to cool down. No man I’ve been with before could go from sulky and hesitant one minute to making a heat pool in the depths of my stomach in thirty seconds. 

The shower stopped and I closed the fridge quickly, taking out eggs to act like I was using them. I had no clue what I was going to make to eat and I’d spent ten minutes staring at an open fridge. 

When he walked out, I almost broke the egg in my hand. He walked over to his bag on the couch, searching for clothes. The heat that I’d gotten rid of came back, and I finally turned away from the indecent sight. Just a towel?! 

“Sorry, I forgot to grab another pair of clothes.”

Chapter Twelve →

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