#*ten years later and still snorting and bursting of laughters*

[archangeldyke-all]

Ooooh, Angel, what if reader and Sev are rival pirate captains! Constantly flirting/bickering when they run into each other on shore, hoisting a flag with a raised middle finger whenever their ships pass by, never letting the other live it down when they gotta be rescued from the navy. Oh I think it'd be so fun/funny

oh this is so fucking cute

men and minors dni

you met sevika three years ago, when her ship tried to rob the same cargo ship your crew was already robbing.

for a brief moment, you were confused. suddenly, there were twice as many pirates aboard the cargo ship, half of them you didn't recognize.

then, sevika snake-eyes herself swung aboard, chuckling as she took stock of the situation-- your crew and hers hesitantly trying to figure out whether they should kill each other or not, all of them looking at the pair of you for guidance.

"i got dibs on this boat." you huffed. sevika chuckled.

"dibs don't mean much on the seven seas, doll."

"oh please. you're outnumbered! just leave while your crew's all still alive!"

"i hate to break it to you darlin', but i got a whole fleet about ten miles from here, just waitin' for my signal."

"and who says i don't have my own fleet?" you bluffed.

sevika raised an eyebrow at you, then she burst into laughter and reached a hand out for you to shake. "alright, who the hell are you, and why haven't i heard'a you before?" she asked, intrigued by your courage. it's rare to meet another woman with her own crew. it's even rarer that she doesn't smell like piss and still has all her teeth.

so, rather than drawing your pistol, you had smiled and introduced yourself, and you and sevika spent the rest of the afternoon on the deck, divvying up treasure and swapping war stories.

ran was supremely disappointed that you hadn't killed her.

"boss, you're lettin' your crush get in the way of the fact that sevika snake-eyes is the most ruthless pirate out there! we take her down, and the seas are all ours!"

"healthy competition is good for us ran. keeps us on our toes." you said lamely, waving them off. they had scoffed and smacked you with their hook-hand, mumbling something about 'loser lesbians' as they walked away.

six months later, your paths crossed again, on a deserted island after a horrible hurricane.

you were watching in horror as your ship sank into the water. lock was on his knees, praying to posideon for mercy. ran was already commanding the crew to search for fresh water and build a shelter. and then, a little row boat appeared on the horizion, a blue-haired teenager standing at the bow.

"is that..." you squinted, then pulled your telescope out to take a closer look. "ha!" you cackled. "hey!" you started screaming, waving your hands like a mainaic. "hex, over here!"

the teen spotted you easily, and you could see her annoyed eye-roll once she realized who you were.

when sevika's crew docked on the sand, the girl glared at you. "it's jinx. janna, of all the fuckin' islands to be deserted on, it had to be the one with you fucks, didn't it?"

sevika, however, seemed thrilled to see you. "shit, you too?!" she cackled, wrapping you up in a warm embrace. "some storm, huh?"

"fuckin' sank my boat." you huff. sevika snorted.

"mine too. don't worry your pretty face too much, i got a fleet out there lookin' for us."

it only took two weeks for sevika's fleet to find you. and over the weeks on the beach, your crews started to get along really well. by the time they were dropping you off at a harbor town, you were almost sad to go.

"well... i guess this is goodbye." you had mumbled.

sevika smiled. pulling you in for a sweet hug. "relax, captain. the seas are smaller than they seem. i'm sure we'll cross paths again, sometime soon."

you knew she was right, but you decided to kiss her then, just in case you'd never see her again. when you pulled away, sevika was smiling wider than you'd ever seen her.

you and sevika ended up seeing each other a surprising amount of times after that.

ran would wake you up in the middle of the night, mumbling about a ship headed straight for you, only for you to stumble out of bed and cackle when you find that it's sevika's ship, waving a flag with a message scrawled across it. 'hey, hotstuff.'you'd hoisted your own in response. 'get over here.'

lock would find you in a panic, warning you of a fleet of navy ships patrolling the waters you were traversing, and then twelve hours later you would come across the wreckage of dozens of navy ships, sevika laughing maniacally as she greeted you with a proud little bow.

and, between all your chance encounters, you and sevika wrote to one another frequently, using her highly trained messenger birds to gossip, flirt, and send one another intel.

now, it seems your connection with sevika has come to an end. because now, the navy's finally caught up with you.

you don't fear execution. you just wish your crew didn't have to die too.

"fuckin pigs." you grunt, spitting on the shoes of the soldier in front of you. he punches you in the gut, and you try to muffle your whimper.

"tell me where your captain is, bitch." he demands. you chuckle. they've been asking you this for the past hour. no matter how many times you tell him it's you, he won't believe you.

"that's her!" ran shouts. "fuckin' dumbass!"

"shut up!" another soldier shouts, smacking ran.

fuck. if you find a way out of this, you're going to burn these assholes alive.

you're so angry that when the soldier's head explodes, splattering his brains all over the deck, for a moment, you think you've killed him by furiously glaring at him.

then, you hear the voice of your favorite woman in the world, screaming "CHARGE!" and you can't help but laugh.

sevika's crew jumps aboard your boat, quickly killing the soldiers and freeing your crew of their bonds.

sevika finds you in the chaos, giggling at the sight of you.

"hello, doll." she greets, pulling you to your feet.

you don't even let her undo your ties. you just launch yourself at her, letting her catch you, kissing her like your life depends on it. you suppose it kind of does.

"you're incredible." you laugh.

sevika grins. "well, i couldn't go lettin' my best competition up and die now could i?"

"i love you so much." you sigh.

sevika grins. "will you join my crew?" she asks. you pout up at her.

"but then who will be the captain?"

"jinx. she's already the one really runnin' my ships anyways." sevika giggles.

you snort and roll your eyes. "ran's gonna be so mad. i think they've been hopin' i'm seducing you just to betray you and stab you in your back."

"you've been seducing me?!" sevika teases.

you giggle and kiss her again.

kofi

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taglist!!

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[4suke]

hopeless.

kuroo tetsurou x reader oneshot, fluff, friends to lovers. crossposted on ao3 as higashikatas.

You’ve always said Kuroo Tetsurou has the look of a man who’d be hopeless in the kitchen and it’s always been a hit when you say so. 

The first time, sandwiched between Akaashi and Kenma in the booth of the new okonomiyaki restaurant, as you watched Yaku yell at Tetsurou over having burnt the savory pancake again. Akaashi had burst into silent, shaking laughter, and Kenma had snorted loudly into the back of his hand. Bokuto, after noticing the amusement on the other side of the table, had demanded to be let in on the fun; you’d repeated yourself, and he had agreed as well, loudly hooting with amusement. Tetsurou had sighed and rolled his eyes, before telling you you’d eat those words one day. You remember raising an eyebrow at that and dissolving into laughter after Kenma murmured that words might still be the only Kuroo could ever make someone eat. 

The next time you say so is when you see the homemade chocolate-covered strawberries Tetsurou brings you the first time he asks you out. 

They’re objectively the ugliest-looking ones you’ve ever seen. The chocolate is lumpy, and there are bald patches all over where it apparently did not stick to the fruit. In addition, they’ve also somehow frozen unevenly; half the fruit is mushy to the touch and the other half is rock solid. Your heart still fills with warmth at the sight and you throw your arms around his neck, giddy with joy that your first love feels the same way as you. And as off-putting as the strawberries do look, they taste perfect. You eat every single one (despite your little brothers’ best efforts to swipe a couple) and you swear no fruit has ever tasted better.

Two years later, you and Tetsurou are baking a cake to celebrate your favorite teacher’s retirement. He’s excited, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, all dressed up in one of your mother’s pink aprons. You’re wearing a matching green one and carefully line up the wet and dry ingredients in two neat rows. Sift the flour and cocoa powder, you instruct, and devote your concentration to breaking the eggs and beating in the melted butter and vanilla essence. 

A clang. The empty metal mixing bowl rolls doleful circles on the kitchen floor and your boyfriend gives you a sheepish smile. 

You almost lose your balance with laughter, before giving him a damp rag to wipe the cocoa-powder-flour-mixture off his face and arms. Hopeless in the kitchen indeed, you tease, and he throws the rag at you. 

Fast-forward a year and a half later, to after high school graduation. You, Kuroo, Yaku and Kai are back in your usual booth at the same okonomiyaki restaurant, which had quickly risen to the Nekoma team’s top three after-practice dinner spot. Four diplomas are piled haphazardly on Yaku and Kai’s side of the booth and everyone agrees not to let Tetsurou touch the hot plate. None of you want to spring for another, even with all the money you’ve each gotten for graduation presents. Tetsurou pretends to sulk for a few minutes, but gives in after you laugh and force the corners of his mouth upward to form a smile with your fingers. He even laughs when Yaku asks if there was any flame other than a Bunsen burner Kuroo had ever not caused chaos over. 

Two years later, you and Tetsurou are poring over the tiny newspaper print, looking for affordable studio apartments. He’s halfway through his dual-major course of study (sports science and marketing) and you are about to begin the specialized half of your medical degree. He complains that everything with a kitchen is ten times more expensive than everything without, and you remind your boyfriend that humans require food to survive. You’re both too busy to be cooking all three meals, Tetsurou argues back. You’re both too broke to do anything otherwise, you rebut, and he caves. He does crack a joke about how he might blow the building up if he spends too long around the stove, though, when you two finally sign a lease. 

The fifth year of medical school marks the beginning of a string of long, unpaid intern hours. You stagger into the apartment every night too tired to even think about spending another extra hour standing in the kitchen. Tetsurou spends each night massaging your feet as you chew through lunch leftovers. The both of you daydream of the comforts of home-cooked food and vow to never take your mother and grandmother respectively for granted again. 

Tetsurou lands his job at the Japan Volleyball Association almost immediately after his graduation. You’re so proud of him you could burst, you tell him as you pepper kisses all over his face, and scream as he grins and tells you that his hiring bonus is just large enough to pay for three months’ worth of rent at a two-bedroom apartment in a significantly prettier part of Tokyo.

You’ll miss your little studio and the memories crammed into every inch as tightly as the furniture, but your heart swells against your ribs as Tetsurou pulls you through the new apartment. The new apartment is everything you could’ve dreamed of sharing with him, you say, and he kisses the top of your head. 

Now that Tetsurou is a self-declared corporate man, his hours end before yours every night- not that that means he isn’t being run ragged as well, but just that he can report unfair work conditions and you cannot. The two of you begin new traditions; he greets you with a warm bath every night and washes your back while you close your eyes and mumble the ways you wish you could make your supervisor suffer. He dutifully helps you plot revenge, wraps you in a fuzzy bathrobe, and feeds you dinner on the couch, while hushing your apologies about not having contributed anything to the household that day. You do your best to swallow the feeling of guilt and let yourself be taken care of. 

The first time Tetsurou greets you with a fresh non-takeout-meal is after a particularly horrid practical exam. You barely make it home, vision blurred with unshed tears and your supervisor’s shouted criticism still ringing in your ears five hours later. You sit quietly through the bath and if Tetsurou senses that something is wrong, he says nothing and kisses your shoulder extra tenderly. When you are finally propped up on the couch in all your fluffy glory, he tells you that he’s done something slightly different for dinner today. It’s something he’s never done before, he says nervously, and asks you not to hold back any criticism. 

You sit up a little straighter after the first spoon of soup hits your tongue. Tetsurou swallows, asking if it seems alright. You nod slowly, asking him where he bought it from. It’s some of the best soup you’ve had in years; flavors unfamiliar but still achingly comforting. When he shyly tells you that he’d actually made the soup himself, the tears finally spill. 

Unlike five hours ago, they are happy ones. 

Emboldened from the soup success, Tetsurou’s homemade dinners slowly become a new tradition in the apartment. Attempting to guess what the experiment of the day will be purely from the smell greeting you turns into your new favorite game. On free weekends, you meal prep for the rest of the week with him, settling into a blissful kitchen harmony. Sometimes, he even has a thing or two to teach you.

You graduate with your medical degree a year and a half later. Tetsurou cries as you step into your white coat on the stage and shake hands with your dean, and firmly denies it later. One of your brothers has it on camera, though, and you secretly text him to send it to you later. 

After the noisy celebratory dinner with the rest of your family, the apartment is just the perfect level of peaceful. You perch on a kitchen stool, chattering lightly about how relieved you feel about finally being out from under your supervisor’s traumatizing thumb, while Tetsurou plates two small slices of chocolate cake. This, he explains while pushing a fork to you, is the closest he’s ever come to an original recipe. 

As with all of Tetsurou’s cooking, the flavors are simple and strong. They remind you much of the man himself, you think, and tell him that it really is the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had. He beams at you, having already inhaled his own portion. 

Then your fork strikes against something buried in the slice. 

Your heart swells against your ribs again when you manage to carefully dig up the ring. It’s beautiful, you tell Tetsurou, who is already knelt in position. You see the tears from the graduation ceremony reappearing at the corners of his eyes, and you feel like you might reciprocate that in a few minutes.

Your high school self was still half correct about Tetsurou all those years ago. Hopeless in the kitchen? More like a hopeless romantic. 

[survivingofffanfics]

Sergio Chapter four

Han Seok didn’t often break the rules set out to him by Vincenzo Cassano. But she’d always be an exception. He’d been in Italy for four years now and this library had been his safe haven for three and a half of them. One other person constantly occupied the library. A young woman named Silvia. Or at least, that’s what others called her. The woman was beautiful. Long auburn locks, freckles, and unseeing eyes. She was quite funny too. Whenever she had a friend or two in the library with her she was always cracking jokes. Han Seok usually grabbed a book and sat in the chair opposite hers. She preferred to sit directly in front of the fire. She cycled through fairytales and fantasy books written in braille. Han Seok had looked at the books a couple of times after she had fallen asleep. It was nice she had such an imagination in a place like this. 

“What’s your name?” The woman’s voice startled him out of his musings. Han Seok looked up from his book and glanced around the library. It was empty currently. Maybe she was on a bluetooth. Those had really advanced in the past couple of years. “C’mon I know you’re in here. I can smell your cologne. The one Mr. Cassano wears.” Han Seok snorted and shook his head. “But you can’t be Mr. Cassano. He’s always flicking that lighter. Hmm. I’ll introduce myself first since you’re shy. My name’s Silvia. Silvia Cassano.”

Han Seok couldn’t help himself, “I didn’t know the Cassanos had a blind daughter.” The disbelief was clear in his statement and he cursed himself for speaking. If this was a Cassano then he would be in major trouble for speaking.

The blind girl scoffed, “I’m not a Cassano Cassano. I’m a servant. Well. As good as a blind servant can be I suppose.” She rolled her eyes and he laughed. “Well, it’s your turn. What’s your name?”

“Sergio. Sergio Cassano.”

“Your name is Servant?!” The woman bursts into laughter and Han Seok huffs. 

“Well, that’s what they call me.”

“Lemme guess… you’re a servant?” She wiggles her fingers conspiratively.

“You got me!” He scowls at her but can’t help laughing when she does. Her laughter is contagious. “So, how did you become a Cassano?”

“Hmm. Long version or short version?”

“Tell me both.”

“Short version is this: I was sold into slavery. Long version is: my father gambled too much and went to the Cassanos to pay his debt. He forgot to pay them back, as you do. Ten years later they’re knocking on his door. ‘Roul! You have two days to pay the Cassanos or face the consequences.’ My father didn’t like the sound of that. He decided he’d give me to the Cassanos. But before he gave me to them, he blinded me. He said it was the only way they’d pity me and let me go one day.”

“A-and how long…?”

“I became a Cassano at the age of ten. I’m thirty two now.” Han Seok gulped. He was never leaving this hellhole. “Ahh, it’s not all bad Sergio! Free food and books! Don’t be sad!” He laughed, wiping away the tears pooling at his eyes. “My father tried to buy me back once.” She laughs, anger and sadness in her white eyes.

“H-he did?”

“Yes. He did. Told the Cassanos he’d finally made enough money to buy me and become the father I needed.” She shakes her head wryly. “Told him a man named Jang had blessed him and his company. Told the Cassanos he’d make Italy richer than ever!”

“J-jang?” Han Seok stared at her in disbelief. “Jang… Jang Han Seo?”

“Yeah! You know him? Hah. Jang Han Seo gave my father 210k to set up a meeting with the Cassanos. I never knew why. All I know was after the meeting, the Cassanos made at least 50k in American dollars.”

Han Seok choked on something between a sob and a laugh. “And then what? Why didn’t your father buy you back?”

“Because the Cassanos wouldn’t have it. Once a Cassano… always a Cassano.” Han Seok began crying then. He knew he hadn’t been a good guy in his past life. Maybe this was his karmic punishment. He’d still had dreams. He’d rule Korea, his brother at his side. Now he would live and die, a slave.

“And your father was…?”

“Vincent Roul. Of Roul pharmaceuticals. Kid, I know it seems hopeless right now. I know it does. But you’ll survive. You have to. The Cassanos don’t like the weak in their family. You have to be strong to work alongside them. Tell me, who’s your master?”

“Vincenzo. You guessed that I wore his cologne earlier.” He laughed.

“Ahh. I accompany the Don, Fabio. Most of the day I’m alone but some nights we have wine together and such.” Han Seok gagged at the thought of this beautiful woman bedding a man as old as Fabio. “Have you…?”

“Have I what?!”

“Bedded the Consiligre.”

“Yes.” Han Seok responded shortly.

“Oh my! Tell me, how is he?” Han Seok frowned at her and flicked her arm. She giggles in response. “Is he bad?”

“Yes. He sucks.” The two share a laugh.

After that, Han Seok visits her in the library everyday. She’s the only one that’s heard his voice other than Vincenzo in years. And he could go on and on with her for hours. He loves her. 

[seriouslysnape]

Under the Radar

__

Severus Snape x Fem! Professor! Reader

Warnings: None. 

Request: hiii can I request a husband Severus Snape x wife reader. The reader is a professor in Hogwarts they don't want the students to know so they kept it a secret. And the Weasley twins are the first to know. (the Weasley twins are close to reader since she's kind thanks.) and you can continue it your own way. (灬º‿º灬)♡

Word Count: 2,014

“That is true, but we both knew that couldn’t last forever,”

__

“You have class in fifteen minutes, Severus.” You nagged at your husband who was still sprawled out in bed.

A groggy chuckle escaped from the man as he finally sat up on his elbows to look at you, watching as you hurried to get dressed before you were horribly late.

“So do you, love.” He countered.

“Yes, but I’m almost ready,” You argued with a slight roll of your eyes; “And you are not.”

“It doesn’t take me long. You know this.” He bantered.

It was true after all. Severus didn’t put that much effort into getting ready everyday. Pants, robes, shoes, and MAYBE brush his hair. That was the morning routine of Severus Snape. You were a bit more refined, taking time to pick out an outfit and making yourself look presentable to your personal standards.

“I know, but do you really want your Potions classroom unattended with a bunch of Slytherins and Gryffindors?” You grinned, knowing that they’d wreak havoc sooner or later.

Severus groaned at the thought. It wouldn’t have been the first time where he walked in at the last minute to stop Ron Weasley from throwing a cauldron at Draco Malfoy’s head. He swung his feet over the side of the bed, padding to his closet where you stood as well.

“One of these days, I’ll get a morning of peace and have you for myself.” He grumbled.

You gave a mocking, sympathetic pout at your mumbling husband. You took his face into your hands, drumming your fingers playfully along his cheeks.

“Poor baby. Because you NEVER get any time with me.” You said with a tone thick with sarcasm.

Severus huffed, but his arms snaked around your waist.

“Is it so wrong to want a quiet morning with my wife?” He questioned.

Severus had a point. It had been quite some time since the two of you had the opportunity to sleep in, to drown out the world until the two of you felt ready to brave it together. He missed waking you up by peppering you with lazy kisses and soft, sweet mumbles in your ear. Life had just gotten so busy that things weren’t exactly what he would consider standard for the two of you.

It also didn’t help that outside of your private bedroom, you weren’t exactly a public couple. Aside from the faculty and staff of Hogwarts, none of the students had any knowledge of yours and Severus’ marriage. It had been a mutual decision, considering that neither of you were sure you wanted all the kids knowing that two professors were married to one another. While your last name had legally been changed to Snape, you were always referred to by your maiden name. As far as the students knew, you and Severus hadn’t even ever had a conversation, let alone tied the knot almost three years ago.

“I know, Sev. I’ll tell you what. I’ll clear my schedule for tomorrow since it’s Saturday. We can sleep in...” You said, lowering your voice to a whisper in his ear; “And I’ll be all yours all day.”

The way that his eyes lit up made your heart leap. He kissed you excitedly, your laugh muffled under the kiss. Despite the fact that you had a ten minute head start, Severus still managed to be ready before you, stealing another quick kiss before he was out the door en route to the dungeons.

Your classes went smoothly as usual. The students were peppy with energy since it was Friday, but their focuses were very in tune with your lessons for the day. You had returned to your office after classes to do some fast grading before giving in to the weekend. Most of the students had returned to their dorms to have some down time before getting into their weekend shenanigans. However, it seemed that your biggest fans were even more boisterous than usual.

Your office door swung open rather abruptly, causing you to flinch and grab at your chest in alarm.

“Hi, Professor!” Fred Weasley screeched.

“Hey, Professor [Y/N]!” George echoed.

The red-headed twins were (without a doubt) very fond of you. Your personality just seemed to mix well with theirs, and you were always willing to take time out of your day to chat with them. You were usually one of the first to know about their daring pranks, always having to fake your surprise when they actually did them.

“Hi, boys.” You greeted with a smile.

It wasn’t at all uncommon for students to come by your office during the day. Usually it was because they had a concern about their performance in your class or confusion on an assignment. With the Weasley twins, though, they always came by just because they felt like it.

“Grading on a Friday?” Fred acquired, plopping down into one of the chairs in front of your desk.

George tutted, eyeing over the stack of tests on your desk.

“It’s a shame. You should be out getting knackered at The Three Broomsticks with McGonagall.” George said, scanning nosily over the objects on your bookshelf.

You snorted, resuming your grading.

“I’ll leave the heavy imbibing to the two of you. The day that I see Minerva McGonagall getting hammered at a bar will be the day that I become a Legilimens.” You replied.

George and Fred snickered, continuing to talk your ears off while they snooped around. You never minded their company, as long as they didn’t stop your grading progress. You didn’t notice when the two of them went quiet. You also didn’t notice when George silently called for his brother to join him across the room. 

Fred got up from his seat to see what George had found, his eyes practically bugging out of his head when he saw what it was. You had a habit of leaving your stuff laying around random areas of your office, so sometimes little hints of your relationship with Severus were out in the open for anyone to see. However, George and Fred were the only people on the planet who would actually find anything.

On one of your bookshelves rested an empty, opened envelope. It was a letter from a pen pal friend of yours that you had lost physical contact with after you graduated from Hogwarts. However, the kicker was that the addressed name on the front wasn’t what the twins would have expected to see.

It was addressed to you, using your married name. 

George and Fred looked at each other with quizzical expressions. Why in the world would you have something addressed to you with Snape’s last name? George and Fred had this weird, telepathic twin communication thing that always freaked you out. They could sort out a problem or have a conversation without ever saying anything. 

Their puzzled looks faded into realization when they sorted it out. They almost couldn’t believe it. Severus Snape married to one of the friendliest, nicest professors? It was shocking...but it did make sense.

You always wore a wedding ring on your left hand, but no one seemed to know who the lucky guy was. You were very private about your personal life.

Fred pocketed the envelope, and George announced their exit.

“Lovely to see you as always.” He said, holding down his giggle.

“Yeah, we’ll see you Monday, Professor.” Fred added on, ushering his brother out before either of them could blow it.

You gave them a friendly wave as they left, still clueless to the fact that they had found out your secret.

Monday morning rolled around (after Severus’ promised Saturday morning in) once again, and another week had begun. It didn’t take long for you to notice that something was odd.

Students all day had been acting strangely. Their quiet whispers and sneaky giggles when they passed by you in the corridors were definitely suspicious. You couldn’t get them to pay attention in class for the life of you, all of them clearly preoccupied.

“Draco Malfoy,” You snapped, hands on your hips; “Just what are you laughing about now?”

Draco’s laughter stopped, but his amused smile never left his face. This was the third time today that you had gotten on to him for disrupting class, him and Crabbe chuckling on and off about something. 

“Nothing, nothing.” Draco replied, still chortling under his breath.

You sighed out heavily. All of the kids were testing your nerves today.

“If I hear any more interruptions from you, I’ll have to give you detention,” You scolded, but in a calm tone; “Do you understand?”

Draco nodded, waiting until your back turned to the board again before he responded.

“Yes, Professor Snape.”

Your writing stopped, the entire classroom bursting into hushed laughter. You turned to face the young Malfoy, his cheeks flushed as he and Crabbe failed to contain their laughter any longer. It was obvious now that the whispers and weird glances were due to the fact that they knew. Somehow, they had found out.

“Professor [L/N].” You corrected.

“Hmm, but technically you’re Professor Snape.” He hummed.

You bit your cheek in thought. If they knew, there wasn’t any sense in denying it. But you were curious as to how this started.

“Draco, how did you all find out?” You questioned.

He shrugged with a smirk.

“I heard it from Pansy.” He admitted.

You looked to Pansy.

“Blaise told me.” She confessed.

You followed the trail of names and who-told-who until it stemmed back to the original perpetrators. Two suspects that you should have figured long ago.

“The twins. Of course.” You sighed.

The students had questions (and a lot of them), curious to know how long and how it had happened. Most of them were just stunned that Severus Snape actually had a life outside of his classroom. A life with someone like YOU nonetheless.

You were fidgety to talk to Severus about it. You were curious to see how he’d react and how this would change the way the two of you interacted during the school year. After all, it was kind of your fault for leaving your stuff around.

“Were the students acting peculiar to you today?” Severus asked, breaking you from your thoughtful daze.

Your gaze snapped up from your dinner plate as you peered at him with a fluttery belly.

“Peculiar how?” You asked.

“They all seemed mischievous. As if they knew something they weren’t supposed to.” Severus claimed, looking at you as if he already knew the reason why.

“Well, now that you mention it...they sort of know about us...that we’re married.” You confessed.

Truthfully, Severus didn’t care that much if the student body knew. It was inevitable that they’d all find out eventually, but he was interested to hear how exactly the cat was let out of the bag.

“They ‘sort of’ know?” He questioned, clearly amused; “How’s that?”

You sucked in a breath.

“The Weasley twins might’ve figured it out. They’re smart, Sev. Much smarter than you give them credit for,” You babbled; “It’s not their fault. I shouldn’t have-”

“Stop, stop,” He cut you off with a soft smile; “You don’t think I’m mad about this, do you?”

Your shoulders relaxed at his gentle tone, but your eyes remained wide.

“It’s just that we...always wanted to keep it a secret.” You reminded him.

His head nodded and he set his fork down to give you his full attention.

“That is true, but we both knew that couldn’t last forever,” Severus pointed out; “I could never keep you hidden away forever.”

Your cheeks burned at his compliment, your smile beaming at him. He nudged your foot under the table. It was a wondrous thought to think about how different (or not) things would be now that they knew.

“I’m afraid I’ll still have to keep my maiden name. To avoid confusion.” You stated.

“Of course. Just as long as you’re still my Mrs. Snape.” He grinned with a wink.

You returned with a laugh, prompting the end of the lighthearted conversation.

“That I can definitely promise.”

[thefanficmonster]

Casual

Ranboo x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None, unless talking about the future counts

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Following the arrival of the dreadful invitation to his cousin’s wedding Ranboo turns to the only cover-up he can think of to keep his still-single status hidden from his family.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your wonderful request! I’m so glad you sent your idea to me and I’m so glad you were my first official Ranboo request. I’m really sorry it’s taken me so long to write it but I still hope you’ll come across it and read it! Love, Vy ❤

“Heyyy, so Y/N, I have a favor to ask you...um yeah, call me back, it’s awkward sending it via voicemail. Bye“

Huh - that’s the first thought that goes through my head when I listen to the voicemail left after a missed call from my best friend Ranboo. The favors he usually asks for consist of requesting assistance for his videos in which I also appear with a mask and sunglasses to keep the brand running. I genuinely have nothing against my face being shown but when I think about it, I’m honestly a bit glad people can’t identify me.

Anyways, back to the favors, Ranboo is no stranger to asking me for them but they’ve never been considered too awkward for a voicemail which is why I’m no slightly concerned. I’ve been swamped with work for school and studies for the graduation finals for the past two weeks and it seems like I’ll never get on top of it and I know Ranboo’s been in a similar situation too, so maybe he needs help with that? He’s not used to asking help for school stuff, he sometimes even has a hard time accepting it when I openly offer it to him.

I eventually sigh, decide that playing this guessing game will not get me anywhere and settle on giving him a call as I make my way home from the gym with my legs barely putting up with the task of carrying me around.

He picks up on the second ring.

“Hey! Wh-...“

“Would you pretend to be my girlfriend for my cousin’s wedding next weekend?!“

My legs take that opportunity to stop moving in the middle of the sidewalk which is luckily void of any people at the moment. It’s not my fault my body’s first reaction was to freeze up at the question that came flying at me like an out-of-control jet, almost as though he’s been dying to say it and get it over with.

“Um...run that by me again please, I think I misunderstood.“ I say, blinking blankly as though awoken from a fever dream. No, actually as though I’m IN a fever dream right now.

“Ok, now that the cat’s out of the bag, wanna grab some coffee and talk about it face-to-face. I need to see your facial expressions to gauge what response to expect.“ He says, the previous nervousness gone and his voice calm as regularly once again.

I’m this close to face-palming but I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and bring myself to utter a reply, “Our usual spot. Be there in ten minutes.”

                                                             *  *  *

“No freaking way.“ I shake my head, folding my arms over my chest as I lean back in my seat in the booth we picked when we arrived. Good thing I got an iced coffee cause even a hot one would’ve gone cold by now considering I haven’t yet taken the time to have even a sip of it. I’ve been too busy listening to the long and short of the explanation and begging speech Ranboo probably made last night to try and convince me to agree to this nonsense. “Dude, we’ve been friends since middle school-...“

“Exactly! Who else was I gonna ask?“ He cuts me off, pleading gaze meeting my unimpressed one.

I huff before continuing my previous statement, “We’ve been friends since middle school so you know my opinion on weddings.” I put extra emphasis on the word ‘opinion’, giving him the clear hint at the distaste I’ve expressed on the topic multiple times before.

“And you know we’re on the same page there but there’s no way I can avoid going unless someone kidnaps me.“ He too now gets in the same stance as me, his coffee forgotten too.

I can’t help but snort out a little laugh, “I’d be more than happy to kidnap you considering the other option is far less appealing to me.“

He, of course, rolls his eyes at me as though he didn’t offer to do the same thing so I could avoid an exam but anyways. “So you’re gonna choose to fake a kidnapping that has the potential of landing you in jail over coming to eat some great food and maybe even have some fun at a wedding with your best friend? I’m hurt.“ He says, frowning to cover up the smile that’s fighting its way onto his face.

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes, “I’d be kidnapping you, dummy...” I cut myself off to let out a long sigh and calm down before I go off at him. His smirk isn’t helping me much with the task either. I’ve known Ranboo long enough to know he’ll eventually convince me and he’s known me long enough to know how to do that exactly. With that in mind, there’s really no point in getting so worked up and wasting my energy. And so, despite my own rationality, I cave. “Fine, but I’m not staying the whole wedding.“

His eyes immediately light up and almost makes me feel the compromise was worth it. Almost. I mean, when you’ve been best friends with someone for so long, seeing them happy is worth more to you than your own comfort sometimes.

And he knows it too. Which is exactly why he outstretches his hand for me to shake and says: “Just one dance and you’re free to go. Deal?”

I take his hand without hesitations. That’s a better offer than I could’ve ever imagined. “Damn straight it’s a deal.“

                                                            *  *  *

“How long until you kick the heels off?“ Ranboo asks, bringing me a non-alcoholic cocktail and sitting down next to me.

I take a sip and giggle, “You kidding? I already kicked them off and replaced them with flats. I need mobility if we dance. They also lower the risk of me severing off a toe of yours if I step on you on accident.”

He laughs, clinking his glass against mine before he gets a bit more serious, “By the way, thanks for handling my family’s attack so well. I know it might’ve been a bit much but you handled it like a pro. Still, I’m sorry on their behalf.”

I shake my head and wave my hand dismissively, “Don’t mention it. I’d probably react the same way if my brother or cousin brought a date to an important family event like this.” I instinctively turn to look in the direction of where the majority of his family has gathered around, chatting with guests, smiling brightly. It’s hard not to immediately take a liking towards these people. They’ve been a second family to me ever since Ranboo and I started hanging out so I completely understand why they were so shocked to see me in the role of his ‘girlfriend’.

“I’ll tell my parents the truth later, our extended family is the ones I wanted to fool to be perfectly honest.“ He looks around as do I and we catch more than a few pairs of eyes fixated on us that turn away when they realize they’ve been spotted, “Mission accomplished by the looks of it.“

I chuckle. I’ve never felt so comfortable at a wedding before. I don’t feel stressed nor anxious despite knowing that there’s quite the number of eyes on me and there are whispers going around about my ‘relationship’ with Ranboo. It’s oddly calming and relaxing to be surrounded by some familiar and some unfamiliar faces. This cocktail is pretty great too.

Speaking of which, if it had any alcohol in it I’d blame it for the decision I’m about to make but this one’s entirely on me: I tap Ranboo with one hand while taking out my phone with the other. “If we’re already the talk of the wedding, let’s give them something to talk about.“ I say as I put up my phone, pretending to be taking a selfie leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

When I pull away I can clearly see that he’s still processing what just happened. I can’t help but burst out in a fit of laughter as I reach out to wipe the lipstick stain I left on his cheek. He looks like a lost, clueless puppy with the question: ‘what on Earth just happened???’ replaying in his head and it’s so freaking cute!

Wait....what was that? Since when do I use the adjective cute to describe Ranboo? Didn’t I think he looks handsome in a suit earlier too? The hell is with me today?

Then it hits me - the feeling isn’t foreign. Like, I know I’ve felt it before but I never analyzed it or even bothered to acknowledge it. But now that I do, I’m afraid of what it might be.

“There!“ I say, desperately trying to push the thoughts away along with this little firework show in my stomach, “Now you have pinker cheeks. Well, cheek, singular.“

As if snapping out of his state of confusion, he returns to Earth with a smirk, “Kiss the other to even it?”

Alright, his blush might not be even but mine now is and it’s ten times as intense and very much apparent but I don’t let the feeling shine through anything else as I proceed to actually kiss his other cheek too, wiping the lipstick stain.

“Thanks. You’re the best.” And just like that, as though it’s no big deal, he kisses my forehead.

See, that’s the thing, it shouldn’t be a big deal! It’s never been! This is far from the first time I’ve kissed him on the cheek or the first time he’s given me a forehead kiss. These are regular occurrences after years of this lovely friendship we have. Why do they feel so different now?

Then, much to my relief, the music starts and the lights turn off leaving only one spotlight for the groom and bride to have their first dance. They look absolutely astonishing and I can certainly say I’ve never before stopped to think that about any newly weds of the weddings I’ve preciously been to. I don’t know if it has something to do with the company I have for this particular wedding or it’s maybe the fact that my mindset’s changed over the years without me realizing.

Then I automatically look at Ranboo who just so happens to be looking at me too and all I can say is: my mindset hasn’t changed.

A loud applause takes over when the couple finish their dance, officially opening the dancefloor for any other pairs who’d like to occupy it and I’m happy to see how many people are eager to rush up with their partner.

 Ranboo gets up, putting the glass down and offers me his hand, “So, wanna dance? Don’t take this as a sign to leave though, we said one dance and you CAN leave, not SHOULD.” He says, giving me a warning look.

I roll my eyes and am about to give him some sass right back but he takes my hand and picks me up from my seat, leading me to the dancefloor.  And I gotta admit maybe it’s a good thing he did. If he left it to me I would’ve probably said no to the dance and ran the hell away. Why? - Cause I’m freaking terrified of this new mindset and point of view and these intense emotions I never used to pay any mind to before in regards to my best friend.

Friends don’t feel that way about friends. Friends don’t look at friends that way. What’s happening to me?

When I gotta look him in the eyes like this, not for the first time might I add, I can finally understand how the friends-to-lovers trope works: it’s all meaningless until it starts to mean so much to you. It’s all platonic until it reminds you of a romantic movie moment. It ‘best friends’ until it’s ‘I wish we were more than that’. It’s all casual, until it’s not.

And, unfortunately, it’s irreversible.

Damn do I wish I ran away now...

[kelieah]

another arvin request as you asked love 😌😌 this one is so funny to me i saw it on tik tok 💀 maybe arvin being so comfortable w reader bc they’ve been together for so long but shes trynna like use the bathroom & arvin is trying to have a normal ass convo w her right in the doorway & she’s like hello ??? 😭😭

clingy (arvin russell x reader)

word count: 0.7k

warnings: language, fluff, arvin being a clingy bitch

edited: i feel like this is bad jsdhbfskhf i hope it's ok, the way i was writing it was funnier in my head </3

a/n: i genuinely laughed reading this request, thank you so much for sending this in 😭😭😭

arvin russell masterlist

You and Arvin have been together for almost three years now. You both started dating when you both were 18 and moved into a small cheap apartment when you both were 21. Things are mellow and content now, simply going on with your everyday lives together comfortably and happily. You had to admit though, you thought you would be the clingy one in the relationship but you were absolutely wrong.

The two of you are currently watching The Twilight Zone on a busted television set Arvin managed to find by the dumpster. His body is between your legs and his arms are wrapped around your waist while his head is lying against your chest. You're propped up against some pillows while your hands are lazily massaging his scalp.

"What would you do if I was actually a mannequin?" you whisper and glance over at your boyfriend.

He shrugs and averts his eyes up towards you. "I don't know. Probably kill you."

"Arvin!" you burst out in laughter and throw your head back in reaction to his unexpected response.

He smiles when feeling the vibration from your chest and shakes his head, "I'm only teasing."

"Sure you are..." you retort with a playful manner and ruffle his hair. "Could you get up though, please? I need to go," you begin to sit up.

He lets out a low groan and scoots up, bringing more of his weight down on you. "Go where?"

You whine as he traps you beneath him. "The toilet."

"Why?" he looks down at you with a lazy grin.

You give him a deadpanned look and scoff, "Well, I don't know maybe to go take a shit?"

"Gross, I didn't think ladies do that kind of thing," he jokes and climbs off of you.

You stand up and shake your head while stifling a laugh, "Men. Unbelievable," you tease and walk off to the bathroom.

Arvin huffs and lies back down on the couch, waiting for your return. "Men, unbelievable," he grumbles to imitate your insult.

As you're doing your business, you jump at the sudden harsh knock at the door. "Lord! Yes?" you cry out and prop yourself up on your knees as you sat on the toilet.

"You been in there for more than ten minutes. Are you okay?" Arvin asks while leaning on the wall, facing the closed door.

"Wuh- Yeah? I told you I'm pooping, now leave me alone," you groan.

"Now that I think about it... We haven't been to the market since last Thursday, do you wanna go today?" he asks, a genuine sense of curiosity to his voice as he glances up at the ceiling mindlessly.

"Sure, whatever. Arvin, baby, could you just wait on the couch or something. This is kinda embarrassing," you cross your arms, silently wishing your business would go faster so you wouldn't have to deal with Arvin.

"As if I haven't heard you fart or something," he snorts and shakes his head.

"Hey!"

"We could also go shopping today, I got paid Friday," he yawns and kicks at the floor. "You already know that, but still," he mutters to himself. "I saw you looking at that pretty dress the other day when we were walking around the city, maybe we could go back?"

"Oh my god, Vinny. Yes, sure, that would be great but could we talk about this later?" you exasperate.

"I also just remembered, remember uh what's his damn name again? Jimmy? Yeah, Jimmy boy. Him and his girl are going down to the drive-in this Saturday, they invited us for a double date. Do you wanna go to that?" You exhale loudly and dramatically, hoping that he would hear your frustration but of course, he didn't mind it at all. "What was that, doll?"

"Yes, baby. I would like to go," you place your chin upon your palm, waiting to finish up your business that for some reason is taking longer than usual.

"Are you constipated or something?"

"Arvin!"

"Just asking! Sorry, sorry," he laughs a little and crosses his arms. "You know, babe. I was also thinking—"

"Are you on something? Because I swear Arvin Eugene Russell, I never heard you talk so much since the day I met you and out of all the times while I'm taking a shit!?" you cry out and place your hands on your face.

He laughs loudly and smacks the door, causing you to jump. "I'm sorry, sweet cakes. It's just you're taking so long and—"

"Go."

"But—"

"Arvin, motherfucker, I swear I'll throw my damn shit at you," you warn.

"Jesus, I know you know I'm kinky but not that kinky," he holds up his hands in defense and walks back to the couch.

"ARVIN!"

thanks for reading, let me know what you think!

tagging some mutuals <3 @evermoreholland @peterbenjiparker @hollandcrush @msmarvelsmain @ms-misery @celestialholland @spideyspeaches @supremethunda @alinastarkrovs @starknik22 @bi-lmg @selfcarecap @asonofpeter @waitimcomingtoo

[cas-kingdom]

There’s a Snake in My Boat

A/N: Some light-hearted fun.

Also, the title is killing me. Can’t tell if it’s absolutely brilliant or utterly stupid, but my sister told me to use it, so here we are. 

Title: There’s a Snake in My Boat

Summary: Sam makes you try the snake drink he had in Madripoor. Needless to say, it’s not the first time you’ve been sick all over Bucky.

Words: 973

“It looked disgusting.”

“It tasted disgusting. Who thought putting snake insides in a drink was a good idea?”

“Probably someone in Madripoor.”

“Yeah, well, I won’t be getting the taste of that outta my mouth for years.” Sam took a swig of water, exaggeratedly shaking his head. You’d barely been in the air ten minutes, and according to Zemo you still had a good while to go. The man himself was sat across the aisle from Sam, leaning back in his seat, calculating eyes switching between Sam and you as you talked. Bucky was quiet, as per usual, gripping his notebook as though Zemo might snatch it from him, staring out the window. You were beside him, your back to him, resting against his shoulder, legs over the arm rest. You grinned at Sam.

“Don’t be dramatic, Smiling Tiger.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t ‘Smiling Tiger’ me.”

“I am sure we have that drink in the back,” Zemo spoke up, and all eyes turned to him. He shrugged, eyebrows raising. “If you would like to try it, Y/N.”

Your eyes widened, even more so when Sam got that look on his face. “Oh, yeah! Alfred, bring us a glass of snake juice, would you?”

You sniggered. “It’s Oeznik.”

“Alfred. Whatever.” He took another sip from his water bottle and pointed straight at you. You’d adopted that uncanny look of disgust already. “You’re gonna drink it.”

“I am not.”

“Yeah. You are. You need to feel my pain.”

“I can feel your damn pain without swallowing snake guts, Sam!”

“Bucky, tell her she has to.”

You tilted your head back, staring straight at Bucky, who’d had no input as of yet. He rose a brow and stared dully at Sam. “I’m the one who’ll have to deal with her if she gets sick.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Gotta have a better reason than that.”

“I’m allergic to snakes,” you deadpanned.

Sam narrowed his gaze at Bucky. Bucky shook his head, and you made a gasp of disbelief, shoving your shoulder against him. “You’re on my side!”

He shrugged and turned his head back to the window. You slumped further against him. Oeznik came in then, stiff, barely breathing, mumbling something in Sokovian under his breath, with a glass of… ugh. He must have asked Zemo who it was going to, because you saw Zemo jerk his head in your direction a second later, and the old man started toddling towards you. He smiled with yellowed broken teeth and extended the drink towards you. You vehemently shook your head. “No,” you insisted, nodding to the guy behind you. “He meant him.”

Bucky glanced up, saw the glass, and smiled tightly. “Sensitive taste buds,” he said. Sam burst into laughter then and you snorted.

“I’m not allowed to be allergic to snakes, but you can have sensitive taste buds?”

“It’s true.”

“It’s not.”

“Eat the damn snake juice,” Sam said.

“No!”

“I’ll buy you the new iPhone.”

“Already got it.”

“You and what money?”

“Tony’s.”

He muttered an “of course the guy still buys you shit after he’s dead” but lapsed into a moment of thinking. “I’ll let you drive my boat once it’s fixed.”

Your eyes lit up. You’d been begging him to let your hands be the only ones on the wheel since the moment he’d taken you to visit the boat one day. He’d been so protective of it that his hands had been either constantly hovering over yours or literally on top of them as he stood behind you. That would’ve been fine except the boat didn’t even move.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Not just trying to get me to drink it?”

“Nope. I’ll let you drive it.”

“By myself?”

“Yep.”

“Can’t stand behind me, Sam. Gotta stand on the other side of the boat.”

“On the other side of the- come on, Y/N-”

“Nope.”

“Just, like, a few steps behind-”

“No.”

Sam sighed, clearly warring with himself. Zemo’s eyebrows were raised higher than anyone had seen. Bucky was staring at Sam – go figure. Oeznik was bent over a little in front of you, probably confused, though the trembling smile on his face said otherwise. He nodded towards the drink in his hand and you craned your neck, giving Sam a look.

Sam narrowed his eyes. You readied to settle back against Bucky. “Fine,” he said, pointing a firm finger at you. “But you better not break it!”

You took the drink from Oeznik and grinned triumphantly, though that was extremely short lived when you looked down and noticed the guts of a snake inside your glass. Your face contorted into one of absolute revulsion.

“Don’t do it,” Bucky warned.

“I wanna drive the damn boat.”

“I’ll steal one and we can do it then.”

“Dr. Raynor would be disappointed.”

“I’m waiting,” Sam sang.

“Piss off, Sam.” You brought the glass to your lips, almost gagged, locked eyes with Zemo for a moment, who seemed greatly curious as to whether or not you’d actually do it, and decided there and then that that was reason enough. You squeezed your eyes shut, tipped the glass up, and downed it in one go.

“Alright!” Sam clapped his hands, his grin splitting his face.

You tried not to chew. You really did. But you couldn’t swallow otherwise. “Fuck!”

“I must admit, I’m impressed,” Zemo commented.

“Shut up, Zemo!” You gagged again, gripping Bucky’s knee.

Bucky readied himself. He’d seen it coming. He always did. And, as you whipped your head around, promptly throwing up on his shoes, he wondered if coming out of the ice had really been worth it.

He pulled your hair back and grabbed the towel Oeznik conveniently handed to him. “You’re letting me drive the damn boat too,” he told Sam, who looked victorious.

“Alright, snowman, but you better not get seasick.”

Avengers Masterpost

[rebeccccccaaa]

𝐈𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞

________________________

ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs x ᴘʏʀᴏᴋɪɴᴇᴛɪᴄ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: (ANON) heey!! Can you please write something (possibly smut pls) in which Bucky falls in love with Tony's adoptive daughter but they have to keep it a secret?

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: SMUT 18+, fluff, age gap (you’re like mid-twenties and Bucky’s early thirties) angry Tones, Steve being such an asshole lmao 

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: I imagine that you were like thirteen to fifteen during the attack in new york and your parents uh… died ig and Tony took you in and they find out you got super powers teehee

________________________

It started when the Avengers had their first movie with Bucky as a new recruit. He had completed his evaluations and was applicable to join the team. That’s when he met you for the first time. 

You were this beautiful ball of craziness and light and he couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were tipsy, he could tell and every sudden burst of laughter or even a sneeze you’d spark a flame setting something on fire making you laugh even more. 

He practically fell in love with you that day. 

Weeks later he chalked it up and asked Steve more about you. He told Bucky that your parents had died when you were young during the attack on New York almost ten years ago now and Tony took it upon himself to take you in and protect you. 

“How did you guys know about her powers?”

“We didn’t. Few days after she moved into the Tower she sneezed during breakfast and set her food on fire. I don’t think she knew about them either.”

“Who were her parents?”

“We don’t know. She told us their names but it’s like they don’t exist; no medical history, socials, nothing.”

“Weird.”

You were a mystery, a beautiful mystery. But one thing everyone was that you were Tony’s daughter. Adopted, but still. And Tony still didn’t like him. It was an argument on it’s own to even let near the compound; telling him that he wanted to date his daughter would send him into cardiac arrest. 

So you guys are sneaking around.

Of course you noticed his shy and lingering eyes. You were flattered. You agreed a bunch that Bucky was one of the most gorgeous men you’ve ever laid your eyes on. You didn’t push anything and waited for him to come to you. And when he did, he came hard, literally.

It started when Steve was away on a mission in Berlin. Bucky had woken up from a nightmare and he hadn’t had one in weeks. During his time here, because of his infatuation with you, he grew close to you. 

You laid under him so perfectly; like you were meant to be there. The way you bit your lip to muffle your moans so you wouldn’t wake anyone. The way your eyes fluttered when he hit that particular spot. The stinging from your nails dragging down his back. 

“Fucking hell, you feel so good wrapped around me, doll,” he grunted as he continued to thrusted in and out of you. 

“Oh god, Bucky,” you moaned before pulling him down to connect your lips together. 

“Ugh, your dad’s gonna kill me,” he grunted.

“Fuck him,” you chuckled breathlessly.

Breakfast the next morning was foul. Everyone was eating as normal and Steve was set to fly back in from Berlin, but y couldn’t shake the awkward tension between you and Bucky. Both girls could sense that something had happened and when you told them later that day they nearly screamed like teenage girls. 

“You can’t tell anyone! Especially Tony!”

“We won’t say anything,” Nat giggled, “He’s gonna kill you.”

“Not if he kills Bucky first,” Wanda snorted.

Since then every lingering touch, every persistent stare, you found yourselves in either room making the most of however many minutes you had together until someone came looking for you. Your chest pressed against his, combing your fingers through his hair as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. 

“You’re absolutely irresistible, doll,” Bucky whispered against your ear.

“Fuck, we’re gonna get caught one day,” you panted.

“I know but we haven’t yet, so be a good girl and turn around for me so I can that gorgeous ass while I fuck you from behind.”

You turned over, getting on your hands and knees instantaneously feeling a pleasurable sting from Bucky’s hand on your cheek. He quickly soothed the pain by rubbing his hand over the red mark before gliding up your spine to softly rub your back. 

He slowly slid back in through your folds eliciting a moan from you both. His pelvis slapping against your soft skin, the sound echoing lewdly through the room. Your arms gave out and your face buried into the sheets under you letting Bucky hit deeper inside you making you nearly scream.

You threw your head back up covering your mouth to muffle the moans. Bucky bit his lip harshly in an attempt but wasn’t as successful as you were. His hips snapped violently, stuttering every now and then as he got closer to a release. 

“God, Buck! I’m gonna cum! Fuck!” you whined.

“Shit,” Bucky groaned before spilling inside you, coating your walls with hot cum. 

He fell forward pressing soft kisses to your slightly sweaty skin. He lifted himself and turned you around, settling between your legs lazily kissing you in your post sex bliss. You looked so pretty with your hair spread out on the sheets and the marks that littered your neck and your breasts. He truly fell in love with you and you did for him too. 

“Y/n,” he whispered looking intimately into your eyes.

“Bucky,” you whispered back with a grin.

“I lo-”

“Hey, Buck. I’ve been looking for- What the fuck!” Steve barged through the door to find you two nude in each other's arms. You tucked your face in your shoulder away from the door in shame and Bucky saw red. He reached above your head immediately and threw as hard as he could at the intruder.

“Get out!” 

Steve slammed the door shut with wide eyes and furrowed brows. Did he see what he thinks he saw? He went to the lab to look for Tony. 

“Hey, Tony, do you know about Y/n and Bucky?”

“Excuse me?” he sassed.

“I uh- I found them together. In Buck’s room. Uh... naked.” 

Tony slowly raised his head with an evil expression staring directly into Steve making the big super soldier feel timid. 

“What!”

You and Bucky cleaned yourselves up and changed as soon as Steve left. You sat next to each other on his bed unsure of what’s to come next. 

“Maybe Steve won’t say anything?” Bucky shrugged.

“My dad’s gonna kill me,” you sighed.

“Hey, I won’t let him-”

“Get the hell away from my daughter!” Tony shouted slamming the door to Bucky’s bedroom opened; behind him stood and guilty Steve and you felt rage.

“You fucking told on us!” you spiraled fire around your fingers ready to fight for revenge. Your hands and arms glowed bright red and orange and yellow and pits of fire glowed in your eyes. Steam practically

“Hey calm down,” Bucky grabbed your waist. He stepped in front you and lifted your chin to look at him. The second your eyes met with his, your entire body cooled down and you felt yourself fall in the ocean that are his eyes; as if a wave had dissipated the fire you created. 

“Hey, what the hell is going on?” Tony fumed.

“Leave her alone. She has nothing to do with this,” Bucky defended.

“The hell she does. You’re sleeping with my daughter!”

“I’m not talking about this; I’m talking about what we have. If it was anyone else, you wouldn’t be having a cow,” Bucky growled. 

“Tony,” you stepped forward.

“Dad,” you whispered; Tony's eyes snapped to yours. 

“Please, I love him.”

“No,” he couldn’t accept it.

“Well, whether or not you like it, we’re gonna be together.”

“I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“We’ll just keep sneaking around like we have been for months.”

“Months!”

“Yes, months. And it would’ve been longer if it wasn’t for you!” you pointed at Steve, who casted his eyes away in guilt.

“Dad, please. I love Bucky so much; and you’re not going to take him away from me,” you cried. 

Tony noticed how sincere you spoke. And the way he easily calmed you down; he knew there was love between you two. He wouldn’t be to live with himself if he took something that clearly made you so happy away from you. As much as he couldn’t move past his issues with Bucky he knows that Bucky was right and that this has nothing to do with you. 

“I don’t want any more accidents with walking in your private time. You’re lucky it was Steve and not me; I would’ve killed you both on the spot,” he said to you.

“Thank you, Dad,” you hugged him tightly before going back to Bucky’s side. 

“And you; if you so much as put her in a bad mood, I’ll fucking kill you,” Tony said before leaving.

“Well, well, well,” Bucky looked at Steve.

“Bucky, leave him alone; it’s not like he almost ruined our lives and tore us apart,” you chuckled.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t think freak out like that,” Steve apologized.

“And why didn’t you lock the door?” he asked.

“Yeah, why didn’t you?” you looked at Bucky with furrowed brows. 

“Don’t turn on me, this is not my fault!” Bucky defended as you and Steve shared a laugh.

“Well, I’m happy for you guys. You’re good together,” Steve smiled before walking out and closing the door. 

“Wow, Toyn fucking terrifying when he’s in dad mode,” Bucky turned to you.

“Yeah, but he’ll come around.”

“I love you too, by the way.”

“I love you, Bucky.”

==========================

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[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Bet On It | Charlie Gillespie

Requested:  I may have already requested this (or I may have dreamed it) - but I would love an imagine with Charlie and the reader having a bet. Charlie loses and has to get the readers name tattooed somewhere and his fans go INSANE. Can be either platonic or romantic, your choice.

A/N: This was too good to pass up. Hope you like it! And special thanks to @calamitykaty for helping me out again on this one! I appreciate your help and love so much! You are the best of the best! Love you! 💖

Pairing: Charlie x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, tattoos 

Song(s) used: Show Me How You Burlesque - Christina Aguilera 

Words:  3,880

“Wanna bet on it?” was one of the first things he had ever said to you three years ago when you met him after your dance troupe had performed at the annual showcase. 

You and Meghan Gillespie had been friends since you started taking dance classes when both of you were five. However, your friendship never expanded from dance classes. Both of you were totally fine with that. 

This also meant neither of you had ever met each other's siblings, but that changed when you were seventeen and Charlie tapped your shoulder when you’d come up to greet your own family after the showcase. He’d complimented you on your dancing, and told you a little flustered that you had stolen the show. You didn’t even need to ask his name to know this was Charlie. He had the same bone structure and the same eyes Meghan did. She had told you about her siblings, mostly about Charlie since he was the closest in age and, according to her, the most annoying out of all her brothers. 

The two of you talked the whole night, even long after everyone had gone. Most of it was absolute nonsense, but  you loved getting to know him a little more aside from the stories you’d heard from Meghan. You enjoyed his presence and the way he carried himself and told his stories. This boy just seemed like the most excitable and passionate person you had ever met in your life. A lot of similarities to his sister, you noticed. 

“Can I see you again soon?” he asked when the two of  you wrapped up the night when it neared twelve am. 

You had raised your eyebrow at his nervosity more than his question. “Are you asking me out on a date?” 

Charlie’s head snapped up at your question, his eyes wide and jaw tight. “Wha-What? Nah! I wouldn’t date my sister’s friend! Uhm, more like, uh… Like a platonic date!” he exclaimed a little too excitedly. He even added some finger guns to top it all off. 

“All right, a platonic date it is,” you said as a teasing grin made its way to your features. “But you have to promise me one thing…” He nodded his head, encouraging you to go on. “You�� have to promise you won’t fall in love with me.” 

A snicker raked through his body before he mimicked your teasing grin, “Wanna bet on it?” 

Even though back then there was nothing at stake, he still lost the bet. You both did, technically. Because after that first ‘platonic’ date followed more dates that grew into non-platonic dates until he finally picked up the courage to kiss you on your doorstep. 

Now three years later, you were working together on a second season of Julie and The Phantoms, both of you having been on the first season too. You as a background dancer and him as one of the leads of the show. 

To say you were proud of him would be an understatement. 

However, no one knew you were dating except for the closest people in your life. Meghan knew from the first ‘platonic’ date that this would be more than just a shallow friendship, and all your other friends and family were just happy you found each other. The cast of Julie and The Phantoms, however, were your biggest shippers. They loved to tease you both to the point where fans were suspicious, but you never made anything official. You kept telling them you were just best friends. 

After a full day on a corona proof set, the two of you finally settle on the sofa of your shared apartment with Owen. Said third roommate still had to film a couple of scenes with Booboo, which meant the two of you had the space all to yourself. 

Cuddled up on the couch, the two of you scroll through your phone, catching up on anything  you’d missed on social media. You’d received a few comments on your latest Instagram story with Savannah and Tori, and even more on the ones with Charlie in them. Most of them told you they wanted you to do a live together soon. 

“People are asking for a live,” you stated, showing some of the messages in your inbox. 

“Then they shall receive,” Charlie replied and got up from the couch, making his way into the bedroom. You furrowed your eyebrows, wondering why he just left, but you were given answers when he returned with an acoustic in his hand. “They always love a good jam session,” he explained before handing  you his phone so you could set up the live on his account since he had a lot more followers than you. 

“Let’s see,” you mumbled as you pressed the button, letting the phone rest against a large candle on the coffee table. Names started popping up at the bottom of the screen while the little number in the right-hand corner raked up quickly. “Hey guys!” 

“‘Sup!” Charlie shouted excitedly, a wide smile taking over his features while he tuned his guitar. “What do you guys wanna see from us today? Send us some requests for songs I should play or questions you want us to answer.” 

A laugh escaped your mouth as you noticed a lot of the questions were about whether or not you were a couple. “No, we’re not together, we’re just best buddies.” You put your head on Charlie’s shoulder, smiling a toothy smile at the camera. 

“Do you pull pranks on Owen or others from the cast?” Charlie read aloud as you pulled yourself up again, nodding your head in response. “Yeah, we pull pranks on each other all the time!” 

“Yeah! I love to prank this one whenever I find him somewhere napping,” you chuckled, especially when you noticed his expression on the screen. His mouth ajar as his eyes went from left to right. “I swear, this boy can sleep anywhere!” 

“Don’t expose me like that!” he cried out, which made you burst out with laughter to the point where you even let out a snort. You couldn’t hold yourself anymore at how offended he was by all of this, you were practically cackling. “Okay, if we’re exposing each other, you’re always dancing. ALWAYS,” he put emphasis on the last ‘always’. His eyes widened at the word as well as his voice growing louder. 

You stopped laughing at this, suddenly turning serious. “That’s my job, Char,” you deadpanned. Charlie wasn’t Charlie if he let it go so quickly. 

“Yeah, on set and maybe at practice, but you dance everywhere,” he turned to the camera, “Seriously, she dances in the shower, on the toilet, at catering, in bed,...” he stopped himself upon realizing he’d said a tiny bit too much. 

“People are asking how you know all that, Charlie. How do you know all of that?” you teased along, knowing he had dug himself a hole and you loved to see him squirm to get him out. 

“Because I… Come on, y/n, we’re best friends, we fall asleep in the same bed all the time,” he quickly saved himself in a very nonchalant, very Charlie way. You couldn’t help the smirk tugging at one corner of your lip, thinking ‘Nice save, Gillespie’.

“But that’s still not as bad as sleeping everywhere,” you countered, your face still overtaken by that smirk. “I bet I could get a whole album of pictures of you sleeping anywhere.” 

This claim made Charlie’s head snap up, a feeling of dejavu rushing through his mind. This suddenly felt very familiar since both of you had  been in a situation like this before, both pulling the short straw.

“Wanna bet on it?” he declared, his eyebrows nearly reaching up to his hairline. 

Your tongue glided across your turned up lips as you replied, “What’s at stake?” 

“Let’s see what they think. Guys! Help us out with this bet, please! What should be at stake?”

Dozens of replies came in, but your eyes fell on one in particular. “The loser has to get the winner’s name tattooed in a place of the winner’s choice!” you read aloud, pointing at the screen where the comment used to be. “Yes! Okay! So, let’s say we have to each get ten pictures of videos by -- it’s now Tuesday, so Monday?”  Charlie nodded his head in agreement. “First one to get ten wins.” 

Charlie held his hand out for you to shake, which you gladly did so, sealing the bet. 

“Get ready to get tatted for the first time, baby,” Charlie quipped with a smirk. 

“Oh, no, Char. I’m gonna leave this a blank canvas,” you responded, gliding your hands over your ribcage and down to your sides for emphasis. “You better get ready to get ‘y/n’ tattooed in big block letters across your chest!” You patted his pecs before adding with a giggle, “No ragrets.” 

He let out a chuckle at the meme reference before turning to the phone again. The two of you spent the next twenty minutes talking to the fans on Instagram live, playing them some songs and teasing one another non-stop. The fans were pretty certain you were a thing by now, but you still insisted all this was just a really close friendship. 

By the next day, everyone knew about the bet and was willing to help both of you out. Though, most of them told you afterwards they were on your side all the way. 

Savannah skipped over to you when you were waiting at the Hollywood Ghost Club set, getting ready for the last rehearsal before you’d start filming the scene tomorrow. You were going over the steps in your head until she spoke up. “Have you caught Charlie yet today?” she asked with a smirk. You let out a chuckle, shaking your head. 

“No, haven’t really stopped today, so I haven’t seen him much either.” This made you realize you kind of missed him and were up for a cuddle right about now. “Why? Have you seen him somewhere?” 

The mischievous look in her eyes spoke a thousand words. “Gimme your phone, I’ll go take a picture, so you can stay here.” You mull over the option for a second before deciding against it. 

“No, that’s not very fair. I’ll just go and look for him after this rehearsal and hope he’ll still be napping.” Savannah shrugged at your response before tucking a strand of hair of yours behind your ears. 

“Suit yourself, he’s in the breakroom.” You made a mental note of that. “You’re so soft for him, it’s adorable,” she uttered as a tender smile found its way to her lips. “I’ll let you get to rehearsal and I’ll make sure no one wakes Charlie before you can get to him, okay?” 

You shot her a thankful smile, “Yeah, thanks, Sav.” She kissed your cheek before walking away to wherever she needed to go. 

Thankfully, Charlie was indeed still asleep by the time you made it to the breakroom. He looked adorable all curled up on the small sofa with his arms wrapped around his own stomach. With an endeared smile, you grabbed your phone from the pocket of your sweater and snapped a picture before making your way over to him and squatting down in front of the couch. Softly, you brushed a strand of hair off his forehead before combing through the luscious mop of brown locks. 

He stirred slightly and squeezed his eyes tighter before they fluttered open. When they met yours, a soft, sleepy smile lit up his face. With a beam mirroring his, you said to him, “You look very cuddly up here, mind if I join you?” He scooted over and turned to his side, answering your question without words. You joined him on the small couch and rested your forehead on his chest, shutting your eyes as you inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne. 

“You took a picture, didn’t you?” he mumbled, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. You giggled, which was enough for him to know that you did. 

“One point y/n, Charlie zero,” you said and kissed his shirt-covered chest. 

“Oh, I’ll get my revenge, Bubba, I promise you!” He poked you in the ribs, making you squirm in his arms. “But let’s nap first until they need us again.” 

When Charlie promised something, he stuck to it. So, during lunch that same day, you stood in line with Madison, Jadah, Savannah, Tori and some of the other dancers, chatting a bit while music played from the speakers in the spacious area where everyone was either already eating or queueing to get food. 

“You really never know if you--” you cut yourself off once your ears picked up on the song that was playing in the background. “Oh my God! I know the choreo to this one. Tori, you do too, right?!” 

You put the plate you were holding on top of Savannah’s while Tori and some of the other dancers gave theirs to the other girls. Tori and Sam, one of the dancers you were closest with, got up on the table. Chuckling, you watched as a few others followed their example, and you quickly give in too. 

“Hit it up, get it up, won’t let you rest Hit it up, get it up, this is not a test Hit it up, get it up, gotta give me your best So get your ass up, show me how you burlesque”

You’ve loved this movie since it came out ten years ago. Your mother showed you some videos of you dancing in front of the tv, trying to imitate the dancers. It was pretty hilarious to see a ten-year-old do this dance. 

Right now though, you were ready to show off in front of everyone with some of the greatest dancers on this crew. Moments like these were proof that you were born to be a dancer. 

“A little bit of naughty, it's a little bit nice She’s a whole lot of glam, sweat, sugar, sex, spice Shimmy, shimmy, strut, strut Give a little what, what Up on the tables we’ll be dancing all night”   

Little did you know that Charlie had walked in with Owen, Jeremy and Booboo just as you’d started to dance. He was quick enough to grab  his phone from his pocket and film it. Even though he loved the fact that it was now a tie, he couldn’t help but smile proudly at the girl he’d fallen in love with three years ago. 

This was his favorite side of yours. You were in your element on the dance floor -- or table in this case. He just loved how confident you were and how free you seemed. While you’d be kind of shy when around new people, nobody would notice that when you’re dancing. He found it incredibly sexy to see you up there. 

You groaned as Charlie held his hand out to help you down the table when you’d finished the impromptu performance. With a smirk, he said, “1-1, Bubba,” and pressed a kiss to your flustered cheek. 

“I hate you,” you mumbled, but you couldn’t withhold the smile tugging at your lips. He looked so chuffed with his victory, even if it was a small one. You wanted to grant him this one win. 

The one win quickly turned into eight more, for the both of you, by Saturday. 

Match point. 

There was a mutual agreement to pause the bet on Sunday since the two of you had a day off and were going to sleep and dance around the apartment while cleaning up anyway, so that wouldn’t be fair. But on Monday, it was game on. 

You were certain you were going to win. All you had to do is find Charlie when you knew he didn’t have to film anything and try to withhold yourself from dancing if it wasn’t a part of the filming or rehearsal progress.

By noon, you had succeeded in one department. The only thing left to do now, was find Charlie. You knew he had an hour off for lunch and  that he’d spent twenty minutes of it taking a power nap somewhere on set. The only downside was, that you had no clue where he could possibly be sleeping  now. 

“Mads! Jer!” you exclaimed when you saw Madison and Jeremy walking up to you with sandwiches in their hands. “Have you guys seen Charlie anywhere?” The two glanced at each other before giving you a look that screamed ‘seriously, y/n?’. 

“What’s the best napping spot in the entire studio and isn’t used for anything today?” Jeremy asked as a way of responding to your question. 

Your eyes widened as the image of the bed popped into your head. You quickly muttered, “Thank you!” before hurrying your way to the set that holds Julie Molina’s bedroom. And there, smack in the middle of the bed, cuddled up to a pink cushion, lied your boyfriend. 

Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you nervously grabbed your phone and snapped a few pictures to make sure there was at least one that wasn’t blurry. Your hands were shaking way too much from the excitement, but you couldn’t just let this one pass. You had to win. If not just to prove a point. 

You rapidly scrolled through the photos and when you saw one that was in focus, you shrieked and leapt onto the bed on top of Charlie. He let out a groan at the sudden weight pressing down on his body as he shook awake. 

“I won, bitch!” you screamed out, doing a happy dance as you straddled his lap.

He rubbed his eyes like a toddler whilst giggling like one too before placing his hands on your thighs and saying, “I didn’t think you’d find me here.” He started rubbing up and down your jeans-cladded legs, a pout tugging at his bottom lip. 

You raised your eyebrows at him, “Seriously? This is the most infamous napping spot of the entire studio! I immediately came here when I couldn’t find you in your regular spot in the breakroom.” Now it was his turn to raise his eyebrows at you. 

“Someone else told you I was here, didn’t they?”

“Yep, definitely.” 

He groaned and then flipped you over, so you were lying next to him, and you let out a shriek before it turned into a giggle. “I already know where you’re gonna put my name too,” you mumbled. You pressed your forehead against his while tracing a heart on his chest, right above his heart. 

His eyes fluttered shut as he kissed your forehead. Placing it back, he muttered, “Let me guess, on my left pec, so you’re forever in my heart?” You simply hummed in response, earning a chuckle from your boyfriend. “Why are you so predictable?” 

“Shut up, you love me.” 

Butterflies welled up in his belly as you said that. He loved the overconfident way you always said those words. They were true. Very true and he loved that you knew that. But that didn’t take away the fun into actually reminding you too. 

“That’s true.” 

The following day, you took Charlie to the tattoo parlor to get his tattoo. You had told him a thousand times he didn’t have to do it, that knowing you were the winner sufficed, but he just replied with a, “No, I want that tattoo.” 

The tattoo artist asked if  you had a design in mind, so you handed her the slip of paper on which you had perfectly written your name in cursive and told her where to put it. She simply stated, “You got great  handwriting,” before showing you and Charlie to the back. 

“Film this for Insta, babe, so the people know I lost,” Charlie had ordered you sweetly as he tugged his shirt over his body, handing it over to you while he sat down. 

You grabbed your phone and started filming when the tattoo artist, whose name was CeCe, she’d said, started on his tattoo. Charlie looked up at you, biting his lip, and then reaching out to you. Without asking him what was wrong, you swung his shirt over your shoulder and took his hand with the one you weren’t filming with. He squeezed hard, nearly bone-crushingly hard, but you let him. After all, it was kind of your fault he was there in the first place. 

When CeCe had finished and put a protective band-aid on it, Charlie grabbed his shirt from your shoulder, and kissed you on the lips sweetly. You paid for the work and time CeCe had put into this, said your goodbyes, and headed back home. 

Pretty much every single one of the cast was waiting at your place, ready to see the finished product. However, Charlie wasn’t allowed to take the covering off yet. It needed to stay there for two to four hours before he could take it off. 

And once he did, you were surprised to not only see your name on his chest, but also your favorite flower worked into it beautifully. Confused and surprised, you looked up at Charlie. 

“When did you even tell her to do that?” you asked as everyone started to take pictures of the tattoo and of the interaction between the two of you. 

“Called in beforehand,” he simply shrugged. Shaking  your head, you leaned up and planted a kiss to his lips. Even though it was bat-shit crazy he even went through with tattooing your name on his chest, the fact he added an element of you made it extra special. 

That night, Charlie posted the video of him getting his tattoo on his Instagram stories while you made a compilation post of all ten of the sleeping Charlie pictures you had accumulated in the last week, along with a picture of his tattoo. 

@Yourinstahandle: Victory is mine! You are absolutely crazy. I can’t believe you went through with this. At least now I’m forever embedded on your heart and I’ll be yours forever. 💖 @Charles_Gillespie 

And with that, you immediately went Instagram official too. Following your example, Charlie shared a picture of his brand new tattoo as well. 

@Charles_Gillespie: Wanna bet on it? Forever mine 💖 @Yourinstahandle

When he joined you in bed that night, you went to lie down on his chest, only to receive a painful hiss from him, causing you to shoot up again. “GAH! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!” you shouted, and looked at him in shock. 

“It’s fine,” he muttered and went to pull you back but you refused to. 

“No, Char, I’m not gonna hurt you for an entire night,” you grumble and crawl across his legs to lie down on his other side. “This feels weird.” You rested your head against the non-painful side of his chest. “But better than no cuddles.” 

“Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t have won, so I wouldn’t be in pain right now,” he responded, followed by a small chuckle, letting you know he was just joking.    

“You are the most ridiculous person I have ever met,” you muttered. Before closing your eyes, you quickly leaned up and pecked his cheek. 

“Wanna bet on it?”

*

*

*

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Lemme know if you wanna be on my taglist! 

[jadelynlace]

Hey just went on a 4.5 hr binge reading your amazing work!! I was just wondering if you could do somthing with ivar reacting to the reader saying she is pregnant and his reaction to when she's in labour? In ink drinker?? You're amazing and I love your work!

Hello! That’s so sweet of you, thank you. Welcome to the crazy world!

And I know I said my requests are closed but Ivar & kids? The kill shot. It’s long & funny & emotional and I hope you all enjoy. I cried. 

☞ catch up here

You were late. You were late and in your haste of life, you only noticed two weeks past where you should have.

“I’m late” You texted Ivar.

“For work?” Is what he replies.

You nearly threw your phone across the threshold, the cry of delirious laughter on your lips at Ivar’s far too perfectly timed response. It had been madness with him back at work; catching up on two years' worth of delays, overbooking himself, and coming home in the middle of the night. Sleep was never easy for him, he had turned into a man who needed an orgasm to so simply think about closing his eyes. And the nights of fumblings between the sheets, soft moans and heavy breathing, Ivar telling you how he loves you, only helped him.

And you knew his pullout game sucked.

The magenta double lines that grace you back from the porcelain sink hitch your breath. After a step closer, two glances back, they remain there, almost smiling up at you. You can’t dwell on those marks, already telling yourself the tale that it was incorrect, but the other two tests, of the other two manufacturers, yielded the same promise. An ocean of chill runs down your spine, tugging against your tailbone and snapping into you like a pluck of a guitar string, propelling the sensation through to your toes. Finding your hand across your abdomen was a motion you didn’t even realize you had started, but the path was so plain. If your heart could leap from your chest and hug you back, it would. 

When you hear the creak of the garage door it’s not nearly as late as you had thought Ivar would be home. The medley of vegetables in one pot, the boiling pasta in the other, and before you can even speak, Ivar wraps himself against your back.

“Hey, handsome,” You hum, melting against him and he only squeezes tightly. 

“Hey, baby,” His lips rasp into your hair. “Missed you today,” Ivar adds as his nose trails the curve of your skull. “Are you making pasta primavera?”

“Yes,” You sigh and you’re certain you could fall asleep like this. “I got you something,” You then say, still swaying slightly with Ivar. 

“Yeah?” He rasps, finally pulling away from you for you to turn. His hair is already down, glasses where they belong for once, and he smiles when you catch his gaze. You’re quick to scurry away, yelling something about turning off the stove, and then you’re back, a small package in your hands. 

“It’s the most expensive gift I’ve gotten you,” You tease as the box shrinks when it’s in Ivar’s grasp.

“I told you that I don’t want another mustang, baby,” Ivar replies, pulling the ribbon off. “I like my Jeep.”

“It’s not….it’s not a mustang,” You snort.

“Oh, thank god,” Ivar says, shivering slightly as the thought leaves him. 

“You’ll like it, I promise,” You nudge and he finally lifts up the lid. You thought you could hear his breathing hitch, fuzziness in his eyes already starting as the positive pregnancy tests stare back at him. 

“No you’re not,” Ivar whimpers, “Are you fucking with me?” And his voice is meek, drowned out with emotion and you only tear up too. “No, you’re not,”

“We’re gonna have a baby, Ivar,” Are the first words out of your mouth. “You’re gonna be a dad,” You say, watching how his eyes move to your face, towards the test, shocked, mouth agape and he only whimpers. When he sets the box on the counter you’re there to wrap to fill his grasp. Falling into his arms and you can hear the slight sniffle from above you. It pulls one from you too, finally grasping the mental concept that Ivar really has dreamt about this moment his whole life. You wiggle slightly, pulling back and Ivar’s hands are still on your hips. With red eyes, he moves one paw to wipe the tear that’s threatening to escape. 

“I love you,” Ivar whispers and it makes you laugh when you repeat it back, hands on his cheeks as you bring your mouth to his. The kiss isn’t hurried, Ivar’s lips move as though he’s hardly focusing on the task and you can hear another sniffle as you pull back. Forehead resting along his and his eyes are closed. 

“I found out this morning,” You whisper to him.

“I’m waiting to wake up from the dream,” Ivar replies, and his eyes are still shut as he speaks.

“Your pullout game sucks, Ivar,” You say and that makes him laugh, thick from his stomach, and his eyes finally open as he pulls you to rest against him.

“This isn’t news to me, Y/N,” Ivar says. “I can’t believe we’re gonna have a baby,” He adds and when he does a new wave of tears starts in his eyes.

“Your mother is going to castrate you,” You say into the cotton of his shirt and he laughs again. “You and me Ivar,”

“Against the world,” He replies. “And as parents.”

*

His phone rings from next to him, your name on Ivar’s screen, and halfway through his sentence, he stops to smile. Excusing himself for a moment, he answers:

“Hey baby, I’m just finishing up with a client, I’ll call you right back,” And the line goes dead. You blink to yourself several times when you hear silence in your ear and as you look to the towel at your feet, you almost feel as though you’re going to cry.

After ten minutes you stop caring if he’s shooting the breeze with the person, and you’re dialing for him again as you lean against the kitchen counter.

“Hey, baby,” Ivar answers and it pulls the anger, anxiety from you and you suck in a deep breath. “Baby?”

“My water broke,” You simply say.

“When?” Ivar asks quickly and he’s standing, leaning his shoulder to hold his phone as he throws the closest thing he can reach in Sigurd’s direction. White eraser bouncing in front of him as he moves his gaze from his magazine to Ivar. “I’ll be right there,” He says. “Her water broke,” He calls to Sigurd and the man only offers a thumbs up.

“Ivar—fuck—Ivar listen to me, do not drive like a mad man,” You grit into your phone. “I need you here for this, alright?” Your words fall as he climbs into the Jeep.

“I won’t,” Ivar replies softly. “I promise. I’ll see you in a minute, alright?”

“Alright,” You say back.

“How far apart are they?” Ivar asks and you only smile. 

“Still far enough,”

“We’re going to get to meet her,” Ivar whispers and it makes your smile bigger.

His next call is to Floki, the phone ringing through Bluetooth and there’s a hum when he answers.

“Yeeeeeeees, Ivar?” Floki sings.

“Y/N’s water broke, I’m on my way home,” Ivar replies, and the laugh he’s known his whole life rings through the man’s mouth.

“Take a deep breath for me,” Floki says.

“I’ve taken several since I got into my car,” Ivar replies. “It’s the only thing keeping me from bursting into flames.” And they both laugh.

“I’ll head to the shop now, keep me in the loop. Oh—and Ivar, you have two hands. If she has to break one as she delivers your baby girl, so be it.” And the line goes dead. Ivar groans, his heart hammering behind his seatbelt and he doesn’t even bother to turn the car off when he parks in the driveway.

You’re in the same spot, hand crossing the bump and your eyes are stuck on the clock when you hear the door open. Another press of pain mangles its way through you, as if your guts are trying to come through your navel. Ivar calls your name and you turn, a soft smile on your face.

“Just put everything in the car,” You say and Ivar nods, completely ignoring your direction and coming towards you.

“I know you’re a medic—I know how many babies you’ve delivered with Hvitserk there, but this is different,” Ivar hums as he tips your chin, sealing the words to your mouth as he kisses you. “This is our baby,”

“I’m scared,” You whisper and Ivar moves his arms around to your back.

“I am too,” He admits. “Let’s get to the hospital,”

Despite how the nurse offers the wheelchair, you shake your head; walking has been the only aid to your contractions and she nods. Ivar’s hand is in yours as you’re laying along with the linens, thumb brushing your knuckles and he’s on his phone.

“Did you call your mom?” You ask.

“No,” He answers, eyes not moving to yours. “Only Floki so he can get to the shop. You need to focus on you right now,” He says, finally lifting his head to look at you. Brows towards the ceiling and the small smirk only makes you pout.

“You should try to get some sleep—”

“Baby,” Ivar says and you nod. Ivar moves only minutes later, sketchbook taking up his lap as his hand stays with yours. Your phone buzzes with a Snapchat from Hvitserk, quick zooming in of Engine 1 as one of the firefighters walk by it. You take the liberty to pan the room, from your gown-covered self, Ivar to your left and back to the windows on the other side. Less than ten seconds pass before his contact picture graces your screen.

“That’s how you tell me?” Hvitserk all but shrieks and even Ivar can hear it through the phone. “How long have you been there?”

“A few hours,” You answer back.

“Guys! Our Lieutenant’s in labor!” Hvitserk calls to the guys. “Put me on speaker—Ivar?”

“What, brother?” Ivar groans back.

“When we work labor calls, I always tell the mother that I have two hands—”

“And if she needs to break one so be it,” Ivar finishes for him, and his brother whines. “Floki said the same thing.”

“Fucking Floki,” Hvitserk mumbles. “We’ll be thinking about you two, and send us pictures.”

“You don’t want a video?” You tease.

“Nope—I know you well, but I don’t need to know you that well!” Hvitserk laughs.

“Oh, come on, it can be practice for you and Thora,” and you can see the man blush without even being in front of him. “I’ll keep you in the loop.”

“You’ve got this,” Hvitserk says and the line goes dead.

By the fourth time you find your legs in the stirrups, you’re about ready to take one out to grant the nurse’s face. The needle for the epidural was big, it was big enough that Ivar didn’t even look, that you as a regular needle handler, even felt shy from. When you feel the contraction roll through only a few seconds after the last one, you nudge Ivar. His head on your shoulder flies up and your look answers his question before he even has to ask it.

“Dad, are you cutting the cord?” The nurse asks and Ivar looks back at you as if he needs your permission before he can think of an answer.

“Yes,” Ivar says back and he’s by your side, hand tracing your bent knee, sliding your thigh and it helps to calm you. Before your first push, you’re already crying, Ivar’s there to pull the hair from your face as it sticks to where you’ve started to sweat. As you curse him, his last name, his size and weak pull-out game and Ivar only agrees with each word as they come through your lips. Before you’ve even crowned you’ve decided that you don’t want to do this anymore.

“I hate you right now,” You hiss, and Ivar nods.

Twelve hours of sitting, standing, walking, swaying, trying almost everything in the manual to help progress her just a bit further than the last hour. Ivar adorned in scrubs, trying to contain his excitement, your partner in crime trying to experience it with you as well as he could, attempting to leech some of the pain in the meantime. 

One week shy of her due date, Ivar’s there to see his daughter born. Through tears and strings of curse words, sweat-slick clothes, she is finally here.  Watering eyes flicking to yours as her cry fills the room. Your whine is there next and she’s against your chest the minute she’s able. IV poked hand coming to cup her diapered rear, head against the pillow and you’re crying. You’re crying as Ivar’s lips brush your hairline, as he’s crying, as the head nurse films the moment per your request. Ivar studies the newborn in utter disbelief, eyes switching from its cotton-covered head to your face, overstuffed with pure adoration. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Ivar whispers in your ear, his hand covering yours over the child you two created together.

“Look at her, Ivar,” You whisper and he is, he hasn’t stopped yet, the tuft of dark hair on her head that matches his own as her small hands balled into fists. His daughter laying against your chest and he has to wipe his eyes. There’s an upset from her for a brief moment, wiggle and a cry, and instinctively Ivar’s lips shush her, his voice lulling through her ears and she quiets. “That’s your dad,” You say to her.

Ivar’s moment for the skin on skin finally came and he’s next to you. Seated, shirt off, and the nurse hands him the bundle. Pink cotton on an inked chest as Ivar’s hand pats her bottom, nearly swarming the infant as a whole. You can’t hear him, but you see his lips moving, eyes peeking down at the bundle that’s looking up at him. A full conversation on his side and you’re tearing up again, snapping a picture for Hvitserk, your parents, and his, for Floki and Ivar laughs as he watches her yawn.

“Oh, am I boring you, miss?” Ivar coos and you smile. “I know you’ve had such a big day,” He says. “You have no idea how loved you already are.”

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[softomi]

Catfish

prompt: mother says to be wary of people you meet on the internet, especially since you never know who’s on the other side of the screen. 

pairing: atsumu x reader

the unpaid extras: osamu, suna

general taglist: @graykageyama

Osamu liked to mess with his brother and lately he’s been planning the largest prank. It originally wasn’t supposed become a huge thing, but then Suna just kept edging him on; adding more things one by one and it just spiraled. Osamu was catfishing Atsumu with your pictures.

Now, Osamu knows that it sounds bad but technically you were in on the prank. You had never met nor even knew Atsumu, heck, you didn’t even know who Osamu was. You had been part of the prank merely through text messages and the occasional meet up with Suna.

To put it simply, Suna met you through one of his teammates; coincidentally you ended up in one of his classes and the two of you built a tiny friendship. Which was why, when Suna was thinking of the perfect person to catfish Atsumu with; your face lit up in his head.

You were the perfect candidate, exactly Atsumu’s type literally to a tee. When Suna pulled up your contact, the first thing he did was offer to pay you. Every picture you sent used for the prank, he’ll send you cash through an app and as a broke college student who needed cash fast, you agreed as long as the photos weren’t used for anything weird or sexual. He made sure to send you proof of each photo in use.

This brings it all back to dear Osamu catfishing his brother. He had created an entirely new Instagram for you, complete using your name and a cute description that him and Suna had spent two hours thinking of. They decided to even spend a few days perfecting it, posting pictures a few days apart with captions, following random groups, liking posts, essentially creating a whole new personality using your photos. Osamu had even developed a fake occupation for you; a foodie blogger to which some posts were dedicated to food reviews for restaurants Osamu deemed worthy of a post.

And when Osamu says that the prank spiraled; it fucking spiraled. Originally it started with Suna and Osamu following the account, suddenly Suna’s teammates began following the account. Osamu made the mistake of tagging Onigirl Miya in one of your photos, ultimately adding a few random people to follow the account. Suddenly after two weeks of having the account, you gained over two thousand follows.

It was no worries though, because Osamu can quickly catfish Atsumu, take down the account, and call it all good.

Safe to say, Atsumu accepted the friend request rather quickly. Osamu and Suna snicker to themselves, it took Atsumu less than five minutes to accept and he was already liking all of your photos. Not even ten minutes pass and he’s sliding into the DM’s.

The two men looking at the phone and burst into laughter. They spend five minutes cackling at Atsumu’s random ‘hey’ message that followed with a smiling emoji.

Osamu was absolutely entertained, it was hilarious that his own brother had fallen for his catfish and honestly, Osamu was ready to give up the act after three days but then Atsumu said something that just really pissed him off. He doesn’t remember what it was, he just suddenly ended up two more weeks later still having the fake Instagram account and still having Atsumu believe that he was falling in love with some girl.

Somehow the account ended up with over five thousand followers, Atsumu messages the account religiously, and Osamu for some godly reason is still managing the account three months later. It’s spiraled.

“I have a girlfriend!” Atsumu doesn’t know why his friend and brother are laughing. He’s scrolling through your Instagram, the catfish Instagram.

Osamu almost chokes on his food, “So what, have you guys gone on a date? Have you even seen her in real life?” Suna snorts into his drink, he coughs when he accidentally inhales the water sharply.

Atsumu slumps in his seat, his voice small, “No, but we talk every day and she likes me!”

Suna is coughing even harder now, tears threatening to leave his eyes to the point that he excuses himself to the bathroom. Osamu has a shit eating grin on his face, “How do you know she’s actually not some old dude catfishing you?”

“She’s not!” Atsumu stutters, “She’s real!”

“Prove it.”

Osamu was about to learn a harsh lesson about the world; the world loves to bite you in the ass when you least expect it.

Atsumu leans forward, an eerie grin on his lips, “Happily.” Atsumu whips out his phone, quickly presses a number and holds the phone to his ear. He holds a finger up to his brother, even gesturing for the returning Suna to remain quiet. The phone picks up, “Hey babe, you wanna meet me here at Onigiri Miya?” Atsumu looks at the watch on his wrist, “Twenty minutes? Perfect.”

Osamu’s believing his brother is bluffing. There was no way in hell he’d be able to somehow magically bring the catfish to life, heck, Atsumu would be a god if suddenly he could. Thirty minutes pass, Osamu is exchanging looks with Suna. It’s absolutely silent between the three.

Osamu is suddenly feeling guilty, Suna is uncomfortable to the point that he’s even texting you to make sure you weren’t actually coming, and you confirmed with him that you weren’t.

“Should we tell him?” Osamu whispers when another five minutes pass.

Suna is deadpanned, “I don’t know, we’re kind of reaching a sad territory now. Let’s just break up with him and ghost him.”

Osamu groans, “But do we want to deal with a sad Atsumu, I’ll take getting my ass kicked over him crying in my apartment.”

The door chimes and their jaws smack the floor. You walked through the door, eyes roaming the place before landing on the three huddled into the corner. Is he a fucking god? Atsumu stands from his seat, he meets you halfway, pulling you into a heartfelt kiss that has you swooning.

The closer you approach with Atsumu’s arm around your shoulder, the more they truly begin to believe that Atsumu is a god.

“Guys, this is my girlfriend.” This time it’s Atsumu who has a shit-eating grin, “Ain’t she a beauty, the pictures don’t do her justice.”

It takes everything in Osamu to not scream, “But, you said you’d never even met her before.”

Atsumu gazes into your eyes, hearts practically floating above his head, “I mean I guess technically this is our first-time meeting, right?”

You nod, a puppy like expression on your face, “I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself yet. You must be Osamu.” You point to him then your fingers drag to the other male, “Suna.”

“Oh.” Suna sits straight up, “Oh!” He catches the glint in your eyes, the conniving little minx of a look. Suna was no longer calm, “We’ve been double crossed!”

There’s screaming, fingers are being pointed at each other, Atsumu is gripping Osamu by the neck of his shirt, Suna is literally calling your phone to make sure that it’s actually you, Osamu is pulling his brother’s hair. The customers of the restaurant stare with their jaws dropped at the scene.

Everyone is squished into Osamu’s small office. Suna is sitting on the desktop, Osamu in his chair, Atsumu in the spare seat, and you lean on the arm of Atsumu’s chair. His arm dangles around your waist, pulling you to lean on him with a cheery grin.

Atsumu leans forward, taking in the expressions of the two bewildered boys, “I guess let’s start at the beginning.”

While the story technically began three months ago with Suna asking for your cooperation, the story of you and Atsumu began two months ago.

The extra cash from all the pictures you sent Suna was giving you enough to be able to go out and live a little on the weekends. Originally the bar was dead, you and your friends were tucked into the corner in a booth when a rowdy bunch of men came in. Your friends gasped having recognize them as members of a sports team and with their excitement, they must have won a game.

It didn’t affect your group that much until it came to split ways; being in your last year of university, you excused yourself, insisting that you needed to go home to finish a project. As you stood at the register, card tapping against the counter, that was when he showed up.

At this point, Atsumu had spent the past hour believing the gods were on his side. He practically walked by your table ten times just to make sure the face matched the one in his instagram’s DM. After forty minutes of the constant back and forth, your quick gazes at him walking by the table seem to do nothing. Were you unable to recognize him?

He took his shot watching you stand alone at the counter. He finishes off his drink and smoothly strides to you.

“Hey!” Atsumu leans on the counter, flashing a smile despite alcohol dripping from the side of his mouth, “Wouldn’t you consider this fate?” He gestures between the both of you.

You’re confused, shooting him a puzzled gaze, “Sorry, you must have me mistaken for someone else.” You hand the card to the worker, anxiously eyeing the male who’s increasingly invading your space.

Atsumu places a hand on the small of your back, it was something Instagram you had mentioned you liked, instead it triggered a fight or flight. Your hand makes harsh contact with his cheek, he retracts his hand immediately.

“Don’t touch me!” You bark at him, “Perv.” You’re aggressively signing the receipt, storming out of the door while other men seem to ooh at Atsumu’s situation.

“Hey!” Atsumu catches your figure outside of the bar, you’re waving a hand to catch a cab, “I think we got off on the wrong foot there.”

You don’t give him a second glance, “Look, I don’t know who you think you are.”

“Atsumu.” He stands right in front of you, blocking your sights for a cab. He’s got the widest smile on his face as he holds out a hand, “Miya Atsumu. Volleyball player. Setter for the Black Jackals.”

“Okay.” You run a hand through your hair, oddly taking his hand into a shake while eyeing him, “Miya Atsumu, volleyball player, setter for the Black Jackals.”

You step to the side, arm out still trying to catch a taxi but he blocks your way once more and he looks at you with such wonder. His eyes practically having stars coming out and his smile warm and inviting. He was wondering if you were a twin, maybe he had actually gotten the wrong person.

“You are?”

The wind is causing your hair to blow in your face, he wants to so bad to brush the strands behind your ears but the way you gave him a slap earlier makes him think that’s a bad idea. Your fingers pull your hair back, “Y/n. I don’t have a fancy title like yours but, I guess I don’t know, senior to be graduating at the university.” You sidestep him once more, “I’m just trying to catch a cab home.”

Once more he blocks your way and you look at him with defeat. He was persistent. He laughs, “Sorry, last time, but do you not know me?”

You’re still as confused as ever, “Look if you’re going to pull some cheesy line about seeing me before, it’s not going to work.”

“Wait, just hold on a second.” Atsumu pulls out his phone, his fingers are shaking as he presses onto the app. He pulls up your profile, handing you his cell phone, “This is you isn’t it?!”

Your eyes scan the social media page, your mouth falling open, there’s a hidden laugh itching in your throat. These were all the picture you had taken for Suna and somehow, you’re being shown by a stranger your fake profile.

“We’ve been messaging for like a month, I can’t believe you don’t recognize me.”

I don’t recognize you because I’m not the one talking to you.

You’re perplexed, you weren’t sure what you were supposed to do, if you told him he’s being catfished you’d lose the flow of side cash you’ve developed but if you didn’t, isn’t that just wrong. And the more you look at him from under the stars, he’s rather cute; you suddenly feel bad for slapping his face earlier.

“Do you want to get some coffee?”

Your offer sends him over the moon, he’s walking alongside you to the nearest convenience; Atsumu is rather talkative, bringing up topics of everything and anything that comes to his mind. As the two of you look over drink options in the cooler, his hands pull two cans of black coffee.

“You’re favorite right?” He holds one out to you.

Your actively smiling, biting your lower lip and wondering if you needed to play along with the role but as he stares at you with such adoring eyes, it makes your heart skip a beat just taking in the fact that he would remember something trivial over text.

“Actually.” You place the drink back, opting for a sweeter caramel macchiato, “I would say that this is my favorite.”

Atsumu quirks a brow, “Are you saying you were lying to me?” He places a hand over his heart, “And here I thought we were soulmates.”

Your hand smacks against his arm, “Shut up.”

“So what are you studying for?” Atsumu sips his drink, the two of you leaning against the windows of the convenience store. There’s a slight sway in his body and you’ve unknowingly followed his movements.

“Literature. Once I graduate, an internship is probably where I’ll start but I’m hoping I can get hired into a publishing company.” He’s comfortable to be with and you aren’t sure if it’s because he thinks he knows you or because his presence is just like that; comfortable.

Atsumu finishes off his canned beverage, “And you do that, all on top of running a foodie Instagram.”

From what you gathered on a quick skim of the account; they have your occupation as a lower level food blog; it’s rather funny. You can only nod to him, “It’s just a side hobby really.”

“Well maybe I could join you on one of your little adventures.”

You try to suppress the immense grin that wants to grow on your lips, there’s an internal battle happening of whether you should tell him or not but once again, the way he looks at you, the cute doe eyed look; it puts butterflies in your stomach.

“How about tomorrow?” He lets out a small gasp, your hands pull out your cell phone and offer it to him, “Your number?”

“I’m free for lunch, just text me when and where.”

You press the number he’s inserted into his contact; in a second his cell rings and he’s showing off his screen, “Don’t message me on Instagram though, I’m detoxing from social media for a bit. Just, text my number.”

He walks you to the curb, helping you flag down a cab, and you give him one last gleeful glance before getting into the car. As you sit, you’re quick to dial Suna’s number. You know he’s probably sleeping but the light feeling in your heart overrides his sleep schedule.

“What?” He’s groaning.

“Suna listen to me carefully. The prank that you guys are doing.” You hear a small snore, “Suna!” He jolts awake and you groan, “You know what, go back to sleep.”

“Thanks.” He hangs up immediately.

Your phone dings, Atsumu’s name pops up. Can’t wait for our date. You bite on your thumb, a smile on you before you respond.

Although having just seen him forty minutes ago, you two text back and forth. First he wondered if you arrived home safe, next he sent pictures of himself insisting it’s for you to choose for his icon, then he proceeds to narrate his way home. You wonder if you’re responding like catfish you but the more he brings up random topics, the more you forget about that stupid prank.

Wait let me call you.

Your heart beats faster, your phone lighting up with his name. You press the answer button slowly, “Hello?” You giggle.

“You’re telling me that you like spikers more than setters.” His voice is nearly screaming and you lean back on your chair laughing into the phone.

The quick research you did on his team had you watching short videos, and while you had to admit it was amazing to watch, your eyes drifted more to one of his teammates than him, “What’s his name?” You lean to look at your computer screen, “Bokuto Koutarou?”

“No!” He’s whining out into the air, “If I had known you were a spiker girl I would have changed positions.”

Your eyes catch the time on your laptop, “Woah. It’s three in the morning.” That meant you had spent over four hours total texting him and now you were on the phone with him, “What are you doing awake?”

He blows out a breath of air, “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Well.” You draw out the word, dragging your self to your bed, “I’m going to go to sleep now.” There’s a pause on the line, “Atsumu?” He hums tiredly, “Good night.”

There’s a small snore from him before he shifts around, “Good night.”

The morning light urges you awake, for a second you peak at your phone’s time and it nears ten in the morning. You’re about to throw your phone back onto the bedside table until Atsumu’s name catches your eye. For having gone to bed at three a.m. he shot you a text at seven.

Morning beautiful.

It was sweet, simple, and it made you smile; giving you the extra push to get out of bed. You stalked your own catfish page, there hadn’t seemed to be any updates so there was still time. A quick search of the internet has you picking out a random restaurant nearby and you send off a text to Atsumu about a meeting time.

You were late, pushing through the doors of the restaurant, your eyes scan the place to see him raise a hand for you. He’s dashingly handsome despite being in casual wear, you wonder if he spent time like you did just trying to pick out an outfit or if he spent forever gelling his hair as long as you tried to get your strands into the perfect waves.

“Sorry, did you wait long?” You pull into the seat in front of him.

He’s smiling and you hope to god that when you break the news to him, he’ll still smile for you, “I just got here not too long ago too.” He looks over the menu quickly, “What do you think you’ll get?”

You inspect each dish, a light hum on you as you dance around the option, “The spaghetti sounds nice.”

Atsumu tilts his head, “It has red meat in it.” You stare blankly at him, “Aren’t you allergic to red meat?”

“Oh.” You set the menu down, “Actually.” He follows your actions, you’ve become nervous at what you’re suddenly about to do, “There’s something you should know.”

“Fuck this!” Atsumu throws the napkin on the table, you jump as he harshly stands, throwing the chair back.

“Atsumu.” You stand.

“No! Don’t. Were you just messing with me then? Did Osamu tell you I was going to be at the bar last night?” Atsumu’s fist ball, “You know what, whatever.”

“Wait.” You follow him behind, “Atsumu. I’m sorry.”

He harshly turns to you, god, even in sunlight you were beautiful to him. He wants to laugh, the month he spent talking to the fake you; yeah that was all bullshit to him but honestly when he saw you last night, when he spent over four hours actually talking to you; he actually felt that maybe this could be something deeper.

“I’m really sorry, I know I should have said something right away.” You have a soft pout on you and it makes him outwardly groan.

He runs a hand through his hair, “Okay, it’s fine. I probably deserved this prank too anyways; must have pissed him off somehow.” He waves a hand, “You can just go back to doing whatever.”

Your hand pulls on his wrist, “I owe you a meal.” You bat your eyes with a cheeky grin, “If you take pictures of me, we can send them to Suna and use the money for our food.”

“Oh.” He begins to smile, “I like that idea.”

Back into Osamu’s office, Atsumu has now pulled you onto his lap, your head resting on his shoulder with arms hanging around his shoulders. The two bachelors stare at the sickly loving sight.

A lightbulb goes off in Suna’s head, “Wait! My money!”

You snort a laugh into Atsumu’s shoulder, “Hey, I earned that fair and square. You paid for goods.”

Osamu is having a staring contest with his brother, “So you two have been actually dating for two months? Why would you still message the catfish account then, why not just kick my ass when you found out?”

Atsumu taps a finger on his chin, “Well, I was just originally going to ghost you guys but then babe here and I discovered that we could fund all of our dates with Suna’s money. We even started setting aside leftover cash from our dates to plan a trip.”

You giggle, “We’re going to Disney next weekend.”

“All the pictures.” Suna whispers.

There’s an amused hum in your throat, “Honestly I’m surprised you guys didn’t figure it out. We were dropping hints in the photos.”

Indeed, the two males looked at the pictures you sent them. If they backtracked to two months ago, there wouldn’t be any hints but the closer they get to the present; it was painfully obvious. They were just too caught up in their excitement to even notice. In one photo, part of Atsumu’s shoulder and hair was just barely in the picture; another had his reflection vividly displayed in the window of the restaurant, and somehow Osamu and Suna missed the obvious Black Jackals jacket sitting on the back of the chair next to you.

The two boys were having a mental breakdown.

You shifted on Atsumu’s lap, leaning forward to tap against the top of Osamu’s phone, “Now, if you’d please deactivate the account since this whole charade is over.”

Osamu ended up not deleting the account. He set the account to private because seeing how his brother was so deeply entranced by you, Osamu had a feeling this one was going to last and he was right; on Atsumu’s wedding day, his little best-man speech had him whipping out the catfish Instagram to display on the monitor for everyone to see.

[voidboymads]

For Sterek: For the first time in a long time, Derek laughs; not just a snort or a sarcastic laugh, either, but a full on body laugh that leaves his body shaking with the power of it, eyes scrunched shut as he he enjoys the moment. And it's because of Stiles.

(for the 5 min prompts, but only if this sparks any inspiration 💙)

Derek’s unsure of what he’s looking at right now. Stiles crash-landed into the loft in a whirlwind of excited babble and managed to rush into the bathroom before Derek could even process what had been said.

He’s still not exactly sure what’s happening when Stiles steps out like ten minutes later, dressed head to toe in a full-body Spider-Man costume. It’s probably the tightest Derek’s ever seen, giving little to no room in hiding Stiles' sharp shoulders or the curves of his hips. They may even accentuate a certain part of him that Derek can’t seem to tear his eyes away from.

“Uhm,” He hums as Stiles turns for a good 360° view, which only intensifies the hum into a low growl. Derek’s always liked Stiles’ butt, he tells him so almost daily, but the way the suit hugs it - my god. Derek clears his throat, “What, uh-”

Stiles spins around, “Scott got it for me!” He says, his voice a bit muffled by the mask. “Said it was the last one in stock and I already went as Batman last year on Halloween, so I figured why not?”

“Stiles, Halloween is like nine months away.” Not that Derek’s complaining. “I’m pretty sure they’ll have more in stock by then.”

“You can never be too prepared, big guy. Oh!” Stiles takes a few steps back, giving himself some space from Derek and the furniture. “Watch this!” And in one fell swoop, Stiles hopped up and repositioned himself for the fall downward, landing in classic Spider-Man pose on the floor.

The sound of the rip that followed was loud enough to fill the entire loft with, like straight from a comic book page where the lettering took up most of one panel. Stiles lifts his head, out falls a small gasp and that’s it.

That’s the thing that makes Derek’s head fly back as laughter bursts from his throat like he’s been holding his breath underwater. It’s even louder than the rip, boisterous, deep. He’s pretty sure no one, not even Stiles has heard this laugh before. It comes from the belly and the chest and exudes warmth. It’s unfettered and a little bit growly and when he comes back from the small high of endorphins it’s to a pout on Stiles’ lips and the flush on his face, mask pulled off and held in his hand.

“I’m sorry,” Derek smiles because he is and isn’t. He hasn’t laughed that hard in a long time. It almost brought tears to his eyes, almost. He walks over to Stiles and gathers his waist up in one arm, pulling Stiles against him. “Don’t worry, we can fix it.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and lets out a smile of his own. “Yeah, maybe this wasn’t a good idea for a Halloween costume, it might split again. I’ll pay Scott back for it later.” In another one fell swoop, Stiles grasps Derek’s other hand and firmly places it on his butt, fingers pressed against the part of him now exposed to the loft. “Plus, I think I just found another use for it.”

Derek doesn’t waste much time ripping into the rest of it.

Got a prompt? Send it my way and I'll write what I can in under 5 min! See OG post here for more info!

[justthehiddleswrites]

Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 5 | You practically whipped it out and peed on her.

A/N:  Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed).  It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will.  Keep your hate to yourself.  

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt.  Tom has an idea to solve all their problems.  Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts.  Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else.  In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Molly and Tom face their first big industry event, a Marvel party.  Tom finds himself unprepared for how he feels about Molly.  Particularly how he feels about Molly being friendly with a certain Captain. 

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of:  child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED!  THANK YOU FOR READING!

-

Molly made a quick recovery and things went back to the usual routine. For her. Tom found himself wearing his better workout clothes. The ones without the holes. And wearing cologne and shaving.

“Did you shave?” Molly asked one morning, running her hand over his chin.

“Yes.” 

“Shame, I kind of liked how you looked with the stubble.”

Tom’s smile faded, and he started shaving only once or twice a week from then on. 

-

“I need you to go shopping.” Tom mentioned one day on his way out. 

Molly didn’t glance up from her reading. “Just make a list and I’ll go to the grocery store today.”

“No.” Tom fidgeted. “There’s an event. A party.” He cleared his throat. “For Marvel.” Tom tugged at his hair.

Molly’s eyes bugged out. “This isn’t just some party, is it?”

“No. It’s a big deal. All the stars will be there. Kevin Feige and some other execs. Think you handle it?”

Molly smirked. “Piece of cake, I have been charming VIPs for years. What kind of look do you want? Sweet wife or damn that’s his wife?”

Tom pulled her close. “Somewhere in between. Have Emma help you. I have no idea where to buy women’s clothes.”

“Will do.” Molly kissed his cheek. “Have a good day.” She pressed her hand on his chest.

“You too.” He returned the kiss on the cheek and stepped out of the door. 

Molly grabbed her phone and dialed Emma.

“So where does someone go to get a cocktail dress in this town?”

-

Molly caught Tom digging in her wardrobe the morning before the event. 

“What are you doing in there?” Molly called out from the doorway. 

Tom jumped and hit his head on the door. “I… I… was… just looking to see… if…” he sputtered, searching for a story.

“If you could see my dress before tonight.” She waved a hand, gesturing Tom out of the room. “Out.”

“But I need to make sure we coordinate.” Tom whined. His fingers lingered on a garment bag.

“That’s my wedding dress.” she sighed. “If I give you a color, will you yield?”

“On my honor as a gentleman.” Tom smiled.

“Black. Now leave. Your sister is coming over in a few hours to do my hair.”

Tom wrinkled his nose. “How long does hair take?”

She patted his cheek. “Oh you sweet summer child.”

-

Tom did the best to ignore the giggles coming from Molly’s bathroom. He fiddled with his jacket and shirt sleeves. He selected a black tweed-like suit with a grey shirt and tie. They should coordinate, he thought. For photos. 

A loud burst of laughter came from the bathroom. Tom strolled over and knocked on the door. Emma popped her head out.

“She’s not ready yet.” 

“We need to leave in fifteen minutes.” Tom countered.

“Give me ten.” Emma shooed him away. “Now go away.”

Tom shoved his hands in pockets. “It’s my house, you know.” he muttered.

“Our house!” Molly piped up from behind the door.

Emma turned to her. “Don’t engage. It only encourages him to stick around.” Emma’s head snapped back to Tom. “Why are you still here?”

“I’m going! Ten minutes, Em!” 

 Tom paced the living room floor. Twelve minutes later, Emma stepped in and cleared her throat.

“I present your stunning wife.” 

Molly stepped into the room and Tom’s breath caught in his throat. This was unlike how he had ever seen her before. Her tiered ruffled black dress hit right above the knee. Cut low in the front and back, it was sexy but not scandalous. Her hair pulled back into a low chignon. 

“Yeah…” Tom breathed, staring at Molly, who fidgeted in place.

“Thanks.” She caught the time. “Shit! Tom, we need to get going. Thanks so much, Em.”

Emma hugged Molly. “My pleasure. Next time we use the big bathroom. Or maybe my brother will renovate that bathroom to a his and hers.”

“Huh?” Tom frowned, glancing at Emma.

Emma giggled. “That’s my cue to leave.” She hugged Tom. “She really is your match, Tom.” Emma whispered in his ear.

Molly waited until the door shut before reaching over, playfully smacking Tom’s chest. 

“Brilliant acting job there! You had me going for a moment there.” 

Tom chuckled. “Right. Right. Let’s go.” He wrapped his arm around her waist.

-

Molly wasn’t lying when she said the party would be a piece of cake. She charmed everyone she spoke to. Tom most of all. He beamed, watching her from across the room. 

“You are positively glowing, Thomas.” Benedict sidled up next to him. “I guess that means the rumours are true.” Ben sipped his drink.

“Hmmm?” Tom turned to his friend, lost in thought. 

“Earth to Tom.” Ben mocked. 

Tom frowned at him. “I’m sorry, something distracted me. What was the question?” 

“Would that something be that young lady charming Mark Ruffalo, who is sporting a pretty diamond on an important finger?”

“And they said you shouldn’t play Sherlock.” Tom mocked. “That young lady happens to be Molly.”

“And what would be Molly’s last name?”

“Hiddleston.” Tom muttered.

“Is this a mysterious third sister?”

Tom threw Benedict a derisive glare. “Why don’t you just come out and ask the question, Benedict? It’s not a sister, that’s my wife. I got married. There, happy?” Tom huffed, downing half his cocktail. 

“Yes. But more importantly, are you happy?” 

Tom glanced over at Molly, laughing at something Mark said. “I am. I really am.” 

“Then, congratulations.” Ben clinked his glass with Tom’s.

-

Molly sidled up to the bar to catch a breath. 

“Cranberry and soda with a twist of lime.” she ordered, leaning against the bar. 

“Finally a moment alone with the belle of the ball.” A deep voice said next to Molly.

She turned to face none other than Chris Evans. He sipped on a bottle of beer, wearing a black on black suit with a brown tie. It shouldn’t work, but it did. 

“Captain America, himself.” She smiled and extended a hand. Chris shook it. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Most people just call me Chris. And you, what do people call you?” He flashed a smile which she returned.

“Molly.”

Chris took another swig of beer. Molly licked her lips, watching. “So what do you do, Molly, besides charming the pants off of everyone in the room?”

- 

Tom’s head snapped around at Molly’s laugh from across the room. 

“Excuse me for a moment, Ben. I think Molly needs me.”

Benedict’s furrowed at how Tom could know that. Then he spied where Tom was beelining. The bar where Molly and Chris Evans stood in quite the animated conversation. He snaked his way through the crowd to get a better view.

-

Molly giggled. “That is too funny, Chris. Is it true that…” she sensed someone behind her. It was Tom. “Tom!”

“Oh you met Molly.” Chris offered.

Molly snorted. Tom’s hand wrapped around her waist, squeezing tight. Her stomach fluttered at Tom’s touch. 

“I have.” Tom snapped back. “She’s my wife.”

“Oh shit!” Chris held up his hands. “I’m so sorry man. I had no idea. Congratulations. That’s quite a girl you got there.” 

Molly smiled and relaxed against Tom. He kept his death grip on her waist, but he did smile at Chris.

“Darling, Benedict is dying to meet you. Can I steal you away?” 

Molly twisted to gaze up at Tom, cupping his cheek. “Of course, love.” She reached out to touch Chris’s arm, not noticing Tom’s smile faltering. “Steal away.”

Tom leaned down and kissed her lips before leading her away. 

-

After a quick chat with Benedict, Molly excused herself to the bathroom. Ben leaned into Tom.

“What the hell was that?” Ben hissed.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Tom tugged on his jacket.

“I mean that little territory marking over there with Evans.” Ben commented. “You practically whipped it out and peed on her.” 

“Don’t be crude. I was just… making sure Molly met you.” Tom lied. 

“Bullshit. You were jealous. Why? She married you.”

Tom sipped his drink. “It’s complicated.” 

“Then explain it to me.”

“Not here.” Tom hissed. 

“Then lunch, tomorrow.” Benedict offered. “Just you and me and the truth.”

Tom paled. Molly came back and wrapped her arm around him.

“Did I miss anything?”

“Nothing. Other than me missing you.”

“Aww.” Molly leaned her head against Tom’s chest. “I’m going to the bar. Do you gentlemen want anything?”

Tom perked up. “I’ll come with you.” 

Ben mumbled into his glass, emptying it. “Just whipping it out.” Tom shot him daggers.

“What was that?” Molly questioned.

“I am just heading out.” Ben said, covering. “Sophie will be expecting me.”

Molly leaned over and kissed Ben’s cheek. “I can’t wait to meet her. She sounds delightful.”

“She is.” Ben nodded. “Tom.” He extended his hand, and the two gave a quick hug.

“Benedict.” Tom responded tensely. 

Tom stuck to Molly’s side for the rest of the event. She appreciated the attention but was a little sad she didn’t get to finish up her conversation at Chris. She could swear Tom was keeping her from Chris. Molly shrugged off the feeling. 

She chattered on the ride home. 

“That was a lot fun, Tom. Everyone was nice.”

“They were.” Tom responded, gripping the steering wheel tight.

“Mark, Ben, Chris, and Robert.” 

Tom bristled at Chris’s name. He plastered on a smile. “But I’m the one going home with you.”

She placed her hand on top of his and ran her thumb over his knuckles. Each swipe sent electricity through Tom. 

“I hope I was convincing. You don’t think anyone suspects?” 

“What?” Tom glanced over at her. His voice grew more tense.

“About us. The whole fake marriage.” 

“Oh. No, darling, you were perfect.” 

He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. The first true thing he had said for most of the night. Molly wasn’t just lovely. She was perfect. Damning and infuriatingly perfect. And he was in love with her. And she wasn’t in love with him.

Tom feigned being exhausted once they got home. 

“I’m off to bed.”

“Me too.” Molly pulled off her black pumps. Tom headed towards his room. “Wait. I forgot! Will you get my zipper? Emma had to do me up.” She spun around.

Tom gulped. “Sure.” His fingers shook as he tugged the zipper down. His fingertips grazing across Molly’s back. Her skin soft and warm.

“Th.. thanks.” Molly stuttered.

“You’re welcome.”

She held the dress up by crossing her arms in front of her. She kissed Tom’s lips. “Night, Tom.”

He kissed her back, not how he wanted to. He wanted to rip that dress off of her and push her against the wall and kiss her until she lost her breath and then kiss her some more. Just for good measure. 

He leaned back. “Good night, Molly.” His voice low and soft as if he didn’t trust to speak too loud. As if he would spook her and ruin everything.

Molly’s head dropped, and she headed to her room, door clicking shut.

“Shit!” Tom yanked his tie off. “Real fucking smooth Hiddleston.”

-

Tom begged off their run that morning, claiming he was too tired from last night. In fact, he didn’t get up until he had to leave to meet Benedict for lunch. 

Molly sat up when Tom came into the living room.

“Are you feeling okay?” She beckoned him over and she pressed her hand to his forehead. “No fever.”

“I’m fine. Just tired.” He kissed her cheek. “I appreciate your concern, though. I’m off to meet Ben. Think you’ll be okay for a few hours without me?” 

“I think I can manage.” Molly mock pouted. “But hurry home.”

“Yes, darling.” Tom smiled and gave her a quick peck before walking out the door.

-

Ben was already seated when Tom arrived at the pub. 

“Look like shit, Tom.” Ben commented.

“I didn’t sleep well last night.” Tom grabbed a menu and ordered a coffee and water. 

“The wife keep you up?” Ben sipped his beverage.

“Not exactly.”

“Yeah, what is that all about? And why would you be jealous of Evans?”

Tom groaned. “Can I at least get my coffee?”

“Nope.” Ben grinned a wide grin.

Tom sighed. “Okay so here is what happened…”

Benedict sat there silently while Tom relayed the whole sordid tale. He left nothing out, not even Clive. 

Tom gazed up at his friend. “Say something, Ben. The silence is deafening.”

Benedict pressed his fingers to his lips. “And Luke doesn’t know?”

“No.”

“And not your mother?”

“No. Just you.” Tom huffed. “And Molly.”

“Obviously. Seems rather simple.”

“Simple?! How is anything simple?! I am in love with her, Ben.” Tom stabbed at his food. “She’s all I think about.”

“See, simple. Tell her how you feel.” Ben smiled. “The two of you are already married. Seems like you skipped all the hard stuff.” 

“And when she rejects me? Not so simple. I can’t lose her.”

Ben stared at his friend. “You really are blind, aren’t you? I saw how she looked at you last night. There is something there, and it is not you paying off her student loans. Molly genuinely cares for you.”

Tom’s brows raised. “You think so.”

“I know so. Now let’s come up with a plan for you to woo your wife.”

Tom grinned. 

-

Molly settled back onto the couch, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door. 

“Tom?” she called out while moving to answer the door. “Did you forget your key—” She stopped short upon seeing who it was. “Oh, Chris.”

Evans stood there wearing a plain tee that clung to his classic A-frame torso. Molly stared for a bit. 

“Hi!” He smirked at her.

“Um, Tom left to have lunch with Ben.”

“Actually, I am here to invite you out to lunch. We never got to finish our conversation.” 

“Let me grab my coat.” 

Chris grinned as Molly grabbed her purse and coat before locking up. He slung an arm over her shoulder. “Now where is a good place to eat around here?”

[mimik-u]

Togetherness

Summary: The aftermath of Steven transforming into a huge reptilian monster brings back old memories for Pearl, who remembers another time Steven was scared so many years ago.

A/N: This piece was written for the Pearl-focused I am a Pearl! mini-zine a couple of months ago! It was a great opportunity to get to explore Pearl's mind space after the events of "I am My Monster" and how her friendship with Greg has evolved over the years. ;w; Thanks to the mods for a great zine experience! <3

AO3 Link / Zine Tumblr Link / @iamapearlzine

—

Steven is sixteen years old when he erupts into a scaly, pink monster—fifty-foot tall and inconsolable.

Everyone tells him that they love him, but because words are rarely ever enough, they show him that they do; they embrace him; they hold him; they press their fingertips into his reptilian skin. His scales are cold and sharp against Pearl’s palms, keratin hard and impenetrable. She tells him that he shouldn’t have to keep anything from her, all the while burning with shame that he’s kept so much from her.

He’s felt responsible for her fragility and loved her enough to tiptoe around the Diamond in the room.

His mother.

His mother and the complicated history between them.

The love.

The torture.

The grief.

The love.

(Because what is grief after all but a manifestation of love? A reminder, its echo, and its painful, lingering, lovely ghost.)

Connie kisses Steven, very lightly, very softly, and he falls from the sky, a boy again. 

Pearl wraps him in a blanket.

Garnet carries him into the wreckage of their home.

And approximately one hour later, they’re all standing on the deck, waiting for Priyanka Maheswaran to finish her professional assessment of him as the sun sinks into a honey-colored sea.

Pearl cradles her face in her hands, elbows sinking into the railing, trying to retrace every missed sign in the blackness of her own head. She sees his skin glowing pink in the darkness—at the Reef, in Little Homeworld, just moments ago in the living room…

So many flares in the night.

And Pearl had watched them all fizzle.

—

Steven is six years old when he moves into the newly minted beach house, and he tells Greg that he’s afraid of the silence. Nearly all of his life, he’s been surrounded by noise—the gentle rumble of the van’s motor, the susurrant murmur of the sea, wind, rain, buskers playing guitars on the Boardwalk, the whoosh of the rollercoasters at Funland. 

His dad’s snores echoing off the tin ceiling.

His dad’s laughter.

His softly-sung lullabies, too.

The beach house is really quiet at night, Steven tells Greg who tells the Gems, and he doesn’t like that…

He’s trying really hard to like it, though.

Maybe things’ll get better next week.

Pearl never looks at Greg as he delivers this news, tapping her fingers against the side of her leg as she sits at the kitchen table, ankles primly crossed. He stands in the doorway—right beneath Rose’s painted image—wringing his hands and looking too awkward to be allowed. She resents him for this—for his awkwardness, for his intrusion into their lives, and for everything else, too. 

(Namely for Rose.)

She inwardly knows that she’s being unfair. 

That loathing a person on the basis of his existence is morally suspect.

Wrong.

But what are rightness and wrongness to emotions? To the sheer primality of grief?

Grief is irrational, she rationalizes to herself—she self-justifies; it knows nothing of ethicality.

“Why didn’t Steman tell us this?” Amethyst asks, absently scratching her nose. “If it’s noise he wants, I got an old drum set he can knock himself out on.”

Pearl frowns, well-remembering the ten straight years Amethyst played the drums through the nineties. Rose loved it; Pearl spent many hours alone in her room to decompress. 

“He’s still intimidated by you three,” Greg shrugs kindly. “And shy. You just have to give him reason enough to trust ya with stuff like this. Tucking him in at bed at night, y’know. Checking under the bed for monsters.”

“There aren’t monsters under his bed,” Garnet says, practical as ever. “They wouldn’t fit.”

Greg chuckles, running a flat hand across the back of his neck as he peers between the three gems. When he and Pearl lock eyes, she meets his stare coldly, her mouth pressed into a thin line.

“But Steven doesn’t know that,” he mumbles, glancing away, his cheeks flushing. “You gotta shine a flashlight down there and show him there’s nothing there.”

“Doesn’t that seem patronizing to you?” Pearl asks, taking little care to disguise the condescension in her voice. Across the room, Garnet’s visored stare finds her—blank, inscrutable, and arcane—but Pearl knows her fellow gem well enough to understand that this is chastisement, silent and brutal.

Arching a thin brow, she ignores Garnet.

She demands an answer from Greg.

“Maybe,” the man concedes, but when he acknowledges her gaze again, there’s a little defiance in his eyes, an edge in his scratchy voice. “But maybe not. That’s what being a parent is sometimes. Patronizing the kid! Playing along. Showing him that you’re listening to what he needs. Letting him know that you’re there… haven’t you ever been afraid before, Pearl?”

“No,” she protests immediately, bristling.

“Pssh,” Amethyst snorts. “Last week, you jumped ten feet in the air ‘cuz you saw a snake.”

“You did,” Garnet smiles wryly. “I was there.”

Pearl scoffs, trying and failing to ignore that her cheeks are suffused with blue blush…

… and that Greg is staring at her with an almost distinguishable emotion in his eyes.

If she didn’t know better, she would say it was pity.

—

Dr. Maheswaran tells them that Steven is okay; he’s tired and sore—transforming expended a lot of his energy—but he’s ready to see everyone now. She tells them to be quiet and to maybe go in one by one, so he doesn’t get too overwhelmed.

Firmly, she warns them that it’ll take more than a good night’s sleep for him to heal .

And she doesn’t mean physically.

“Here’s a number of a good therapist I know,” she says, placing a card in Pearl’s hand. “Her office opens at nine.”

Pearl folds her fingertips over the edges of the glossy card stock but doesn’t quite glance down to look at the name—too fixated on watching Greg stand in front of the doorway, palming the screen door as he seemingly steels himself to go in. 

He’s aged so much in the twenty-something years that Pearl has known him—from his nearly bald head to the branching lines creasing the corners of his eyes—but for some reason, it is only now, in this ephemeral moment, that she realizes how old he is.

She doesn’t mean physically either.

As the others gather around Dr. Maheswaran, asking her questions, voicing their concerns, Pearl takes one deliberate step and then another.

—

Garnet tells Steven that it’s okay—there are no monsters under the bed—and when she shines a flashlight beneath the mattress, Amethyst is there, shapeshifted into a tiny kitten, purring at the child sweetly.

“See, dude?” She laughs, bounding out from beneath the bed. In an instant of blurred matter and color, she becomes herself again, her bangs sweeping inelegantly over her eye. “No monsters under the bed, only cute kittens.”

“Only kittens?” He repeats, grinning that famous gap-toothed smile that everyone adores. His legs are nearly swallowed by his oversized shirt.

“Kittens and dust bunnies,” Amethyst confirms, knuckling his curls playfully and smiling broadly when he laughs. “G’night, Steman.”

“Night, Amethyst!”

“Goodnight, Steven,” Garnet murmurs, lifting the six-year old into her arms and gently placing him onto the bed. She tucks him beneath the covers. She tenderly kisses him on the head.

“Nighty night, Garnet.”

And then it’s Pearl’s turn. Garnet and Amethyst head towards their temple rooms, and Pearl settles down on the edge of the comforter, balancing her left ankle on top of her right knee.

“Don’t forget about M.C. Bear Bear!” She teases softly, reaching over and placing the stuffed animal next to Steven’s arm. “He needs a snuggle buddy.”

Steven nods in agreement, his brow furrowed seriously over his eyes.

“Yep,” he says importantly. “I’ll be sure to hug him tight.”

“Excellent,” she says primly.

“Excellent,” he echoes playfully.

She lightly skims her knuckles across his soft cheek, smiling when he giggles a little, always ticklish…

… but then, when she withdraws her hand, letting it fall away from his face, the moment that immediately follows is quiet.

Too much so.

So quiet that Pearl can hear the softness of Steven’s breath, quiet enough that Greg’s words from earlier haunt her in the absence of noise.

Haven’t you ever been afraid before, Pearl?

Contrary to what Garnet and Amethyst may believe, she isn’t afraid of snakes —pestilent creatures though they are.

She’s surprised by snakes.

And afraid of much bigger things—five-thousand-year old secrets and equally ancient insecurities, for instance.

Six thousand years ago, after all, she was coded to believe that her highest order in life was to be a slave.

And sometimes—if only sometimes—she fears that her weaknesses were ingrained then, in the very moment she emerged from a shell and was called a pearl

One of so many.

Disposable.

Programmable.

Objectified.

Sometimes, she barely knows what it means to be herself, much less what it means to be a parent .

Indeed, Greg Universe of all people seems to have the idea down better than she ever could.

So, yes, Greg, she is afraid.

(Afraid of failing Steven.)

(Terrified that she’s already failed her. )

Patronize him, Greg suggested.

Play with him.

Show him that you’re listening.

Let him know that you’re there.

—

“Greg?”

Pearl places a light hand on Greg’s arm, startling him from his trance as he turns around to face her.

“Pearl!” He exhales, his breath coming in short bursts. “Y’scared me!”

“I’m sorry,” she says sincerely, not quite moving her hand away yet. His skin is warm beneath her fingertips, soft like wave-washed sand. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yes,” he returns immediately, and then—taking one look at her imperiously raised brow—just as quickly rectifies himself. “No. I don’t know. I’m freakin’ terrified, Pearl. I feel like a failure of a parent. I don’t know what to tell him. But I gotta go in there anyway.”

He says it all very rapidly, as though he’s talking to himself.

Encouraging himself.

And putting himself down to do it.

“I’m his dad,” he concludes, his voice breaking, tears standing in his dark eyes. “I’m his dad, and I didn’t… I wasn’t there for him, and I should have—“

“ Shh, ” Pearl cuts across him gently, patting his arm as tears threaten to slide down her own face. “Shh. There are so many hypothetical should haves that we’ll all have to face soon when it comes to Steven. But not today, Greg .”

With her free hand, she conjures a tissue from her gem and hands it to him, unflinching and kind, even when he needs to wipe his nose.

“Today,” she murmurs, her voice inhibited, a hundred emotions thick, “we just let him know that we’re here.”

—

“Pearl?” Steven asks.

Pearl blinks rapidly, coming back to herself; she’d been lost in her own thoughts, nearly consumed.

“Hey,” she smiles, placing her hand on top of Steven’s own. His skin is so warm and soft; she absently wonders if her alienness feels sharp to him… hard… cold… “Here’s an idea—how about I sing you a lullaby before you go to sleep?”

“You know how to sing?” Steven’s eyes widen incredulously, his mouth shaping itself into a delighted smile.

“Don’t look so surprised,” she laughs playfully. “When we were younger, your mother and I used to sing all the time—hymns from our home planet and the like…”

A pause, infinitesimal, hesitant. 

“...I could sing one for you if you’d like?”

“You could?” The child dares to be hopeful; the very emotion shapes the pitch of his question, the light in his eyes.

He has his mother’s eyes.

Dark and full of stars.

“I could,” Pearl repeats. “I’d sing as long as you wanted me to.”

“How about fooooorever?” 

“Let’s just start with until you fall asleep,” Pearl laughs. “That’s a part of forever, yes? This moment?”

“If you say so, Pearl,” he wrinkles his nose skeptically.

“I know so, Steven.”

As she sings him to sleep in her mother tongue, Pearl admits that this must be something that Greg knows, too.

The importance of hereness to a child.

Togetherness on scary nights.

[myelocin]

ten days, ten years | miya a.

Synopsis: This is the kind of real that’s yours and his. 

Genre: Fluff, Domestic | WC: 1500+

Characters: Miya Atsumu

A/N: this is a commisioned piece by @hvnlydmn <33

real estate - adam melchor

commissions

“So this is it,” said, with a voice signaling finality rather than a question.

Atsumu looks over the empty space of a house that was just in the market a few weeks ago, boxes stacked in the corners by the walls, and smiles. You peer at him from across the room, car keys in your hand while the set for the house are in his.

“This is it,” he says again, and when he peers at you, eyes making his message known before words could even attempt to do it justice, you soften.

There’s a lot of definitions that come with describing what’s real, but yours comes along looking like this.  

Real refers to Miya Atsumu and a history that’s you, and him. It’s the moments away from the limelight—his limelight—where he snorts at a couple jokes a little louder than how his manager would have appreciated. The tiny scribbles on the corner of the receipt; starting out as just a line before he’d eventually spiral and connect circles to dots, and little swirls until he’s covered half of the paper’s surface. It’s watching him on the screen, hair slicked up, and parted in just the right way, his control like it’s practically second nature, and his eyes as smooth as the words a person other than you would never be able to tell is practiced.

Because that’s who he is outside of here. (Outside of this.)

Practice interviews, the face on a billboard, and the child next door’s role model.

Real, on the other hand, is the present. Real is the face you wake up next to every morning, drool on the corner of his lips, where you still catch yourself thinking that you could never love anyone more than you do him. The black roots of his hair that grow out much faster than yours, and the way he leans in close to let you clip back his bangs that get in the way of his eyes natural.

It’s him blinking at you; hazel eyes like two pools of chocolate in any kind of lighting, the freckles on his cheeks a sight only you get to see because of how faint they are from a far. The scar on his cheek that you know the story of, healed and barely there; though you still make it a habit to leave kiss on its surface just because.

Real, is defined as the arguments that come and go; sometimes big, sometimes small, but always resolved long before the sun would set. Backs that are never turned from each other when the time came to sleep, because he knows sleep would never find you well unless his forehead was pressed against yours.

Real, like the keys on his hand and the wood floors of what you both would eventually call your forever home. The proof of the years that’s passed etched into the photographs within the first few pages of an album, while the spaces after it are left blank for the purpose of storing the memories of the years that are sure to come.

For now it’s just Atsumu’s fluffy slippers next to yours, and one framed photo of the two of you hung lopsided by the door because he insisted on hanging it up as soon as he entered, but it fits. Little by little the house that was just on the market a few weeks ago is beginning to feel like home.

“So this is it,” you say this time, because it truly is.

You cross the room and settle with standing beside him, his shoulder beside yours, in his eyes a hello. Atsumu smiles at you, then at the lopsided frame before he drops the keys on the makeshift bowl he found in the back of his car. He smirked at his discovery, and to be fair you did too—even though you knew it was something he swiped from his brother’s restaurant just a few days ago.

But it fits right in, you think.

A little black bowl with the familiar logo inked on the side, placed on top of one of the boxes that were sealed shut from the place it left with the intention to be opened within the walls of a new home. A forever home.

Something in his heart bursts at the realizations that something as little as opening boxes and hanging picture frames is what turns a house into a home.

“Do you see it?” he asks you in a sudden, his voice tender.

You hum out the voice of your curiosity, quirking an eyebrow in his direction as you turn to face him.

“See, it?” you question, when Atsumu decides to keep his silence.

He turns to you, flashing you a quick grin before he pads to the center of the room, hands on his waist as he continues to stare at the framed photograph that still is hanging crooked on the wall. But it fits, the voice in your head says, and in a way you suppose that it really does.

Imperfections within a love that feels perfect. Atsumu’s black roots coming in again, and the tag of his shirt poking out from his back. Your keychain with the little pizza man missing half an arm, but you keep it anyway because it was Atsumu’s first gift to you all those years ago. His pants fitting him just right, but the zipper of his fly halfway opened.

You snicker when he groans at you pointing it out, but he thinks that the sound of your laughter makes this house feel even more like home.

“I really see it, Ains,” he tells you again after a moment shared in laughter. The happiness that trails from it lingers, like it’s always done, and the word forever feels even more real.

He holds his hand out for you to take when you walk towards him, feet bare under the cool wooden floors, and he’s smiling. Atsumu’s more than in love, and he’s smiling because your hand snug against his feels like that puzzle piece that finally pieces the whole picture together.

You look at him, bathing in the comfort of the silence plus his few words; just the sounds of his breathing and the life that continues to move outside sounding like music instead of noise.

Atsumu pulls you towards him, spins you in the way that has you laughing at the silliness of it all, before he pulls you back again, your back to his chest, his chin on your shoulder. The crooked frame stares back at you, the two faces captured within it smiling, so you do the same.

“I see us here,” he begins.

“Ten days, and the boxes will be half emptied out. The couch will probably come in and maybe some more furniture, but we’ll have somewhere to sit,” he continues, and so the smile on your face remains.

“Ten months and the plant that Samu gave us will probably be dead,” he laughs, which prompts you into doing the same, your hands quick to give his arm that’s locked around your waist a little squeeze.

“That’s on you if you don’t water it,” you snort, craning your neck to face him and reaching up to pinch his cheek.

He rolls his eyes, gives you a laugh that sounds like all the sounds of love—of real love, before spins you again, first repositioning your hands so they rest on his shoulder while his settle on the dip of your waist.

“Then ten years later, I see little versions of me running around here,” Atsumu laughs, his eyes crinkling.

“Why versions of you?” you rebut with a laugh, reaching up to run your fingers through the strands of bleach blonde and black on the back of his head. “Why not me?”

Atsumu pokes out his tongue, puffing his chest out as he says, “Obviously me, because my better genes are superior.”

In exaggerated dramatics, you sigh, thumb reaching out to rub at the skin on his nape. He leans in, as if it’s a reflex, and you smile at the way everything just slides into place with each other.

“The Miya genes really are good right?” you sigh. “Should have gotten with Samu though,” you continue, looking away with an exaggerated huff. “He always was the cuter twin.”

Atsumu makes a show of pinching your sides, though only soft enough just to kick start a laughing fit. “Oi.”

You poke his cheek, leaning up then forward to press a kiss on the tips of his nose. “I see us too,” you say.”

“But it’s more like I see you every day. I see you leaving a sock there, and throwing your underwear three feet away from the laundry basket, and your bajillion cups of pudding in the fridge.”

Atsumu smiles, because he knows that love can be this too.

“I see us tonight,” he says. “Probably sitting on the floor because the furniture’s not here yet, and you’ll be picking out the vegetables in the pizza and putting it on my plate instead.”

“It wouldn’t happen if you just got the damn meat lover’s special,” you comment with a laugh.

“But it still works right?” He asks, pinching yours sides again. “We always have a way of working out right?”

You think about the road the both of you walked to on your own before you got here. The movie nights under the blankets, where if anything it was just you accompanying him so he could watch replays before a game. Atsumu’s laughter that booms before it echoes as if it’s screamed, then placed in contrast next to how he loves in silence, and gentleness.

“We always work, Tsumu,” you reassure. “That’s why we’re here now.”

“—because we’ll still be here ten years later,” he finishes for you, and you smile.

You suppose you can’t disagree with that; more than anyone—you see your world ten years later with him too.

[george-fabian-weasley]

Bill Weasley — Intoxicating

Summary: Bill Weasley had picked up a habit of smoking from his peers in Egypt. When he came back to Britain for summer, he met you in a fancy restaurant, as his barista.

Words: 3,415

Warnings ⚠ : Floofy Stuff, Cute, Sexual Tension, I Don't Write Smut so None of Them, Bill Weasley being Deviously Charming

Disclaimer: Domhnall Gleeson can run me over and I would thank him this man is sO FINE

"William, you're home!" Molly's voice echoed around the Burrow and Bill laughed as he engulfed the small woman, "Missed you, Mum."

The rumbles of stairs indicated his other family members running down to see him. Upon knowing them for years, he could predict the one who comes down first would be-

"Ah, Ickle Billiekins!" Two grown men engulfed him in a bro hug, and Bill chuckled, "Fred. George. How's the shop going?"

Fred smiled in triumph, "Splendid! We're planning to open our second franchise soon in London!

"Bill!" Ginny pushed away from the twins and hugged him, the complaints of the twins were visible. "Ginny! How are you, lil sis?"

Being the only sister he had, Ginny has a special place in his heart. Everybody knows how spoiled she is with him. The ten-year difference between them doesn't help either.

After catching up with the rest of the family, The Weasleys had a celebratory dinner to celebrate Bill being home for the summer. Ginny and Ron even invited Harry and Hermione, whom Bill knew pretty well because of the war a few years ago.

Molly being the lovable mum she is, kept adding food to his plate, Bill had to ask help from Arthur with pleading eyes. "Now, now, Molly dear, we don't want Bill to have indigestion now, do we?"

"But he's so thin now! Oh, what have they been feeding you at Egypt?"

Bill chuckled, "Mum, I've been like this since Hogwarts."

Molly gave him a motherly smile, "Oh alright. How's Egypt?" She changed the topic, and Bill had never been more grateful, his stomach almost exploded.

Hours after dinner ended, Bill stepped out of the Burrow to puff out a smoke or two. He heard someone opening the door and closing it, footsteps nearing him and Bill was pleasantly surprised to see Harry Potter, the hero a few years ago who defeated the bloody wizard Voldemort.

"You smoke?" He asked in bewilderment. Bill inhaled and kept it in, feeling the nicotine in his system for as long as he could before exhaling the white semi-dense smoke. He kept his views to the tall grass field in front of him, "Got it from my peers back in Egypt. Thought it's a good distraction, and it is."

"Distraction from what?"

"Thinking. So many thoughts and not all of them are pretty. Especially if you have 6 younger siblings and two aging parents." Bill confessed, finally looking at Harry with a small smile, "And now two troublesome future in-laws."

Harry chuckled and diverted his eyes from Bill, a heavy blush at the nickname, "Maybe later, I reckon. Ginny's focusing on her career first and I as an Auror. We have no time for a wedding."

Bill snorted, "Why are you acting like we didn't have Charlie's wedding in the middle of chaos 3 years ago?"

The two men burst into laughter. Looking back, it was amusing to have a wedding ceremony out of nowhere, especially if the night before someone just died- ehem, mad-eye, ehem- anyway. The laughter died down, and comfortable silence began. Harry was looking up to the stars, sighing, "We sure do have a lot of adventures here."

Bill shrugged, "I've been having adventures since I was born, Harry. Adding you into the family isn't that special," He teased and Harry rolled his eyes playfully.

Bill took a final puff and exhaled loudly, dropping the almost finished cigarette to the ground and stepped on it a few times, no one wants a random fire in the middle of the night.

Harry walked back in first, but then he turned back and said, "Maybe you're not the only one getting an in-law soon."

Bill snorted, Harry was referring to Bill about marriage, "Maybe," He said, didn't really want to jinx anything if he says no. Harry smiled at him and entered the Burrow, leaving him alone.

Bill sighed, looking down to the dead roll of cigarette on the ground, "Maybe," He whispered, even when he knew it's not likely.

A few days after that night, Bill got an owl from his peers from Egypt. They invited him to a fancy party in a muggle restaurant in London, something about celebrating their 10th year working in Egypt.

He sighed quietly, he really doesn't want to go, something about being in a crowd exhausts him. But alas, he figured it would be worthwhile to catch up with his friends and enjoy a drink or two.

Who knows, maybe he could find someone there, although that's nearly impossible. Not that Bill cared about blood status, it's more to the scar on his face from Greyback a few years ago.

Who would date a scar-face?

Bill smiled bitterly, this thought kinda hurt him a little bit, but he let it tear down his mood no further. He has a party tonight to attend anyway. A fancy one.

That evening, Bill had whipped out the fanciest suit he could find and had Transfigured his hair into the color of dark brown, for fun. Molly, of course, had her disagreement as ginger hair has become a trademark of a Weasley for so long, but Bill had reassured her it's only for the night.

"Looking fancy, eh? Have a date somewhere?" George teased his older brother, the eldest just chuckled and shook his head, "Got a party at a fancy restaurant in London, had to dress my best."

"Ouch Billie, already forgetting to be a Weasley?" Fred chimed in, faking a hurt expression with his hand on his left chest. Bill rolled his eyes playfully, his dark brown hair sure did look weird after years having ginger as the hue of his hair, "Sod off, Freddie."

"Well, I think you look handsome, Bill," Ginny said suddenly, walking towards her older brother to fix his tie. Bill looked at her in triumph and glared at the twins, "Finally, someone on my side,"

Ginny chuckled and patted his chest when she was done, "I'll always be on your side. Just don't wear it too long, don't want you to forget you're a Weasley."

Bill chuckled and kissed her forehead, "Yes, ma'am."

Apparating to the alley behind the bar, Bill walked in the party looking ravishingly stunning, although he sort of regretting the new color on his head.

"William!" Shouts from his peers made him smile ear to ear. The night was celebrated with a few drinks here and there, Bill had a wonderful time catching up with his friends.

But a few hours later, the said friends had separated into different corners with their partners, leaving Bill, the only one who doesn't have a partner, to be alone.

Bill clicked his tongue, the sudden feeling of wanting to smoke was strong. He hadn't associated himself with this many muggles before. Nevertheless, they're all human beings in the end, magic or not. He checked his watch, it's a quarter past 10, the night is still young.

And so Bill went to the bar section of the restaurant, wanting some alone time from many people. He fished out the cigarette box from his pocket and took one, placing it in between his lips.

Bill inwardly groaned as he remembered he couldn't use magic to light up his cigarette, there are way too many muggles to witness and honestly, he doesn't want to go to Court, especially when the government is still corrupted even after years of Voldemort gone.

He patted around his suit, hoping there is somehow a box of matches resting inside one of his many pockets. The cigarette between his lips was starting to get wet.

Suddenly he heard a flicker, and Bill was met face to face with a tiny light of fire.

Strange, the fire was resting on top of a metallic box with a lid. Bill blinked, and that's when he properly see you.

His eyes met yours, and for the first time in years, Bill Weasley was speechless. It was only when you shook the tiny fire on your hand slightly that he realized that he was staring.

He quickly leaned into the fire to light up his cigarette, nodding to you in gratitude. He took a long inhale, relaxing as the toxic substance entered his system. He exhaled and looked at you with a smile, "Thank you."

You quirked an eyebrow at him, "Did you forgot to bring your lighter or something?" You said, and Bill was slightly surprised at how easily you sparked up a conversation with him.

"I beg your pardon?" He said, and you nudged to the metallic box in your hand, flickering the light up once again, "A lighter. You forgot to bring it?"

So it's called a lighter. Fascinating. Bill thought as he chuckled, "Sort of," he said, not really wanting to say his 'lighter' is a spell.

"Anything you want to drink?" You asked, and that's when Bill realized you were over the other side of the counter, and you were wearing a white blouse and a patterned dark red vest over it. Ah, you're a barista.

Your hair was put on a low ponytail, and Bill suddenly missed his long red hair. Curse this brown short hair.

Bill hold his cigarette in between his index and middle finger, "Just water, please." You raised an eyebrow, "Water? Really?"

Bill chuckled at your teasing demeanor, and you were surprised at how he wasn't offended by your jokes. Your usual customers would usually tell you to shut the fuck up and bring them drinks quietly.

"Home was quite far from here. Don't want to drive home dead drunk now, do we?" Bill chimed, a genuine smile was on his lips. He wasn't this friendly around strangers, but there was this vibe around you that tells him to loosen up and enjoy his time.

You smiled at his remark, he was the friendliest customer of the night so far. "Oh c'mon, you're sitting on a bar! Surely you'll drink something." You said with a playful toothy grin. Once again, Bill chuckled, "Alright then. A glass of wine please."

"Atta boy," You quietly cheered and got to work. Bill watched you silently, occasionally bringing his cigarette onto his lips, somehow the nicotine wasn't as strong as before, now that you're here.

He couldn't pinpoint what was it, but you were... Charming.

"I've never seen you before," You struck up a conversation with Bill again once you delivered his glass of wine. This man before you was ravishingly stunning, would be quite a waste if you just watch this masterpiece from afar.

You could say he was the most handsome man you've ever laid eyes on. Even with that scar on his face. The long trailing scar from his temple to his cheek was intimidating at first sight, but when you look at it longer, it's only a scar, nothing more.

If anything, it makes this man before you look more mysterious than he should be.

"I'm from Devon, actually. My friends thought it would be a good idea to have a party here for our 10th-year celebration working at our workplace." You widened your eyes in, letting out a surprised laugh, "Blimey, 3-hour drive for a party?"

Bill shrugged his eyebrows, 'Huh, 3 hours.'

He sipped on his wine and gestured at the bar with his chin, "How long have you been working here... Y/N?" He asked, his eyes lingering on your name tag before coming in contact with your eyes.

You blinked, oh lord give me strength.

The way he said your name was beyond lovely, as if he's saying such poetic words. And the way he looked at you isn't really that much of a help. You felt heat rushing in your cheeks as you turned around to the alcohol collection, not letting this fine man before you see your blush.

"About 3 years already? Got to make money somehow to live," You said nonchalantly, when another customer ordered a drink. You got to it right away fast, wanting to talk more with the mysterious man whose name you didn't even know.

As if reading your thoughts, he said, "I'm William, but my friends and family call me Bill."

You chuckled and throw him a playful look, "Where did Bill come from out of William?" The remark made him laugh, the sides of his eyes crinkled. You smiled in triumph at the successful attempt of making Bill laugh.

"I honestly have no idea," Bill chuckled and inhaled more of the cigarette between his fingers, the nicotine felt less effective by now.

You stood in front of him, with the wooden bar table between you, biting your lip, "And what should I call you? William," You trailed off, feeling the energy between you shifted from light to somehow heavy.

"Or Bill?" You muttered loudly, giving him a slight smirk.

Bill felt it, the energy shift. And for the first time, he didn't mind. "Well," He started, putting the cigarette onto the ash box, killing it instantly. He took the glass wine, swirling it slightly to make the wine well mixed, and right before he sipped the dark liquid, he looked at you, "Surprise me."

You watched him drink the wine with his eyes on you the whole time, and the action made the butterflies in your stomach came alive.

"Y/L/N! No flirting with customers!" The shout from your manager made you flinch in surprise. You looked to the side, your manager looking at you sternly with his hands at his waist.

You smiled mischievously, "But boss, I don't think we're flirting!" You said with fake innocence, batting your eyelashes innocently. You turned to Bill, smiling in a way Bill was reminded of his cheeky twin brothers at home, "Were we flirting, Bill?"

Bill smiled widely with his front teeth on his lower lip, you're something else, Y/N.

"Were we? I can't remember," He chimed in, giving your boss the same innocent smile, making your own smile widen. The boss rolled his eyes and left, leaving you both by yourselves.

A moment of silence before laughter erupted from both of you. "What time does your shift end?" Bill asked as soon as he calmed down, a genuine smile on his lips.

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, "At 12," You voiced out, trying so hard to contain your smile. Bill's smile got wider at the sight of your blushed cheeks, "Alright, I'll be here till 12."

"You sure we're not flirting, Bill?" You said playfully. Bill bit his lower lip and looked up at you, "I don't know, Y/N. You tell me,"

"Oh, you're good at this," You breathed out and nodded, impressed by his flirting skills. Bill chuckled and shook his head, "Sometimes. There's just something about you that makes it easier."

The entire two hours were filled with conversations and laughter, some occasionally constantly flirting here and there, but needless to say, Bill was having a great time with you.

You were charming, funny, witty, and absolutely gorgeous in his eyes. He forgot for a moment, that you can see his scar on the side of his face.

Not that you minded it. Bill was everything. He's a gentleman with a beautiful smile and an amazing sense of humor, mysteriously alluring.

By the time the clock starked 12, Bill stood up from his seat and then you realized how tall he was from you. If before he was looking up to you, now it's completely the opposite. Bill had an amused expression over your sudden realization of his height.

"I'll wait for you outside," He said and you nodded with a smile, already tearing off your vest.

The party was long forgotten, some of his friends had already gone home before he even realized it. Once he was outside, he took out another cigarette and snapped his finger, instantly lighting it up. He took a long inhale, warming his system up to fight off the cold air of London. He exhaled and sighed, the cold mist now mixed with the smoke, making it denser than it should be.

Bill then realized he was supposed to be with you later, and a guy with a bad breath is the last impression he wanted you to have of him. And so he reluctantly threw away the barely finished cigarette, crushing it with the bottom of his shoe.

Just then, you came out and walked to him, looking casual with a beanie on top of your head and hair let down from the ponytail before. "Hello, handsome." You said cheekily with a smile.

He smiled at the sight of you, and with his cold hands, he held yours softly. You halted your movement altogether, now looking eye-to-eye to this beautiful man before you. "I couldn't do this to you before because you're working, but," He said softly, and met your knuckles with his lips, kissing it gently.

"Hi."

The blush in your cheeks was prominent, and you felt like a high-school girl all over again, "Hi," You said shyly.

You suddenly felt some sort of courage running through your veins, because without thinking, you grabbed his tie and pulled it towards you, making him closer to you.

"I may have a few shots before coming out here so please don't mind me," You muttered quickly as you pulled him into a kiss. Bill was pleasantly surprised and kissed you back. The makeout turned heated quickly, Bill had to contain himself as he suddenly found a new hunger for your taste.

Whiskey, and smoke.

It was intoxicating. When you pulled away, you were both panting. You later giggled at the sudden courage before, and your laugh being contagious, he started chuckling on his own. Bill was holding your waist tightly, touching as much skin as he could while you had your arms wrapped around his neck.

Never would he thought a few minutes later that he would be running while holding your hand, laughing with each other as you dragged him to your apartment.

Bill had already loosened his tie and tossed his suit around somewhere by the time you're opening the door. He turned you around suddenly from the door and gave you another hungry kiss. You were pressed between the door and him, and you didn't mind.

Reluctantly pulling away giggling, you opened the door sloppily, your mind still hazy by Bill's kiss.

He was a bloody excellent kisser, holy fuck.

The door slammed shut behind you two, and the kissing continued. It was safe to say, Bill Weasley didn't come home that night.

By the time morning came along, you woke up being wrapped around Bill. His naked arms wrapping around your waist and his leg around yours. You smiled and looked up to him, and was surprised at his long red hair.

You chuckled, shaking your head. You trailed kissed from his freckled chest to his neck, making him humming in content. "Good morning, sweetheart," He said groggily. You giggled at his sleepy attempt of kissing your nose.

You reached your hand to caress his long hair and sighed in content, "You know, you could've told me your real hair is ginger."

He hummed sleepily, "Mmm, yeah-wait, what?" He snapped his eyes open and reached for his hair. Indeed, ginger and shoulder length.

He sat up suddenly, looking everywhere but at you, "I-I can explain." He stuttered.

I knew it was a bad idea, he groaned.

He stopped when he saw you looking up to him with amusement, your arm supporting your head, and your hair falling slightly to the side you're leaning on.

"Why aren't you freaking out?" He asked. You smiled, "I know you're a wizard, Bill. Or should I say, Bill Weasley?"

Bill scoffed in surprise, his tense shoulder relaxed, "Why didn't you tell me you knew?"

You sat up, revealing your naked upper body that you had presented to Bill the night before, and kissed him on the cheek, "I figured it wouldn't be fun if I let you know so soon, so I figured I should play along."

Bill was supposed to feel offended, you did lie to him after all. But all he could find in his heart was warmth. He smiled gently, cupping your face and kissing your lips softly.

"You're something else, you know that?" He stifled a laugh as he said it. You joined his laughter and caress his cheek, leaning your forehead together.

"I know."