#and you’ve been attracted to both the men you’ve met upon meeting them without question

[bookwyrminspiration]

I’ve had lucille for 154 pages and GOD lucy if I could give you a new author I WOULD you deserve it and I’m so sorry

[imnotusedtobeingloved]

A/B/C/D/E/F/G/H/I/J/K/L/M/N/O/P/Q/R/S/T/U/V/W/X/Y/Z

 FROM THE CHARACTER ALPHABET WITH IVAR RAGNARSSON.

REQUESTED BY: @witch-of-letters

A - affection (how affectionate are they? what do they enjoy?)

At first? Not at all.

The only person he is used to getting affection from is Aslaug, so naturally you might earn a few sceptical looks from him if you try to get close.

Nevertheless he quickly learns how pleasant the attention of someone else can be, but tries to be subtle about it. He wouldn’t want to tell you upfront that he enjoys having you close or that he likes your touch, because he fears the rejection that might come with it.

In time, he would alert you with a little nudge here and there whenever he requires your tenderness.

Slowly but surely Ivar would get more daring, trying to innitiate the soft touches himself. If you don’t pull back, he’ll get more sure of himself and as soon as it is clear to him that you are serious about him, you’ll be the only person in Kattegat to recieve affectionate touches from Ivar without any deadly concequences.

What he loves most is either having his head placed on your chest or stomach, feeling you breathe and with your hands in his hair, or laying on the side, with you wrapped around his back.

B - bodypart (what’s their favorite bodypart on their partner and them?)

His arms.

His arms have been a replacement for his legs for all his life. Since he has to crawl everywhere until he has his crutches, they are well built and knowing that you love being wrapped inside them, makes Ivar love them even more.

Your legs.

He likes your legs because they are what he cannot have. He likes them because his are so flawed, and yet you choose to love them anyways. And he likes them due to their shape, the softness of your skin and how they look when you move around.

C - commitment (how quick are they to commit?)

Not that quick.

Ivar is reluctant, to say the least.

He needs to be 100% sure that you are commited to him, before he will make any kind of promises to you. It would be a long process full of selfdoubt, selfdeprication and fear of betrayal.

Ivar would also visit the seer and ask about a future with you by his side. The seers answers would be, as always, very vague (if he says something at all).

In addition to all those troubles, his brothers are in the midst of it. Ubbe and Hvitserk might be the only positive voices of reason at times (apart from Aslaug), while Bjorn would not really concern himself with it. Sigurd on the other hand would throw salt at Ivars mental wounds, saying you were only with him out of pity.

So the viking has no real option but to rely on you reassurance and your loving words. You’d probably have to spend months proving that you are serious about him, because he has been hurt and rediculed so many times before, but in the end it’s all worth it.

Once Ivar chooses to fully commit to you, he’s there to stay.

D - dates (what would dates with them look like? what would they plan?)

Ivar is usually not that much of a planner when it comes to dates.

Normally he is content with finding a secluded place to spend time with you, away from the crowds and far, far away from his relatives.

But if, for any reason, a special occassion should arise, he would definetely ask his brothers for help as much as he hates it.

He would send Hvitserk to distract you with requests and tasks all day, while Ubbe helps him set everything up in a little cabin in the woods. Ivar would ask Aslaug to have some thralls bring plates of food as well.

E - experience (how many relationships have they had before?)

Close to nothing, really.

Ivar did not have any experience with real love and he was very sceptical of it.

The few kisses and cuddles he may have had, have all come from the thralls his family owns.

Apart from that, he has not been interested in anybody, other than finding some attractive on the outside. Too often he had to find out the hard way that the insides of people where much more ugly than the exterior.

So in response to that Ivar mainly focused on his training and on becoming a better viking, until you came along.

F - family (do they want to start a family?)

Ivar would love to start a family.

At first, he is actually astounded that you’d bring it up.

For a long time, he could’ve never imagined someone wanting to have a family with him. To have a child with him (no matter if it’s your own or adopted). So when you suggest it, he is mindblown for a second, before he cups your face, telling you that it is what he longed for all along.

He would be ecstatic upon the idea of having an heir. Or two. Or more. But at least one is fair.

For him, it feels like everything is finally falling into the right place.

G - generosity (do they give their partner a lot of presents? if so, what?)

Exceptionally generous.

And you don’t even have to ask for them.

Ivar brings tons of goods and riches home from every raid, where you can pick whatever you like. He makes sure to safe the best pieces for you and keeps an eye out for suvenirs he knows you might love.

Should you require anything else Ivar has enough resources to get you everything you want from the market. Since Aslaugs rule in Ragnars absence, Kattegat has also transformed into an important trading center, will all kinds of diverse products.

Ivar sees to it, that you have anything you could possible require, even in his absence.

He spoils you, not gonna lie.

H - heaven (how would they react if they lost their partner?)

Ivar would never recover from the loss.

After everything that happened to his family, all the betrayals and the lies and the fights, you were the one thing to keep him going. You had been there for him everytime, no matter how hard it was. No matter how dangerous it got, no matter how exhausted you were.

But now?

There was nothing.

No one.

And no way to bring you back.

One of the things that scares Ivar most is how numb everything feels. There was nobody to be angry at. Nobody to blame, except for the illness that took you away. And against something like that, not even Ivar the Boneless could seek revenge.

He should have known when you confessed you love, that you were just another thing he had to lose. First it was his father, then his mother, then Helga and Floki and now... there was nothing left of him.

Still your face, your smell, you presence would follow him everywhere he goes.

And he’d beg you to haunt him.

I - i love you (who says the three magic words first and why?)

It depends.

The only way Ivar would say it first is if he is frantic. Either in a screaming match, or when you are close to leaving him.

When neither of those are likely though, this viking would most definetely wait until you’ve said it first. For a long time he does not even dare to hope that you will. He is still a cripple after all, no amout of love could ever change that and he fears the day you realize it. Ivar is so used to rejection that he tells himself it wouldn’t hurt if you left. But deep down he knows it would. That’s why he always hesitates in the very last second, drawing back. 

He leaves the first ‘i love you’ to you. But when it comes, you’ve never seen him smile that big. He can’t believe his luck. Can’t believe that you truly choose him over anyone else.

Ivar will rarely outright tell you that he loves you and only chooses particular moments for it.

But that just makes it all the more special.

J - journey (how did they first meet their partner?)

Unfortunately, you met Ivar while his men were preparing for a raid.

You stumbled upon their camp and he questioned you, demanding informations. This way he could gather when the best time for an attack might be. But not only that. You captured his interest in a way he would not have expected.

There was something in the way you spoke and the way you carried yourself that made him hesitate. He supposed that was what it must have felt like for his father with that unlucky priest Floki killed in the end. But then again, in time, he discovered it wasn’t quite the same. There was something more that drew him to you, apart from curiosity.

And he intended to find out what exactly it was.

Who knows after all?

Maybe it was fate.

K - kisses (what are their kisses like?)

Ivars kisses are desperate.

Desperate for warmth, desperate for acceptance, desperate for belonging.

He puts his emotions into every kiss and there is no such thing as ‘just a peck’ with him. Ivar likes to feel needed. He likes showing you how much he loves you, rather than expressing it with words.

He’s also not ashamed to kiss you in front of an audience, frankly he does not care who sees it, because you’re the only one that counts (but he will stop should it make you uncomfortable). He does not fear that it might make him seem weak, that thought is pretty ridiculous to him.

If anything, he’s even more proud to be the one you want.

L - love language (what’s their love language?)

Ivars love language is physical touch closely followed by words of affirmation.

Ivar feels loved the most if he recieves physical touch. He senses that most people around him are too intimidated to get close, or are simply put off by his condition. As a result of that, he rarely gets affectionate touches or attention, which he craves dearly. Even more so since Aslaug is dead and Floki and Helga are both gone. It’s important to Ivar that his partner makes him feel appreciated this way, even if it’s just a hand on his arm at the table, or your fingers laced with his. Every little touch counts.

The second best way to make him happy is through words of affirmation. Words have great meaning to Ivar, so beware of saying anything hurtful to him, for it might stay with him for a lifetime. In time you may notice that especially Ragnars last words “happiness means nothing” are stuck in Ivars head. Words impact him greatly, and you may have to undo some of the damage others have caused in his mind, with a few well-placed strikes. Ivar will appreciate it if you reassure him of your love with the right words at the right time.

M - memory (what’s their favorite memory of the relationship?)

The morning after the first night spend together.

Back then he had no idea how it happened or how you did it.

You were still snoring next to him when he came to realize he didn’t just like you. He loved you. And while you moved around, hugging the fur close to your chest a thousand emotions had swirled in his head. He was confused, surprised and completely thrown aback about what you did to him. About how you made his heart beat faster and his limbs tingle with the need to draw you closer. He watched, until the sun tickled your skin, rousing you from your sleep and when you opened your eyes to look at him with that smile... you knocked the breath out of his lungs.

Whenever he thinks back to that morning now, you catch him with an absent-minded smile on his lips.

N - newborn (how would they react to expecting a child? how would they deal with the pregnancy?)

Ivar would be shocked.

First of all, he would question if the child is truly his, as it seemed impossible before. He wouldn’t have thought that he would ever get the chance to have an heir. So, once you’ve settled his doubts, he would be the proudest father-to-be in all of Kattegat.

But also the most anxious.

He heavily questions his ability to raise a child. Even he knows his father was not a really good example to look up to when it comes to raising children, or to being a husband.

So he seeks the not really helpful advice of his brothers, who all seem to go in completely different directions when it comes to kids. Hvitserk is clearly letting his nephews and nieces walk all over him, while Ubbe is acting like an overprotective hen. Bjorn seems deadset on training them and sending them out in the wild. And Sigurd? Ivar is not quite sure the man is a grown-up himself.

In conclusion: they all started fighting amost themselves while Ivar watched the mess unfold.

Clearly, his mother Aslaug would have been a much better option.

But if she is no longer around, Ivar will instead turn to Floki and Helga where he finally finds some words of wisdom and support.

Without a doubt the woman carrying his child will be protected at all times. This is a literal miracle to him and he would be devastated if anything went wrong with the mother, or the child.

Other than that Ivar finds great joy in the pregnancy. He loves seeing the mother grow with his child and he would be truly proud of his child for carrying on his legacy. Ivar’s love grows during this incredible months, even during all the moods and cravings.

Both, the mother and the baby will be incredibly spoiled.

O - oasis (what’s their favorite place to spent time?)

The pier.

He enjoys the location, especially on warm summer days.

He has many memories stored in his mind, of sitting out on the docks. It’s a place where he can clear his head and it also gives him an overview of everything that is happening around him.

Ivar also likes the calm view of the ocean, even though he’s terrified of the sea. He likes to imagine all the lands that await him on the next raid. The atmosphere helps him to resume his strategies and to gather his thoughts.

It helps him to visualize the terrain the next war will be fought on and the techniques his enemies might use.

You will find him there often, sitting and staring out to the sea until the sun fades away.

P - petnames (what petname would they give their partner?)

“My love.”

The words tasted absolutely ridiculous on his tongue, when he first said them. Almost pathetic. That is also what he threw at your head, when you first said it, but not in anger. It was... something else. Some thing you had to figure out first.

The way he put you off was so reluctant, that it didn’t fit. He liked it. You knew he did. And he knew you knew he did. And he hated it.

This, in turn, made you use the petname whenever you could, with a smirk on your face. Eventually he not only gave in, but started using it himself.

The first time he did you probably spit out your drink in shock tbh.

He’d grumble out of embarassement, until you’d reassure him. When he knows for sure that you actually love it, it’s settled.

It would become a habit.

Q - quiet (what do undisturbed moments look like?)

Peaceful.

In quiet moments Ivar can take a breath and let go of all that troubles him.

He likes taking you down to the beach on those rare days, lying next to you in the sand and relaxing for hours. In those moments all the fights, the wars and the arguments truly fade away. Sometimes they might creep into his mind, which you scold him for when he shares those thoughs absent-mindedly.

Apart from that, it is in those quiet times that you can truly find joy in the company of each other. There don’t need to be many words or actions to keep you happy, just the two of you alone will do.

R - rivals (how do they handle jealousy?)

Not too well.

If there is anyone making advances towards you, Ivar will be the first one to notice. Probably even before you.

He knows very well that you would not appreciate a bloodbath. And further than that, there are political figures that are better kept alive during those stressful times of war. So, no matter how much it bugs him, he would keep still for the time being, trusting you to tell them off (but you may notice the tick of his jaw, or the whitened knuckles when his fingers clench around the armrests of his chair).

If you don’t notice, Ivar will be sure to inform you and ask you to do something about it. He doesn’t voice his concerns about it very clearly, but he is afraid of you leaving him for another.

Though, should a situation get critical, even after you have made clear that Ivar is the one for you, you can be sure that Ivar wont let it slide.

Even if he has to make it look like an accident.

S - song (what song is a reminder of them?)

OCEAN EYES - BILLIE EILISH

I've been watchin' you for some time

Can't stop starin' at those ocean eyes

Burning cities and napalm skies

Fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes

Your ocean eyes

No fair

You really know how to make me cry

When you gimme those ocean eyes

I'm scared

I've never fallen from quite this high

Fallin' into your ocean eyes

Those ocean eyes

I've been walkin' through a world gone blind

Can't stop thinkin' of your diamond mind

Careful creature made friends with time

He left her lonely with a diamond mind

And those ocean eyes

No fair

You really know how to make me cry

When you gimme those ocean eyes

I'm scared

I've never fallen from quite this high

Fallin' into your ocean eyes

Those ocean eyes

Da, da-da, da-da

Da-da-da, da, da

Da, da, da, da, da-da-da-da

Mm

Mm

Mm

No fair

You really know how to make me cry

When you gimme those ocean eyes

I'm scared

I've never fallen from quite this high

Fallin' into your ocean eyes

Those ocean eyes

T - token (what kind of object would be the proof of their love? a ring? a necklace? something completely different?)

Ivar can, as a prince and as a king, buy you anything you want.

So he goes a completely different way.

He would try and make you something himself. Something that wouldn’t bother you during the day while tending to your tasks, but also something that would show everyone around you that you are taken.

And something that would remind you of him.

Ivar has noticed you fiddle with the pendant of his necklace often enough.

The viking takes is upon himself to make a twin to the mjolnir hanging from his throat. He would spend ages drawing out the form and details of the hammer, making sure everything looks perfect. He would also use much more expensive material than his own was made of and would insert fitting gemstones if possible.

Ivar works through days and nights to complete his work and smiles like a child when he can finally hand it to you.

It would turn out so beautiful that you would never want to take it off.

U - unique (why did they choose their partner? what first attracted them?)

The thing that first drew him to you was your personality.

Ivar likes looking at pretty features and bodies, yes. But in a way, doesn’t everyone?

Physical attributes don’t mean that much to him. That he may find a body pleasing to look at has nothing to do with feelings. It is more about an aesthitic. About a facade.

What really interests him is your behavior and your mannerisms. How you talk and behave when nobody sees you and how you move when the great hall is filled with people.

Ivar is first attracted to you because of your habits and your character. The unique tells when he catches you lying, or the characteristic twitch of your mouth, when Bjorn shares a story around the dinner table.

V - vulnerable (how vulnerable do they allow themselves to get?)

He is a tough nut to crack.

Ivar is not the type to be vulnerable around others.

He is not always proud of it when he loses his temper, but he absolutely hates it when he has to cry. Not particularily because he sees it as a weakness, but because he despises the whole feeling of it. He hates the helplessness that settles in and the pityful looks everyone carries on their faces when tears are shed.

He does not like to cry in front of you, even when you are close. You will often have to force him to lean on you and let you comfort him. At the beginning he dislikes doing so, but quickly notices that it helps.

He starts to appreciate your help and your knowledge when you assist him to get his mind back on track and give him a perspective he might not have thought of (though there is rarely a way he does not come up with).

X - xfactor (what’s one of their special talents they try to impress with?)

His mind.

While his brothers might be honest in saying that they consider him their equal despite his disability (which he is already sceptical of), Ivar is very aware that that does not count for everyone else around him.

Not even for you.

So he tries to impress you with what he does best. Ivar is intelligent and an incredible strategist on all fields. He will use his smarts and his witt to catch you attention (and maybe even aks you for advice, even though he already has the perfect solution).

Y - yin & yang (how does having their partner around change their behavior?)

It changes quite a bit.

Ivar becomes calmer when you’re around. More patient and less heated. Apart from that he puts great value on your opinions, even of you are not familiar with all of his strategies.

The times of war are stressful even on a bright mind such as his. It makes him agitated when you’re parted and he trends to get nervous when he can’t keep an eye on you.

Since what happened to his mother while he was not around, he fears that the same fate might come for you if he is not on guard at all times. That, in turn gets him easily frustrated when you can’t join him where he is going.

Needless to say, his men are glad when you are present.

Ivar becomes more relaxed, witty and even pleasant at times as soon as you are near.

Z- zen (how calm are they during arguments?)

Not very calm, even though he tries to keep his cool.

He tends to let his frustrations out, wether that be through screaming or trashing something.

This viking does not hold back.

And we all know Ivar is already intimidating enough when he is not in a bad mood.

But usually, all of that doesn’t happen around you. Between the both of you arguments rarely arise. You are pretty much on the same page and definetely act as a team.

Though, of course, it can’t be that easy all the time. When an argument between the two of you arises Ivat tries to reason with you. The man is used to things going his way, so it might be quite a struggle to go against him at first. He tends to get louder, as a way to emphasize his reasoning, but will quickly try to shut it down if you tell him that it upsets you.

He’ll try to explain his situation and get a grip on your view at the same time, until you reach an agreement both of you are happy with, which he does not do with anyone but you.

[eclipsedpascal]

Making Daddy Proud

Stepdad!Duncan x Female Reader

After moving in with your estranged mother and her new husband, Duncan Shepherd, you started to grow very close to your new stepdad. The two of you had a great relationship and he was doing his best to be a good father figure for you, knowing you missed your dad so much. But there was a problem, you found yourself insanely attracted to him and were starting to notice little things indicating he might feel the same way.

Warnings: very inappropriate relationships, Stepfather/stepdaughter relationship, Cheating is ofc implied, 20+ year age gap, daddy kink, unprotected sex (but I kinda imagined the reader to be on birth control so is okie😌) fingering (female receiving), choking, vaginal sex, oral (male receiving) and face fucking😃

Notes: Okie sooo I know some people will hate this fic and ofc I understand that, but if you do hate it then please don't send me any hate!! just don't read it🖤 anywayss I got dis ask saying "Concept: Stepdad Duncan x naive reader😉" nd omg i LOVE the whole concept of Stepdad!Duncan sm, like if you've been in the fandom for a while you'll probably know the fic "The Hand That Robs the Cradle" by Langdonsrapture nd that fic was my holy grail when it came out!! so you know I just had to go all out here nd get carried away writing it hehe:')

word count: 5.4k

●●●●●●●●

The opportunity to study political science at American University in Washington DC had been one you simply couldn’t pass up on, but unfortunately it meant moving away from your father to stay closer to campus grounds. You knew it was worth it in the long run, I mean you had been waiting on this chance for years and wanted to make your father proud, but you would miss him.

He was never home too much, always busy working, but he meant the world to you. It had been just the two of you for a long time now. Your mother had moved away once their divorce finalised 7 years ago, impulsively leaving you in his custody as she ran off and gallivanted around the world, meeting all sorts of interesting men she would tell you about.

Luckily for you, she had settled down with one of those interesting men in DC recently, and upon discovering your acceptance into the prestigious university she had offered you a place to stay whilst you studied.

It was a frightening move to make, but staying with your mother in DC had actually been pretty interesting. You hadn’t spent time with her in so long and it had been nice to catch up with her, I mean sure she had been a little distant, but that was expected with having not spent any real time with her in so long.

You were just grateful she had let you stay with her in the first place, thinking she would have probably preferred to be left alone with her new husband, Duncan Shepherd.

They had been married about four months when you moved in and from what you could see, things were going well; especially considering she had sprung the engagement on everyone pretty fast. You were just happy knowing she was happy.

Though you had only met the man in question once before moving in, he really seemed like a perfect partner. He didn’t have a single obvious flaw to him, but see that was the problem. He was completely flawless to you.

You had tried to find things you didn’t like about him, even just tiny things, thinking hating him would be far better than thinking of him the way had been, but no matter what you did, you just couldn’t seem to fault him. And the longer you stayed with them, the worse your little problem became.

You weren’t 100% sure of how old he was. You only knew he was in his early to mid forties. But being at least 20 years your senior, you knew he was definitely old enough to be fulfilling the role he was as your stepfather. It felt strange to have a new stepdad at the age of 20, (almost 21) but it was even stranger with you being so blindly attracted to him.

And it wasn’t even just his looks. Though, yes, they were quite the spectacle, it was more than that. He was confident and cocky, always knowing exactly what to do and say to make the people around him do whatever he wanted them to. He could make you laugh until your stomach was in cramps, and not just through telling dad jokes. Charisma rolled off of him in waves.

He was intuitive and crafty; smart to put in plainly. And his interests appeared to be more intellectually based than anything else, which was quite the opposite of your mother, so it baffled you as to how your mother had managed to snatch him up so easily in the first place.

Now it’s not that you were jealous, really. It was more that you didn’t understand how these two polar opposite personality’s had ended up colliding together in the manner that they had.

Whenever the three of you would sit and have an evening meal together, Duncan always made you feel welcomed in the conversation, which was a great comfort to both you and your mother, being the relationship you had was so strained. Because of this and the fact you both had quite a lot in common when it came to your interests, Duncan and you had become almost good friends in the small time that you had been living there.

It was obvious he was doing his best to be some kind of fatherly figure to you. knowing that you were missing your actual dad, he did his best to help you with the things he knew your dad usually would. Whether it was school work or just having someone to joke with from time to time. He was there.

Sometimes when he was there, though, you felt like maybe, just maybe, he felt something more too. Such as the moments where his stares would linger on your form for just a little too long, or the way he would sometimes fix your hair for you if it had strayed across your face the wrong way. Just small things he did that fatherly figures didn’t typically tend to do with their daughters; especially when his wife, your mother, was right there. Sure, she seemed oblivious to it, but you certainly weren’t.

●●●●●●●●

Taking your now lukewarm cup of coffee from the breakfast bar counter, you brought it to your lips and gulped the bitter liquid down, fighting viciously to stay alert. It was nearing 3am and you had been writing for hours. Concentrating was no longer your most favourable asset and your half lidded eyes were growing wearer by the minute, but you just had to finish this paper.

It was 17 percent of your grade and due in two weeks. A persuasive essay on propaganda within the current American political climate and you had been slowly working at it for weeks, but you knew if you left it hanging over your head any longer it would drive you insane.

Sitting back in the stool you resided on, you took quick solace in the many noises coming from the ajar kitchen window, listening to a low rumble of thunder, accompanied by the constant pitter patter of rain falling from the gloomy DC sky above. It had been hot and humid all week, eventually cultivating into large clouds that had now given in, spilling out showers for almost the entire day past.

You recalled all the time you’d spent by the pool with your mother and Duncan in the past week, enjoying the current heatwave by sunbathing next to it on one of the many loungers. The house was kind of set up like a hotel that way. With Duncan always needing to be prepared for any events he may have to hold for his company’s business associates or press, he had furnished the home with what was to the three of you, unnecessary seating and tableware; amongst other things.

You stirred, returning your eyes back to the last few lines you had written and attempted to go over them in your head, but quickly realised you couldn't even manage that without stumbling over them or jumbling the words up beyond comprehension.

Abruptly interrupting your confused stream of thought, was the kitchen door groaning open. So with a frown plastered to your face, you shot your head up to recognise the intruder. But your frown was quickly blown away at discovering that it was Duncan who had entered the balmy room, and he was in more glory than you had ever seen him.

You had seen his silhouette whilst he showered before. Having gone into his and your mother’s shared bedroom whilst searching for earrings, you had seen him through the whited out, frosted glass of the on-suit bathroom door. But this was something entirely different. This was him, stood in kitchen doorway with nothing on but his grey Calvin Klein boxers.

“Y/N? I didn’t know you were still up.” He quirked a brow at you, wondering why you were still sat in the kitchen so late at night. You swallowed deeply at the sight of him. Your eyes magnetised to his body, dilating with such a sultry image before them. Pulling your eyes back up to his face, you hoped he hadn’t seen their little detour down to his crotch.

“Uhm.. i’m, uh.. w-working on an essay.” Fuck! He’ll definitely know how nervous you are now. You looked away from him, too embarrassed to face him and cringing at your own attempt to speak. “It’s due in next week and I wanted to get it finished.” Okay that’s better, you thought. Maybe he’ll just think you’re just too tired to have a proper conversation or something.

“Oh, right,” he trailed off, looking you up and down a bit as he walked further into the room. You watched the back of his head as he opened the fringe, holding it open and scanning the contents of it. Deciding on a small bottle of water, he retrieved it from the middle shelf before closing the door and walking over to lean on the opposite side of the counter from you.

He didn’t seem too bothered by the fact he was practically undressed in front of you. Of course, you weren't complaining, but it was interesting. You tried to think of something else you could add to your open word document, wanting to distract yourself from his displayed body. But thinking as hard as you possibly could, your mind still brought you nothing.

You awkwardly pulled at the sleeve of your oversized ‘American University” sweater and hoisted it back up onto your shoulder. It had ridden down your arm whilst you were aggressively fiddling with your fingers - a nervous habit you had developed in your early teens. People would often point it out to you, but it was just one of those things you couldn’t stop doing.

There was a deafening silence stuffed between the two of you. So looking around the room, you tried to focus on anything in your line of vision that wasn’t him. It was just too hard seeing him like; his plump lips wrapped around the bottle’s mouth as he drank, his sleepy un-styled curls falling just above his perfectly manicured brows and wearing nothing but those fucking grey boxers. He was making it unbearably hard not to stare.

Deciding to speak, you cleared your throat. “So did you just wake up? Or could you not sleep?”

“Just couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about the most random shit.. and you know how your mom is, she snores a lot.” He chuckled. His eyes never leaving you, beginning to feel as if they were boring holes into your soul as you kept full eye contact with him.

“Yeah, that must get pretty annoying.” You nodded slowly, thinking about how many nights you had spent wide awake when you were younger, all due to her roaring, loud snores passing through the paper thin walls of your childhood home.

“It does.” A smile played on his lips, taking another swig of water before speaking again. “so what’s the essay about?”

“It’s that one I was telling you about a few weeks ago, if you remember. it’s a persuasive on propaganda within the current American political climate.” You reminded him of the conversation you had about it when he dropped you off to class one morning not too long ago. The two of you often carpooled together, with the University campus being so close to his office, it made for an easy drive on the days he was needed in.

You guys would listen to playlists together on the drive and make fun of each others music taste, that was when you weren’t too busy being amazed by how similar they could be.

“Are you struggling with it? I mean, it is getting pretty late now.” He turned to check the clock which hung on the wall behind him, then looked back at you questioningly.

Duncan was good at helping you with this kind of thing. He was extremely well versed in politics, with his family’s background and all. Your mom had told you he used to be very involved with the white house, saying when he was younger he even went to prison for a short time before president underwood had pardoned him.

“I just can’t concentrate, but I really need to get it done or it’ll stress me out.” You lifted your bare feet up onto the stool seat, your knees coming up to your chest so you could rest your chin on them. You were only wearing panties with the sweater, it being too hot to wear anything more.

“Can I come over and check it?” He closed his bottle of water, tightening the lid with his muscular arms as he spoke. You had almost forgot he wasn’t wearing much before he said this, but watching him screw the bottle cap on as he asked to could come round to your side of the counter? It had you weak for him all over again.

“Uh.. yeah, course.” He padded his bare feet over the white, tiled flooring towards you, placing the bottle down on the counter and moving behind you to read the most recent paragraphs you had written. His hand was stretched over to the other side of you, resting on the edge of the breakfast bar as the skin of his arm grazed across your back.

Even with you being sat on such a tall stool, he still managed to tower over you. His hight was usually intimidating as it was, but with the added factor of him being almost completely undressed it was even worse. A small waft of air blew his expensive cologne towards you, creeping past your nostrils and possessing your senses completely before you started to feel his breathe on your upper neck. It wasn’t heavy, but it was enough to make your cunt start pulsating.

You were disgusted by yourself. He’s your mother’s husband! And your Stepdad! What the fuck was wrong with you? You could only imagine what people’s reactions would be if they knew of the truly sinful thoughts you had about him, and you hated yourself for it.

He was your type, yes. A rich, older man who wasn’t actually an asshole, and they were hard to come by, but that wasn’t relevant. You needed to control yourself. No matter how hard that may be.

“What you have so far is really good. Your argument is strong and as always with your work, it’s written well. You’re smart, Y/N. It’s impressive.” He humoured himself with a scoff, his voice interrupting your lewd thoughts.

You blushed at his compliment, hiding your face behind your knees slightly and looking up at him. “Thanks, Duncan.” You knew he was just trying to be a good dad figure to you, but you couldn’t help being attracted to the way he was so caring for you. Maybe it’s fucked up, but it’s not your fault all you need is an older man’s approval to become turned on.

“I mean it.” He looks so sincere as he talks to you. His face would be intimately close to yours if you hadn’t hidden it from him earlier. You notice his eyes flicker down to your lips for a split second, and then back up to your eyes again. His stare no longer felt friendly, but more.. lustful. Were you crazy or was he really doing this?

Suddenly he looks away from you, moving his eyes back to the laptop’s screen. “Maybe you should just get some sleep. I know you said it’ll stress you out, but if you get some rest you’ll be able to get back into it tomorrow with better concentration.” He does his best to steer the conversation back to where is once was, reminding himself that you’re his fucking step daughter and that he has a beautiful wife sleeping just upstairs.

“I know that, its just..” You sighed, blinking up at him. You brought your legs back down you hang over the edge of the seat, but you couldn’t stop thinking about how close he was to you, wanting to do nothing more than to drape your arms behind his neck an-.

“Nope I won’t listen to it. From what I can see it’s an incredibly strong piece of work already, so just go get some sleep and come back to it in the morning, okay sweetheart?” He laughed a little, looking down at you again.

That nickname. Sweetheart. He called you it all the time and yet it always managed to take your breath away. But the thing is, he usually wasn’t this close to you when he did. So when you squeezed your legs together and bite down on your bottom lip, doing your best to ease the overwhelming desire you felt for him in that moment, there was no way he hadn’t seen it.

You were frozen staring at him, his face static and unreadable. You hoped he didn't choose to shout at you for how repulsive your behaviour was, or maybe he would kick you out? Your mind began spiralling, wrapping itself in intricate knots as you held your breath, awaiting a reply from him.

“Do you like that? When I call you sweetheart.” His voice was deep, sultry and dripping with desire. Shock coursed through you. That was definitely not what you had expected him to say. He seemed even larger now, his confidence making you feel small in comparison as your mind scrabbled to find the words you were supposed to use in your current predicament, but it never found any.

"You like it when daddy gives you nicknames?” He moved his hand up and delicately grasped the skin where your neck met your jaw, his eyes half lidded with lust. Your heart was beating so fast now and your breathing had grown shallow. You were so lost for words, only able to whimper out a weak “yes” before looking down to his boxers, trying to avoid his eyes but still wanting him just as much as he now appeared to want you.

He lifted your chin and kissed you roughly, drinking in your lips as if you were the water he had ventured down stairs for all along; and you began to wonder if you perhaps were. Maybe you were what he had been craving, just as you had been craving him.

He pulled the stool closer to him with his spare hand, leading you to wrap your legs around his torso as you tangled your tiny fingers through his sleep rustled hair. It was passionate. His kiss was sloppy, yet perfectly executed as his tongue slipped past your lips to glide over your own. His greying stubble dug into your skin, burning it with pure contact.

You parted to breath; and for just a moment, though it felt like hours, you stared into each others eyes with a ferociously neither of you could nor wanted to tame.

He tuts. “You really shouldn’t drink so much coffee little one, it’s not good for you. And it’s all I can taste.” He couldn’t help but reprimand you for the little habit, he had just gotten so used to doing it over the past three months, and using it to tease you sounded even more appealing.

You opened your mouth to speak, but were cut off when he lunged at you again, kissing you viciously. He began to move his hands all across your body, his fingertips grazing over every inch of you they possibly could as he started to undress you, pulling your oversized sweater above your head and taking handfuls of your breasts. He was kneading them, leaning down to kiss and suck on them whilst he watched you throw your head back, completely enthralled by him.

You were taken aback by how quick things had escalated, your sense of control had deteriorated far too rapidly and was ebbing away even further with each little kiss he left on your skin.

His large hand slid down to your panties, playing with the lacy bow that was centred on the waist band. He hovered his hand over your heat, cupping it and feeling just how sticky you had become for him. You let out a moan, all sense of wrong and right leaving you completely as you uttered a soft “Daddy” and ground your cunt into the palm of his hand.

“That’s right. So desperate for daddy.” He mused, ripping your thin underwear off and dropping it down onto the floor beneath you. Bringing his face to yours again, your noses bumped and leant on each other for some kind of purchase, the both of you watching his hand as he rubbed his fingers through your folds, gathering a fair amount of slick on them before pressing two inside you.

“Ahh!!” You let out a moan, it was louder than you expected and reminded you of what was really going on here. Having been too caught up in the moment, you hadn’t even thought about how being complete fucking naked with your step father between your legs would look if your mother had decided to come downstairs.

“Ah, ah, shh baby. We don’t wanna get now caught do we?” His breathe was hot on your lips, whispering as to not alert anyone. “So tight.”

You whispered back. “I’m sorry daddy, it was an accident- mmph!” You muffled your moan.

“That’s it. Who’s my good girl?” He lay a gentle peck on you lips, only stopping as to allow you to answer his question.

“I am daddy!! I’m your good girl!” You spoke with urgency, but did your best to keep the volume low, which was quite the struggle in between moans. Duncan could see this, so he pressed your lips together. Kissing you into a muffled silence.

You felt his spare hand on your neck, squeezing it just enough for you to still breathe okay when he pulled away from your mouth, moving his lips to the shell of your ear and biting the lobe. He murmured in your ear. “Do you know how hard it was, this week? Having to sit there next to your mom at the poolside and see you just lying there like that?! That fucking bikini. It took everything in me not to cum right there.”

His fingers were moving slowly, going in deep and curling up against your g spot, making you cry out and lean on his shoulder, biting it to keep yourself quiet. he started to rub your clit in hard circles. He was so experienced. It was mind-blowing.

“Would it have served you more pleasure to know, I only wore it for you?” It was true, you had only worn it for him and it had obviously worked. You certainly had his attention now. He growled at this, pulling his fingers out and slapping your cunt.

He yanked your neck closer to him, speaking down to you. “Just for that? Get on your fucking knees.” As soon as he let go of your throat you were climbing off the stool and onto the floor. The heat of the room, and of your acts too, made the marble tiling feel like ice pressed onto your flushed skin. But you didn't care.

You watched him pull his boxers down, cock springing free, adjacent to his stomach. Never having been with anyone of this size before, you had never seen a cock this big. You reached out and touched it, feeling just how hard he was. He hissed at the contact, looking down at you as you watched his facial expressions with wide eyes.

You played with it in your hand, stroking it with one and palming his balls with the other. He stroked his fingers through your hair, giving you a reassuring look as you licked the tip. The salty taste hit your tongue, making you crave his cock even more. So without another second going to waste, you took him into your mouth as far as you could.

“Ahh fuck!” You began bobbing your head, your eyes fixed on him as a groan left his lips. He was watching you intently, threading his fingers through your hair and onto your scalp to get a good grip on your head. You let your jaw go loose, knowing what he was about to do and preparing yourself for it.

He started thrusting his hips into your face, his cock hitting the back of your throat with almost every shove. You had honestly impressed yourself, I mean you knew you gave good head, but taking a cock this big as it fucked into your throat was something to be proud of.

“Mmm that’s it sweetheart.” Your stomach fluttered at his approval. The gagging noises you were making giving him even more pleasure. “You just wanna make daddy proud, don’t you princess?” You mumbled a wet “yes daddy” around his cock, sending sweet vibrations through it as he pushed himself as far as he could into your throat.

You couldn't even fathom how this was happening. You had pictured this moment late at night with a vibe pressed to your clit far too many times to count, so it finally happening was something hard to comprehend. Somehow he looked even more handsome from down on your knees than you had ever imagined he would. His stubble contouring his face perfectly with the ‘o’ his lips were forming.

Suddenly pulling you off of him, you gasped out for oxygen and tried to wipe away some of the saliva dribbling down your chin. It was like a snapshot from one of Duncan’s wet dreams. You looked so incredibly fucked out. He thought it was beautiful.

“Come on little one, stand up. Daddy wants to fuck that tight little pussy of yours.” You moaned as he talked down to you, stroking his calloused thumb over your bottom lip and pulling it down just to watch it bounce back up again.

You stood up, finally wrapping your arms around his shoulders like you had wanted to all this time. He pulled you in for a kiss, one much slower than the rest, communicating something more to you than just pure sexual carnality. His embrace was comforting, making you feel protected and small in his arms.

His hands grabbed at your ass as he picked you up, sitting you back down onto the bar stool and adjusting the hight while his lips stayed connected to yours. Once the seat was low enough for his liking, he picked up your thighs, shelving them onto his hips and laying you back just enough so that you could lean on the backrest.

The room was sweltering, your body hot against his and anticipating having him buried inside you was getting too much to handle. He dragged his cock through your lips, teasing your clit and moving back down to almost enter you, but he never would. Just wanting to get you all worked up and loving the way you would squirm when he did.

“Daddy.. please.” You steadied yourself by holding on to the sides of the seat, hoping he would end his tournament and fuck you already.

He slid the head barely into you. “Hmm… Since you were so polite, suppose daddy should reward you.” He spoke calmly before snarling and stuffing himself into you, pushing as deeply as he physically could. He felt your walls clamp around him as he set his pace. It was a lot. Having never taken a cock this big and the fact he didn’t even let you adjust, you couldn’t help but wail out.

He shot his hand up to cover your mouth, needing to keep you quiet and seeing you clearly couldn’t do it yourself. “Wouldn’t want to wake up mommy now, would you baby?” you attempted to utter a “No daddy”, but his hand kept your lips glued shut.

He fucked you. Like really really fucked you. He was making the stool shuffle underneath you, the powerfulness of his thrusts causing you to slide down in the seat. The only reason you didn’t slip off completely being the barbarian hold he had on your hips.

It actually surprised you how rough he was. A pleasant surprise, of course, but he had been so delicately caring towards you since becoming your step father and now here you were, receiving the best of both worlds.

The closer you grew to your high, the more incoherent your thoughts became. His eyebrows were scrunched together, lips trembling as he picked you up off the seat and held you closer to him. Supporting your ass, his hips ricocheted up and off yours as he tried desperately not to yell out.

His thumb was brought back down to your clit as he pressed you up against him, swiping at it hellishly, trying to hurry up your release upon feeling your legs begin to quiver; and knowing his own was approaching rapidly.

“That’s it sweetheart, come around daddy’s cock… Gonna cum so fucking deep inside your cunt. Would you like that?” You could see a thin line of perspiration cascading down his cheekbone, he was almost breathless and his thrusts were messier now.

“Yes da-AHH!“ you whipped a hand up to your face, holding your mouth shut as you came. You dug the hand you had placed on his shoulder deep into his skin and was quickly reminded of his marriage to your mother. You hoped you hadn't left any nail indents she might see.

You felt his hot seed spurt onto your walls as he rested his head on yours, mouth open wide and letting out a silent groan. His release was long and powerful. The both of you were left panting, the only noise in the room being your own breaths and a small creak from the stool when he softly set you down onto it.

He pulled out, your mixed juices gushing out of you along with the sexual haze you had been overcome with. The severity of what you had just done began to settle in. His head still resting on yours as you started freaking out, contemplating what would happen if your mother was to ever find out what had just occurred.

You wrapped your arms around his back, needing his comfort and squeezing him in an urgent hug, which he returned. his fingers stroked the sweaty skin of your back, trying to ease the thoughts he too had running through his mind. He lifted your chin up, the look he had in his eyes telling you everything would be okay.

Kissing you cautiously, he savoured the feeling of your lips on his and prayed he would get a chance to feel them again. “Are you okay?” He whispered

You didn’t really know if you were. On one hand, that was something you had wanted for a long time and it had been far better than you ever imagined, but on the other you had just helped your stepfather cheat on your mother. “I don’t know. I think so.”

He stood up, grabbing your sweater and panties, handing them to you before putting his boxers back on. “Well, at least that paper won’t seem like such big problem now.” He chuckled, doing his best to find humour in a humourless situation.

You giggled a little, hurrying to throw on your sweater and being reminded of how he had ruined your panties. “True. Now this can hang over my head instead.” You wiped any left over salvia you had on your face onto your sleeve and thought about how you would probably need to shower after this. “At least the sex was worth it, right?”

He sent you a dark smirk, picking up his bottle of water and walking towards the kitchen door. “It was. hopefully it'll be just as good next time too.” You opened your mouth, faking shock at his confidence as you watched him open the door.

“Goodnight Y/N” He gave you one last look as he sauntered through the door, getting ready to close it behind him and leave you alone in the kitchen with no one but your thoughts. The thoughts of your acts. Remembering all the little moments you had just shared together.

In that last moment before he left, you struck eye contact with him, chewing your inner lip and speaking.

“Goodnight, daddy.”

●●●●●●●●

Thank you sm for reading!🥺🖤

Tags: @dark-mei-rose @sojournmichael @ntxoza @blakescoven @ghostangels @jimmason @fernfiction @brattylovee @7-wonders @angelicmichael @melodylangdon @instincts-baby i'm so so sorry if you don't like this kinda fic or it has triggered you in anyway, but just let me know if it has and I won't tag you in this kind of thing ever again! You can also let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list too:)

[honestlywtfisgoingon]

A Match Set

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Pairing: Benny Watts x Reader

Summary: After meeting one night in New York, you and Benny Watts are drawn to each other. As you go through different experiences with one another, you grow closer until it finally gets to be too much for Benny.

Word Count: 1890

Warnings: none

Notes: aye this is my first fic because there is a serious lack of benny watts fics and i had to change that for myself. this will probably be multiple chapters that can be read separately.

It was your first art gallery, and you were both anxious and overjoyed to see people surveying your work. You had put so many hours into each piece and all kinds of people had poured in to look. It was a well known gallery, but the variety still surprised you. You looked around and saw some interesting characters, but your interest was piqued when your eyes fell upon a particular cowboy.

He was inspecting one of your favorite paintings which had chess pieces as the subject. The pieces merely served as part of a metaphor in your art, as the game and all its complexities had never really been your thing. As you looked closer at the man you realized that, not only had his outfit sparked your interest, but he seemed familiar too. Out of curiosity, you walked over and stood next to him.

“What are your thoughts?” You asked, motioning towards the painting.

His initial expression showed surprise that you were talking to him, but he recovered quickly, saying, “It’s good. I think the artist has talent.” You felt a bit of pride hearing that. You opened your mouth to say thanks, but you decided not to reveal yourself. You wanted him to give his honest opinion without fear of offending you.

“So do you like chess?” He nodded to the painting. Hearing this you made the connection as to why you remembered seeing him before. Your father owned a little bookshop back home and you were looking into chess for the same painting you were discussing right now. You had seen this cowboy on the back of one of those books, but you hadn’t given it another thought, never actually expecting to meet him. You decided not to reveal this information either and continued with the conversation.

“I can play a modest game. You?”

“I can play a modest game.” He had a small smile as he shrugged.

“Your first lie.” You said smirking back.

He looked confused but curious, so you explained about your research, your fathers bookshop, the whole story. He puffed up a bit after hearing that, looking impressed that you knew who he was.

“What’s your name?” He asked, still curious.

“Y/n” you replied.

“Nice name. I’m Benny, but you already seem to know who I am. On the other hand I don’t know anything about you.” He reached out his hand to shake yours.

“You walk in here with a black trench coat but you make me out to be the mysterious one,” you smirked as you took his hand. He chuckled a bit, and after your introduction, you asked why he was here.

“My friend knows the artist actually. She told us we had to see her work before going out.” You hummed as you thought about what to say, but he interjected.

“I don’t usually do this, and I’m not sure why I’m doing this now, but maybe you’d consider coffee with me. I won’t tell anymore lies” he joked.

You laughed a little, mildly shocked. “you’re not sure why? That’s flattering” you teased.

“Not what I meant-“ but before you could come to a conclusion on his sudden offer, you heard an excited french accent.

“Y/n! Im so proud! You finally got to show off all that talent!” Your friend Cleo ran up to you and wrapped her arms around you. You hadn’t seen her since you lived in France for a few months and you had missed her. You left for France after you realized you weren’t really needed at home, so you dedicated yourself to trying to soak up some culture. She looked gorgeous like you remembered, fitting for a model. You continued your reunion embrace for a moment before she waved her arms to the men and woman behind her. She introduced the friends she had brought to your show as Arthur, Hilton, and Annette, who all smiled at you. Cleo paused to turn to the cowboy saying, “I see you’ve already met Benny.”

“Yeah we met,” he said, “but I didn’t know this was your work. I would’ve told you how impressed I am.” Your cheeks turned a light pink at the praise.

“Look at Benny, impressed with someone besides himself for once.”Cleo poked fun and the group let out a laugh.

“Hey I’m not a narcissist or anything, don’t listen to Cleo,” Benny made excuses to you, only mildly offended.

“Sure you aren’t. I have nothing against narcissists,” you jokingly assured him. This answer didn’t comfort the man who had essentially just asked you on a date.

You and Cleo continued to catch up and you talked more with her friends as well. Benny just stood next to you, and you caught him glancing at you once or twice, but you just ignored it. Eventually you agreed to go out for drinks with the group, walking with them to a bar a couple blocks down called Hal’s.

You all squeezed into a booth while Arthur went off to get drinks. You sat on the outside, watching the people out on the floor next to you giggling and dancing. Having a couple of drinks beforehand must’ve contributed to the large amount of people out there, you thought. Arthur eventually announced his return by laying a tray of drinks in the middle of the table.

You were all conversing and sipping on your drinks when Annette decided she wanted to dance. Cleo agreed enthusiastically, but the rest of us refused. She suggested we all take shots to make it easier, but once again we tried to turn her down. she pleaded, “come on guys, it’s a Saturday night, and you can’t possible lose something from it. Have a little bit of fun with me!”

We relented, having a feeling that she wasn’t going to give up any time soon. She gave a little clap and handed out the shots. You knocked yours back with everyone else and grimaced at the bitter taste. Shaking it off, you slid out of the booth so the others could get out. You moved back into your spot after they all made their way to the throng of people. You decided you would join them later, but you liked to observe first. You looked over and the only two left were you and Benny. You slid over to him, not wanting to sit awkwardly on the other end like he wasn’t there.

“I bet you five bucks that lady is bored out of her mind.” He pointed to a blonde on a date across the bar, “Either she’s an alcoholic or she’s trying to tune out baldie.” You looked at the woman and saw she was surrounded by empty glasses while the man in front of her seemed like he was boasting endlessly. You both started making observations about the various people in the bar. Most of them were snarky comments that you whispered into each other’s ears, giggling, but you also created imaginary lives for them, guessing who they were and how they got here. After sharing a couple laughs, you sighed and reached a comfortable lull before Benny brought up what you knew was coming.

“So have you thought about my earlier question?” He eyed you seriously all of a sudden, but you didn’t feel any pressure. He seemed the type of confident where he thought you would say yes, but he could recover if you said no.

You weighed in your impression of him. He was cute, with fluffy hair and nice eyes that were a kind of chocolate color. He was funny and you he seemed intelligent (I mean he had to be, he played competitive chess). Albeit his trench coat and hat were a bit eccentric, but that wasn’t a bad thing, in fact you found it attractive.

“So have you?” He asked again, leaning his head in.

“Oh uh” you hadn’t realized while you were thinking that you had zoned out looking at him. Clearing your throat you said, “I’m free for coffee.” You stopped, “But you have to wear the hat.”

“Wouldn’t leave home without it” he winked.

Suddenly you were shoved against him as your tipsy friends barreled back into the booth.

“We should probably join them” you said as you moved off him, pushing one of the leftover drinks towards him. He nodded and you both drank some more just to get on the same level as your friends.

“You two haven’t even danced! I saw you whispering. Too busy flirting?” Annette smiled as she slurred a few of her words. You just looked down, cheeks pink, leaving Benny to respond.

“How were you watching us when you were dancing with that guy, the one who looks like he’s only ever kissed his mother.”

“No, I’m sure he’s kissed other people! I mean he did seem young but...” Annette looked over to the guy she dragged to dance with her earlier. He stood sheepishly in the corner, looking like he hadn’t outgrown his baby fat yet, and was definitely not a city type. “He’s just shy!” She defended, but me and Benny just looked at each other, falling into giggles. You figured out that night that Annette was one of those drunks who got a little childish, but she was sweet.

You would’ve been content to keep hanging out with Benny, if it hadn’t been for Cleo who grabbed your hand and pulled you out to the dance floor. You looked back at Benny, but gave in and allowed her to twirl you into the crowd. You were having a good time with Cleo, Hilton and Arthur dancing on either side of her. You were soon out of breath, but didn’t mind, enjoying it all.

You had moved to the city a couple months ago, but hadn’t had time to make friends, focusing on your work and setting up your apartment. You missed having company, people who were fun and interesting.

You continued to move to the beat of the song until you bumped into someone. You looked back to see Benny smiling next to you. You smiled back and let him in to the little circle you and your friends had created. You felt a little warm, not from the dancing, but from being close to him.

After fifteen minutes you were all tired and made your way to the booth to gather all your things up and pay the bill. You walked out of the bar and into the chilly night air, grateful for the residual body heat that came from all the dancing. You hugged Cleo and your new friends goodbye as took turns getting into taxis and headed towards their homes. Hilton offered to wave you down a taxi too, but you declined, explaining that your home wasn’t a far walk. He shrugged and gave you another hug before climbing into the yellow car. Once again it was just you and Benny.

“Just the two of us again huh?” He spoke, and he definitely didn’t sound turned off by the idea.

“Fate I guess.”

“Sure” he said casually.

“Do you not believe in fate?” You asked. You weren’t a firm believer in the idea but something in his tone made you curious.

“I’ve had this debate before I think. I’m not sure, but I’d like to figure it out. How about you?” He said. You imagined him having a lot of debates. You had just met him, but he seemed to fall into the intellectual category. They always kept things interesting, and frequently offered new perspectives.

“I mean everything’s gotta mean something, there has to be a purpose. I just don’t know if we make our own purpose or if we’re given a purpose; fate.” You mused, not meaning to get existential. He didn’t seem to mind.

“You seem like the type to want to figure things out too.” He said ‘too’. So you and him both liked to do that. You added that to the growing list of things you liked about him.

“I guess I am.” He had a pleased look on his face and you just shrugged as you started to say goodbye.

“Wait” he grabbed your arm, “I heard you say you didn’t live far, I could walk you.” Before you could protest he told you, “it wouldn’t be a big deal, I heard you tell Hilton where you lived, we’re in the same direction.”

You agreed, finding yourself wanting to talk to him more. He offered you his arm casually and you laughed to yourself a little at the gesture, taking it anyway. You walked down the sidewalk, talking and laughing. You felt comfortable as you felt like you leveled with him. It seemed like too short of a walk as you suddenly found yourself at the door of your apartment building.

“Guess this is goodnight.” Benny said as you both stood on the sidewalk.

“What about coffee?” You asked.

“Glad you remembered. I’ll pick you up at twelve tomorrow, we can make it lunch. I’ll pick you up.” He said it decidedly, like it was just a fact. Something you noticed he did often.

“Ok then. Lunch. Tomorrow. Am I forgetting anything?” You said as you stepped halfway into the doorway.

“If you are we can figure that out later. I’ll see you.” He waved with a slight smile.

You waved back and smiled in return, watching him walk away before closing the door. You sped up to your apartment, letting yourself finally feel the excitement and anticipation of going out. You stripped off your clothing as soon as you got in and flopped on your bed, feeling sort of giddy. You felt like you and Benny were connected, though you had barely met him. As you laid down you smiled to yourself, looking forward to tomorrow.

[ahkaahshi]

stay here [iwaizumi hajime x reader]

pairing: iwaizumi hajime x fem reader

genre: smut (18+) and fluff

warning(s): explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, a bit of dub-con (bc of the fact that alcohol was involved), alcohol consumption, swearing, brief mentions of toxic relationships

word count: 3.5k

overview: a post break-up night at the club with your best friend ends a bit differently than you’d expected

notes: a commission for the lovely @devlovesiwa-channn​! sorry this took so long bb but I hope the wait was worth it! thanks for supporting me ily ❤️

The heavy bass pulsating through the club shakes every bone in your body as you sit at the bar, head propped up by your hand and fingers tapping against the side of your face to the beat of the song playing. From where he is beside you, Iwaizumi watches you breathe out another, long sigh with furrowed eyebrows.

“Oi,” he barks, drawing your (e/c) gaze to his dark one illuminated by the bright lights flashing from the ceiling, “Quit thinking about that jerk, would ya?”

With a roll of the eyes, you retort, “You say that like it’s so easy, Hajime. I did just get my heart broken not even a week ago.”

“And you say that like I’m clueless. Don’t forget who’s spent the past—what is it now? Five?—nights over at your place, watching movies with you and making sure you get to bed at a decent time.” His words elicit an immediate feeling of guilt that wells up inside your gut and makes you avert your gaze to search for the bartender who should be finishing up your drinks any moment now.

What he’d said was entirely true, and you knew it. Ever since you’d gotten out of a relationship earlier that week, you’d been a bit of an emotional wreck. Mountains of snack wrappers and tissues had already been piled up in the trash bin placed in your room when Iwaizumi had first showed up at your apartment after hearing about the news. He’d sat with you every evening this week, huddled beneath the covers of your bed or a pile of blankets on the couch while you’d switched between directing words seething with venom towards your ex and struggling to speak through sobs. He’d made sure that you’d eaten your meals, gone to bed at a decent hour, and had done everything in his power to be the friend you’d needed.

So, to even mention that you’d just endured a heartbreak like he had no idea about the situation was nothing less than a slap in the face to him—and you knew it. However, the noticeable discomfort written on your face has Iwaizumi shaking his head as if trying to negate the harshness of his statement.

“Hey,” he tries again in as soft a voice he can use when he’s having to compete with the music blaring, “all I’m saying is that I’ve seen the hell you’ve been put through because of that asshole, so I want you to be able to take your mind off of it for a bit and enjoy this night out, okay?”

You can’t help but chuckle in a way that reflects how jaded you feel by your predicament but shoot him a small smile anyway as you respond, “No promises.”

“We’ll see about that,” he challenges, a smirk flashing across his lips when the bartender sets down two shot glasses on the metal bar top before you. As if in synchronization, the two of you reach for your drinks at the same time and clink them together in a toast. “Here’s to a good night.”

After downing your shot, squeezing your eyes shut and taking a sharp inhale at the burning sensation of the alcohol traveling down your throat, you state, “Gonna need a few more before we get started with that.” Iwaizumi nearly chokes when you raise your hand to summon the bartender for an instant refill so you can tilt your head back once more to knock another one down. “What?” you question upon noticing his wary gaze, “You said you wanted me to have fun, didn’t you?”

“I’m not hauling your ass out of here if you get wasted, (f/n).”

“Guess our definitions of fun are a bit different, then.” He clenches his jaw and grunts with indignation at your response, and you laugh heartily at his annoyance, reaching over to graze the sleeve of his floral button-up shirt with your fingers. “I’m kidding! I promise I’ll stay conscious.” Another, louder murmur of disagreement that echoes from behind his pursed lips has you rolling your eyes and placing both your hands on his muscular shoulders. “Learn how to take a joke, would ya?”

He huffs, “It’d be easier to if what you’d just said hadn’t actually happened before.”

Sighing, you move your grip from his shoulders to the hem of your skirt, holding it down as you hop off the barstool. “Well, if I have to choose between sitting here, recounting my unfortunate run-ins with alcohol or dancing to this mediocre song, I think I’m gonna head to the dance floor.” After attempting to give your friend money for the drinks that he refuses out of kindness, since your plans for the evening had been made by him to begin with, you offer, “You know where to find me,” before making your way through the throngs of clubbers to the dance floor at the other end of the venue.

Iwaizumi shakes his head as he watches your figure disappear in amongst the sea of people and turns his attention to the empty shot glass he’s taken to tracing his fingers along pensively. As much as he wants to ignore the thoughts that have a habit of returning each time he sees you fall out of love with someone else, he can’t seem to rid himself of them—of the idea that maybe, just maybe, things would be different if you were with him instead. All this time, he’d been sitting on the sidelines, forced to play spectator in the games that other men seemed to enjoy playing with your heart while knowing damn well he would treat you with the respect you deserved.

It makes him a bit angry for you, actually, the way others haven’t known what to do with your heart after you’ve given it to them. He knows better than most that you can’t help who you choose to fall in love with—since he’s felt a natural affinity towards you since the first moment he met you—yet he can’t help but hope, after each of your breakups, that you give him a chance with your heart instead. However, out of respect for you, since you haven’t given him any indications that you might return his feelings, he’s kept quiet and maintained your close friendship.

The nagging thoughts persist, and each time, he shoves them into the darkest corner of his mind so he can help you pick up the pieces of your heart after another man drops it.

But they return when he eventually ventures out to the dance floor to find you after you’d returned to the bar for another round of shots to fuel your agenda of forgetting about your ex and sauntered away once more. Navigating through the waves of gyrating bodies finally brings him within a few feet’s distance of where you stand, swaying along to the music without a care in the world. 

As he watches you with the same admiration he would give the only twinkling star in a dark, nighttime sky, he wonders how your former boyfriend could’ve ever thought to treat you the way he had—with such blatant disregard for your feelings. Anyone who tried to dim your light wasn’t the one for you, and now all he wants is for you to shine brighter than you had before. Whether or not you do so for him doesn’t matter in his eyes. He just wants to see your radiance and happiness return.

Just as he’s about to approach you so he can join in on the fun, the song changes into one he knows well—because it’s your favorite. He can’t count the number of times he’s listened to you belt out the lyrics while driving or caught glimpses of you performing bits of the choreographed routine you must’ve created whenever you hear it played in a public setting, but what he sees unfold before him this time is entirely different to anything he’s witnessed before. 

Even if he didn’t want to look, it’s impossible to ignore you when the thin veil of sweat over your skin makes you shine under the bright, multicolored lights in a dazzling display as you move to the beat. With the way your body’s undulating in cadence with the music, a seductive look on your face while your hands run from your torso down to your thighs, you’ve attracted more than a few hungry gazes. But his is the only one that you meet with your own, silently beckoning him over to you moments before you lift a finger to summon him in a request to join you. His feet carry him across the distance separating the two of you without a second thought.

There’s a gentle, somewhat amused smile on his face at seeing you finally letting loose, but it soon becomes much more serious when he feels your fingers clench around the fabric of his shirt. The space around you is hot and charged, and you’re barely able to tell one direction from the other with the way your head’s spinning in a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, but you know exactly what you’re doing. The heat of his body radiates onto your hands as you run them along his toned torso while singing along to the song’s lyrics, and you relish in the way his dark eyes are traveling along every inch of your skin.

When your hands reach his, you turn your back towards him and place his palms on both sides of your waist. Feeling his hold on you tighten and strong fingers pressing against your skin spurs you to grind your hips against him slowly in an attempt at testing the waters. He encourages your actions by pulling you closer to him and moving in synchronization with you. His acceptance and reciprocation of your invitation has heat pooling in your stomach and your heart fluttering in your chest.

The way your bodies as one, like they’ve been created to fit perfectly together in this moment has any restraint you would’ve normally shown evaporating completely. In your mind, you only want him. You’ve known that. You’ve known that for so long, yet you’d been out chasing down other men who’d inevitably become the sources of your heartaches. Now, you think it’s high time you finally go after who it is you’ve truly been yearning for in silence for far too long.

Once a change in the song brings an end to your fairly explicit dancing, you turn to face him again, (e/c) eyes drifting from his own down to his lips as your hands instinctively find his arms to steady yourself in amongst all the movement surrounding you. He seems to hesitate for a moment, since the two of you stand and stare at each other in silence despite the bass sending vibrations through your chests, but he eventually finds the courage to act on his desires. In an instant, his large hand is moving to cup your face and bring it closer to his so he can press a strong kiss against your lips.

A mixture of exhaustion and utter euphoria knocks the wind out of your lungs, sending soft pants tumbling out of your mouth when he finally breaks the kiss. “Hajime…” you utter, voice barely audible above the vocals bouncing off every surface of the club’s interior.

The distinct scent of alcohol taints the breath that fans across your face when he asks, “Yeah?”

“I want you. I want you so badly. Please.” The confession falls off your lips with such ease that you question why you haven’t been able to say it all this time.

A curse word escapes his mouth in a gentle whisper, and you can feel his hard-on against your body when he pulls you in for another heated kiss. “Wanna get out of here?” he wonders. Your enthusiastic nod forms a smile across his lips, and his arm is wrapping around your waist to safely guide you through the crowds so he can sort out a ride home.

What happens next all feels like a blur to you, since all you can think about the entire car ride back is having Iwaizumi’s hands all over your body the moment you get to your doorstep. It appears you’re not the only one who’s impatient, since he’s caging you against the wall in the entryway with his body moments after you’ve kicked off your shoes and locking lips with you once more. The combination of the booze and the pleasure is making your head spin, but you’re able to take his hand and pull him into the bedroom with you so your back can be against the mattress instead.

The strong, passionate nature of his sloppy, open-mouthed kisses serves as a telltale sign of how long he’s been waiting to experience such an intimate moment with you. All along, he’d thought he would want to take his time in this situation—trailing gentle kisses across every inch of your skin and making sure no part of you is left needing his tender but firm touch. However, in the heat of the moment, he’s quick to abandon any ideals of a slower pace, intent on ravishing you.

Your fingers fumble with the buttons on his shirt so you can push it off his broad shoulders as his hands work on yanking off your little clubbing outfit. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest with excitement at the new, uncharted territory you’re both delving into together. For the first time in the many years you’ve known one another, you’re seeing each other at your most vulnerable states.

A gentle moan sounds from your throat at the feeling of his fingers traveling between your legs so they can slide along the saturated fabric covering your slit. Wrapping your arms around his back and pulling him closer to you, you bring your hot bodies flush against one another so you can taste more of the alcohol lingering on his tongue. He swallows another whimper you release when his fingers shove your panties aside so they can toy with your sensitive clit. The sharp sensation of your fingernails pressing into his skin makes him grunt gently, but also sends a rush through him like a buzz of electricity.

“That feel good?” he murmurs, his deep voice prompting your walls to clamp around his thick fingers as he pushes them inside of you.

Hips bucking at his thumb stroking your pearl and legs already shaking from just how mesmerizing his touch is alone, you nod in response and breathe, “So good.” His lips return to yours for another kiss before forming a smile as they press against your jawline, neck, and collarbone, slowly making their way down towards your breasts. Feeling his tongue drag across one of your hardened nipples has you crying out softly as your hands fly to his head, fingers carding through his dark hair.

The delicacy with which he’s sucking on your pebbled bud sharply contrasts the fast, fervent motions of his fingers thrusting into your warm, wet core, edging closer and closer to your sweet spot each time.

“H-Hajime!” Your voice shudders when his name tumbles off your tongue. “Want you inside of me… please, baby.”

Hearing your voice become so needy and desperate as you beg has him groaning against your skin. “Wanna cum all over my cock, princess?” he suggests lowly, moving his head away from your breasts so he can look down at your eyes clouded with lust.

Your heart skips a beat at the name he calls you in jest being used in this situation instead, and you gaze up at him with a mixture of awe and affection burning in your chest until your mouth falls open again at his fingers kneading your sweet spot. You moan loudly in place of the words you’d meant to say, but continue once you take a breath, “Yes! Please, fill me up!”

The way you sound makes him want to do anything for you, and he withdraws his fingers from inside your core so he can unbuckle his belt and push his pants down. Your eyes widen at the sight of his large dick adorned with beads of precum, which he notices and acknowledges by rubbing soothing circles on your thighs while he rids you of your soaked underwear and spreads your legs further apart so he can slot his torso between them. “You can take me, baby; I know you can,” he reassures you in between gentle pecks to your lips.

You hum in agreement, your gaze focusing on his as he aligns his leaking cockhead with your entrance and pushes inside you slowly, stretching your walls in a way that sends currents of both pain and pleasure shooting through your body. He groans, “Oh, fuck; you feel so good,” while your pussy swallows him inch by inch until he’s fully sheathed inside your inviting warmth. He starts with a slower pace than expected given how quickly he was thrusting his fingers into you just moments earlier, rocking his hips against yours and nudging your cervix.

“Faster, Hajime, please,” you beg breathlessly, “I need you.”

A particularly hard thrust he can’t hold back at hearing your request has you mewling with both surprise and satisfaction. “I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he growls, heavy breaths falling onto your ear as he picks up his pace and intensity, filling your stomach with a familiar warmth, “Gonna be the best you’ve ever had.”

His strong hand gripping your hip, lifting you up slightly to meet the angle of his precise thrusts—despite the animalistic desire that’s overcome him—has your legs trembling where they’re wrapped around his waist. The sound of his skin smacking against yours is barely audible above your own moans mingling with his loud grunts. All you can feel is him. Every inch of his body, every ridge of each muscle beneath his hot skin, and every ragged sigh that fans over your neck. He’s all you want, and you can’t help but voice your desires over and over again in the form of his name.

“H-Hajime, I’m gonna cum!” you squeal when he starts drilling deeper inside of you, sending waves of pleasure flowing over your body with each thrust. Your toes are curling, your heart’s racing, every muscle in your body’s tensing as you dangle on the edge of your orgasm—so tantalizingly close to coming undone.

He seems to know what you need to reach the state of euphoria you’re craving, since he pulls out of you to flip you over onto your stomach. The room tilts around you ever so slightly at the sudden change in orientation, but your head drops to the comforter when he pulls your hips up towards his and slams into from behind instead. More feverish sounds of pleasure and begs of “Don’t stop!” leave your mouth unabashedly when the sensations overwhelming you slacken your jaw and create white spots in your vision.

“That’s it!” Iwaizumi hisses as your pussy spasms around him and you cry out his name in the heat of your orgasm, “Fuck, baby; you’re gonna make me cum.”

Your velvety walls clenching around his dick so affectionately and your hips thrashing against his as you ride out your high has him reaching his as well moments later, and he releases inside of you, filling you to the brim with warmth. His hands on your hips keep them in place while he finishes, and he remains inside of you a few seconds afterwards before pulling out and lying down on the bed beside you.

“Fuck…” you sigh as your chest rises and falls with deep breaths. The exasperated tone in your voice causes worry to bubble in Iwaizumi’s chest for a brief moment until you turn to regard him with a bright smile. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Glad you feel that way too,” is his response delivered with a chuckle.

In the darkness only interrupted by pale shards of moonlight seeping in between the blinds, your hand finds his face so you can tilt it towards yours and press another, tender kiss against his lips. “I’m sorry,” you whisper even though your mouths are still connected.

“Why?” His fingers brush your hair away from your face on their way to rest at the nape of your neck.

“Because I should’ve been with you all this time and not those other losers.” There’s a short pause, bathing the room in silence save for the beating of your heart against your ribcage. “I love you, Hajime—and I have loved you—but I’ve just been running away because I’m scared of ruining things like I have with other guys.”

The warmth his lips spread over your body when they return to yours puts you at ease, as does his arm snaking around your waist to pull you closer to him.

“I love you too, (f/n),” he confesses, pecking the crown of your head, “So how about you stop running and stay here with me, hmm?”

Nestling your face against the crook of his neck and taking a deep breath, you sigh, “That’s all I want.”

masterlist ⭐︎ treat me to a coffee!

taglists (see pinned post on my blog for form)

general: @dinablossom​​, @newfriendjen​​, @devlovesiwa-channn​​, @ohbyunhunn​, @aftcrlust​​, @mister-future​​, @kyleclxin​​, @kac-chowsballs​​, @osamusmiya​​, @nit-sir-hc​​, @arixtsukki​​, @shinsurou​​, @ichorizaki​​, @dominikmagnus​​, @yamagucji​​

iwaizumi: @misora-msby​,@lotsoffandomrecs​, @tsumue​, @heyhinata​, @cuddlysoftbear​

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

you say you hate me

summary: four times you were forced to spend time with Matthew plus one time you chose to.

warnings: mentions of drinking, swearing

word count: 7.2k

note from the writer: is it bad that I’ve already started another Matt fic? also this gif is *chef’s kiss* amazing

ONE

You knew you ran the risk of running into him when you moved from St. Louis to Calgary. But you couldn’t pass up the job opportunity you were given, even if it meant you were looking over your shoulder as if to avoid running into him.

But after three months of living in Calgary you hadn’t seen him, so you were certain you were in the clear. You reasoned that he would’ve popped up sooner, you followed each other on Instagram and have each other added on Snapchat, so you knew that he knew you were in Calgary. You pushed him to the back of your mind, though, not wanting him to take up any more residence in your mind than he already did. And after a while you figured you were safe from his presence and any headaches that seemed to follow him around.

So imagine your surprise when he shows up while you’re in the middle of a date.

Chris is a nice guy. It’s your third date, and the bar he’s taken you to is a little more on the casual side, but the Edmonton vs. Canucks game was on the television above the bar and you knew he was a big hockey guy.

Clearly, you had a type.

“So, I think my boss is going to give me a big project, which would be a huge step in the right direction for the promotion I—” You were gushing about the news you had received earlier in the day, but you were unable to finish your thought as Chris yelled.

“Oh, fuck off, Mcdavid! You should have scored that.”

After realizing that he wasn’t talking about your ability to buy a goal or calling you McDavid, you learned two things about the man sitting across from you. One, he hadn’t been listening to a single word you were saying and you could count on the hockey game being more interesting to him than anything you could have said. You should have known, anyways, on your first date he spent five whole minutes talking about how the Oilers were his favorite team after you mentioned you grew up in St. Louis. And two, he was that kind of hockey fan. The kind that tore down their team’s top players over any little screw-up. The kind that made your skin crawl after having grown up with the sport.

“It was a rookie mistake.” Chris’ attention turned to you since it was a T.V. timeout and you blinked at him for a moment, wondering just how your night took a downturn so quickly. The bar was so low, and he managed to limbo under it.

“McDavid. Rookie mistake?” You blanched, propping your chin on your hand as you waited to see what kind of bullshit excuse he funneled at you. He stuttered over his words, and you were about to interject with a very well laid out explanation about how players were people and able to make mistakes without having their skill questioned. Plus, it was McDavid.

But then a hand landed casually on your shoulder, and your first instinct was to turn and face whoever decided it was a good idea to randomly touch with a scowl. Your frown only deepened when you spotted who it was, completely ignoring the choked noise Chris made.

Of course he had to show up on the one night you were on a date.

“Couldn’t hide from me forever.” Matt drawled easily, removing his hand from you and leaning against the edge of the tall table you were sitting at. You rolled your eyes, not at all surprised at the fact that he decided to start the first actual conversation you’ve had with him in weeks with a tease.

“I’ll try harder next time.” You stated dryly, taking a sip of your nearly empty drink and avoiding the gaze of both men around you. Well, Chris was too busy eyeing Matthew and puffing out his chest as if he was trying to assert his dominance. Please.

You didn’t get the appeal of Matthew. Sure, he was attractive and pretty good at hockey, not that you’d ever admit that to anyone, but he was a pest. He grew up next door to you, which meant the better part of your childhood was spent at the mercy of Matt’s teasing. You adored the rest of his family, you had a four-hundred and thirty-six day Snapchat streak with Taryn, a number seven Senators jersey hanging up in your closest, Chantal’s number was saved as ‘mama tkachuk’ in your phone, and you had once called Keith in a panic when you were sixteen and got a flat tire and your parents weren’t answering.

Matt had laughed at you when you stumbled walking across the stage at graduation.

You were not his biggest fan.

“Hot date?” Matt questioned, not even looking over to Chris who nodded the moment the words entered the air. You winced at the question, because you were technically on a date, but you weren’t exactly feeling it, especially after what had just transpired. But you would marry Chris on the spot if it meant annoying Matt.

“I’ll see you later.” You spoke through gritted teeth, plastering on a forced and obviously fake smile. Matt grinned at you, his mischievous look that you had seen a thousand times growing up that warned you that he was going to do something to get under your skin made warning alarms flash in your mind.

Your suspicions were proven correct when he reached a hand up to ruffle your hair before slipping back into the crowd. You pouted, glaring at his back until you couldn’t see his mop of curls anymore and turned to face Chris again. Your date was looking at you with an annoyed expression, one that was surely mirrored on your face but the only difference was his look was directed at you and yours was at Matthew for showing up out of nowhere.

“Are you okay—?” You barely got the question out before Chris was interrupting you. Again.

“You can’t talk to him if we’re going to see each other.” He stated, as if it was that easy.

It wasn’t as if you wanted to hang out with Matt, not since you hit middle school, but it would be a cold day in hell before some guy told you who you could and could not talk to.

“We’re neighbors, nothing will ever be going on there but our families are good friends. I literally have to talk to him whenever I go home.” You weren’t sure why you were explaining this to him, maybe a part of you wanted to see if he’d bactrack and apologize, even if the relationship was damaged beyond repair. Those hopes were squashed the moment he spoke next.

“Then I’m out.” And he was standing up, barely giving you a second look before he was headed towards the door.

It was pettiness that had you crossing the bar in search of the one person that you couldn’t stand to be around for an extended period of time. You had seen a whole new side of Chris in a matter of five minutes and a small part of you was glad that Matt interrupted and brought it out. Emphasis on small, though.

“You owe me a drink.” You nudged Matt’s shoulder, sliding in next to him at the bar. You didn’t care that you were interrupting his conversation with one of his teammates, you had just been dumped by the guy you’d been somewhat seeing for a few weeks because he couldn’t handle the idea of you knowing a NHL player. “Scared my date away because he didn’t like the fact that I talk to you.”

“I feel like I did you a favor, if he really is that insecure. We don’t even like each other.” He had waved down the bartender with a chuckle, ordering you a beer like the one he had clutched in his hand. It was seconds before the cool glass was set in front of you. Perks of being a hotshot hero in Calgary, you assumed.

“I’ll drink to that.” You clinked your bottle against his, taking a generous sip as Matt watched with an amused grin. He was leaning against the counter, his back now fully turned on his teammates. Clearly, he wasn’t planning on letting you finish your drink in peace.

“Mom told me you got your dream job, so tell me about it.”

“Like you care.” You rolled your eyes with a scoff. You were feeling especially bitter, and you were taking it out on Matt. To be fair, he was taking it all in stride, but you knew he was biding his time until he could make a joke.

“Try me.” Matt wasn’t a bad guy. Annoying, sure. A pain in your ass? Since the day you met. But you knew him better than most—begrudgingly, of course—and you could tell he was genuinely curious. He probably had plans to tease you about it later, you would put money on the fact, but with the way your night had turned out, you couldn’t find it in you to care.

“Fine, but just until I finish this drink and my Uber gets here.”

TWO

mama tkachuk: Hi sweetie! Keith and I are in town for the weekend and were wondering if you wanted to get dinner with us and Matt! Text me when you get a chance!

It was so unfair. How could Chantal be as sweet as she was and have produced a child like Matthew? You were so caught up in how kind her invitation was that you had agreed to meet up with them before it really set in that you would have to sit through a dinner with Matt.

You had arrived at the restaurant a few minutes later than the agreed upon time due to traffic, so everyone else was already at the table by the time you made it. Chantal was the first to jump up and greet you with a hug, Keith following after with a ‘how are you, kid’ and a tight squeeze. You shot Matt a tight-lipped smile, trying to remain civil infront of his parents, and he returned with his typical smug grin, though it was more subdued than usual as a result of sitting next to his mother.

“You always liked to be late.” Matt teased as you sat down. You rolled your eyes at him, annoyed but willing to let the comment slide for the sake of his parents.

“I don’t know why you guys bicker all the time, you used to tell us all the time that you were going to be a family someday. You guys even practiced with Taryn and Brady.” Chantal reminisced, and you smiled uneasily at the memory. It wasn’t necessarily an unpleasant one, some of your best memories took place in the Tkachuk living room. Back when you were kids, you and Matt were attached at the hip. Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum—if Matt was caught sticking his hand in the cookie jar you were right at his side reminding him to grab one for you too. This particular instance stuck out in your mind, though, because your mom teased you about it whenever she got the chance.

It was a rainy Saturday, Keith was out of town for hockey and your dad was at the office, which left the moms sitting in the kitchen chatting about whatever adults talked about. Taryn had just learned how to walk, which meant that she was trying to follow you around to the best of her ability, even if that meant watching from the sidelines as you played mini sticks with her brothers.

But after Matt had scored against you and Brady enough times, you declared that it was time for them to play your game—house. Taryn was your baby, and she happily filled the roll as she toddled behind you. Brady was your other son, and Matt was the dad. You played like that for an hour or so, Matt pretending to come home from road trips while playing in the NHL just like his father, only to help you pretend to cook dinner and put ‘the kids’ to bed.

At six years old, he was a dream pretend-father.

“I can’t help it if Matthew runs his mouth too much.” You chirped, and though you meant it in good fun there was some seriousness. Matt never knew when to quit, his comments more obnoxious than endearing most of the time. Though, he did have his moments, you were willing to admit. You knew he had your back when it came down to it, but he also would be the first one to crash your date and tell the guy you were with some embarrassing story about you from when you were seven.

He did that no less than three separate times when you were teenagers.

“Remember when they pretended to get married at like six? And Matt cried when I told him that he wasn’t actually her husband.” Keith nudged his wife with a grin, his statement earning a groan from Matt. You flushed, keeping quiet as the memory flashed in your head—the theme of the night, apparently.

It was a summer wedding, so to speak. Sometime during the offseason your family and the Tkachuks rented a lake house for a week and you spent the entire time racing from one activity to the next while clutching Matt’s hand. Your aunt had just gotten married, so weddings were on your mind and you decided you wanted a party like she had. Your choices for potential husbands were limited, Brady and Matt the only other boys close to your age. When Brady claimed that you had cooties and ran away, Matt was the only option left and it simply took the bribe of sharing your dessert with him after dinner for him to agree.

You had made paper rings and even forced Matt to fake propose to you, all while both your mothers looked on with camera’s clutched in their hands. You had claimed your unending love for Matt that day, and he had done the same. In an effort to tease you, your mom had said that he had to kiss the bride and you both looked at her like she was crazy—though he did end up pressing a quick and sloppy kiss to the back of your hand to appease her.

And then twenty minutes later he shoved you off the dock because you were too scared to jump in.

Matt was watching you as his mother told the story, chuckling as she added in anecdotes about how she and your mother had almost started planning your real wedding that day and similar comments. It was no secret that she was rooting for you to get together with her son, and even though Keith would try to get his wife to tone down her comments, you saw his smug grin every once on a while.

The rest of dinner and dessert passed by with minimal reminiscing, and soon enough the check was paid. Matt picked up the bill, and though you tried to argue that you could pay for yourself, Matt simply stuck his tongue out at you and Keith said that he would’ve paid for everyone if he had only been able to grab the check faster. You rolled your eyes at Matt’s childishness, but thanked Keith for his kindness despite the fact that he hadn’t even really done anything.

“So where did you park?” Chantal asked as the four of you stepped outside. The cold air made you shiver, and you used one hand to tighten your coat around you while the other gestured over your shoulder in the general direction of where your car was.

“Like three blocks away. It was pretty busy when I got here.” You replied. Chantal nodded, opening her arms for a hug you readily reciprocated.

“I’ll walk you. It’s way too late for you to go by yourself.” Matt spoke up, interrupting your goodbyes with his parents. He handed his keys off to his dad so they could wait in the car while he went with you, and because he simply couldn’t just be nice, he added his next comment. “You’d probably get lost if I don’t go with you.”

“Thanks, Matt.” You said sarcastically, the roll of your eyes coming almost naturally. There wasn’t room for you to argue, because Chantal was nudging you in the opposite direction she was headed to get to Matt’s car. Part of you wondered if she somehow planned this in an another attempt to get you to spend time alone with her son. You didn’t have time to think about it too much, between saying goodbyes and making plans to meet up when you went home for the holidays, you were rushing a bit to get out of the cold.

While you walked, Matt stayed quiet, something you didn’t realize he was capable of. Your hands were shoved deep into your coat pockets to try and stay warm, but you felt his arm brush against yours every once in a while.

“Thanks for coming tonight, mom loved it.” He was softer now, his voice devoid of any of its usual smugness.

“Are you kidding? I love your parents.” You teased, trying to figure out where this quiet side of Matt was coming from. It was the side of him that rarely came out, especially in front of the media and never on the ice, but it was the side that you got along with the best. You stopped at your car, turning to face Matt. “Thanks for walking me.”

“No problem. Uh, text me when you get home, or whatever. So I know you got there safe.” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, a slight redness to his cheeks that caught you off guard. You nodded, unlocking your car and offering him one last smile and goodbye before climbing in.

You couldn’t help but grin to yourself as you drove home. He was trying.

THREE

You had the worst luck.

Firstly, the only flight you could get home for the holidays was a red-eye to try and save some money. Secondly, your parents were making you get a cab from the airport instead of coming to pick you up. It was fine, you were an adult and could handle both those things. You had long come to terms with it by the time you were settling into your seat as everyone boarded.

But third—

“No way am I this lucky.”

The sound of the familiar voice had you tilting your head back with a groan, not even bothering to look at the person who was dropping unceremoniously into the seat beside you. Though his curls were tucked under his hoodie and he was trying his best to remain undetected, his presence was one that you would recognize anywhere.

“I’m just really, really, unlucky.” You told Matt, and though your comment was a jab at him, he wore the same grin he always did.

“That’s mean.” He teased, reaching over to poke your side because of course he hasn't outgrown giving you jumper cables. You glared at him, momentarily pausing your efforts to dig through your bag in search of your headphones just so he knew how annoyed you were. Not that he cared, or that it ever really stopped him.

“Look, Matt, I’ve had a long day, and I was looking forward to just sleeping this whole flight.” You sighed, dragging a hand down your face in frustration.

“I’ll leave you alone, promise.” Matt grinned that stupidly smug grin of his.

Yeah, right. You thought, but kept the comment to yourself. It was better to let Matt think he won than invite him to keep going by replying. He grinned at you, simply miming zipping his lips shut as you rolled your eyes.

He lasted longer than you thought he would—ten minutes.

“I don’t know what you don’t like about me so much, it’s not the hockey thing, because you love Brady.” Matt spoke up, going so far as to pull your headphone out of your ear so you could hear him.

“Brady’s adorable and like a baby brother to me.” You said matter-of-factly, earning a snicker from Matt. “You chipped my tooth when we were twelve and then blamed it on me.”

“I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear that.” He snorted, and for a second you thought he’d leave it at that. He had succeeded in getting under your skin, just like he usually did. “And it was your fault. You weren’t paying attention.”

“You didn’t have to shoot the pucks at me that hard!” You frowned at the memory. You had offered to stand in goal for him while he practiced shooting, and though you were definitely not destined to play in the NHL like him, that didn’t stop him from acting as if he was taking part in the hardest shot competition.

Matt didn’t respond, instead he just shook his head with a grin. Clearly, he was more amused by the memory than you were.

He went back to leaving you alone, though he stole one of your headphones and placed it into his ear to listen. He scrunched his nose up at the song, and you rolled your eyes at the silent jab at your taste in music.

Eventually, you did end up falling asleep. When you woke up to Matthew shaking you gently, you realized that you had fallen asleep on his shoulder and that he was waking you since you had landed and people were starting to exit. You waited for the chirps to come about your subconscious action, knowing he probably had a few comments up his sleeve. Except, he didn’t say anything, only stood up to retrieve both of your carryon bags from the overhead storage.

Matt stuck by your side the entire time you got off the plane and headed to luggage claim, unable to help himself from chirping you at the fact you couldn’t find your suitcase. You poked your tongue out at him, admittedly a little juvenile on your behalf, when you spotted your bag come around the carousel. Before you could grab it, though, he snagged it and stuck his tongue out at you before departing into the airport in search of his parents. Now, you were forced to trail after him.

Your annoyance faded, though, when you heard Chantal call your and Matthew’s names. You smiled at the woman, who hugged her son quickly before turning and pulling you into her arms.

“Guess who I got to sit next to?” Matt chimed, sounding a bit too pleased with himself for your liking. You rolled your eyes, unable to help the tiny bit of amusement you felt at how excited Chantal looked at the idea that you had each other on the flight. You and Matt may both be adults, but to her, you were still toddlers that needed constant supervision and she loved the idea that you were there to watch after each other.

“Oh, that’s lucky!” Chantal cheered and you grit your teeth, forcing a smile on your face at the way Matt was grinning smugly at you. Okay, you figured it could have been worse, you could have been seated next to a creep, but you weren’t about to admit that to Matt.

“So lucky.” You muttered sarcastically. Thankfully, Matthew wasn’t given a chance to comment further on your response, as his dad spoke up before he could.

“Is your dad here? I got a new set of clubs I want to brag about.” Keith questioned and you shook your head with a genuine smile. Living next to a retired NHLer gave your dad plenty of opportunities to bring out his competitive side, and golf was definitely one of their favorite pastimes.

“No, he and mom couldn’t come to get me because they both had work.” You explained and Keith rolled his eyes in good fun. You always wondered how both families got along so well when you couldn’t stand Matt.

“Do you want a ride home then?” Chantal offered sweetly.

“That’d be great, thank you.” You were glad you wouldn’t have to worry about getting an Uber, and you didn’t feel as if you were crashing the Tkachuks’ time with their oldest son since as soon as you started to head to the car, Chantal fell in step with you.

“Oh, Matt, you’re being such a gentleman, carrying her suitcase for her.” Chantal gushed after having noticed that Matt had an extra bag and you didn’t have one. She shot you a look and you just knew this was only fueling her belief that you were destined to end up with Matt. She would probably mention it to your mother, and then you really never would hear the end of it.

“Didn’t know you had it in you.” Keith chirped, earning an eye roll from Matt and laughter from you and Chantal. It was all in good nature, the teasing comments a sign of love amongst the hockey family.

And really, you had no choice but to agree with Keith.

FOUR

“I need you to run next door and give this to Chantal.” Your mom told you, holding out a tray of holiday cookies. You sighed, reluctantly getting up from your spot on the living room couch. You weren’t doing anything, but the aspect of having to walk all the way next door was not totally appealing.

But you did as she said and stuffed on some shoes before heading next door and letting yourself in. Taryn was the first to greet you, taking the tray of cookies and leading you towards the kitchen. As soon as the platter was set down, you both helped yourself to a cookie.

“How’s Calgary? Is Matt showing up randomly to bug you?” She was teasing, but she was right. You laughed, nodding as you broke off a piece of your cookie to eat.

“He showed up while I was on a date, completely by chance, and ruined it.” You chuckled at the memory and at the way Taryn laughed loudly at that. It wasn’t entirely true, Chris was doing a pretty good job of ruining the date on his own, but Matt’s appearance was the final nail in the coffin.

“That’s because he's practically in love with you.” She spoke between giggles. You rolled your eyes, having heard the comment countless times before. It had followed you and Matt around since you were kids, and by the time you were thirteen it morphed from platonic love to your moms explaining what soulmates were to you guys. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t considered the idea of Matt having a thing for you, but you had long since given up on that idea.

You didn’t have time to comment on it, though, because speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

“What’re you guys talking about?” Matt marched into the room, a smug grin on his face. While he spoke, he reached across to where you were standing and broke off a piece of the cookie you were still eating. With a pout, you watched him pop your cookie into his mouth all the while eye contact with you and wearing a self-satisfied grin.

“Oh, just how you’re in love with each other.” Taryn said casually, her sentence punctuated by Matt choking on the cookie. Clearly, he was caught off guard.

“You deserved that, and no, we were not.” You told Matt as he tried to catch his breath. You couldn’t help the grin you were wearing, and for a brief second you acknowledged that he looked adorable all flustered. Matt shot a glare at his sister, who was laughing hysterically at him, and launched forward to dig his fingers into her sides.

You watched carefully as he tickled his sister mercilessly, preparing to make a break for the living room if he turned his attention to you. You were smiling, widely and genuinely, as you watched Matt mess around with his sister.

This was the Matt that you grew up best friends with.

As you were distracted, Matt let his sister go and she caught her breath while cursing him out and you let out a loud laugh at some of the creative things she said. She certainly was from a hockey family.

But then Matt turned his attention to you, a wicked grin on his face and a playful look in his eyes. Your own eyes went wide, and as soon as he took half a step towards you, you spun on your heel and dashed out of the kitchen.

You heard him chasing after you, but you didn’t risk looking back knowing that if you even wanted a chance to outrun him you would need to stay focused. And as you took a particularly sharp turn into the other room, you heard him crash into the wall, clearly not as agile as he thought he was.

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Tkachuk! I brought cookies from Mom!” You greeted with a laugh as you sprinted past Keith and Chantal in the hallway. You barely had time to register their looks of amusement before you felt Matt’s fingers brush your back, signaling that he was close to grabbing you.

“Don’t hurt her, we like her more than you!” Keith called after you, teasing Matt and catching him off guard enough that he stumbled, and you were able to put some distance between you and him. You were laughing maniacally, the sound mixing with Matt’s chuckles and Taryn encouraging you to run faster.

Eventually, you made it to the living room, and you spotted Brady’s head poking up behind the back of the couch as he watched some rerun hockey game. You know it’s a longshot that Matt will give up and that you need to bite the bullet and let him catch you, but your stubbornness is what makes you throw yourself over the back of the couch, your head landing in the lap of a very confused and surprised Brady.

“Protect me.” You order, grabbing the younger Tkachuk brother’s bicep as Matt leaned over the back of the couch, his curls wild and grin wicked. For a second, there was a softness in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat, but then he was back to being smug.

“Brady can’t stop me.” Matt teased, leaning against the back of the couch. Brady didn’t comment, though he rolled his eyes at his brother. It was an argument that had been going on for a decade or so—which brother was stronger? And though they wrestled from time to time, Brady being victorious more often than he used to be, you knew they would never actually fight. You had been there when Keith made them shake heads and promise not to drop the gloves the first time they played each other.

“He’s taller.” You argued, and Matt chuckled as he made his way around the couch. You watched as he lifted your legs, dropping into the spot on the couch they once occupied before resting your limbs across his lap.

“Doesn’t matter.” He replied, giving your shin a squeeze as he spoke. You rolled your eyes, getting comfortable in your spot laying across the Tkachuk brothers and turning to watch the Blues vs. Stars game Brady had put on.

It felt nice to laugh with Matt again. It was as if things were back to normal, and you tried to ignore the funny fluttering feeling in your stomach as his thumbs brushed back and forth along your legs. You hated it, because it was Matt, and you had long since declared that you couldn’t stand him. And yet, there you were, melting under his touch.

“Oh, come on, you’re not going to attack her?” Taryn complained as she dropped into the free chair on the other side of the room. You stuck your tongue out at her, smiling at the sound of Matt’s chuckles. You were going to make a comment about how she was supposed to be on your side in response, but Brady was faster, and his words—for whatever reason—made any reply die on your tongue.

“It’s because he’s in love with her.”

AND ONE MORE

You hated the fact that you weren’t able to sleep. But even more so, you hated the fact that you knew exactly why you couldn’t get your mind to turn off. You couldn’t stop thinking about how sweet Matt had been earlier in the day, and though you knew he always had a soft spot for his sister, for some reason this time it was hitting you differently. Plus Taryn and Brady’s ‘he’s in love with you’s were bouncing around your head.

Finally, after what felt like the hundredth time you had tossed around under the covers, you sat up and snagged your phone off of the nightstand. You sat up, unlocking your phone and opening messages and before you could really think about stopping yourself you typed out a text and sent it.

Only after the message was sent and you couldn’t do anything about it, did you reread what you said and check the time. You couldn’t help but cringe at the one in the morning ‘hey, are you up?’ text that seemingly glared back at you. But then the three dots appeared that signaled that he was typing, and you quickly slid out of the conversation so he wouldn’t think you were waiting for his text. You were, and though he responded within a minute, you didn’t want to give his ego that extra boost.

matthew: usually I’m the one that sends that text

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, having expected him to say something along those lines. You had practically handed that joke to him. Before you could type out a reply telling him to forget about it, your phone buzzed again with another text.

matthew: front door is unlocked, meet in the basement for a movie?

He was giving you a choice. You could go to bed and pretend this never happened and continue to tell everyone around you that the only thing you felt for Matt was annoyance. But you didn’t. You knew that you might regret it, but you slipped out of bed and tugged on a pair of leggings and a hoodie over your sleepshirt. Shoving on a pair of shoes, you tip-toed outside and to the house next door. It felt a little ridiculous, you were an adult, sneaking around to visit a boy like a teenager. But, you were quiet, and made sure you didn’t make any noise as you slipped down the stairs.

“Why am I sneaking around here like we’re fourteen again?” You teased as soon as you saw Matt already on the couch as he flipped through movie options. For a reason unbeknownst to you, your heart skipped a beat in your chest and your breathing stuttered as you cataloged just how attractive he looked in something as casual as a hoodie and sweats, how suddenly you wanted to run your fingers through his curls that definitely needed a hair treatment.

“I don’t want my family to know you’re here because then I’d have to share.” He teased, snapping you out of your thoughts and opening his arms to silently ask you to cuddle him. You hesitated for a moment, because that was not something you usually did except for maybe when you were three, but decided to throw caution to the wind and curled yourself into his side, your head resting on his shoulder. Besides, you didn’t usually text him at one in the morning either, so precedent was already out the window.

As soon as you settled into him, he draped the blanket that had been folded over the back of the couch over both of your legs. You blushed at the thoughtful action, but tried to hide the flush of your cheeks by staring straight ahead at the television.

“What are we watching?” You found your voice after a moment. When Matt didn’t respond right away, you turned to face him to find him already watching, a small smile on his face and a gentle look in his eyes. For the second time that night, you felt your breath catch in your throat, and it was only the surprised look on your face that had him snapping out of it.

“Oh, uh, you can pick.” He handed the remote to you, and you raised a brow at his odd behavior. You reached a hand up, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead as if to check his temperature with a confused look on your face.

“Are you feeling okay? You must be sick, if you’re letting someone else choose the movie.” You teased, grinning when Matt laughed, swatting your hand away and tugging you closer all in the same movement.  

“I’ve been thinking—” He started, but after having grown up with hockey players, you were quick to think up a chirp.

“Are you sure you’re okay then?” You teased, enjoying the warm feeling you got when you heard his laugh. He had your back pressed to his front, so you were facing the television and couldn’t see whatever the look on his face was.

“Would you just let me talk for a minute?” He chuckled and you felt the vibrations in his chest from where you were cuddled against him. And though he was teasing you, there was a softness to his tone that had you nodding, still facing forward. “I kinda sucked when we were teenagers.” He confessed, and you couldn’t help but laugh at him. Though, holding true to your word, you stayed quiet and let him talk. “I was a preteen boy that didn’t know how to act around you and ended up making an idiot of myself.” You knew there probably was a deeper meaning to his words, but you weren’t ready to dive into that and he kept going. “And then we were fifteen and you were in love or whatever with Tommy Banner and I was jealous. And then you broke up but I had to go away for hockey and I don’t regret that, but I do regret not making things better with you before I left.”

His confession hung in the air for a moment as you processed his words. He threw a lot of information at you at once, and you cringed momentarily at the memory of your first ‘serious’ relationship.

See, the thing was, as much as you talked up your annoyance at Matthew, he had always been your person. You fake married the guy for a reason, even if you didn’t really know the implications of your actions way back then. You knew what marriage looked like from your parents and Matt’s, and you wanted that for yourself. You wanted that with Matt. He was your first real crush, and those never really go away. Or at least, yours didn’t.

But once you were teenagers, you stopped pining after your neighbor, a seemingly unattainable goal, and started hanging out with other people. You and Matt started to drift, and then eventually his teasing comments always seemed to be directed towards whatever guy you were seeing, thus making you grow contempt for him.

But now, he was showing his softer side, and those feelings from when you were younger resurfaced as he confessed that he felt the same. You couldn’t deny that you felt something when his hand brushed against you or when he grinned at you—no matter how self-satisfied he looked.

Suddenly you became aware that you had been silent for a moment too long, and you sat up straighter and turned to face Matt. He was studying you, and for the first time in as long as you could remember—except maybe that one time in eighth grade when he asked you to go to the school dance with him because he wanted to make his mom happy—he looked unsure of himself. It was an emotion that didn’t sit right on his face, and as often as you complained about his teasing, you much preferred his shit-eating grin.

“It’s your turn to talk now.” He joked, trying to lighten the mood but only succeeding partly since the breathy chuckle he gave at the end told you he was nervous.

Before you could help yourself, you had cupped his face with both your hands and pulled him forward to connect your lips to his. It took him a second to relax under your touch, but as soon as he realized what was happening, he grabbed your elbow to hold you in place.

When you felt his tongue swipe at your lips you knew you had to pull away before you got too caught up in him, which you knew you would, and you separated. His grin was wide, a little smug like usual, but mostly he was looking adoringly at you.

“I thought you hated me?” He teased, because it’s Matt and of course he would. You rolled your eyes, willing to admit that you had set him up with that one.

“Don’t push your luck, Tkachuk.” You pecked his lips once more, wondering why you had waited so long to do so. If he had been telling the truth, and you knew he was, then he had been crushing on you as long as you had been on him.

“Yes ma’am.” He joked, mock saluting while leaning towards you to chase after your lips for another kiss. You complied, but then pressed a hand on his chest to lean back enough to give him a serious look.

“And if this is going to work, you have to stop being such a pest all the time. Tone it down a bit.” He nodded, grin widening at the mention of your relationship moving past the night. You smiled at him, leaning up to give him one more kiss before settling back into his side. “And I still get to pick the movie.”

Matt chuckled, but didn’t argue. Instead, he settled for pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He let this arm fall from around your shoulders to your waist, and you knew without looking at him that he was wearing a satisfied grin.

“Who’s going to tell our moms that they were right about us?” He spoke up after a moment, and you chuckled. You were as stubborn as Matt was, and neither of you were too excited to admit to anyone that you had been wrong about the fact that you’d end up with each other. You were even certain that Brady, Keith, and Taryn had a running bet about when you and Matt would get together.

As it turns out, neither of you would have to, because you fell asleep together on the couch and Chantal was the first to find you cuddled into her son's chest.

Just like she knew you always would.

[ateezmakemeweep]

wooyoung x jealous!reader

word count: 9k

angst (warning: infidelity)

request

you had always trusted your intuition. because while you weren’t very book smart, just getting by with b’s and c’s in most of your classes, you found it incredibly easy to read people. 

their eyes were always a dead giveaway. whether they were able to look you in the face or not, if they were twinged with happiness and amusement or tight with fear and apprehension. 

wooyoung’s eyes were the thing that first caught your attention, the older boy you’d seen so many times in the hallways or in the cafeteria laughing with his friends or looking around happily. but on this one particular day, he plopped down next to you during lunch and completely caught you off guard.

“hey,” he said casually, like this wasn’t the first time he’d ever spoken to you or acknowledged your existence. you looked at him warily, smiling in confusion as you waved at him hesitantly. 

“hi.”

“you’re cute,” he told you bluntly, smiling in a way you know should be getting your heart and stomach fluttering. but you couldn’t help but feel skeptical of the boy, raising your eyebrow at him in confusion. 

“okay...” you said, the smirk on his face at the hesitation in your voice far too handsome and charming. 

“usually, someone would say oh, thank you or you too,” he says, his eyes widening playfully as his eyebrows shoot up teasingly. but you don’t want any part in what he’s trying to offer you, knowing far too well an older boy like him wouldn’t want anything other than...fun with you. and that’s not something you can offer him. 

“i didn’t ask for the compliment,” you say, feeling yourself grow more defensive and snippy as he leans in closer to you. like he’s becoming more and more enticed at the way you dismiss him. “why are you even talking to me?” 

“why are you trying to not talk to me?” he counters, cocking his head to the side as his eyes pierce yours. it makes you unbearably nervous, how confident and sure he can stare at you without the slightest bit of hesitation. “i wanna get to know you.”

“why?”

his lips quirk to the side like he knows he doesn’t really have an answer for you that would make sense. just that anytime he’s seen you around school, he’s been intrigued by you. he likes that you seem just as comfortable alone as you do with other people, how you always make sure to throw out all your wrappers and that you take the same routes everyday. 

he can’t quite pinpoint it, he just likes something about you.

“because i have a feeling we’d be good for each other.”

and to this day, after nine months of dating, you still don’t know how he knew that. he had sat with you everyday that first month, getting to know you and watching you slowly open up to him. it had taken a bit longer than he initially thought but once it happened, you both saw he was right. 

you had a natural chemistry and banter that only certain people had, something innate within the both of you bringing you closer and closer. he had asked you on a date one friday afternoon, suggesting to wear something comfortable and that he’d pick you up at six. 

it had been the most chaotic first day of your life, a bizarre restaurant where you were blindfolded while you ate your meal followed by skating hand in hand at a roller rink. you both left with bruises littering your knees and hands, something very unsuspecting for a first date.

“i didn’t anticipate what a shit show that was gonna be,” he told you honestly when he dropped you home, walking you to your front door as you giggled; that was the best word to describe the evening. 

but it had also been one of the best nights of your life, his contagious laugh and smile only making you laugh harder and smile wider. and when he asked you to be his girlfriend at your doorstep, he only continued to make you the happiest girl alive.

you couldn’t believe he had spent his senior with you. took you to his prom and after-prom in the mountains, got you a ticket to his graduation and showed you off proudly to his family, took you to every party that his fellow classmates had and always made sure you felt comfortable and included. 

but you guys also talked about the elephant in the room, the fact that he’d be attending a college over an hour away while you stayed here to finish your last year of high school.

“what are we gonna do?” you asked one night, laid out on a blanket as you looked up at the sky. stargazing was something you guys had always done, doing it on a whim one night before it turned into a weekly date night activity. 

he rolled over and held himself up on his elbow, reaching out to smooth out your hair as he looked over your face. “what do you mean?” he asked softly. and when you turned to him with tears in your eyes, he immediately took you in his arms. 

“baby, what’s wrong?” he cooed. the night had been going fine, all smiles and laughs as you ate your incredibly unhealthy fast food under the night sky. 

“i don’t wanna break up,” you whimpered against him, your hands fisting his grey sweatshirt as you hid your face in his neck. he pressed a kiss to your head, bringing a hand to your back as he rubbed up and down soothingly. 

“who said anything about breaking up, my love?” he cooed, the term of endearment causing your stomach to swoop. he had just started calling you that after he told you he loved you a few weeks ago, remembering the way he looked at you so sweetly when he confessed those words.

“i-i just assumed you wouldn’t wanna be with your high school girlfriend in college,” you say quietly against him. “it would make sense, i guess, so i can’t say i blame you but-”

he brings your face to his as he places a firm kiss on your lips, melting into you as he palms your cheek softly. you kiss him back immediately, feeling your heart break at the thought of never being able to do this again. 

“i don’t know why you’re thinking like that,” he mumbles once he pulls back, running his hand through your hair before tucking the strands behind your ear. “but get those thoughts out of your head. i’m not breaking up with you, baby. in case you forgot, i just told you i loved you the other day.”

“i know but-”

“but what?” he asks with a smirk, pushing you down on your back and rubbing the stray tear off your cheek. “you think i just say shit to say it?”

“no, but-”

“then stop. i’ll tell everyone at college i have a high school girlfriend and they won’t have shit to say about it.”

you giggle softly at his tone and then even more when he tickles your sides, your screeching causing him to smile and bend down to kiss you again. it’s a night you think you’ll always remember, a night that really solidified your relationship and made you put 100% of your trust in him. 

it’s why now, as you help him move into his college dorm, you have not a single feeling of doubt or anxiety. you told each other you’re gonna alternate weekends, him driving to you or you driving to him on weekends you’re both free of school or sport obligations. 

his roommate mingi was a tall, intimidating boy who the second his mouth opened you took a liking too. he was bouncy and happy and loud and him and wooyoung got on a little too well. you were concerned about the wellbeing and ears of everyone in the dorm, seeing how playful and friendly the boys were with each other already.

you had left to go home with a parting kiss on your lips and his lowly mumbled “i’ll see you soon, baby,” in your ear, his words immediately sending excitement through you. because you hadn’t even left and you were already so eager to see him again. 

and for the first two months, everything had been great. you texted and facetimed everyday, he went to you and you went to him and he made you feel as welcomed at the college parties as he did at the old high school ones he’d take you too. 

but then your first inkling that something didn’t feel right was at a halloween get together at his friend’s frat house. hongjoong was the type of a guy you think most college girls longed for: attractive and alluring but extremely unattainable. wooyoung had introduced him as one of mingi’s best friends, the small group of men as nice as they were handsome. 

there had even been a few girls, all of them either friends or lovers of the boys, who welcomed you with open arms and took you under their wing. but then there was one girl who the second you met her, she rubbed you the wrong way. 

“lisa!” one of them said, grabbing a pretty girl with black hair and bringing her over to you. “this is y/n. wooyoung’s girlfriend!” 

“ahh this is the high school girl he always talks about,” she says excitedly, her voice high and nasally as she brings you in for a friendly, gentle hug. “nice to finally meet you.”

“you too,” you smile. “are you one of the guys girlfriends?” 

she smirks at your question and something about it unnerves you, the way her pretty lips pull up and her eyebrows raise causing you to cave in on yourself. 

“nope, no boyfriend for me,” she says. “but i’m hoping to find one....soon.” you watch her eyes travel toward wooyoung and his group of friends, you heart twinging with the slightest bit of insecurity and fear, before she looks back at you. “how long have you and woo been together?”

your eyes narrow at the nickname but you shake it off, smiling at her as you tell her it’ll be a year next month.

“aw, how exciting! that’s a long time for people so young.”

you choke out a laugh as you nod your head, watching her eyes filter over to wooyoung and his friends again. she really is one of the prettiest girls you’ve ever met, not seeing why anyone in that group wouldn’t jump at the chance to be with her. 

but then wooyoung turns around and his eyes light up upon seeing you, walking over and wrapping his arm around your waist. 

“hi, baby. i see you met, lisa.”

“yeah,” you say quietly, shyly smiling at him before lisa’s voice cuts in. “you didn’t tell me you guys have been together for a year!” 

“almost a year,” you mumble but it goes unheard as wooyoung tightens his hold on your waist. “yup,” he says, placing a kiss on the side of your head and you can’t help but press yourself into him. “it has been pretty long, right, y/n?”

you lick at your lips as you nod your head, something about his words making your stomach knot until he squeezes your waist affectionately. “i want you to meet someone, my friend yeosang just got here.” you’d heard a lot about that boy over these past few weeks, someone in a few of his classes who rivaled him in terms of sassy remarks. 

“okay,” you say softly, smiling up at him and he places a peck on your cheek. “it was nice meeting you, lisa.” she smiles at you in a way that seems forced, her mouth tight and eyes looking between you two with a cold, almost mocking expression; it’s hard to explain really, you just know you don’t like it. 

“you too, y/n, i hope we can hang out some other time.” you smile at her as you nod your head, wooyoung dismissing the girl with a “see ya, lisa,” as you make your way to the other room.

you don’t question wooyoung until later that night, your head on his chest as he absentmindley plays with your hair. “woo, how do you know lisa?” you blurt out, his nickname falling from your lips causing her voice to ring in your head.

“she’s friends with mingi and them,” he tells you lazily, his eyes closed as his fingers continue to rake through your hair. “think she’s also in my english class.” you take in the information and nod your head, your quiet “oh,” causing him to pop open one eye.

“why do you ask?” 

you shrug your shoulders as you turn to bury your face further into him, feeling his hand quickly pull you away so you can look at him. “y/n...” he says and you can’t help the way you let out a tiny sigh. you don’t know why it’s been bothering you all night, the way she kept looking his way and called him by that name, but it has. 

and now you’re looking like a stupid, insecure girlfriend the second you meet one of his female friends. (except you didn’t have a problem with the four others you had met, it was just her). 

“what?” you squeak quietly. he takes your face in his hands, thumbs softly rubbing at your cheeks as he looks down at you with soft eyes. soft and honest and sweet, the way they’ve always looked at you. 

“what’s wrong?” 

“nothing,” you insist, shaking your head as his warm hands cover your cheeks. “i just...she’s pretty.” the last two words are squeaky and fall flat, a tiny sigh leaving him as he brings your face in closer and pecks the tip of your nose. 

“so are you,” he says, his thumbs caressing your cheeks again as he looks at you. “you’re pretty and you’re mine,” he says, snaking his hand down to tickle at your stomach. you giggle and wriggle against him, your tiny squeals of his name and his deep chuckle settling the sinking feeling in your stomach. 

you’re just being insecure, you think, wooyoung had never given you a reason not to trust him. 

three weeks later, on your one year anniversary, wooyoung comes down from school and spends the day with you. he took to the same restaurant and rollerskating rink like he did so long ago, when you were shy and reserved and still a little confused as to why he wanted to spend time with you.

but this time was even better than the last, still chaotic and a bit of a mess but some much needed time with your boyfriend. because with his coursework picking up, you haven’t been able to talk with as much during the week. but now you’re back at your house, laid out in your bed with your head on his shoulder as you watch a movie; or at least try to. 

because ever since the horror started, his phone hadn’t stopped buzzing. he kept kissing your head in apology, taking it from your bedside table and typing out message after message; you didn’t say anything until he had gone back and forth ten times. 

“do you want me to pause it?” you asked, moving your head off of him and scooting over. he looked over after he sent the message, shaking his head before putting his phone face down on the table; you try not to feel uneasy.

“no, love, i’m sorry,” he says, throwing his arm back around you before tugging him in to you. “lisa just had a few questions about an english project due next week.” 

you feel yourself grow stiff at the mention of her name, the casual way in which he says it not settling you in the slightest. instead, it makes you remember just how unsettled her presence made you. how something about her words and eyes seemed disingenuous. and perhaps you still think it was your own insecurities but you’ve also never not trusted your instincts before. 

“oh.”

he looks over at the tone in your your voice, frowning ever so slightly before pulling you into him. “i’m sorry, babe, i promise i’ll pay attention now,” he says, nuzzling his face into your neck. you smile as his hair starts to tickle your neck, giggling when you feel his lips on your skin before you’re screeching his name when he gets you on your back.

“stop,” you whine playfully, despite the way your arms wrap around his shoulders. he looks at you and smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. you hear the faint double vibration of his phone on your bedside table but you both ignore it, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth as his hand rests on your waist. 

“love you, baby,” he hummed lowly when he pulled back, trailing his lips down to your neck before they go farther and farther until your mumbling your cries in the crook of your arm.

and because he loves you, he always understood you didn’t like to drink. you didn’t like the taste of it or the idea of not being in control of your body, settling for a coke or water at any party you went to. 

but a week before his semester was over, you drove up to visit and found yourself at another frat party. it was just as packed and loud as it was last time, the slightly overwhelming scent of alcohol and chattering of college kids making you uneasy. 

wooyoung and his friend’s made it easier, though, including you in the conversation when prompted and sitting with you as they waited for their turn at beer pong. “are you sure you don’t wanna play, love?” he asked you lowly, knelt between your knees as he looked up at you. 

“you know i don’t drink, wooyoung,” you said lowly, cheeks burning because you feel like a stupid little kid here. and he knows you don’t like these things in the first place so why would you wanna play? 

“i know but it’s just a game ba-”

“wooyoung! c’mon, i need a team member still,” lisa’s voice whined, smiling at you before her gaze trains on wooyoung. you narrow your eyes slightly, a sinking feeling deep within the pit of your stomach as you watch wooyoung nod his head at her. 

“i’ll be back, love, watch how quick i win,” he winks, raising up to place a peck on your lips before snaking over to the table. you watch with a small smile before it falls from your face, looking down to play with your fingers. you wanna play with him but the crowd and environment is too much, coupled in with the fact you’d be experiencing this firsthand in front of a bunch of seasoned college kids who will probably laugh at you. 

you look like you don’t belong here and you feel like it too. but wooyoung does, his handsome smile and infectious laugh just naturally bringing people in. an excited squeal leaves lisa when wooyoung’s ball lands right in the cup, his and her hand meeting in a high five that lingers just a little too long. 

you’re sitting there for twenty minutes, just watching pathetically as wooyoung and lisa land ball after ball. every time she gets in it, she’ll throw her arms up and her pretty long hair will swirl around gracefully. you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, taking your phone out to distract yourself.

“hey,” you hear a voice say. your head pops up to see if they’re talking to you, the boy wooyoung introduced to you as yeosang looking down at you. he had described him as sassy and a bit of a blunt asshole but you hadn’t gotten that impression at all. he seemed sweet and kind, a soft-spoken voice with even softer eyes. 

“hi. yeosang, right?” 

“yeah,” he smiles, taking the seat next to you. there’s a few moments of silence and you look over again when lisa’s squeal pierces your ears. you take a sharp inhale, averting your eyes before you can see her and wooyoung celebrate together again. 

“why are you sitting here alone?” 

you peak at the boy looking thoughtfully at you and shrug, your lips quirking before you look back down at your hands. “just waiting for wooyoung to be finished,” you tell him. but then you hear someone say “rematch!” and your head snaps over, wooyoung smiling challengingly as he nods his head. 

his eyes graze over to you and they turn sympathetic, a frown on his face before he mouths “sorry,” before holding up one finger. you let out a sigh but nod your head, sending him a small smile that drops when his attention is pulled away by lisa. 

“you should tell him it bothers you,” you hear yeosang say, looking over at the boy with a wide eyed gaze. he says it so straight forwardly that it causes you to grown nervous, biting your lip before you open your mouth to speak. 

“what?”

he raises his eyebrow and you know he’s seeing through your lie. the lie that you’re not all bothered by being here and watching him play with another girl. a girl you’re almost positive has ill-intentions. and now you see where yeosang’s bluntness comes in. 

“that him and lisa make you uncomfortable,” yeosang tells you, looking over and seeing them smile at one another in victory. “because you’re worried, aren’t you?” 

it’s the first time it’s been verbalized and it makes your stomach squeeze painfully, sadness and anger and disappointment flooding through you. “should i be?” you squeak, since you know he sees you them a lot more than you. 

“i don’t know,” he says, the both of you looking over in time to see lisa smack wooyoung’s arm playfully as she throws her head back. “should you be?”

your conversation with yeosang rings your head for the rest of your time you’re there, wooyoung coming over after the eventual third game and taking you in his arms. “i’m so sorry, love, these pussies just wouldn’t accept losing,” he says loudly enough for mingi and another shorter boy to hear.

“it’s okay,” you say softly, begging him with your eyes to get out of here. and he must see it immediately because he takes your hand in his and pulls you up, snaking his arm around your waist tightly. “i’ll make it up to you, i promise,” he hums against your ear, “you wanna leave?” 

you nod against him as you smile shyly, pushing yourself further into him. wooyoung says his goodbyes to his friends, the girls you’d been talking to before waving at you and saying they hope to see you the next time you come up. all the girls but lisa, who snaked her way over with a frown on her face.

“you guys are leaving?” she whined, looking over you quickly before switching to wooyoung. “but what if i need other partner?” your boyfriend chuckles at the girl, tightening his hold on you when he feels you stiffen. 

“san’s pretty good, i’m just better,” wooyoung says before looking down at you. “little one wants to leave, though.” he says it lightheartedly but it makes your cheeks warm, like he’s talking about you as a little kid. 

“oh c’mon, y/n,” lisa says, her cold hand touching your arm playfully. “we were having fun.” you smile despite the rage coursing through you, shrugging your shoulders as you mumble out an excuse that you’re tired. 

“ah, right, i always forget you’re just a little high schooler,” she says, her voice snide and mocking like she knows that was one of your biggest insecurities. about you and wooyoung staying together. “you don’t like this kind of stuff, do you?” 

“i don’t like my boyfriend ignoring me, no,” you snap, lisa’s eyebrow raising as she looks between you and the boy staring at you in shock; you never snap like that and he hadn’t realized you felt that way. 

“yikes,” she mutters, her eyebrows shooting up sarcastically before looking at wooyoung comfortingly. “well i’ll see you guys soon, maybe,” she hums, might as well having said maybe, if you guys are still together come the spring semester. 

“what was that?” wooyoung asks when you get outside, your hands intertwined as you walk to his dorm.

“what was what?” you mumble, your eyes trained down on the street in front of you. you hadn’t meant to snap like that but you couldn’t help it, the whole night had been rubbing you the wrong way. 

“i wasn’t ignoring you, y/n, i was just preoccupied with the game. i asked you if you wanted to play.”

“when have i ever wanted to play drinking games, wooyoung?” you ask him, turning your head to look at him. “you know parties aren’t my thing.”

“then why’d you say it was okay to go?” he asks, the slightest hint of annoyance in his tone making you flare with anger. is he serious? he’s annoyed right now?

“because you wanted to go,” you say, eyebrows narrowed at him in confusion. “i wasn’t gonna ruin your last weekend here and say we shouldn’t go.”

“well i also don’t wanna fight with you my last weekend here, baby,” he says, smiling softly as his eyes roam over your face. he stops you both of you from walking and brings a hand to your hair, tucking it behind your ear gently. “we got through the first semester with no problems, love, let’s not ruin that, okay? i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to make you feel ignored.”

you let out a sigh at his voice, hating the way his soft tone and eyes can always make you feel relaxed. your eyes bore into his and he raises a brow, tapping the tip of your nose before leaning down to kiss it. “i’m sorry, babyyy,” he drags out, wrapping his hands around your waist and placing a peck on your neck. “don’t be mad at me.”

“i’m not mad at you,” you sigh out, not being able to help the smile on your face at his whining. and once he feels your body relax, it’s like he knows he’s clear. because he pops up and kisses you on the lips, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. 

“let’s get home now, yeah? i want you sitting on my-”

“wooyoung!” you squeal, your hands flying up to your red cheeks as his loud giggle echoes through the street. 

you don’t know when exactly you felt the slight change between you and wooyoung. it might have been during christmas break, those six weeks of what was supposed to be bliss something of a reality shock. 

you thought spending everyday with him would be perfect, basking in the way you’d be able to do everything together again: go on dates and watch movies and have sleepovers so you could fall asleep next to him and wake to a kiss on your cheek. but instead, tensions began to form. 

it was almost unrecognizable at first, your dates still full of smiles and laughs but always ending short. “i’m sorry baby, my mom needs me to watch my brother,” he’d say, “i gotta wake up early tomorrow, me and the boys are gonna go to the gym in the morning.” 

but then when you guys actually were together, he’d seem distracted. absentmindley watching tv or playing games with you, his phone constantly vibrating as it lay face down on the table or bed. you’d ask him about and he always said it was probably seonghwa, jongho and yunho going crazy in the group chat. 

then the one night you caught a glimpse of him texting, you hadn’t even meant to. you just leaned over him to grab your glass on the table, pecking his cheek in the process and hearing him chuckle happily. but then your eyes caught the name lisa at the top of the screen and you nearly dropped the drink in your hand. 

“who are you texting?” you asked, holding your breath because if he lies, you know your heart’s gonna crumble right here. 

“lisa,” he says and, while you’re grateful he doesn’t lie, it doesn’t seem to lessen the blow. “she’s registering late for classes so she was just asking me which ones i’m taking.”

“oh,” you squeak out, bringing the cup to your lips so you don’t blurt out something you can’t take back. you swallow it down as you watch a smirk cross his face, typing out a message before he puts his phone back down. 

“you good?” he asks, turning to look at you watching him. you nod your head and place it back on the table, the phone buzzing again. 

“do you text a lot?” you blurt out.

you watch his expression soften and he pulls you into him, his arm around your shoulder as he holds you tightly. “baby...” he says. 

“what?” you squeak, feeling your cheeks grow warm. you hate that you feel this way, insecurity and doubt in him and your relationship laying heavy on your heart. but you have to imagine if you were texting another boy that wasn’t him, he wouldn’t like it. but you also don’t know, you never put him in the position to feel that way before.

“we’re just friends,” he says and you bite the inside of your cheek so you don’t scream; you hadn’t said anything like that so why is he telling you that? “she only texted me for the schedule, love.”

you look up to meet his gaze and see a frown on his lips, his eyes trailing over every part of your face. “do you trust me?” he then asks suddenly, seeing all of the doubt and hesitation over your face. you immediately nod your head, feeling tears burn the back of your eyes at the idea of starting a fight. 

“then why does it seem like you don’t?”

and you don’t think much of this comment at the time, simply telling him all of your concerns about her being pretty and fun at parties and maybe being a better fit for him. 

but in retrospect, when you’ll look back at this moment, you’ll realize just how manipulative he was. how this was the moment wooyoung looked you in the face and told you that he didn’t care about any of that, that he loved you and only you and that as long as you were his, he’d never look at another girl. 

that he let you think for two more months that your intuition was wrong, that you were just an insecure girl not capable of trusting her perfect boyfriend. but he wasn’t a perfect boyfriend, you were coming to discover, especially when you sat alone in a restaurant near his school for your belated valentine’s day dinner.

he told you to come up that weekend so you could celebrate the holiday, saying just to meet him at a cute little cafe he’d been wanting to take you to. you arrived on time and waited in your car, looking around the area for his familiar face or figure. but after ten minutes, you shrugged it off and decided to get you guys a table. 

but you sat there for almost forty minutes now, texts and calls going unanswered by him. workers and other customers were starting to notice you get more anxious, looking at you with sympathy in their gazes like you’d gotten stood up on a first date. 

but this was your boyfriend of over a year, for your valentine’s day date, with a last minute gift you made for him weighing down your purse. feeling stupid and embarrassed, you shot up from your seat and charged back out to your car to drive to his dorm. 

you walked the familiar path to his room and banged on the door, mingi’s face falling slightly when he sees the expression on your face. “hey, y/n,” he says, his voicer louder than usual. “what are you doing here?”

but sick of being meek and polite all the time, you push your way through and are hit with the stench of the small room courtesy of lisa, wooyoung and san passing a joint as they sit on his bed. four other people are also spread out on mingi’s and the dusty floor, looking up at you and nodding their heads at you; you’ve never seen them before. 

wooyoung’s eyes widen the second he sees you, realization swarming in his face before he shoots up from his position.

“oh shit. hey, babe.”

you narrow your eyes at him, looking at the other people and seeing lisa staring right into you before you let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head and turning right around. 

“y/n, wait,” wooyoung says, but you’re already out of the room before he can say anything else. angry tears sting your eyes as you stomp down the hall, footsteps behind you following quickly. 

“y/n,” your boyfriend’s voice says again, tone begging and desperate for you to stop. but you only walk faster, walk as fast as you can to the door and push it open until the cold hair hits your face. 

“y/n,” he says firmly one last time, grabbing you by the arm firmly but gently. 

it fills you with so much rage, ripping it from his hold and spinning around to look at him. he has the balls to look sympathetic and upset, like he wasn’t getting high with random people, with lisa, while you were waiting for him on the date he planned.

“what?” you snap, looking at him and narrowing your eyes when he only looks at you taken back. “what wooyoung? what? you wouldn’t stop calling my name and now you don’t have anything to say?”

“i’m sorry,” he breathes out, stepping forward to put his arms around you but you step back and shake your head. hurt crosses his face and you wanna slap it off, thinking he has no right to be upset right now. 

“why were you- i was waiting for you,” you tell him bluntly, voice strong despite how weak and defeated you feel. you know things have been rocky these past few months, missing each other’s phone calls and elapsed silences when you do see each other but missing a date? 

“i know, baby, and i’m so sorry but i got distracted and didn’t notice the time and-”

“you’re the one who planned it wooyoung!” you yelp, “you got me excited thinking you actually wanted to see me and you left me waiting there for forty minutes.”

“i did wanna see you,” he says, stepping forward and grabbing you before you can move again. “i do wanna see you. i’m sorry. mingi’s friend’s came and we lost track of time.”

you press your lips into a tight line, wanting so badly to scream at him some more. these are all lousy excuses, they sound like bullshit to your and probably his own ears. if he didn’t wanna hang out with you, he could’ve just told you and saved you the-

his arms wrapping around you in a hug cause your thoughts to stop, arms shooting up as you consider pushing him away. but then his face falls into the crook of your neck and he tightens his hold on you, his mumbles of apologies and sweet nothings softening you slightly. 

“why were you smoking?” you ask. you didn’t have a problem with him drinking or smoking, you just had no idea he did that now. you feel like you don’t know anything about him anymore. 

“san brought it,” he says, pulling back and bringing his hand to your face. he caresses your cheek gently and a tiny frown covers his mouth, feeling a pang of guilt and hurt in his heart. “i really am sorry, love. i didn’t mean to forget and i’ve been so excited to see you. the time just got away from me.”

you purse your lips to the side in contemplation, looking up at him and shaking your head when, after a few silent moments, he smiles cutely at you. “i got you gift, too.”

you shake your head as you look at him, allowing yourself to move closer to him as he pulls you into his body. you’ve missed being like this with him, accepting the comfort and warmth and happiness he brings you. 

“i did too,” you tell him, “even though i should make you wait.” 

you know a pout is on his face before the whine leaves him, squeezing at your ticklish sides and making you spring away from him. “not fair!” you yelp. and then the teasing, borderline sadistic smile he gives you causes you to back up even more, speeding off in the direction of your car as he follows behind you. 

you struggle to walk with his arms wrapped around your waist, the both of you giggling as you fumble to your car. a small voice in the back of your head is telling him you let him off too easy, that you’re stupid to not have asked more questions and to listen to the pit in your stomach telling you something’s wrong. 

but you’re happy about the fact that you guys are good right now, that he’s smiling over at you with the softness is his eyes that remind you so much of the time you guys first started dating.

when you heard one monday that school would be closed on friday for testing, you immediately got the idea to surprise your boyfriend. you hadn’t been able to go up last week due to a family party and had really missed seeing him, his face on the camera of your phone not being enough to dull the ache in your chest. 

so when friday morning came, so did your overwhelming excitement. you jumped in your car and drove to his college happily, knowing he didn’t have class until later in the day and hoping you’d be able to just lay in his arms for a few peaceful hours. 

you stopped to get two coffees before you pulled into the parking lot, making your way into his building and down to his dorm. you do your best to knock on the door with your hip, surprised when it actually pushes open slightly. you hum happily, securing the two coffee cups in your hand before you open the door further.

“surprise!” you say teasingly, the happy smile on your face falling off immediately. because the surprise was actually for you, a shirtless lisa straddling your boyfriend’s lap as they kiss so naturally it makes you wanna puke.

you almost don’t believe what you’re looking at, the coffees falling from your hands and splattering on the floor. this isn’t real, there’s no way he would do that. he wouldn’t cheat on you, that’s not what your boyfriend wooyoung would ever do. 

but in the way your heart is pounding rapidly and threatening to break, the way lisa’s head snaps away from wooyoung’s and looks at you in shock, your boyfriend’s eyes widening before he pushes lisa off to the side, you know he did it. he very well had lied and cheated and completely betrayed you. 

“y/n, it’s-”

“not what i think?” you ask, voice eerily calm and even despite the chaos inside your body. 

“it’s actually exactly what you think,” lisa’s snide voice says and the hatred that courses through you, you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. you wish you hadn’t dropped the coffees so you could’ve thrown it in her smug face. 

“shut the fuck up, lisa,” wooyoung’s voice says, deep and low with an uncharacteristic growl in it before he makes his way over to you; it’s such a familiar scene, him moving toward you as you back away. except this time, you know you’re not forgiving him and the pain in your chest is ten time worse. 

“baby, i-”

“don’t call me that,” you say, voice raising but still strong and even as you continue to walk backwards.

“okay, okay, just let me explain-”

“it doesn’t matter,” you say, shaking your head as you look at him with tears building in your eyes. you don’t wanna cry and scream and give the smirking girl looking at you the satisfaction of watching you have a breakdown. but you also can’t control the tears, watching him look at you with sadness and sympathy swarming in his eyes. 

you thought you knew them so well and yet, he’d been lying to you the whole fucking time. 

“it does, y/n, i have to tell you-”

“how long?” you ask. you don’t know why you ask, you don’t wanna know. but you can’t help it, the kiss looked far too natural and familiar to be something that happened in the heat of the moment. 

“baby-”

and you can’t even help it when you stomp toward him and slap him across the face, your palm stinging as you his head snaps to the side. “i said to not fucking call me that,” you scream, wishing you could slap and punch and hit him over and over again for what he’s put you through these past few months. “now tell me. how long.”

and the coward that he is, with a red slap mark on his cheek, he shakes his head and looks at the coffee covered floor. you debate kicking him in the shin, just because you can and just because you have so many emotions swirling in you, before lisa’s voice pierces the air again. 

“last day before christmas break,” she tells you, her shirt back on as she lays back in his bed like she belongs there. “i kissed him and he kissed me back.” you look at her and are half tempted to go and slap her as well, a humorless laugh leaving you. it sounds manic and unhinged, like you have two minutes before you completely absorb what’s happening and have a breakdown, but you can’t stop yourself from shaking your head.

“why do you sound so proud?” you ask her, voice shaking and threatening to break. “you knew he was with me. you knew he had a girlfriend. why did you always-” your voice breaks and you have to stop talking, holding in the tears and screams wanting to leave you so badly. 

“i told you,” she says, cocking her head to the side as she looks at you. “i was hoping to find a boyfriend.”

“you didn’t find one,” wooyoung snaps, looking over her with disgust and rage in his eyes. “we were only-”

“hooking up?” lisa says, looking at him with a smirk before a melodic laugh leaves her mouth. “yeah, that sounds a lot better for your case, woo.” her eyes travel back to yours and she can only shrug her shoulders carelessly. “sorry but i saw him and wanted him. wish i had a better explanation for you.”

you bite the inside of your cheek and you think you’re probably drawing blood but you only nod your head, looking between her and wooyoung one last time. “well you have him now,” you say quietly, voice teary and breaking but it doesn’t even matter anymore. “enjoy.”

and like the dramatic exit any girl makes after she finds out she’s being cheated on, you turn around and slam the door before walking back outside. you feel the wet tears streaming down your face but only sniffle, wiping at your cheeks before the cold air finally hits them.

and that’s when you allow yourself to let out the first whimper, shaking your head as the tears start flowing because you can’t believe that just happened. you knew things had been rough and you knew you didn’t trust her so it’s not even like you can say you were surprised that she had gotten to him.

but that’s exactly the point. she had gotten to him, it was his duty to tell her to leave him alone and to stop talking to him and that he had a girlfriend he claimed to love. but now you have to get yourself together and drive home and wipe away every reminder in your room of-

“y/n, please,” you hear wooyoung say, his dejected form standing just outside the dorm building. you turn and his face crumbles when he sees you’re crying but really what the fuck does he expect? “please, please hear me out and if you never wanna see me again-”

“i already know i never wanna see you again,” you say, your voice back to being quiet and timid because you can’t take crying. you hate it and you hate that he did this. “so just go back inside, wooyoung.”

“no. not until you hear me out.”

and that sends another whole wave of emotions through you, mostly anger and rage as you stomp toward him and push him backward with all the strength you could muster. 

“go fuck yourself, i don’t have to hear out anything from you. you’ve been cheating on me wooyoung. for three months. do you not fucking realize what you’ve done?”

“of course i do, y/n,” he says and you see tears welling up in his eyes now but you can’t find yourself to care. “i knew it was a mistake and i tried to break it off so many times but then-”

“you knew how i felt,” you say and now your voice holds no anger or strength. it’s just purely devastated and broken and shaky. “you knew i didn’t trust her and that i was insecure and you just kept telling me i never had anything to-” a sob leaves your mouth and you shake your head, backing away from him. 

he already knows this, he heard this from you and lived with it for all of these months. he knew it before he started and while he did it, telling you that you trusted and loved each other, that you were his and he was yours and everything was gonna be okay. 

“you’re such a fucking asshole,” you cry and a tear rolls down his cheek as he steps closer to you. “y/n.”

“i’m never gonna trust anyone ever again. do you fucking realize that, wooyoung?” you cry, his voice ringing in your head from january, when now you know he had already been with her, asking why you didn’t trust him. “you were with her and turned it around on me and asked why i didn’t trust you.”

he only starts to cry more as you piece together his lies and disgusting behavior, his gut wrenching and heart pounding the more this plays out. 

“i’m sorry,” he says shakily, moving closer to you and taking your hands in his. “i’m sorry, y/n. please. please forgive me just this once and i promise i’ll-”

“you’re not seriously doing this right now,” you snap, eyes shooting up to his tearful ones and looking at him in outrage. 

“i need you, baby, i love you and i fucked up but please, you can’t-”

“get away from me,” you say, attempting to rip your hands from his grasp. but he only tightens them and brings you closer to him.

“if you just listen to me, maybe you’ll-”

“stop,” you say, struggling to pull your hands free. you need to get away from him. you can’t hear him sound this pathetic and sad and begging. 

“no. i need you to fucking hear me out and-”

“let go of me,” you say through clenched teeth, hot wet tears burning your eyes and running down your face; he’s making this a lot more dramatic and heartbreaking than it already is. but then he pulls you into him and wraps you in a hug and you’re so close to kneeing him between the legs. 

his buries his head in the crook of your neck and holds you like his life depends on it, like his life just crashed down as he realized what the fuck he’s been doing for these past few months.

but you’ve realized for these past few months that things were different, that an awful strain was happening between you two and there was gonna be a sad ending no matter what.

so you push him away again with all the strength you have left and take a few steps backwards. “you lied to me, wooyoung. you lied to me and betrayed my trust and cheated on me with someone i told you i didn’t trust.” 

“y/n, i know but-”

“i never wanna see you again. or talk to you again. do you understand me?” 

“y/n...” tears are in his eyes and streaming down his cheeks and you’ve never seen him look so broken and fucked up before. but you’ve never felt this broken and fucked up before either, feeling like you’re about to collapse from the emotional havoc within you. 

“we’re done, wooyoung,” you say, with a tone of finality and strength you can’t believe you have right now. but you also have to get one more dig in because you think you have the right to after all of this. “go back to lisa, now.”

you walk to your car and feel relieved when he doesn’t follow you, slamming your car door and locking it before you allow yourself to really cry. sobbing uncontrollably into your hands, to the point where it’s hard to breathe and you don’t think you’re ever gonna remember how to breathe again. 

a tapping at your window has you jumping, getting ready to take off in reverse if it’s wooyoung begging for a second chance. but your teary eyes widen when you see his roommate mingi, looking at you with sad eyes. you swallow down the lump in your throat and get out of the car hesitantly, looking around to see if wooyoung was lurking.

you don’t say anything when you get out but mingi doesn’t say anything either. he just takes in your red eyes and teary, puffy face as the sounds of your sobs ring in his head over and over. sobs he feels at fault for, too.

“you found out?”

and even though you were already so broken and upset, those words somehow completely shatter you. your head snaps up and mingi’s face turns even more guilty and sad. you thought you and mingi were friends, always hanging out in the dorm with wooyoung and really coming to like the banter you three had. 

but that question really makes it seem as if...

“you knew?” 

he bites at his lip and doesn’t make a move, but the look in his eyes gives you all the confirmation you need. the way they look at you so apologetically and with pity, before they start roaming ever part of your face but your eyes. 

another choked, broken laugh leaves your mouth and you just turn around to get back in your car. but mingi’s big hand takes the top of the door and stops it, his deep “wait,” causing you to snap around.

“why?” you snap, “you fucking knew and you didn’t tell me, mingi!”

“he’s one of my best friends and my roommate, y/n, what i was supposed to-”

“and who am i?” you scream, because you’ve taken just about all you can today. “i thought we were friends too, mingi.” his soft, sympathetic eyes roam over your face and his giant frame deflates, biting down on his lower lip hesitantly. 

“i only found out last month,” he tells you honestly, “and he told me he was gonna stop.”

“oh, so what, he cheats on me in secret for a few months and everyone keeps me in the dark like a fucking idiot?” 

mingi looks down at hearing the brokenness and anger in your voice, his lack of a response or justification the only appropriate thing about this moment. because it doesn’t matter, none of this matters anymore and you just wanna drive home and forget about all of this. 

“it doesn’t even matter, mingi,” you say, taking his hand off your car door before dropping it in the air. “it’s over now. we’re done and they can be happy now.”

“he loves you, y/n,” the boy says quietly, like that’s supposed to make you feel better and run back into wooyoung’s arms. but you only laugh and shake your head, closing the door in his face before starting up your car. 

because if that’s love, you hope to never be loved again. it made you go against your intuition and doubt yourself and allowed you to stay with someone who just ended up lying to you and hurting you.

(part 2)

[swiftlymoniquesblog]

Fake FBI Agents? Sam x Reader  (With lots of Dean)

A/N: Hello! Yes, I am alive but I’ve been hella busy with work, as some of you know. And then, I got my second COVID shot and had a BAD reaction to it so I’m trying to recover.

This story is based off my real job working for at my local police department, which I’ll be celebrating 6 months at this month! I thought it would be funny if I could tell that Sam and Dean were fake FBI agents based off looking at their badges because I do see and interact with real FBI agents occasionally. 

I also met a Texas Ranger not too long ago and even though he was *much* older than me, he was *very* attractive. Not like Jared’s Cordell Walker but still. 

Hope everyone enjoys this and all feedback is welcome!

Warnings: FLUFF, series level violence, angst, pining, blood, serious injuries, series level monsters, lots of pain but the fluff makes up for it.

Word Count: 5, 981

Masterlist of all Masterlists| Supernatural Masterlist

Working for a police department was quite a unique experience. On a daily basis, you got to see the worst in people. From assaults to thefts, stolen vehicles, and homicides, there was never a dull moment when you had to work to help the public. Even with not being on the emergency side of the police department, you were still helping people and were trying to solve all their problems when they couldn’t seem to handle them on their own. Growing up, wanting to help people was always a priority for you but you never thought that would be fulfilled working in law enforcement. Sure, there were times when it would get super overwhelming with the constant phone calls and reports you would have to take over the phone and/or in person, and if you were left on a shift alone, it was that much more challenging. But ultimately, you did enjoy what you did because you felt as though you were being an important part of your community, whether you were acknowledged for it or not. And, who wouldn’t want to look at those cute police officers all day long? Just a small amount of time spent chit-chatting with them as you handed them over the keys to their vehicles for their shifts, still seemed cool. Who doesn’t appreciate a man in uniform? One night, as you were working alone, you had two, albeit very attractive men, come into the lobby of the department and came to the window to speak with you. 

“Hi, how can I help y’all?” You ask, looking to the shorter of the two men. 

“Yeah, we’re here about a case. I’m Agent Tyler, this is my partner Agent Perry, with the FBI.” The man said, as he pulled out his FBI badge, his partner followed his lead.

You stood from your desk to walk over to the window to see their badges, and upon closer inspection, you discovered they were fake. Immediately, you started laughing, causing the two men to just stare at you with a shared look of confusion. 

“What’s so funny ma’am?” The taller of the two asked. 

“Y’all aren’t from the FBI,” You said, laughing harder as your sides began to hurt. 

“Um, yeah, we are, didn’t you see our badges?” Agent “Tyler,” said to you, flashing his badge again. 

“Yes, I saw your fake FBI badges,” you said, eyeing the men suspiciously. 

“How did you know?” Agent “Perry,” asked. 

“Because this is a police department. We have a local FBI office and I have dealt with them several times since I’ve worked here. We’re trained to spot real and fakes badges and from my training, these two are definitely fake,” you said, smirking smugly. 

“Damn, she’s good, Sammy,” the shorter one said. 

“So, what do you two really want?” You ask, cocking your eyebrow up to further question the men. 

“Okay, here’s the truth. I’m Sam, this here’s my brother Dean, we’re in town to investigate a string of disappearances that have been going on over the past week-and-a-half. Do you know anything about them?”  The taller one, Sam, said to you, giving a sad, puppy-dog look as he spoke. 

“Of course I do. Police department remember? I can’t begin to tell y’all how many missing person reports our agency has been taking during that time. At least close to thirty and that’s a huge number for a town of about 100,000 people,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief. 

“Well, what’s been reported?” The shorter one, Dean, asked. 

“I can’t share that information with you but what I can do is call over to dispatch and see if they can send an officer up here to speak with y’all?” 

“Okay, that’d be great,”  Sam said.

“Alright y’all have a seat and I’ll see about getting an officer over here to help y’all out,” you say, turning around to head back to your desk. 

The two men sat in chairs beside one another as you called over to dispatch to set up an officer to come speak to the guys. 

“Well, officers are currently 10-6 (busy) so it may be a while before they’re able to get out there,” the dispatcher informs you. 

“Okay, I’ll let them know, thanks. Sam, Dean?” You call to the guys as both their heads turn to look at you. “All our officers are busy with other calls at the moment but someone should be up here soon to speak to you,” 

“Great, thanks a lot sweetheart,” Dean said, winking at you but you just ignore him. 

Almost an hour later, an officer was dispatched and on his way to speak to the men, much to their happiness. 

“Hey, sorry for keeping y’all waiting, I’m officer King, how can I help y’all?” The officer said, shaking hands with both Sam and Dean. 

“Well first of all you should give that young lady behind that desk there a raise because she’s doing a wonderful job,” Dean stated, shooting another wink in your direction. Officer King just laughs as Sam groans beside Dean and takes over-explaining. 

“We work for a podcast that reports unsolved cases and we just wanted to see if you had any information you could give us,” Sam explained. 

“Sure, why don’t y’all come back to my office and we can discuss this,” Officer King said, nodding to you before he led the men back to his office. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About half an hour later, the boys had come out to the lobby and over to the counter again. 

“What can I do for y’all?” You ask. 

“Well, we just wanted to thank you for your help but also wanted to ask if you wanted to be included in this story because we heard your sister was reported missing?” Sam asked. 

“Um, yeah, yeah she was. But no, I don’t mind talking about it, if y’all think you might be able to help,” you say. “I don’t get off until 11 tonight but I’m off tomorrow so I can meet y’all somewhere then and we can go over this.” 

“Great. Where can we meet you?” Dean asked. 

“Why not right back here say 10 am?” You suggested, not confident in trusting them to meet you anywhere else. 

“Easy enough. See you tomorrow,” Dean said, shooting a quick wink your way before Sam just smiled and nodded to you. 

The rest of the shift went by without too much excitement going on from your side of the screen, but the officers you could see from the call screen, they were dealing with quite a bit of incidents around town.

That night, you kept to your normal routine of driving home and quickly locking up behind you before you let your dog outside and made a quick meal for dinner as you searched for something to watch on Netflix. Your mind wandered off to the two brothers you met earlier that night. It seemed weird how they came up to the desk and just started asking a lot of questions. Most people have complaints or need to make some form of a report but these two? They were strange, to say the least, but they weren’t too bad to look at, especially Sam. He towed above you from the opposite side of the window and although he couldn’t touch you, he seemed rather intimidating. On the one hand, his eyes were soft but his height and the muscles that protrude from his arms made him a little scary. On the other hand, you thought about what it would be like to have him push you against a wall and have his way with you. You shudder at the thought; you don’t even know the man! I think it’s time for bed. You thought to yourself, trying to wish anyway whatever thoughts you were thinking to yourself but the last thing you thought as you shut your eyes for the night, was the name; Sam. 

The next morning, you woke up and got yourself ready for meeting the brothers. You weren’t sure what exactly to expect but you did know you were looking forward to seeing them again. But it was odd to you; why would two strangers from God knows where come to your small town to investigate a string of disappearances? Who were these brothers? Whatever their story was, you decided to proceed to meet with them cautiously, because if there’s one thing you’ve learned from working for the police department; you can’t trust people’s stories. Gathering your things together, you got in your car and drove back down to the station where you almost immediately saw the two strangers leaning against a beautiful classic car, seemingly waiting for you. You would be lying if you said your heart was beating erratically. Something seemed weird about the brothers so you reached in your bag to secure the small handgun you kept there just in case. 

“Hey guys,” you say, letting go of the gun but remembering it was still there. 

“Hey,” Sam said, giving you a tight smile.

“Okay, so what do y’all wanna know?” You ask, looking between the brothers who just share a glance. 

“Well, why don’t you start with your name?” Dean said. 

“Oh, right, I’m (y/n). Nice meeting y’all properly,” You say.

“You too, (Y/N). How long have you been working for the police department?” Sam questioned. 

“Just about a year now,” you state, walking over to a picnic table and throwing your legs under the table, the brothers sitting opposite of you. 

“Have you ever seen any kind of activity like this before? This many disappearances?” 

“No, never. We’ve had a few years where it was close to this but this year is on a completely different level. Our officers have never seen this kind of activity either, nor the detectives. Even those who’ve worked for the department the longest said they’ve never encountered an invisible monster on this large a scale in a long time,” you say, not believing the recent incidents that had been happening in your jurisdiction. 

“Is there anything these cases have  in common?” Dean asks.

“Not that I’ve seen but you should definitely talk to detectives because they know more about that kind of thing than I do.”

“How about the families of the victims? Anything seem similar to you?” 

“You know, there is something similar with the victims’ families. They all come from upper-class backgrounds. We have two wealthier neighborhoods in town and all the victims are living in those neighborhoods,” you say. 

“That’s interesting. Any reason that may be?” Dean said to Sam like he would know the answer. 

“Not really but I do have some ideas of what this might be,” Sam said.

“What do you mean you might know what this is? Y’all aren’t even from here nor have even seen the reports!”

“Should we tell her?” Sam asked. 

“I think we can trust her plus with the way you’ve been looking at her, I think she should know,” Dean said, causing his brother’s cheeks to turn red. 

“Tell me what? How has Sam been looking at me?” You asked, not sure which was more important right now. 

“We’re hunters and we don’t mean animals. We hunt monsters, like the ones you hear about in books or on TV. They’re real; all of them. And we hunt them, kill them, to protect the country,”

 Sam explained like it was the easiest explanation for anyone to hear in the world. 

“What? Monsters? Like made-up monsters? Like werewolves? Vampires? Ghosts? Those are real?” You ask.

“Every one of them. Plus so many others and we kill them. They attack humans, we kill them,” Dean said, with the most serious expressions you’ve ever seen. 

“Wha-why are you telling me this? I-I don’t understand, monsters. They’re real? And y’all hunt them, kill them, to protect people?” You ask, repeating the info the brothers just told you. 

“Yes and we think there might be one of those monsters here in town that could be causing this many disappearances,” Sam added. 

“Why did y’all ask me about this? Why not anyone else? This-this is a lot,” You say.

“Because you were the only one willing to talk to us about this. No one else said anything about the disappearances.” Dean said. 

You just looked between the two brothers, nothing spoken, but you nodded and agreed to help in any way you could.

“So you said you may know what this is? What do you think it is?” You asked, looking to Sam, who slowly made eye contact with you. 

“Sounds like sirens,” Sam said.

“What are sirens?” You ask, never hearing of that kind of monster before. 

“They’re creatures with the ability to change its appearance, kind of like a shapeshifter, but these guys get into people’s heads and make them think they’re the ‘perfect person for them. It makes me think that sirens have been luring people out of the town as if they were promising people in town something they’ve always wanted but never had. It would explain all the disappearances,” Sam explained. 

“What do they look like so we have an idea of what to look for?” You ask.

“Well that’s just it, kid, you can’t tell what they look like unless you cast their reflection onto a mirror. They typically look like whoever they take the form of but when you see them through a mirror, they have like blackened eyes, like a demon, but a mouth that looks like it’s stitched shut,” Dean answers you, slightly scaring you.

“Y’all don’t need me to help out with this, do you? Like, go with you on the hunt? Cause I really don’t think I should be there,” You say, your stomach-churning as the thought of these creatures plague your mind. 

“No sweetheart, you’ve done more than enough to help us with this case. You gave us a lot of useful information that we’ll need to locate these predators. All you need to worry about is keeping your pretty little self safe at home,” Dean said, winking at you. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the boys were preparing to go out on their hunt, you couldn’t help but keep your eyes fixated on Sam. He was still doing some research, he said he wanted to get some last-minute information on the town you lived in and the kind of people he would have to encounter who the Sirens had “possessed,” yet something about the way he focused, was captivating all your attention. 

“Is there something you’d like to share with the rest of the class (y/l/n)?” He asked in a teasing voice, breaking you from the concentration you held.

“I’ve never seen anyone research like you do. You’re very dedicated to your work and it shows. Plus, you get a very serious look on your face, and your eyebrows kind of scrunch together when you’re really concentrating; it’s rather cute,” you say, and although you weren't so sure how he’d react, the light pink color that begun to spread over his tanned cheeks gave you all the answers you needed. 

“Well, I can’t say I ever heard that one before and most people don’t use “cute” as a means to describe me, but I find it flattering, so thank you,” he says, giving you a shy smile.

“I take it that not very many people compliment you,” you state. 

“If people get compliment me, it’s because of my hunting skills or some information I found ended up being useful or I saved someone’s life, but the way I look as I concentrate on my work and definitely because I’m ‘cute,’ yeah I don’t hear that often,” he shakes his head but with a giant smile plastered across his face. 

“Hey, you have dimples, those are cute too,” you compliment him again, causing the shade of red on his cheeks to darken. “And by that reaction, I’m guessing a lot of people don’t compliment you on your dimples either, do they?” 

“Actually that one I hear all the time, but it’s still sweet of you to say, so thank you,” he says, smiling down at you. 

“Well I think that’s about enough chick-flick moments I can handle for one day,” Dean said, suddenly appearing in the doorway to the library, surprising you and Sam. “You ready Sammy?” He asks his younger brother who quickly clears his throat and gets up, shutting his laptop and throwing it in a backpack. 

“Yep, all set,” he says. 

“Okay (y/n) so you gonna be okay just laying low for a little bit while we go gank these sons of bitches?” Dean asks. 

“Yeah, I have a hot date with Netflix, popcorn, and comfy pillows and PJs for the night. I’ll be good,” you say.

“Well if you need anything, we left our numbers down here for you and we’ll come back and let you know what our outcome was since this is your town and you helped give us information on this case,” Dean said, giving you a slip of paper before he climbs behind the wheel of his sleek black classic car. 

Sam, who remained standing in front of you for a minute, waited until the door slammed shut before he spoke up. 

“As Dean said, if anything happens, just, don’t hesitate to call and we’ll be there. I uh, would hate to see something happen to you,” he said, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. 

“Is Sam Winchester paying me a compliment now? From what I’ve heard, that’s not common for you,” you said. 

“What you heard?” He asks, worry filling his tone. “Who-who did you talk to?” 

“No one silly but you don’t think I didn’t research y’all when you came to town? Believe it or not, there is a national name file for both of you and I’ve read about a lot of the time officers have been after you. Remember, I work for a police department; I can find out a lot about your demons,” you said, grinning at the man who still stood before you but suddenly seemed a bit smaller at that moment.

“Oh, that’s pretty smart and also kind of scary. Guess we can’t lie to you after all,” he says. 

“Nope, because I always have a way of finding out the truth, plus “poses as fake FBI agents” came up as reasons why police officers need to be careful with you two. Although they haven’t had any run-ins with y’all in a long time,” you add, smirking at the stunned expression on the youngest Winchester’s face. 

“Oh uh, yeah, we’ve been trying not to get into too much trouble lately, well at least not getting arrested,” he says.

“Yeah, I read about the few times that happened,” you add with a wink.

“Okay, so I’m going to go mostly cause I’m a bit scared now but there’s also not the best thoughts going through my head right now, so we’ll talk soon, okay?” He asks and when he sees you nod your understanding, he nods quickly back to you and hurries off to his brother’s car, and climbs into the passenger seat. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                                                           Sam’s POV

“Hey, you okay there, Sammy? I haven’t seen you that uptight about a girl in, well I don’t know long,” Dean says, smirking when he sees whatever look is on my face right now.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” I lie, knowing damn well what he was trying to get out of me. 

“Really? Cause it seemed like (y/n) was getting to you a bit back there,”

“No, she’s, she’s fine,” I say, trying to end this discussion. 

“Yeah, but are you?” He asks. 

“So I’m thinking when we get there, we should go right in, guns blazing and everything. No time to waste today,” I say, hoping desperately Dean would just drop the topic of (y/n) so we could focus on our case, and luckily he did. 

There wasn’t anything wrong with (y/n), quite the opposite actually, and that was the problem. She was so infuriating, knowing that she could find out every little secret Dean and I had in the last, shit I don’t know how many years, and the fact she was so smug about it; who does she think she is?! Is she even allowed to do that? Like can’t employees of the police department get in trouble for looking up information about people? Well, maybe not, because they need to know what kind of people they have to deal with but like I told her before, we can’t hide anything from her! Not that I want to or anything but there are certain parts of this job I don’t think she should have to know about. Then again, we did tell her about what we really do out for a living so I can’t imagine too much more information would be bad for her to know. I just can’t see her knowing every little detail about our lives! I mean, yeah we’ve only known her for a couple of days since we came to town but already I can tell she is so sweet and so pure in certain things. I can’t imagine her reaction to some of the stories we could tell her. Wait am I saying? She works for a freaking police department; she probably hears horror stories on a regular basis! She may be sweet but I bet she’s more tough than she makes people believe.

“Earth to Sammy! Come in Sammy!” Dean says, bringing my attention back to him.

“Huh?” I say, looking at him.

“I said, are you ready? We’re here.” 

I looked around where Baby stopped and saw we were in fact, there.

“Oh, yeah, I’m ready,” I say, opening the door to get out, gun ready at my side. We walked to the house where the last disappearance occurred and slowly made our way inside. The house was a mess,  documents and files thrown across the floor, books and their shelves broken down; it looked like a tornado blew through here. Just as we made our way further in the house, up to the bedrooms, some lady came out of nowhere and tried to stab me but thankfully Dean heard her before I did so he was able to shoot her before she got to me.

“Thanks,” I say before having to turn and fight off another Siren who went for me again, Dean fighting off his own. 

This went on for a while until we figured we killed them all and we could head back to meet with (y/n) until my phone started to ring. 

“Hello?” I ask when I answer the phone.

“Sam?” A small voice asks. 

“(Y/N)? What’s wrong?” She sounded scared; my senses going into overdrive. 

“I-I need help. I don’t know where I am but...something happened….” She says, sounding like she was crying.

“Okay (y/n) where are you? What do you see around you?” I ask and Dean comes closer to my side. 

“Um, it’s dark and I can’t see too much. I-I’m sorry,” she says, crying again.

“Hey, no, don’t you apologize. You did nothing wrong. What do you remember?” 

“Um, I was just sitting in the apartment living as I told you I was going to do and then someone got inside and then I blacked out and when I woke up, I was here. I-I think I’m tied up and I’m in a lot of pain. I-I don’t know what happened Sam but I’m scared,” she sounds so helpless at this point. 

“Hey, baby, listen to me alright, you’re going to be okay, okay? Dean and I are going to come to find you and we’re going to fix you up well, I promise,” I say, trying to calm her down. I know she’s scared but I hope I can settle her down a bit. 

“Okay and Sam, hurry, please?” She asks, more desperate than before. 

“We will, we’re on our way now. I’m going to stay on the phone with you so we can try to see if we can tell where you’re at okay?” I look to Dean who immediately takes my silent signal and rushes out the door and right out to the car. We jump in and race to figure out where (y/n) may be. I can hear (y/n)’s breathing get quieter and I’m afraid if she falls asleep, she won’t wake up.

“(y/n) can you hear me? Hey, I need you to talk to me, okay? I need you to keep talking,” I say as I keep trying to hear for any background noise to see if we could tell where she was. 

“I really don’t have anything to say,” she says, her voice fragile.

“You never told me, why you chose to work for the police department,” I say, trying to see if that would get her talking. 

“Well I needed a-another job and-a job as a-dispatcher came out so I-went to apply-and I-I ended up-getting that job-but with m-my training it-it became too-too hard so I transferred-to where I am n-now.” 

“That’s good,” I say, smiling at her, even though I knew she couldn’t see it.

“Yeah I-I also wanted t-to help people,” she adds. 

“I bet, you’re so good at helping people and I’m so proud of you,” I say, trying my hardest not to get upset myself. I can’t say for certain what I feel right now for (y/n) but I do know I care about her and I told her, I would hate it if anything happened to her and I don’t take that lightly. 

“Sam, it-it hurts,” she says, and my heart breaks a little more when I hear just how uncomfortable she is. 

“I know baby, but it’ll be over soon; I promise,” 

“S-Sam?” She asks. 

“Yeah?” 

“Why-why do you keep calling m-me baby?” Damn, she may be in agony but she still picked up on that. 

“You’ve caught that huh? Well, you are my baby,” I admit. 

“But wouldn’t that mean I-I’m your girl?” 

“You are my girl.” 

“But we-we aren’t dating!”

“I know, but I want to change that,” I say.

“Really? You-you want to d-date me?” I can hear the tiniest bit of hope arise in her tone so I continue to talk about it. 

“Of course I do! Ever since we met, I was immediately attracted to you. I thought you were so beautiful and you had a bit of an attitude too. But I thought it was cute. And then you have a bit of an accent and whenever you say y’all, you sound like a true Texas girl and it makes me smile. I know you said at one point, you weren’t from here longer than 6 years but you seem to be a Texan to me and it’s very attractive. I want to take you out and get to know you better; you have no idea how much I wish I could be there to hold you right now,” I exhale, everything finally coming out about how I was feeling. The line remained silent and I began to panic until I heard, 

“I feel the same about you, Sam,” she said, clear as day. 

“Well, why don’t you keep fighting to stay alive so I can take you on that date and give you all the hugs and cuddles you deserve?” 

“That sounds great,” she said before a blood-curdling scream pierced my eardrums. 

“(Y/N)?!” And with that, the line dropped. “Dean, we have to find her!” I grow weary as I feel the acceleration of Baby set forth by Dean. I tried to track whatever phone (y/n) had called from and was able to find out the last known location.

“Okay so the phone is pinging from up the road about two miles; she can’t be too far away,” I tell Dean, more determined than ever to find her. 

“We’ll find her Sammy; I know we will.” Dean tries his hardest to help ease my worries but the sound of her scream is taunting me. 

When we got to the location the phone was pinging from, there wasn’t much but an old house that appeared to have been partially burned down a few years ago. I couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to use this house as any means of suspicious activities but I can’t understand people. I jump out of the car and rush inside, holding my gun out in front of me, ready to shoot anyone who crosses my path. 

“(Y/N)?!” I yell out when I’m inside the house, Dean close behind me. 

“Sam!” I hear a voice yell back at me and I rush towards where the voice was coming from. 

“Dean!” I yell, as I’m almost attacked by a Siren but Dean shoots it before it gets to me. 

“Go find her, Sam, I got this,” Dean says and I rush off to find (Y/N).

“(Y/N)?” I call out again and am met with her reply, sounding a lot closer. When I turn the corner into another room, I see her tied to a table, in nothing but her bra and underwear, and blood dripping down from her abdomen. I rush over to her and immediately start untying her restraints. 

“Sam?” A small voice squeaks out and two big (y/e/c) eyes land on me. 

“Hey pretty girl, you got some pretty nasty injuries here. I’m going to get you untied and I’ll take you back to your place and fix you up, okay?” I say as calmly as I can. I know she’s very fragile, just like she was on the phone, but I work diligently to set her free. Once I get the last restraint undone, I slowly and cautiously lift her under her arms and legs and carry her bridal out of the house and out to the car. She groans when I gently place her in the back seat but before I could walk away, she grabs my hand. 

“Will you stay back here with me, please?” Well, how was I going to say no to that?

“Of course pretty girl,” I say, climbing in and sitting beside. I lay her head on my lap, stroking her hair and having her hold a towel on her stomach. 

“So I’m a pretty girl now, huh?” She asks, looking up at me. I smile down at her, blushing just a bit at her comment.

“Well I thought baby was a little too romantic right now and since we haven’t even gone on a date yet, I figured pretty girl had just enough effectiveness but not too much into the romantic side of things,” I explain.

“I like these nicknames you’re using for me; they’re sweet,” she says.

“I’m surprised you’re even able to pay attention to what I’m calling you or not in your state right now,” I say.

“Hey, just because I’m hurt doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate when a very attractive man compliments me. Hell, if I had more strength, I’d probably kiss you right now.” 

“I can help with that,” I say, gently tilting her head a bit further back so I could easily kiss her. And I did but I held back a bit for fear I would hurt her more. So I left a small yet powerful, I’d hope, kiss on her lips, with a small taste of blood behind it. I looked up to see Dean grin at us through the rearview mirror, ignoring whatever he was hinting at, but I couldn’t help the small smile that played on my lips. 

We decline to take (Y/N) back to her house for fear something like this would happen to her again. She put up no fight, not that she really could if she wanted to, but I felt better about it because now, I wasn’t going to let her out of my sight. Because last time I did that, she ended up hurt, and it was my fault because I left her alone. 

Back in the room, I give up my bed as Dean helps me lower her so we could get a good look at her. The shirt she was wearing had a rather large stain of blood on one side so the only way to get to the injury was to cut the fabric away from her. I grab a pair of scissors and right before I begin to cut, I hear her cry out,

“No Sam, it-it hurts!” She says as she wiggles around on the bed, trying to escape the pain. 

“I know pretty girl, but you need to trust me. We have to cut this shirt off because your injury is too severe; it’ll hurt worse if we don’t cut it, okay?” 

She nods her head and I take her hand in mine, as I give the scissors to Dean, who slowly begins to cut her shirt, careful around her injury, and I can tell just by the look on her face, she is in a lot of pain. There’s nothing I would rather do than switch places with her but that is not possible. So I bring her hand up to my lips and kiss it tenderly, reassuring her that I would never leave her.

“Alright Sam, we’re going to have to disinfect this and stitch her up,” Dean says, giving me a somber expression. 

“Yeah, okay,” I said, nodding to him.

“Will you hold her down? It’s going to hurt and I got a towel for her to bite down on,” Dean says.

I look down at the girl lying helplessly beside me and she looks so sad and afraid but I knew it had to be done. “It’s going to be okay, baby, I’m going to be right here the whole time,” I say to her as Dean pours some whiskey on the injury. It was a good thing we had that towel because I couldn’t bear to hear the entirety of her screams. Just her muffled cries broke my heart to the point I began to cry with her. She did not deserve this; she did nothing wrong. As quickly as he could, Dean began on the stitches, sowing her up remarkably fast. 

“She’s done,” Dean says. 

“Great,” I say, helping him clean up but a groan from (y/n) stops me. 

“Sam?” She says, sweat glistening her body. 

“I’m right here,” I say, coming back to her side. 

“Lay with me?” I couldn’t say no so I moved the sheets aside and crawled in next to her. 

“Thank you for saving me, Sam,” She whispers after Dean decided to leave the room to get some food and medicine for (y/n). 

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, (y/n).” 

“Do you really like me, more than a friend I mean?” She asks

“I do. In a short amount of time, I’ve grown to care about you and your well-being. I want to do anything to make you happy and to protect you,”

“So does this count as a date then?” She asks, in all seriousness, and I just laugh.

“Oh no sweetheart, I will go all out for a date with you. Nothing is too much for my girl unless you say so. And I don’t see either one of us being hurt,” I say. 

We both laugh until (y/n) begins to groan again. “No, it hurts to laugh,” she says, as we both still laugh.

“Stop making me laugh,” She whines. 

“I can’t help it, sweet girl, I love the sound of your laugh,” I say, leaning down to kiss her temple. 

“Well I can’t wait until you can kiss me properly,” she says. 

“Believe me, pretty girl, it’s all I think about but until then, you get better, then I’ll kiss you like you deserve to be kissed.” 

“Well then, I can’t wait.” 

Taglist: @tloveswriting @calaofnoldor @thinkinghardhardlythinking @to-my-beloved-fandoms-2 @angeredcrow @spnjediavenger @440mxs-wife @fandom-princess-forevermore @sam-winchester-admiration-league @thwiso @lyarr24 @grace15ella @deansmyapplepie @akshi8278 @baby1967impala @suckmysupernatural @slutforfics

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Sgt. Hartman

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You met Sgt. Hartman while stationed as a nurse at the boot camp. You supposed that working in basic training was better than on the battlefield; especially since this would be your first gig as an army nurse, but the comparison did little to ease your nerves. You were still going to be taking care of a bunch of untrained men floundering around with dangerous weapons and equipment. 

- Regardless of your worries, you arrived at the camp early in the morning with your bags all packed and your hands eager to do something. As you stepped outside of your car, you were met with the sight of the older man, hands behind his back and a straight, almost scowling expression on his face.

- His face softened upon seeing you; though it didn’t do much to make him any less intimidating. The man introduced himself, ushering you to follow behind him as he began to give you a tour of your “new home”. After he showed you around, you were taken into the barracks and introduced to everyone in typical Hartman fashion. 

“Private cowboy, where's the infirmary,” He’d bellowed out and the man; Private Cowboy, quickly answered the shouted question. “Precisely! Now, if one of you sacks of shit gets your dick blown off by your rifle, this is who you will go and see! Is that clear?”

“Sir yes sir.” You’d nearly shouted alongside them. 

- The man demanded obedience, oozed authority, and held enough power in his hands to make a persons knees buckle beneath them. He was old enough to be your father and yet, there was something about him that just drew you in. 

- Unbeknownst to you, the drill sergeant was equally attracted to you as you were to him. 

- Now Hartman hasn’t had to flirt for a while so he’s a bit rusty. His attempts to compliment you are stunted and awkward and he isn’t quite sure what to talk to you about. But over time he gets back into the swing of things.

- Believe it or not, he used to be quite the catch when he was younger; and while he’s a few years past what you’d probably consider his “prime”, deep down he’s still just as suave and …creative. 

- It’s going to take you a while to realize exactly what he’s trying to accomplish, mainly because; in the beginning, you can’t really spend a lot of time together. He’s a busy man and even if you were to see him a lot, you most likely wouldn’t assume your superior; who’s that much older than you, is trying to hit on you. It would seem like more of a “a girl can dream” moment. 

- As I mentioned before, when you’re first starting to actually get to know each other, you aren’t really able to spend a lot of time together. He decides to do something about that, requesting that you come with him and his recruits when they go to do field training or target practice; “so you can be right there if something happens to them”. 

- Most of the time, you’re just sitting and watching but when he’s able to, he’ll stand by your side and make conversation, throwing in some slightly suggestive and ambiguously flirtatious comments. He doesn’t want to lay it on too thick in front of the “maggots”. 

- It’s only when the two of you get some alone time together that you can have some genuine banter. You flirt light heartedly, in a way that many would perceive as joking though it’s not a joke to either of you. He teases you and you tease him right back, something he’s quite fond of. 

- Well, it all comes to a head on New Years. You’re sitting in your office, finishing up some paperwork and feeling just the slightest bit homesick when you hear a knock at your door. 

- It’s obviously him, and while you figured he might stop by, the champagne he’s holding is certainly a surprise. Regardless, you soon find yourself sitting on your desk with him standing beside you, the both of you a little tipsy; just enough to make you feel warm and loose. 

- The remarks you exchange are a blur. All you can remember is watching in a heated daze as he leans in closer and closer until finally he seizes your lips in his. Long, slow, and slightly clumsy, the two of you kiss for what seems like forever, your arms wrapping around his neck as his fingers dig into your hips. 

- It’s a few minutes past midnight when you finally break apart and you shyly wish him a happy new years, unsure of what to say besides those few words. He merely chuckles huskily and pulls you into another kiss. 

- And thus begins your relationship with the master of maggots. 

- Modest and reserved pda. He’s got a bit of a reputation to keep up so most of your affection is gonna happen behind closed doors.

- He may be a hard man but he’s soft with you; surprisingly so at times. If any of his cadets saw the two of you when you thought you were alone, they’d die of shock right then and there.

- Long, hard kisses.

- Swats to the butt in private. You stand before him with a beautiful bottom and expect him not to touch it? You ask too much of him. He’s only human.

- He likes to keep a hand on the small of your back. It’s sort of a show of ownership; for lack of a better word. He wants everyone to know that you’re off limits without outwardly telling them.

- He’s a fan of pet/nicknames if you couldn’t tell. You get called a lot of different things: sweetheart, honey, darling, sugartits, etc.

- He’s not a huge cuddler but he’ll sling an arm around you and let you lay your head on his arm even though it makes the appendage annoyingly fall asleep.

- He’s an old fashioned man; a Christian one at that, so a want for domesticity has been instilled in him from a young age. Let’s hope you’re willing to be a little homemaker because that’s what he’s expecting and hoping for.

- Making breakfast for him in the morning. He always gives you a “mornin sunshine” and a side hug when he walks into the kitchen.

- Straightening out his tie for him.

- Sitting on his desk and putting his hat on when he isn’t wearing it. It earns you a little smile every time you do so.

- Kisses on the temple.

- There’s going to be long stretches of time where you don’t see each other in person, it’s a part of the job and you’ll just have to accept it. It sure makes for some great reunions!

- He gets all proud whenever you praise him; especially for his medals and things of that nature. He puffs his chest out that slightest bit, straightening his shoulders as he tries to act modestly.

- Being there for all of his recruits ceremonies and congratulating him for making “another fine batch of soldiers”. 

- Watching his drills in your spare time. Even if you aren’t fond of some of his particular methods of earning respect and shaping his students, you can still admire him and the power he holds.

- Like I said, you may not like some of the ways he treats some of his cadets but you sure have to stifle a laugh when you pass by every now and again. You feel like a bad person but you can’t help it; he’s a funny, raunchy man.

- Late night meetings in your office. Try to remember to lock the door behind him.

- He’s got wonderfully rough hands and that’s all I’ll say about that.  

- He enjoys being able to make you laugh. He’ll tell you jokes, poke your sides, throw you over his shoulder; whatever it takes to make you giggle and squeal.

- You get away with a lot of things no one else could. You think anyone else could insult or talk back to this man without having their holes resized? No ma’am, not a chance.

- Few people are graced with his smile and you are one of those few people. It may be a small one but it still feels like an honor every time you see it.

- He’s been a drill instructor for quite a while so he’s certainly got a few stories to tell. They range from violent to embarrassing; for someone else, to just plain funny; you’ve got a tale for every mood.

- Hearing the stories behind his scars and tattoos. He likes the way you trace your fingers delicately across them while listening intently to what he has to say.

- He may or may not have gotten your name tattooed on him. 

- If you want to go out and do something, he’s one old man that can handle it. He enjoys being in the great outdoors so hiking and things of that nature are right up his alley.

- Barbecues. He will tease you if you’re vegetarian or vegan; all while grilling vegetables and veggie burgers.

- He prefers dates where the two of you can be alone together. It’s nice to get away from the stupidity of his cadets and from your hectic work.

- Sitting in his lap after a long day. He likes holding your hip in his hand and giving it a light squeeze every once and a while, usually after he makes some teasing remark.

- Nighttime brandy and bourbon. It’s a nice way to wind down before bed.

- Sneaking around the camp with each other. You’ve shared several kisses behind shut blinds and secluded corners.

- Hunting, fishing and camping trips. He’s a typical middle aged man who likes to kill and you’re his girl so you’re always invited to join him.

- Getting taught how to shoot and assemble guns. He thinks it’s a skill that everyone should know, even a pretty little things like you. 

- Trying to get him to ease up just a little bit; at least in some cases. He may be a professional drill instructor but you’re a professional human and you know when some people require something other than humiliation to learn.

- A jealous man. He feels a bit silly whenever he gets that burning feeling inside but he reasons that you’re his woman and he has the right; especially when it’s some young stud flirting with you. Usually, he’ll narrow his eyes at them and turn on his intimidation, asking them where they’re supposed to be and ordering them away as soon as whatever you needed to do with them is finished.

- He can always tell when you’re only trying to be nice and/or do your job so he never gets angry at you. He’ll just tell you not to be so sweet all the time and/or walk out without another word.

- A bit overprotective; he hears about anything and he makes sure to handle it. He doesn’t often use violence but his presence is enough to spook people. Rest assured, if it’s one of his cadets that’s causing problems, they’ll be running laps from sunrise to sunset.

- You get a whole lot of respect; at least to your face. No one is ever gonna start trouble with you, not when they know who you’re with. The most you’ll get is some young kid trying to push his luck but Hartman makes sure to squash that fast.

- He gets out most of his frustration at work so the two of you rarely fight; at least not aggressively. If there’s an issue then you’ll argue and resolve it within the hour, that’s just the way he is. The only time the two of you have a serious fight is when you’re adamant on trying to change the way he does things.

- If he’s upset you then he’ll apologize for that but trying to get an apology for anything else is like pulling teeth. He has a hard time admitting when he’s wrong though it isn’t too much of a problem since he rarely is in the wrong.

- He doesn’t tell you that he loves you very often but he does so on occasion, usually on your anniversary and during long goodbyes; things like that.

- As a god-fearing, old fashioned man, he intends to make an honest woman out of you as soon as he can. He’d be stupid not to.

[miraculousmarifan]

Felinette Month 2020 - Day 27: In Between

Here’s the beginning of the last set of late @felinettenovember works! Enjoy a little competition between Adrien and Felix that ends with an altogether different winner.

Around 2300 words

Marinette loved fashion design. She loved seeing the clothes, learning what went into making them, and figuring out how to make them look the best on people. What she didn’t enjoy was going to stuck up parties where most people were trying to trip up others. She thought this one would be easier as it was only a company-wide Christmas party and she already had at least two good friends attending, outside of the coworkers she had a good relationship with. What she didn’t bargain on was that both her friends would compete to be her companion for the entire night.

Upon arriving and checking in at the front, she found her good friend Adrien at her elbow. He immediately asked about taking her jacket, which she allowed, inquiring about the coat room and readjusting the bag she would keep throughout the night. Then he began to try bringing her into the main room, encouraging her to hold his arm for steadiness, and offered to find her a refreshment right away. Instead they were faced with Felix holding two glasses partway down the hallway, asking Marinette which she would prefer. She thanked him for considering her favorite and accepted the glass.

Marinette hadn’t thought ahead when she told both men about her excitement to attend and see other designers she didn’t get to see often. She and Adrien had been friends since school, her even holding a crush for a few years before moving on. She had gone on some dates after and had decided she didn’t enjoy their company enough for it to cut into her designing time, especially as she worked tirelessly to expand her portfolio for university and beyond. The two had remained good friends, meeting once every few weeks with their friend group except during busy seasons at work when one or the other couldn’t make it. 

She and Felix had connected in university, finding that they were doing complementary classes and that by collaborating, the two had excelled in their coursework far beyond their classmates. Learning that they both intended to work at the same company had resulted in weekly lunches and occasionally Felix “reminding” Marinette that she needed to go home and rest when she had been working later for too many days in a row. She needed the escort out of the building to ensure she didn’t go right back to working.

Unfortunately the two cousins had not gotten along well in the past five or so years, though the two had never elaborated on what happened to drive a wedge between them. The hostility between the two was tangible though, a whisper among their coworkers about how the two would specifically avoid meetings that the other was meant to be in or take their lunches at very select times, in areas of the building the other wasn’t likely to go to. Marinette hadn’t realized it was actually bad enough for the two to glare at each other the way they were, thinking the rumors played up this tension.

From further into the entryway, Claude waved an arm and rushed forward towards Marinette, breaking the staring contests between her friends. His dark green suit and bright red tie contrasted to really emphasize the occasion.

“Hello Claude. How are you tonight?” she greeted lightly, slightly uncertain of what to expect without as many work restrictions. He greeted her with a half hug, kissing near both her cheeks. Felix and Adrien had both turned to watch him intensely.

“Marinette! I’m so glad you’re finally here! Your dress is magnificent! Did you bring a date for tonight?” he gushed, gently holding her arm near the elbow. He was beaming, grin reaching his ears, and only glanced at the two men near her as he asked about the date.

“Not tonight. I didn’t particularly feel like finding one when we were starting to design for the spring line already. Especially since Christmas is already next week, and many of my friends are planning to spend time with their families in preparation,” Marinette casually answered, successfully hiding her wariness at his line of questioning. He had asked her out to dinner once when she first started but he quickly moved on to other targets after she had gently rejected.

“I can escort you, if you’d like! A pretty woman like you is bound to be surrounded otherwise! Plus if I remember correctly, this is the first year you’ve managed to make it so you don’t know where to find all the best food and I can help with that,” he exclaimed with what he probably thought was a charming smile, ending with a wink. Marinette hoped he got distracted soon instead.

“That’s alright Claude! I’m sure I’ll be alright without a date, and if I decide I need to find the best food, I’ll find you,” Marinette tried to dismiss his offer in a polite, but firm manner. With no comeback or ready suggestion to combat it, Claude smiled a little less brightly and informed them he would be returning to the action, reminding Marinette to find him later. With a small wave, he was gone and Marinette sighed.

After rolling her shoulders and head, she strode forward towards the main party. Both Adrien and Felix rushed to match her stride. Adrien asked if she and that man were close; Felix, if Claude bothered her at work. Both assured her that they would take care of her if she needed. She laughed a little, assuring them that Claude was not harassing her at work and she had the situation under control. They didn’t seem convinced, so Marinette made note to herself that she should follow up on this issue.

Walking through the main doors, Marinette paused to scan the room for specific people she hoped to see. She quickly decided that she should just start at one side of the room and work her way around it. She approached a pair chatting that she had worked with on a few occasions.

“Good evening! How have you been? Is your wife here tonight?” She managed to slide into the conversation easily, the pair exchanging small talk quickly before asking her opinion about one aspect of their winter line and her thoughts. She explained what she personally thought were a few pros and cons before a voice behind her chimed in his opinion. Marinette had jumped slightly as he spoke, not realizing that Felix had followed her over. She turned, trying to widen the group so Felix was within the semi-circle rather than behind her. Adrien stood right next to him, causing Marinette to jump again. The original pair looked curiously at the blonds and Marinette tried to casually laugh the interaction off.

“I didn’t see you two join us! Excuse my excluding you from the conversation!” her voice came out nervous, blood rushing to her cheeks. She wished they had said something sooner. Then she proceeded to ask if they had all met and introduced Felix when one man didn't know him. A minute or two of uncomfortable small talk followed before silence. When Marinette excused herself to talk to a woman that had recently returned from maternity leave, Felix and Adrien trailing behind her, one man speculated about her relationship with the two men that were meant to run Gabriel one day. The two agreed that if she was getting special attention, it was likely due to her talent. Gabriel must have asked them to keep an eye on her.

Marinette continued chatting, moving from person to person and, learning quickly from her first experience, immediately introducing people to the heirs of Gabriel by only their given names, as casually as they might any other random coworker or friend. Many noted to themselves or others nearby that those men seemed very attentive. One older designer chuckled quietly when Marinette made a passing statement about wanting to try some hors d'oeuvres before they were gone and both Felix and Adrien slipped away, only to return nearly simultaneously with plates piled much higher than would be deemed appropriate normally, offering them to Marinette. The young woman tried to laugh at them and asked her if she wanted to try any of their offerings. Each of them took one small item from each plate and turned away anything further. Each looked smugly at the other when Marinette took her choice from his plate.

As the night moved on and the live music started, many people moved towards the dance floor with their dates. Most songs were upbeat and catchy and Marinette had made herself at home with another young woman from another department. Felix and Adrien had been pulled away by some executives, discussing this and that, each trying to gain a small amount of favor for their futures. Keen observers may have noted the young men sneaking glances towards a young designer, laughing with another woman.

Soon a young man invited Marinette’s companion to dance. With an excited smile over her shoulder, she accepted. Marinette gave a small wave in acknowledgement and found her drink. It took very little time for the two men to approach her. Felix and Adrien reached her at the same moment. Both asked for a dance in that moment. Marinette’s eyes opened wide in her initial surprise and the swift beeline those men made to get to her had attracted more than a few watching eyes.

“Are the two of you planning on ignoring the rest of the guests here the entire night, when I’m content to stay on my own? Here you ask me to choose between my two very good friends while other young women wait to be invited to dance?” Marinette mockingly replied to the two, eyebrows raised slightly. The men flushed, but Felix took a step forward, leaning slightly towards her. Adrien quickly moved to follow step

“I would only be content to stay by your side, and I’m sure the other women wouldn’t be content in my company either. You look too beautiful for any other to keep my eyes on her,” Felix spoke in a husky whisper, just loud enough for the trio to hear. Marinette looked into his eyes and felt the impact of his words stirring her heart. She knew a blush had to be creeping up as well.

“I can’t imagine wanting to dance with another girl when I know you’re here! You enchant me!” Adrien’s exclamations were much less subtle and held an undertone of pleading. Unfortunately this attracted more eyes nearby and Marinette felt uncomfortable under the weight of their stares.

“Adrien, would you mind not loudly saying things like that? People will get the wrong idea about our relationship,” she replied in a hushed tone, her eyes flicking across the nearby faces watching them with all but outright stares. Adrien didn’t seem to read her mood.

“What do you mean? I care for you unbelievably! I would ask for a date if our careers didn’t make us too busy,” Adrien proceeded, only speaking slightly quieter. The nearest people switched from watching to fish-eyed stares. Felix put a hand on his shoulder.

“Offering her your heart does not mean you have hers. You do not yet have the kind of relationship to boldly declare your feelings for her in front of others, dear cousin,” Felix chided quietly. Marinette’s eyes were drawn to him again.

“I can’t help if I want to shout my affections, my love, from the rooftops! I don’t mind others knowing that I have feelings for her, even if she hasn’t returned them yet!” Adrien justified to Felix, no longer speaking boisterously but still well above a whisper. Felix shook his head slightly.

Marinette couldn’t help but think about the differences between the two as she watched this interaction. Felix asked nothing of her future, of commitment beyond this dance. He put in the effort to be with her in the moment, making time to see her at work often without letting himself become a true disruption. His eyes conveyed a longing for her, a desire to have her close, but he did not presume upon her heart. His words were private, personal and left their relationship as a private matter. He was giving her the option to choose how much she wanted from him and how much others could know. Adrien asked only of a dance here, in a very different way though. He was proclaiming to others that he intended to pursue her when he felt the time was right and that their relationship held something more than friendship, even if it was truly one-sided. He chose to wait, put off his pursuit until it was his sole focus, causing him to miss out on her life in the everyday mundane. This embodied one large difference between the pair: Felix tended to be reserved and only show his thoughts and feelings to those he chose and Adrien tended to be open and show his thoughts and feelings to all.

“Adrien, I work with these people and personally would prefer they recognize I got here on my own merits. There are some that would infer that I am only succeeded due to your influence and any defense you tried to pose would only make them more convinced. Also, I recommend both of you grab yourself a drink because I’m not having my first dance of the night with either of you. I’ve got my eye on someone for that already,” Marinette stated firmly before walking across the room.

The men watched as she approached an older gentleman and gently asked him to dance. He took her hand and the two proceeded to the dance floor where they did a slow sway. She laughed and smiled as the gentleman spoke. The young men looked at each other and Felix extended a hand. Adrien took it silently, the two agreeing to bide their time for Marinette’s decision. In the night after the Christmas party had ended, Felix learned of Marinette’s decision and rejoiced in his opportunity to see her more.

[merakiaes]

The Tracker’s Sister - Reg Slivko

Pairing: Reg Slivko x reader

Requested: Yes. 

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: The title is horrible but I really couldn’t think of a better one so I hope you’ll be willing to ignore it hahah😭 Not proofread so I apologize in advance for any possible mistakes, I hope you like it. Let me know what you think xx

Wordcount: 4377

Summary: Captain James Conrad’s younger sister comes along on the ship for the mission on Skull Island, and catches the eye of a certain brown-eyed soldier. 

Somewhere in Saigon, district Quảng Nam, you were sitting in a club and casually reading a book, completely uncaring about the fact that you were the only woman there who wasn’t a stripper or an escort, and also about the fact that your brother’s harmless game of pool had turned into a full-blown fight and that he was now beating on his opponent and his friends with a broken pool stick.

You were used to this kind of behavior at this point. You weren’t very bothered by his aggressive habits, knowing he could hold his own more than well enough – much to the dismay of anyone who happened to land themselves on the receiving end of his temper.

You simply sat there at your table, wetting the tip of your fingers in order to flip the page of your book while James flipped one of the guys to the floor and hit another in the face, declaring himself the winner in well under a minute.

And that’s when they approached him, two men you had never seen in your life before, finally causing your attention to leave the book.

“An uncharted island?” Your brother’s eyebrows shot up in an unimpressed manner as the man who had introduced himself as Bill Randa explained the mission for him, and so did yours, before you moved your eyes back to your book.

“Let me list all the ways you're gonna die.” He continued, raising his hands and beginning to count off his fingers. “Rain, heat, mud, disease-carrying flies and mosquitos. Sure, you could load up on the atabrine for the malaria... But what about the other bacteria?”

“And don’t forget the things that will try to eat you alive.” You spoke up flatly, without looking up from your book.

The two scientists turned to look at you, and the youngest of the two, Brooks, gave you a look. “Who are you, again?” He asked, and you simply spared him a glance and a raised eyebrow.

However, you immediately went back to the book in your hands, letting your brother do the talking.

At the question sent your way, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back into his seat, setting his stern gaze on the young scientist. “She’s my sister.” He replied. “So I would watch that tone if I were you.”

A look of realization crossed over his face, and Randa cleared his throat, motioning for the money laid out on the table. “We'll double that.” He said.

“You have no idea how dangerous this is.” James wasted no time in replying. “I want five times that. Plus, a bonus if we make it back.”

“If?”

“Pay him.” Randa said, waving his hand. “I mean, I think Mr. Conrad should be fairly compensated.”

Brooks nodded, and Randa gave your brother an expectant look.

“So that’s it then?” He asked. “You’ll come along?”

“I’ll agree to it.” James nodded. “But my sister is coming.”

The two scientists instantly exchanged a doubtful look. “I don’t think-“

“If she doesn’t come, I don’t either.” James quickly interrupted him, giving him a stern look.

This time, it was returned, their demeanors turning sour. “If you bring her along, she’s your responsibility.” Randa said. “We’re not going to let inexperience jeopardize this mission, let’s make that clear.”

At this, you finally had enough of just sitting by and listening in, closing the book in your hands and looking up at him with a heavy sigh. “With all due respect, sir, the only thing I’m good at is reading. I have no interest in going to an unexplored island.” You told him in a flat tone, your face equally as neutral.

“Do you take me for a fool?” James joined in. “You really thing I would bring my nineteen-year-old sister along on a life-threatening mission? She’s staying on the ship.”

“Obviously.” You added, watching as Randa’s face pulled into a tense and awkward smile.

“Of course.” He nodded. “You’ve got yourself a deal then. We look forward to seeing the two of you again soon.”

With that said, the two of them stood up and left, and come the next evening, James and yourselves were boarding the ship with your bags slung over your shoulders, ready for a new adventure.

Or, well, James was. You weren’t really the adventurous type, but rather more of a sit in silence and read kind of girl, something you’d inherited from your late mother.

When James joined the army and went out into the world to follow in your father’s footsteps and honor his name, you stayed behind in your hometown with your mom, and you remained there until she passed away when you were sixteen and James became your only living relative and therefore also your legal guardian.

You’d been on the move with him ever since. You wished he would settle down somewhere and stop accepting missions that put his life in danger, but that was more so for his sake than for yours because you didn’t really mind moving around, and at the end of the day, it was your only source of income.

So you made the best of the situation every time, this time being no different. 

You happily greeted anyone you came across on the ship, and you also took it upon yourself to introduce your brother seeing as he was too distrusting to do so himself.

Other than a dozen scientists, you got to meet with Preston Packard and Jack Chapman, who both greeted you with respect even though you would be doing nothing to contribute to the mission, something that instantly brought your mood up.

After that, James and the rest of the scientists and soldiers who would be coming along to the island were called to a briefing, leaving you to get settled in yours and James’ shared room on your own.

In the briefing room, everyone of significance were gathered and divided into their respective groups, soldiers on one side and the scientists on the other, the latter sitting quietly and awkwardly, but the former chatting away like it was just any other day.

And right now, you were the topic, and Reg Slivko being the victim of his fellow soldiers’ torment.

“I heard he brought his sister.” Cole said, pushing on Reg’s shoulder lightly and flashing him a playful grin. “She’s supposed to be your age.”

“Oh, I met her just a few minutes ago.” Jack joined in, smiling. “A fine looking young lass, good manners, and funny too.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively at the youngest soldier, and Reg was all in on it to a start, laughing along with them.

“You hear that, eh?” Mills said, smirking mischievously. “Maybe this is the time where you finally meet your match, get lucky and lose your V-card.”

At that, everyone but the boy on the receiving end of the jokes broke into loud laughs, his face pulling into an angry, offended glare. “How many times to I have to tell you? I’m not a virgin!” He exclaimed, which only made them laugh louder.

“Keep telling yourself that, man.” Mills slapped his back, not at all fazed by the glare he got in return.

None of them got the time to say anything else as Jack was called to the front and the subject was changed, all of them turning serious – as serious as Reg Slivko could get, that is.

About half an hour later, the briefing was all over and done with, and you were still in yours and James’ room, the latter not yet having returned.

You had made it a habit a long time ago to not fall asleep until he was there to sleep too, so you occupied yourself with the cassette player you had brought with you.

It was an old and worn-out player, however. It tended to stop working every once in a while, one of those times being right now, of course when James wasn’t there to help you fix it, leaving you to annoyedly fiddle with it yourselves.

You had no idea what you were doing, though, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that you did, strings of curses leaving your lips.

Reg Slivko was in a mood as good as ever, whistling a happy tune as he walked through one of the many corridors of the ship, heading in no particular direction.

It was then that his ears picked up on the light, gentle voice from one of the open doors ahead, and more specifically the colorful language said voice was spilling out.

The contrast caused his eyebrow to raise in surprise and mild interest, his whistling coming to a stop and his pace slowing down.

He instantly realized who the voice had to belong to and when he reached the open doorway and peeked his head inside, he got it confirmed when his eyes found your form sitting cross-legged in one of the two beds, cursing and roughly handling a cassette player.

His face instantly pulled into a wide grin, at first because he realized you were extremely attractive, and then because he, for some reason, found your frustration and the accompanying pout on your lips extremely cute.

He stayed right there for a moment, amused at the fact that you hadn’t noticed him yet, but when he noticed you becoming too aggravated, he raised his hand to the doorframe and gently knocked on it, watching as your head whipped around to face him.

Your eyes were wide with surprise and your heart beating hard and quick in your chest, but when you regained your composure, your face instantly pulled into a smile to match his own.

“Oh, hi.” You greeted him, and he wasted no time in pushing himself off the doorframe to step inside your room.

“Do you need help?” He chuckled, motioning for the cassette player in your hands with an eyebrow raised in amusement.

Your smiled turned shy, your eyes flickering down to the device. “Would you mind?” You asked carefully, looking back up with a sheepish chuckle. “I'm afraid I’m not nearly as handy as my brother. I’ve been trying to get it to work for an hour but can’t seem to figure out what the problem is.”

He chuckled right back, coming over to you. “I don’t mind at all.” He said, motioning for the bed. “May I?”

You wasted no time in scooting over to make room for him, and in turn, he wasted no time in sitting down.

You wordlessly handed him the cassette player and he immediately started working on it, pressing and twisting all of the buttons first, and when getting no response from the device, he turned it around and peeled off the plastic piece at the back.

From then on forward, you had absolutely no idea what he was doing, but not even a minute later, the cassette player released a rustling noise, and not long after that, music filled the room.

A proud grin overcame his features, and your lips pulled into a wide smile too.

“Wow, that was quick.” You said, taking the player back from him when he held it out for you, looking up to meet his eyes. “Thank you.”

He casually shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t mention it.” He said, holding your gaze for a moment before nodding to the player in your hands. "You've got good taste in music." He complimented, and you chuckled.

“James isn’t too fond of it.” You replied, eyes squinting playfully. “Would you believe me of I told you he likes classical?”

“It’s always the ones you least expect who do.” He snickered, before sticking out his hand. “I’m Reg. Reg Slivko.”

You turned off the music and put the cassette player to the side, and took his outstretched hand in yours, giving his a soft shake. ”I’m (Y/N). It’s nice to meet you Reg Slivko.”

“Pleasure’s all mine. It’s not every day a guy meets a girl as pretty as you.” He answered smoothly, his demeanor taking a more flirtatious turn.

You chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Does that usually work on girls?” You asked, tilting your head and squinting your eyes.

“I wouldn’t know.” He only shrugged, his smile softening. “I signed up for the army the second I graduated and I wasn’t very popular in school.”

You hummed, the playfulness melting off and being replaced with sincerity. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” You said softly. “I was something of an outcast myself.”

“Really? I find that very hard to believe.” He said, his flirty smile returning. “Pretty, funny, polite. You don’t strike me as an outcast.”

Your entire body turned warm at the compliments that never stopped coming, and you hoped to God that he couldn’t see the blush rising to your cheeks. “Tell that to Theresa Jackson.” You chuckled, back, and before either of you could say anything else, James walked in.

“What’s going on here?” He asked, slowly walking into the room and causing the two of you to turn to look at him.

“Oh, James.” You instantly smiled at the sight of your brother, holding a hand out to the boy next to you. “This is Reg.”

“Slivko, sir.” Reg quickly added, clearing his throat and the humorous, flirtatious demeanor melting right off.

James hummed, obviously not impressed, and raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “And what business do you have in my sister’s bed, Reg Slivko?” He asked, and you rolled your eyes at that, the smile falling from your lips.

“He was just helping me fix my cassette player.” You said, giving your brother a pointed look.

In return, he raised his eyebrows at you, silently asking you “are you sure that’s all there’s to it?”, but before either of you could say anything else, Reg got up to his feet, standing up from your bed with a shrug.

“I was just about to leave.” He said, and James didn’t miss a beat, giving him a nod and a narrow-eyes look.

“I’m sure you were.” He agreed, lips pulled into a tense and sarcastic smile.

Reg nodded, and after sparing you one last glance, he walked right past your brother without another word, taking a right in the corridor outside and disappearing from your view.

The second he was gone, James closed the door to the room and flicked off the light in the roof, instead moving over to his bed where he turned on the table lamp standing beside it.

Falling back on the bed, you clasped your hands over your stomach and heaved a heavy, over-dramatic sigh. “You’re the worst.” You told your older brother in a grumble, and all he did was chuckle in response, the two of you going to bed shortly after.

When you woke up the next morning, the first thing you wanted to do was to find Reg and talk to him again, but your brother had other plans, dragging you along for the entire first half of the day.

By the time he finally let you go off on your own, you couldn’t find Reg anywhere, and when you did some time later, he was out on deck joking around with all of his soldier-friends, drinking beer, listening to music and playing around shirtless in the afternoon sun.

You weren’t a very big people-person, hence the foul mood you had been in when in the club with James two night prior, so you weren’t very keen on approaching him when he was surrounded by people.

Unfortunately for you, that was pretty much all of the time for the rest of the journey, so eventually you just gave up and stuck to your brother’s side.

You reached your destination in what felt like no time, and soon, the morning on which your brother and the others would be flying to the island was upon you.

You were going to be staying on the ship with most of the scientists and didn’t really have to get up early, but you were still up and at it at the crack of dawn to help your brother prepare and to see him off, the two of you currently standing out by the choppers where everyone were pulling their own weight to get everything packed up.

“Go talk to her already.” Mills told his fellow soldier where they stood on the other side of the deck, sparing him a glance while he packed the record player into its briefcase. “You’ve been standing here staring at her for ten minutes now and it’s starting to get weird.”

Reg’s head instantly whipped around, his eyes leaving your form to meet his friend’s gaze. “What? I’m not staring.” He denied his accusations, glaring.

But Mills obviously saw right through him. “Uh-huh.” He said, giving him a deadpan look and raising his hand to his chin. “Is that drool I see?”

“What? No.” Reg hurried to bring his hand up to his chin to wipe it, finding that there was, in fact, no drool there.

His reaction brought a laugh from Mills, who shook his head at him in amusement. “Idiot.” He said simply. “We leave in less than an hour and you’re going to regret it if you don’t go talk to her, so go say goodbye. Go.”

He shoved at his shoulder and Reg held his hands up, backing away. “Fine, fine! I’m going!” He said while glaring, turning around with another word and approaching you where you were leaning against the side of one of the choppers, your brother luckily occupied with talking to a scientist.

You noticed him approaching instantly, your back straightening, your arms uncrossing from over your face and your lips pulling into a smile.

“Hi.” He was the first one to speak once he reached you, and you wasted no time in replying.

“Hey. You ready for this?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He smiled back widely, and then his confidence took a sudden turn, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his head awkwardly. “Hey, listen, I was wondering if, maybe, when we get back to the mainland, we could go out for a movie, or dinner, or something.”

You raised an eyebrow, the smile playing on your lips widening. “Like a date?” You asked, and he shrugged.

“Yeah. I mean, if it’s- if you want to. And if it’s okay with your brother.” He trailed off towards the end, his eyes flickering to something over your shoulder

It was only then, when you turned your head around to see what he was looking at, that you noticed James had now abandoned the conversation he had previously been having to listen in to yours instead, his pointed stare never wavering from the boy in front of you.

“You know what? I don’t-“ He started, but you immediately cut him off by throwing your hand out to slap his chest.

His eyes flickered down to meet yours at that and you glared. “Don’t you have someone else to bother? Go away, please.” You told him, and with a long look at Reg, he did as told, picking up his bag and leaving you alone.

Once he was out of earshot, you turned back to Reg with a smile, your head nodding. “Dinner and a movie both sound nice.” You agreed. “But for now, your main focus should be coming back in one piece.”

His entire face was lit up in a huge grin, and a chuckle left his lips at your words. “I can promise you that I will.” He said, and you snickered back, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’ll hold you to that.” You said, the two of you then walking over to where the others were getting ready to board their assigned choppers.

You said goodbye to both Reg and your brother, the latter of the two goodbyes being a bit more sentimental, James hugging you close and kissing the top of your head, making you promise to be good, as if you were ever anything but.

Once they had left, you were on your own with literally no one to talk to, and you found yourself at wit’s end trying to find something to occupy yourself with.

You’d brought books with you but only three, and you were a quick reader, all of them being finished within two days. And just your luck, your cassette player chose the most horrible timing to stop working again, and no one on board knew how to fix it.

But just when you thought you were going to die from boredom, they returned, and you wasted no time in running outside and sprinting straight into your brother’s arms, only then realizing how worried you had been.

When you came back apart, you looked up at him with a worried gaze, taking note of how roughed up and exhausted he looked.

“Are you okay?” You asked, and watched as his lips pulled into a tight smile.

“I’m alright, don’t you worry.” He assured you and you smiled back, nodding your head.

Your smile faltered as soon as it appeared, however, when you spotted another familiar face behind him, and James instantly noticed, stepping to the side to give you free passage.

“Go.” He said, and you gave him a doubtful look.

“Are you sure?” You asked, and he simply nodded.

“I have some business to take care of. We can talk more later.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice, your feet moving you in the direction of Reg just a second later. 

Mills was the first one who noticed you approaching and slapped his friend’s shoulder, causing him to look up.

He barely even got the time to process your face, before you had reached him and pulled him into a careful embrace.

“Oh.” He mumbled into your neck, eyes widening in surprise. But he wasted no time in wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you back, melting into it. “Wow. I could get used to this… You smell really good, has anyone ever told you that?”

You chuckled at his words and much to his dismay, the warmth of your embrace was gone too quickly, the two of you stepping away from each other again.

You immediately began looking him over for injuries, and you instantly spotted the torn up fabric of his pant-leg, or more specifically the wound peeking out from underneath.

Your eyes flickered back up to his, and you raised an eyebrow. “What happened to the promise of coming back in one piece?” You asked, and he shrugged, giving you a small smile.

“My leg is still attached to my body, isn’t it?” He pointed out, bringing a chuckle from your lips.

“Yes, I guess it is.” You agreed. “Can you walk?”

His face turned serious at the question. “I’ve just spent the last twenty-four hours running from a lizard with teeth the size of my head. Pretty sure that proves that there’s nothing wrong with my leg. Just a scratch on the surface.”

At the sound of his words, your interest was immediately piqued, but you knew it was neither the time nor place to ask about it.

“Well, we should still get it cleaned up.” You told him, reaching out and taking his hand in yours. “Come on.”

He did nothing to protest, limping slightly in his step as he followed you into the ship where you brought him to your room.

You instructed him to sit down on your bed and left him alone for a few minutes, heading off to the medbay where the other survivors were being checked over, to retrieve a medkit.

Once you had everything you needed, you returned to your room and wasted no time in getting to work, starting off with cutting off the lower part of his pant-leg and then moving on to clean the wound.

“You don’t have to do that, you know. I’m very well capable of patching myself up.” Reg told you as he watched your hands work, leaning back on his palms to be able to keep his leg straight out in front of him.

You glanced up at him at that, raising an eyebrow. “Are you complaining?” You asked, your lips pulling into a smile when he immediately shook his head.

“No. Definitely not.” He said, and you chuckled.

“That’s what I thought.” You said, turning your attention back to his leg with a shrug. “And besides, you owe me a date. Can’t have you dying on me from an infected wound.”

In the corner of your eye, you noticed him nodding his head. “A very valid point.” He agreed, and you smiled, finishing up bandaging his ankle.

“Exactly, now turn around. I need to clean the cut on your shoulder, too.” You instructed him, making a “turn around” motion with your finger.

He wasted no time in obliging, bringing his leg down from the bed and turning around. “Yes, ma’am.” He said, grabbing ahold of the upper hem of his shirt and tugging it up to expose his back to you.

In turn, you wasted no time in soaking a fresh cloth with alcohol, preparing to clean the cut stretched out over his shoulder blade.

“So, where are you from?” You asked, trying to make some light conversation.

“Detroit, born and raised.” He replied without missing a beat and you hummed, reality coming crashing down on you and dampening your mood significantly.

“I’m from London, if you hadn’t already gathered that from the accent.” You told him lowly. “I guess that date is going to be harder than we thought, huh?”

But much to your surprise, he only shook his head. “That won’t be a problem. I’d-“ He cut himself short for a moment, a hiss leaving his lips when you pressed the cold, alcohol-soaked rag to the cut.

But he regained his composure rather quickly, glancing over his shoulder to meet your eyes. “I’d follow you anywhere.” He finished, giving you a crooked, goofy smile.

You automatically smiled back, the two of you holding eye-contact for another moment before he turned back around to allow you to finish patching him up, both of you knowing you would continue the conversation later.

(If you want to be tagged when I post Reg Slivko stories, let me know in a comment, ask or private message)

[alj4890]

Delicate

(Olivia Nevarkis x Ethan Ramsey) in a Choices The Royal Romance/Open Heart Crossover crack series.

A/N This series will go back and forth with memories and to how things are progressing for Olivia and Ethan. We will also see how Drake reacts to everything. In this chapter, Olivia is getting ready for her first date with the doctor while thoughts of the past with her friends and parents accompany her.

@jooous​ @krsnlove​  @motorcitymademadame​ e I lost my tag list for this. If you want to be tagged, let me know. 😊

Masterlist

Part 1

Olivia's Apartment, Boston...

Wiping the fog off her mirror, Olivia paused to truly examine herself. She noticed the damp red curls, ivory skin blushing from her hot shower, and the expression on her face.

Am I...am I giddy?

She leaned in closer. Her green eyes were actually shining. Not from tears. Not flashing with anger. The cause was something different.

Ethan was responsible for this transformation.

In fact, now that she thought about it, this change had been gradually happening since she met him.

Is this why Liam and Riley were willing to do whatever it took to be together? Why Maxwell has more frequent flier miles than anyone else? Why Hana beams whenever Rashad is near? Why Amanda is willing to live part of the year away from Cordonia?

Could it be, love? No. Too soon. We've done nothing but discuss the new hospital.

Another stray thought creeped in as she dried her hair.

What about the coffee shop?

Those, well she wouldn't call them dates, agreed upon moments where the two of them escaped Edenbrook to talk over cups of coffee. Those not a date times had ended up being where they learned more about each other.

If she was brutally honest with herself, she would admit that she might have been more open with him than any other man she knew.

He somehow made it easy for her to share her past.

Perhaps it was because they had both been abandoned as children.

It was a form of abandonment, Olivia thought. My parents were willing to put their selfish reasons before their five year old daughter. They were willing to chance making me an orphan just so they could rule Cordonia. Whatever affection they held for me wasn't enough to make them stay.

And just like them, Ethan's mother had put her wants before her son.

The image of his face that day his mother was brought in the emergency room with a drug overdose came to mind.

Olivia knew that type of anguish. It could only come from a wound that never completely heals. It came from that broken trust in the very people who were supposed to love and care for you unconditionally.

It could only come from a parent walking away from their child.

After giving the case to another physician and needing a moment away from the situation, Ethan invited her out for coffee and told her about his mother.

When he struggled to get the words out of how he was when she first left, Olivia had done something she never did for someone outside her small inner circle.

She reached across their table and took his hand, then offered her understanding by sharing with him what her parents had done.

Those startlingly blue eyes of his had fixed upon her face. He didn't say a word to interrupt her.

He only held her hand.

They knew in that instant that they had found someone who could truly understand their resentment that fluctuated with a yearning for what should have been. Found someone who had worked just as hard to prove that they could survive without their parents. Found a person who didn't need explanations for the heartache they had suffered but tried to keep hidden.

Olivia had once thought Drake would understand and maybe he did. But, he had tried not to get into deep discussions with her. The few times she had attempted to talk to him, he had distracted her with a kiss or changed the subject.

Perhaps that was a sign that he couldn't feel anything more than sexual attraction for her.

Olivia shook her head at these thoughts and went to her closet. Her lips curved somewhat as she went through the many dresses Hana had insisted she bring along.

As she held a red dress that would most likely work for dinner and the opera that Ethan suggested they see this evening, she was reminded of the last conversation she had with Hana the night before she left Lythikos.

*****************

Lythikos, Cordonia, five months ago...

"You might have some nights where you will need a more formal dress." Hana went through Olivia's walk through closet. "I would at the very least pack three different gowns. If you need more, I can try and ship them or you could go shopping."

"I'm not going there to socialize." Olivia reminded her. "I'm going there specifically to convince them that Cordonia is where they should be."

"And what better way to do so than by making sure you look the part?" Hana asked.

"These are highly intelligent men." Olivia replied. "They are nothing like the foolish nobles we deal with on a daily basis." She eyed her closet filled with various gowns. "A dress will do little to sway them toward my mission."

Hana took a deep breath before hinting at another reason to take them. "Well, what if you are invited...out...and need something to wear?"

"Out?"

"Yes." Hana smiled at her. "What if someone asks you to dinner or something?"

Olivia blinked. "I...that's not...I have more important things to do than--"

"One never knows when love will strike." Hana chose two red and one black. "Look at me and Rashad. Who would have thought we would find each other after being forced together by Madeleine?"

"Well, it isn't that farfetched." Olivia muttered. "Everyone likes you."

"They like you too." Hana insisted. "You've changed these past few years."

"I have?"

Hana tilted her head as if in study. "You are still you, but you've," she seemed to search for the right word, "you've softened."

"What?" Olivia was highly offended by that observation. "Softened?!"

"It's a good thing!" Hana laughed at the expression on her friend's face. She then smiled at the fact that Olivia was truly a friend of hers now. "You are still formidable, just more approachable."

"I should have never joined in with you and Riley." Olivia grumbled.

"If you hadn't, then we wouldn't be building a hospital."

"We wouldn't?"

"I don't think the old Olivia would be worried about such a thing." Hana explained. "The old you seemed more concerned with herself and just Lythikos."

Olivia hesitated. This hospital was still coming about in the hopes of changing her reputation. It just so happened that it would benefit others as well.

She couldn't let Hana believe she was some sacrificial heroine that put others before herself.

"Hana, I do want this hospital for Cordonia, but I also hope it helps repair the damage my parents and Lucretia did."

She was surprised to see Hana's smile widen.

"And that's why your friends are going to do all we can to make it happen." Hana began to pick out various other outfits for the stunned duchess. "We want the people to see what we see in you."

***************

Later that night, Olivia paced her chambers. Her muscles seemed determined to remain tight, ready for battle. It seemed that they were unaware that this wouldn't be that type of fight.

Her mind replayed the conversation with Hana. Was this softening going to be a problem or would it help her with convincing Dr. Banerji and Dr. Ramsey to uproot their lives for this?

Knowing she wouldn't sleep until she got some type of answer, she decided to call someone who she usually depended on to listen to her few worries.

"Why aren't you asleep?" Amanda said in lieu of greeting.

"And hello to you too." Olivia muttered.

"You know that's a given." Amanda replied. "And I know that something is wrong for you to call when we are to see each other within a few hours."

"Your perceptiveness is still impressive." Olivia remarked. "Good to see marriage hasn't weakened it."

Amanda snorted in laughter. "Weakened? If anything, it only enhanced it." She sobered when she noticed that her friend was not at least chuckling. "What's wrong?"

"I have a question that I want nothing but a brutal honesty." Olivia said.

"Okay."

"Do you, do you think I have changed?"

"In what way?"

"My personality." Olivia huffed. "Do you think I have softened?"

She didn't know if it was a good thing or not that Amanda was not answering immediately.

"Yes, I think you have."

Olivia sat down, wondering how she had missed this transformation of herself. "Really?"

"I think we have all changed." Amanda added. "And why wouldn't we? After all we have gone through. You most especially."

"Why me more than the rest of you?"

"Liv," she could hear Amanda's smile, "think of how you were two years ago. You were only concerned with winning Liam."

"So were the other ladies." Olivia grumbled.

"Yes, but you didn't care about anything else." Amanda pointed out. "If it didn't directly affect your goal to being his queen, you gave it little thought. I think once Constantine's interference in both yours and Riley's chances with Liam occurred, you then realized that there were other things going on around you."

"You make me sound self absorbed."

"You were." Amanda's tone gentled. "Don't get me wrong, you have been there for me during my own difficulties over the years and I will always love you for it. Which might be why I excused your behavior during Liam's search for a bride. But, yes, you have definitely changed. You have always been loyal and steadfast, willing to do whatever was needed for those you care for. What's changed is that you have expanded on that. You are now willing to include those you used to not think much about."

Olivia sat down, wondering what kind of person she was now.

"What brought this on?" Amanda asked.

"Hana. She made an observation that I had softened." Olivia grimaced slightly. "Do you think this will affect our chances tomorrow?"

"Definitely." Amanda replied.

Olivia dropped her head in her hand. She couldn't believe she had managed to ruin this before ever having a chance to meet the renowned doctors.

"I think our chances of persuading them will be even better because of your softening." Amanda added.

"You do?" Olivia sat up straight.

"I do."

"Oh."

"Liv, get some sleep. We'll need you sharp to explain your mission." Amanda chuckled again. "Between your passion and ideas for this hospital, they won't be able to say no."

"I--" Olivia felt herself grin. "Thank you."

"Anytime."

"What time does your flight get in?" Olivia asked.

"I went ahead and left today."

"You did?" Olivia didn't bother to hide her surprise. "Did Thomas come with you?"

"No. I encouraged him to stay at home and finish his lecture notes."

"Nothing's wrong is there?" Olivia asked.

She knew first hand that the couple tried to travel together. This was something new.

"Everything's fine." Amanda explained. "I didn't want jet lag to somehow mess this up for you." She smiled at seeing her husband's name flash on her phone. "Thomas offered to come too, but I thought we would wait and see how the initial meeting goes."

"That is...thank you." Olivia simply said.

"You're welcome. Now, if you feel better, I will let you go and answer Thomas's call before he thinks I ran off with a doctor or something." Amanda teased.

"Nothing wrong with reminding him what he could lose." Olivia replied. "And I do feel better. I'm not sure I'm comfortable having softened, but at least it seems to be a good thing."

"It is." Amanda told her she would see her in the morning and ended the call.

Olivia made herself go back to bed. Having at least voiced some of her concerns, she was able to finally fall asleep.

*******************

Olivia's Apartment, Boston...

She finished applying lipstick, then stepped back to study her reflection.

A few quick turns were all that was needed to agree with Hana's choice.

Olivia brushed her red hair over her shoulder, then draped it over the other. Grimacing at being unable to make up her mind how to leave it down, she searched through the cabinets for one of her signature clips.

I'll just put it up, she thought.

The sound of the downstairs' door buzzer had her giving up her search.

Her nerves struck her stomach as she buzzed Ethan in.

Calm down. He's a man. Nothing special at all about him. Just because he is the first to finally treat you like a woman rather than some fearful automaton like the men back in Cordonia viewed you as, doesn't mean you should lose your head.

Needing something to do while he made his way up to the fifteenth floor, she tried to find something to straighten up.

Her apartment was sparse and too neat for what she needed. Straightening the already perfect set of suggestions and graphs on her desk that Rashad had sent her, she couldn't quite keep her excited smile from peeping out.

Deep breaths, she commanded. Remember that you have been out with men before. This is nothing special. Just a first date. 

She opened her door at his knock.

Ethan's eyes swept down, taking everything in of the fiery duchess.

She stood there nervously, wondering if she was wearing the right type of dress. Was her hair wrong? Should she have left it cascading down her right shoulder? Perhaps--

"You look beautiful, Olivia." He breathed.

Averting her gaze so he couldn't see how happy that made her, she still managed to give herself away with her smile.

"Thank you." She managed to say. "You--"

Seeing him dressed in a blue suit that should have detracted from his eyes, yet instead made them pop with their brightness, she felt the need to sigh in appreciation.

Good lord! I've turned into Riley! I would rather die than sigh over a man wearing clothes that compliment his eyes.

"You look handsome as well." She stepped back. "Please, come in."

Ethan's lips quirked over the blush rising up her face.

He then caused her to go speechless when he handed her a bouquet of red roses.

Her lips parted to speak, but all she could do was stare at the blooms.

"I don't know what your favorite flower is, but I thought you would at least like the color." He explained.

"I do." She lifted her eyes up to his face. "I always liked roses." A smirk formed on her lips. "Something beautiful that isn't afraid to hurt someone with their thorns if they try and cut them has my approval."

Ethan's deep laugh filled her apartment as she searched for something to put them in.

"I forgot about their fighting prowess." His eyes followed her take her bouquet to her bedroom. "Now I know which flowers to surprise you with next time."

She felt a warmth form in the pit of her stomach at his teasing.

Then she realized he was thinking on them having another date...before this one had a chance to begin.

He really does like me. It isn't just in my head. There is something between us after all.

She gathered her clutch and a light wrap on her way back to Ethan.

He took it from her and gently draped the red silk along her shoulders. His hands smoothed it down her arms, causing her to suppress a shiver of delight.

"Ready?" He murmured near her ear.

With a nod, she led the way out the door.

*****************

A dive bar, Cordonia...

"I thought I would find you here."

Drake glanced up before focusing once more on the cue ball.

Maxwell patiently waited on his friend to respond.

Dropping his head in frustration, Drake tossed the pool stick down.

"What is it?"

"I have to go to Los Angeles again." Maxwell explained. "And I could make an extra stop along the way." He paused, drumming up the courage to say where. "If you want to go with me, I could drop you off in Boston."

Drake's glass had stopped partway to his lips. He eyed the man he thought barely paid attention to anyone at balls and such.

How did he know?

Unwilling to admit to anything, Drake merely cocked an eyebrow.

"Why would I want to go there?" His lips quirked. "See the spot where the colonists dumped all the tea?"

Maxwell ordered a drink and pulled up a barstool. "I know it isn't easy, seeing someone who you thought you had something with to end up with someone else."

Drake choked on his drink. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about inaction to what is going on." Maxwell lowered his eyes. "To think you have all the time in the world to finally admit you do want more, just to end up as a guest at her wedding to some other man."

Drake's brow furrowed. "Did you and Nadia break up?"

"No." Maxwell tilted his glass, swirling the liquid around and around. "It doesn't matter now. The point is that I don't want to see you go through that." He took a swallow before standing up. "I leave the day after tomorrow. If you want to go and let Olivia know you've been miserable since she left, then meet me at the airport." He placed a hand on Drake's shoulder. "Don't make the mistake I did by giving another man a chance to sweep her off her feet."

Drake's lips parted to demand more of an explanation, only to see Maxwell walk out.

A part of him wanted to deny that Olivia was the reason he had withdrawn from everyone these past few months. The other part went through the chances that she would find anyone to put up with her strong personality.

It seemed more than likely that she would return single. He could then meet her on equal ground and pick up where they left off.

No reason at all to prostrate himself before her in Boston.

[rokutouxei]

you are still the sun that shines for me

part 8 of atelier heart

ikemen vampire: temptation in the dark theo van gogh/mc | G | 3030 | [ao3 in bio]

Life couldn't get any better. You enjoy what you do here, spending your life without regrets with the person you love the most. That is, until you meet her. The woman who still loves Theo.

CHAPTER 1

maybe love stays / maybe love can’t / maybe love shouldn’t. When Love Arrives, Sarah Kay and Phil Kaye

A sight that would change the life of everyone who sees it. That was what one of the head sponsors of the gallery called the show when you and Theo finally showed them the results of months of long work. An extraordinary compliment, to say the least. Standing there under the bright lights seeing the works of your new-artists-and-also-close-friends there for the world to see… all you can do is grin in delight.

Theo can do anything.

Great with his words, even better with his actions, hardworking to a fault and with a persistence and endurance that’s extremely admirable. Then, under all that, a heart that’s molten gold, filled with nothing but love and passion. The fact that he’s so also strikingly attractive, his eyes piercing, is also bonus points on anyone’s book, for sure.

You’re so glad to be able to help him out with his dreams.

You walk around the gallery to mingle with the artists and congratulate them with the success. They throw the compliment and the gratitude back to you and Theo, and you fall back into a comfortable kind of banter. For a moment, you dream of the future: little family of artists and art dealers, standing up and rising towards a new tomorrow for art.

You turn towards where Theo is across the room, and the both of you share a smile at each other when you make eye contact. He’s currently talking to some patrons, and while you’re lucky that you’ve met a lot that aren’t as backward, there are still high-paying ones with great influence that are, at their very core, still rather misogynistic, so Theo had said he’d take over this discussion himself.

He’d asked you to enjoy the exhibit, have some of the food, ask the guests of their thoughts in his stead. (“You say that as if it’s hard—that’s the fun part!” you’d told him.)

While watching the coming and going of people, for a reason you don’t understand at that moment, you’re drawn to a particular pair of guests: a young boy, maybe in his pre-teens, fumbling awkwardly in his suit, and a woman in her late 30s, walking with him. A mother and her son, perhaps. They seem to be having a lively conversation with each other with every painting, discussing it with an intensity that probably mimics yours and Theo’s.

Perhaps they’re patrons of the arts too?

You get an odd urge to come up to them. You don’t fight it, knowing fully well you still have a job to do—again, check on the guests—so taking a sip out of the champagne you’re nursing, you approach them.

The boy steps into the next section of the gallery before you can get there. Well, you’re not really as good at kids as Theo—so that’s probably for the better.

“Bonjour, madame,” you say with a short bow. “Enjoying the exhibit?”

“Very much so, yes,” the woman says. “Are you perhaps one of the artists?”

“Oh, no, just an organizer.” The woman looks surprised, but oddly pleased—maybe she does this sort of work, too? You beam. “How are you finding it?”

“Brilliant, I have to admit,” she answers you. “The curators really had an eye for the style. Not the usual—no, near scandalous, but beautiful. Hard to take one’s eyes off the canvases.”

The two of you fall into a rather lively discussion, one topic flowing into another. What started with a rather sharp analysis of the painting you’d found her in front of (“the intimate brush strokes even at the tiniest of details really is what makes it so much more… dreamlike.” “I agree! All those little things in dreams that doesn’t seem to make sense, but make it all the more true in that moment.” “Exactly. It adds a personality to it, and with these colors—“ “These colors!”) slowly evolved into a quick back and forth about art, aesthetic, and culture. You get so into the discussion you almost don’t notice the young boy having finished his rounds at the gallery, now standing behind his mother, listening intently at the discussion.

“It’s so lovely to have someone as invested in this that’s a woman as well,” you finally comment, your champagne flute empty and your confidence soaring after an exciting conversation. “Sometimes I still get stared down when I talk to clients.”

She nods, a little sadly. “I can only imagine. I was not born of money, really, but I have a bit on me, and that’s really the only way I can get most of the influential powers to listen to what I have to say.”

“Oh?” That piques your curiosity. “Do you run a gallery or an artist workshop too, madame?”

She waves you off. “Nothing of the sort. I’d just inherited a grand array of valuable paintings—beautiful, yet, like most of these kinds of art, very much still misunderstood and looked down upon.”

“A consideration of the style, perhaps?”

“Yes, very much so,” she says. “They’re… intense, to say the least. But just because it is not understood now, doesn’t mean it will not be of importance in the future. So I’m looking forward to connecting with galleries, like this one, perhaps, and museums, bring his paintings out into the world.”

His paintings. Oh, how much like Theo. “That’s a remarkable goal.”

“Rather absurd for but a woman like me, I’d say,” she comments, a dry laugh at the end. “This wasn’t my mission, just one I have to continue. Besides, they’ll do better in galleries like this than hanging in rows in my kitchen.”

“Someone once told me the best art in the world is still hidden, waiting to be found,” you say. It was Theo who had told you that.

She nods. “For sure. And you’re doing your fair share of searching, if this exhibit is any clue.” She turns away from you for a moment, and then her eyes widen at the sight of something. You’re about to turn around to peep what it is when she turns to you abruptly. “I’m sorry, but I have someone I must talk to, so I’ll go ahead.” She turns to the boy. “Lieveling?”

“Can I stay a little longer with her, mama?” the boy asks. You’re… surprised, to say the least, considering he’s just been listening quietly the whole time.

Mama. Had you misheard that, or was that not exactly French in sound? Wait… what did she call him?

“As long as you’ll behave,” the woman says. Ah, the woman! You hadn’t even gotten to ask her name! You’re about to ask when she turns and—“I’m sorry, I’ll come back for him really quickly. You may leave him if you have somewhere else to go; he’s a big boy, he can handle himself.”

This time, with annoyance. “Mama.”

“Yes, yes.” The woman bows and starts to walk away, off into a corner where you saw the shadow of a few of the richer patrons disappear into much earlier.

Perhaps she’d recognized one of them? Maybe it’s related to the paintings she was talking about earlier—perhaps she’s about to reach out. You silently wish her good luck in your head as you turn to the boy in front of you.

Not knowing where to begin, you say: “How old are you, can I ask?”

“I just turned ten,” he says. “Being ten is great. I don’t want to be treated like a little boy anymore.”

You take note of that and straighten your back. He’d probably hate if you crouched to meet him eye to eye—not that you’d need to do much of it, considering he was pretty tall for a ten-year-old boy. “Ten is a fun age to be. Well, what does the big ten-year-old want to ask me?”

“Can you talk about the paintings a little more?” he asks, refusing to look you in the eye, looking around the exhibit pensively. “You and mama… really understood each other, and I can’t keep up with her…”

You narrow your eyebrows. So the expression you’d seen from him earlier was less of excitement, but more of… confusion? Asking questions to his mother about what he couldn’t understand, and less of enthusiasm of the artwork? “Your mama made it sound like you live in an art-filled house.”

“We do,” the boy admits. “And that’s why it’s hard. I’m ten now and sometimes I still don’t understand what she’s saying. I get it, they’re pretty, but… then what? Machines—those make more sense to me. All the art and feelings… I don’t get it. They’re like magic to me.”

A boy with a passion for art who hasn’t found his footing in it yet, the words to brace himself with, the road to walk. You used to be just like that too. This is a great way to pay it forward, you tell yourself. “Well, I’d love to talk to you about the art pieces, mon apprenti. But first—I’ll have to know your name.”

You introduce yourself with a bow in French, thinking a little roleplay won’t hurt. This is still a child, after all, and you want to be at least an enjoyable tutor. He plays along, taking your hand in his in a little formal bow.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle. Je m'appelle Vincent Willem van Gogh.”

Something inside your chest squeezes.

The little boy finally looks up, granting you the full strength of his gaze for the first time that whole day.

Deep, striking sea-blue eyes, just like Theo’s.

-

If Theo were to be completely honest, he would say he hated dealing with these patrons in particular. Misogynist and backwards, he couldn’t even bring you with him to discuss with them because they would just end up spending more time slandering your skills and knowledge about art than actually working out a good deal. But connections are things to be made, not broken, in this trade, and so with a half-hearted smile and a kiss from you to his cheek, that day at the gallery, he’d sent you off to enjoy the art while he talked with the stuck-up rich old men.

At least they have some interesting thoughts about art and money to entertain him, he thinks, as he nurses a glass of whiskey (“Just one! You’re not going to make me carry you home!” you had reminded him, jabbing at his lightweightedness, so he was taking his sweet time with it). He sure would rather have better, deeper conversation, the likes that stimulated the mind and kept him asking for more, but he can’t be picky in a place like this when he–

“Monsieur Theodore?”

A small voice that sends ice down his spine. He steels his features, but he can’t do the same to his heart.

He turns around and something deep inside of him, one that he’s long kept in dark sealed boxes in the shadows of the labyrinth of his mind, breaks.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she says, a small, elegant curtsey. “Je suis Johanna van Gogh.”

The part of him that’s human, the one he says has long died, the one that he’s buried, comes back to life in a searing flash of regret and pain. She looks older now–well, a near decade since he’s up and gone–the lines around her eyes deeper, but she also looks finer, more mature; the small blossom he’d left so long ago has now bloomed into a beautiful flower. Oh, his sweet Jo.

He tries his best not to look if she’s still wearing the ring he gave her on her left hand.

He doesn’t hear himself reply, as he tries not to bite down the words. He doesn’t know anymore if he’s lying when he says he is pleased to meet her. “It’s nice to meet a fellow van Gogh.”

She laughs, a little awkward one that’s full of pain. “Yes, a real interesting coincidence.” A beat; Theo sinks into familiarity. That hesitation, the way she pulls quickly backward into herself to rearrange her composure when confidence quickly fails her. She turns away for a moment—which Theo uses to step closer—before she faces him once more, her gaze making him feel small.

“I’m sorry for asking, but… have we met somewhere else before?”

And Theo wants to say yes, because besides the more obvious signs a decade leaves on a human body, Jo looks the same as Theo has kept burned in the backrooms of his memory. They’ve met before—he recognizes her. Her lovely, dark brown hair ever so impeccably styled practically and yet with a subtle kind of charm. The dimples on her cheeks, so deep he used to joke with her and poke a finger into it. The golden caramel color of her eyes, so wide and eager and passionate.

Jo had always been rather plain, and that’s what’s made her really beautiful. There was no need for excesses with her: everything was just exactly as was needed. And it seems that the years haven’t changed that in her, either. Her deep blue dress is fashionable but not extraordinarily so; her smile calculated for politeness but with enough genuineness in it to be truly lovely.

She’s exactly the same, and that’s why it hurts, that’s why Theo wants to say—

Yes. “I don’t believe so, no.”

She continues to look into him and it takes all his strength to not look away.

“I’m sorry, it’s just–my late husband was named Theo as well, and just–”

“I’m sorry to hear,” Theo fills, doesn’t want to hear the rest of it. There’s a knot in his throat and he’s trying not to think about it.

Why did he have to look so different? What curtain of reality is hiding him from the woman he loved most, in that past life? Why didn’t she recognize that it was him she was talking to?

Did he want her to recognize who she was talking to?

“Thank you,” she smiles. “I heard that this entire exhibit wouldn’t have run up without you. Congratulations.”

“I wasn’t alone,” not alone, not alone, not alone, “this was the hard work of the artists and my business partner.” Partner, partner, partner.

“It’s excellent work,” she comments, then pulls back. “Not–I’m not trained, of course. But my husband, he was an art dealer too, loved his career, it rubs off.”

“Art is a good thing to lose yourself into,” he finds himself saying. Theo doesn’t know what he’s saying anymore. He’s choking on the inside and he doesn’t want it to show. Who is he to tell her what’s good for her? When he’s the one who’s left all those wounds on her by leaving her? “It’s a beautiful thing, it grows.” Fills the empty spaces. There’s a thorn in his chest that’s becoming more prominent by the second.

And it hurts only worse when she beams. “Yes, that’s absolutely right. I have much to learn, he’s left me so much behind–aha, maybe one day I’ll ask for your help–and there’s so much I want to do.”

“You’re a passionate woman, Madame Johanna. You would surely make him proud.”

You will. You do. You always have.

She smiles. A steady, confident smile, the one that had made him fall in love with her what seems like a million lifetimes ago. “Thank you, Monsieur Theodore. Excuse me if it may seem rude, but it’s so hard not to think of mijn Theo when I see you.”

“I hope it’s not the sort that pains you.”

“Well, there is only so much time one can spend waist-high in mourning,” she says with a sweet smile. “He’s given me all that I can ask for, now it’s just a matter of getting to work.”

Theo wants to say something but his conscience holds him back. Jo has turned her gaze to the rows of paintings in the gallery, a smile filled with nostalgia on her face. Like she’s returning to a place a million years ago. Perhaps to the same place Theo is in as well, in his head.

She turns back to him slowly, the look on her face unearthing hidden wounds that suddenly feel still-too-raw. “I may not be able to do much, but you, sir—I think the both of you have the same kind of heart…I hope you get to continue what he only got to start.”

Theo feels helpless, left with nothing more to say, even if he knows there is so much left to tell. He doesn’t feel like he has the right to be part of this conversation anymore—a right he’d forfeited the day he’d left this life without second thought, blinded by the darkness of revenge.

Look at all this, Theodorus, he can hear Gauguin say in his head, the voice of the secret phantom who still lives in his unconscious, even if this was so long before, was it worth it? Has it ever been worth it?

Johanna, once his beloved Jo, does a curtsey, a quick excuse me as she finally sets off to leave. Theo tries to say a goodbye, a nice to have spoken to you, a see you again soon, but he doesn’t know if any of it has made it out of his mouth. Instead, he follows her away with his eyes, taking a sip at the whiskey that burns in his throat.

Was it worth it?

Sees her greet you of all people, and you nod at her with an indescribable look on your face.

What did it cost?

Theo’s gaze is glued onto the young boy Johanna van Gogh guides out with her, with his mother’s hair, the same sea blue of his father’s eyes.

Of Theo’s eyes.

Have you ever really ever known how much you’ve lost?

The cool tendrils of dread begin to fill him.

Across the room, you send the mother and child away with a heavy, empty gaze.

---

you are still the sun that shines for me is a 5-chapter fic that will be posted from October 25-28! catch what else is in the atelier later on in this fic. :)

[the-currian]

Could you please do a prompt with "I don't know who to choose" with reader, omi and masumi??

I see you, anon  👀👀👀 This prompt isn’t actually on the list – the closest would be “I don’t know which one to choose.”

If you really meant that prompt, this would be an entirely different scenario. But since I thought of a scenario already when I saw the prompt you sent in, I’ll let it slide…

But for future reference, please follow the rules of the posts I make, everyone!

Anyway, I’m not mad. I just wanna stick to the rules of my blog^^

Also, I’m gonna assume Year 3 ages so this will be less squicky for me. Therefore, Omi is 22 and Masumi is 18.

“I don’t know.” Ideas

“I don’t know who to choose.”

Your sketchbook was settled securely on your lap as you perched upon a fountain, lost in the scenery around you at the local park. As you try your best to commit the image to paper, your mind registers the faint shutter sound of a camera in the background. Used to hearing the sound around the scenic park, you pay no heed to it and continue to sketch. Strangely, the shutters of the camera slowly become closer and closer. You try your best to ignore it up until the point when the shutters become too close for comfort. Annoyed, you look up to see a (quite attractive) young man standing a few feet away from you sheepishly lower his camera.

“Er… hello…” he greets, trailing off with an awkward laugh.

You narrow your eyes at him and set your sketchbook aside, standing up to stride over and give him a piece of your mind. Probably sensing the aura of righteous fury you radiate, the brown-haired man raises his arms up in surrender as if trying to placate you.

“Wait, wait!” he cries out. “Hey now… let me explain, please.”

‘The audacity…’ you think to yourself but cross your arms expectantly, waiting for his explanation.

“I’m Omi, a photographer and actor.” he says, extending his hand for a handshake. When you refuse to offer your own hand, still pretty pissed at his intrusion of privacy, he pulls his hand back and rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. “So, um… I came to the park looking for still life to photograph, but then you caught my eye and I kinda just thoughtlessly snapped a shot. I’m really sorry –”

“Can I see the picture?” you interrupt.

“Of-of course.” Omi obliges. His cheeks flush in embarrassment, but he dutifully shows you the picture he took of you. You marvel at his use of light, manipulating the angle to catch your sharp features as you appear to be in complete focus, fixated on your own artwork.

“Wow… you made me look great in this photo…”

Omi murmurs something that you don’t quite catch but when you ask him to repeat it, he flushes an even darker shade of pink and diverts the conversation to his interest in photography, showing you other shots of the still life that he claimed to be taking pictures of earlier. You find yourself drawn in by the passion glowing in his eyes as he talks about the photos.

Over the course of your conversation, the two of you move to one of the parks benches. Mid-sentence, Omi glances at the park’s clock and he pauses.

“Everything alright?” you ask.

“I didn’t realize the time…” Omi replies, looking at you with a troubled gaze.

“Hey, no problem. Don’t let me keep you.”

“But–“

“I frequent this place a lot for inspiration, so I’ll see you around?” you say, standing up. Feeling bold, you give him a playful wink and say, “And next time you want to take a picture of me, just ask! See you soon, Omi!”

You run off without glancing back, a bit embarrassed to find out what his reaction was.

--

Later that week you visit your favorite music store. As you browse through some vintage vinyl, you can feel someone’s eyes on you. You quickly swivel around but find no one else in the aisle with you. Warily, you turn back to the music selection only to feel someone’s presence somewhat uncomfortably close to you.

“You’ve got good taste.”

You jump at the proximity of the stranger’s voice and take a few seconds to calm yourself before facing the guy.

“E-excuse me?”

“I’ve been watching you make your rounds through the store.” He says, absentmindedly twirling the cord of his white headphones. “I prefer post and progressive rock, but I know how to appreciate some of the older gens of music.”

As he goes on, you notice that he slowly inches his hand closer and closer to your face. You close your eyes – in fear? anticipation? – and are surprised to see that he merely pulls out a record from behind you and starts scanning its contents.

‘Weird…’ you think, watching the stranger. ‘But he is kinda cute, I guess…’

Noticing the title on the case of the vinyl, you instantly perk up, forgetting your earlier apprehension.

“Hey, that’s one of my favorites!”

Before you can second guess yourself, you pluck the vinyl out of the stranger’s hands and march over to the store’s vinyl record player. When the stranger fails to follow you, you throw him an expectant glance and he dutifully makes his way over. As you play the record, a smile makes its way onto your face, and you bop your head to the beat. Again, you can feel the stranger’s eyes on you, but this time you pay no heed – actually basking in the attention this time.

“My name is Masumi, by the way.”

You smile at him.

“Nice to meet you, Masumi.”

Before you close your eyes to lose yourself in the vibe of the music, you could’ve sworn you saw a dark blush on Masumi’s cheeks as he stared at you but quickly shoot down that idea.

‘It’s probably nothing…’

--

Weeks pass since the last time you’ve seen those two – admittedly handsome and charming – strangers. Remembering yourself, you shake your head to clear your cloudy thoughts.

‘Focus. You’re here to support Izumi’s play.’ You think to yourself as you take a seat in the packed theater. You review the playbill given to you at the entrance. ‘A mixed troupe play by the Spring and Autumn Troupes, with the leads played by – ‘

Your eyes widen.

‘Omi Fushimi and Masumi Usui?!’

You’re shaken out of your thoughts by Izumi’s voice ringing throughout the theater, announcing the beginning of the play. Sure enough, the two strangers you met earlier this month come out on stage. Thankfully, neither of them seem to be able to see you among the crowded audience.

‘I asked fate to give me a plot twist this month… but not like this!’

--

“Izumi!” you yell your friend’s name, practically barreling her over when you see her after the show. “You did so well!”

“Ahahaha, hello to you, too.” Izumi returns your hug before pulling away. “But you give me too much credit – it’s the actors who carried out the show, after all.”

“Don’t you dare give me that self-deprecation, Tachibana!” you scold, mockingly shaking a fist at her. “The director is just as important as the actors!”

Izumi laughs, waving off your playful anger. “Yes, yes. Come on, I wanna introduce you to the cast.”

Remembering who exactly the lead actors were, your mood quickly turns sour. “Uh, maybe not… I wouldn’t want to bother them right after the show. They need their rest if they want to keep going for the rest of the week.”

“Nonsense!” Izumi says, linking her arm with yours. “Let’s go!”

Izumi whisks you backstage, you desperately trying to escape her grip and trying to make excuses up along the way, but Izumi has none of and before you know it the door to the dressing room is unceremoniously thrown open. Immediately, you can feel several pairs of eyes on you, and are particularly attuned to two of the actors’ gazes which you try your best to avoid.

“Great job, everyone!” Izumi greets, oblivious to the atmosphere in the room. “This is one of my friends from my old theater troupe. They said they really liked your performance, and they’re here – “

“- for me.” Two voices cut in.

Omi and Masumi stare at each other, surprised. A few beats pass and Masumi gets a feral look in his eyes, which Omi meets with a smug smirk. The two quickly make their way over to you and Izumi, who is looking more and more confused by the second.

“I had no idea my favorite muse would be coming to watch our show.” Omi says with a cheeky wink. “If I had known you were interested in theater, I would’ve invited you myself.”

Before you can reply, Masumi butts in.

“Your favorite muse?” Masumi sneers condescendingly at the older man. As Masumi focuses his gaze on you and Izumi, his entire demeanor does a 180.

“My angel of music here obviously heard about me being the lead and came over to see me. How kind of you to bring them backstage, director. You’re the best. How about the two of you join me for dinner?” Masumi says, outstretching his hands to the both of you. Beside you, Izumi sighs but seems to be accustomed to Masumi’s antics.

Omi gently nudges Masumi to the side, offering his own hand. “Oh, but it wouldn’t be fair to split your attention between the director and your… angel of music, now would it, Masumi? How about you take the director out to dinner, while I go to dinner with – “

As the two men bicker, you shoot a desperate look at Izumi, who seems to finally have a grasp on the situation. Looking at the men’s hands offered to you in invitation, you feel an internal struggle rise.

‘I…I don’t know who to choose!’

Mercifully, Izumi finally comes to her senses and comes to your rescue, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“How about we go with the whole cast in celebration for a successful opening night?” Izumi says, more of a command than a question. The two men immediately stop their argument and defer to their director, but both have pouts on their faces, brows furrowed.

You and Izumi walk out of the theater, arms linked. Omi and Masumi are close behind the two of you, with the rest of the cast leisurely trailing after. As you chat with Izumi, she suddenly looks back with a stern expression. Omi gives a kind, but obviously strained, smile in response, while Masumi does his best to school his face into an innocent expression. You and Izumi glance at each other and sigh.

‘This is gonna be a long night…’

[annebaneriddle]

I’ve wrote a twins!AU on a post (Here is what I wrote. It is just a quick resume of how it could have been, but I liked it) and I found the idea really interesting, so I thought “I think I will write what would happen on CW if Steve had a twin, especially one with a personality similar to Ransom’s one. Dude, Ross would be so fucked up. The Accords would SURELLY be put down as soon as he bring it up”.

(Some dialogues are the same as in the movie)

(Also, Steve holds the title of Captain America and Andy holds the title of American Agent)

(And yes, the name “Andy” is because of Andy Barber)

(This is anti-sokovia accords. If you don’t like, just don’t read)

(I really loved writting it)

“Five years ago, I had a heart attack.” Ross positioned himself as if he was going to hit a golf ball  “I dropped right in the middle of my backswing.

Steve and Andy looked at each other, asking without words if the other knew why the hell Ross was talking about it.

“Turned out it was the best round of my life, because after 13 hours of surgery and the triple bypass I found somethig forty years in the army never taught me: perspective.”

Steve heard Andy take a deep breath, trying to control himself to don’t say anything. He was really surprised that his brother hasn’t talked anything yet. Since Sharon took him out of cryo and he was allowed to fight too, instead of staying os a lab as the Army’s lab rat, following orders and being submissive, Andy has developed the tendency of being the most insubordinate and sassy between the two of them (what was a lot, since Steve was pretty much insubordinate himself), so he staying shut just wasn’t like him.

“The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives, but while many people see you as heros, there are some who would prefer the word ‘vigilant’.”

“And what word would you use, mr.Secretary?” Natasha asked with a false courtesy.

“What about ‘dangerous’?” Ross answered.

“Wait a minute!” Andy finally snapped “Are you, from all the people, calling us dangerous? Was this supposed to be a joke? Now, who was the one that spent years trying to catch Bruce? Wasn’t you the responsible for the creation of the Abomination and the destruction of half Harlem? Don’t you dare to call us dangerous, Secretary.” Andy said the title with sarcasm dripping from his voice “If you would use ‘dangerous’ to describe us, I would use ‘egocentrical and hypocritical’ to describe you.”

Andy’s voice was controlled and he was clearly holding back his temper, but yet Steve could see the anger burning on his eyes. 

“Don’t you raise you voice to me, Agent.” Ross warned.

“Does the truth upsets you, mr.Secretary?” Steve asked calmly “My brother didn’t raise his voice at any moment. Eveything he did was tell you the truth.”

Ross frowned while looking Steve right in his eyes.

“I thought you was the most sensible from the two of you, Captain.” He said between his teeths.

“You don’t know neither me nor him enough to make assumptions like that.” Steve shrugged “But for that matter, both me and him are pretty sensible. That’s exactly why he called you out.

The other Avengers were looking surprised to Steve. Usually Andy was the more openly sassy one, but the yonger twin was clearly able to bring to the light the worse of Steve.

“You are a group of US based enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who frankly seem unconcerned about what you leave behind.” He stepped aside so the Avengers could see the holographic screen where scenes from their battles were playing “New York, Washington DC, Sokovia, Lagos.”

Steve saw that Wanda was getting anxious. She has looked away from the screen looking really disturbed and he could hear her breath getting sharp.

“Okay, that’s enough.” He interrupted before more scenes could be played.

Andy made a disdain sound, what attracted everyone’s attention.

“Really, mr.Secretary?” Andy leaned fowards on his chair “Are you really saying that you haven't done the very same thing on Brazil?” Andy’s face showed the most pure kind of innocence, but his words were almost dripping poison “Did you already forgot that you sent a special forces team to get Bruce inside the Rocinha? It’s so convenient that you forgot that your men followed Bruce, trying to get him by any way while he run between innocent people, isn’t it?”

Ross stood there, without knowing how to answer that. The other Avengers watched amazed and unbelieving that Andy and Steve were facing Ross like this. Andy was questioning him without any fear while Steve was by his side supporting him just as always. Now they were truly starting to understand what the Barnes family meant on their interviews back on the 40s when they said that Andy and Steve were like the same being on two different bodies. 

“That was completely different, Agent.” Ross answered “People were in danger.”

“And they were in danger because of you.” Steve controverted “Your hunger for power made you try to catch Bruce by any way you could and that made him have to run away to keep himself and other people safe from you. That’s not advanced math, mr. Secretary. You were the reason he had to run away and you were the one who sent the special forces. That’s the exactly same thing you’re accusing us.”

For the second time in less than two minutes, the Rogers twins managed to let Ross speechless.

“Wow, mr. Secretary.” Andy smilled “Nothing to say about it?”

Ross took a deep breath and ignored the twins, continuing to speak.

“You’ve been working with an arragement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate, but I think we have a solution.” Ross reached the document a  close agent handed him.

Ross handed it over to Wanda. Andy immediately held out his hand in a silent ask for her to give the document to him. Steve reading at least some articles while he distracted Ross would be way more useful and helpful than the others just looking at it’s cover and passing on.

Just one look between them was enough for Steve understand what his brother wanted him to do, so he opened the document and started reading as much articles as he could. He mentally thanked Erskine for the serum enhancing his memory and learning.

“The Sokovia Accords.” Ross explained “Approved by 117 countries. It states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they will operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel only when and if that panel deems it necessary.”

“So, if we find out a terrorist will explod a bomb somewhere we will have to wait the United Nations panel decide if we will or not fight them?” Andy asked almost laughing.

By his side, Steve was ignoring the argument while reading what he could until Ross and Andy stopped arguing and the Secretary would have to leave. He wasn’t even on the fifth page yet and what he was reading was already really worrisome. 

“Precisely.” Ross clearly was annoyed by the youngest Rogers.

“Do they know that time is a crucial thing when it comes to save someone?” Andy raised an eyebrow “What will they do if the members have divergent opinions about if we should go help or not and stay there arguing for a middle hour? Will we just watch as people die?”

“That’s not about it, Agent. That’s about compromisse, reassurance. That’s how the world works.”

The smile that appeared on Andy’s face was basically screaming “Got you. I won”.

“So are you admitting that the accords aren’t about saving people’s life, but about the most powerful governments having control upon us?”

“That’s not what I said.” Ross growled.

“Yep, Secretary.” The smile never let Andy’s face “That’s exactly what you just said.”

Ross’ face was red of anger. The man clearly wasn’t expecting that kind of argument, particularly not from the Rogers twins. He head stories about Captain America, the man was supposed to want to follow laws. He didn’t know this much about the yonger twin, since everyone used to believe he died when he got the serum, but everyone that have ever met them said their personalities were almost the same.

And, again, he decided to just ignore the American Agent.

“Three days from now the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords.” Ross informed.

“We have three days to read a document that will rule our lives?” Andy questioned “Are you kidding us?”

“It’s time enogh, Agent.” Ross countered.

“Of course.” Andy said sarcastically “Let me gess: you or other member from the UN will find something to keep us busy those three days so we won’t have time to read it and just sign blindly. The next thing we know we will be arrested without the right to a trial.”

“You gessed right. That’s exactly what would happen.” Steve handed the document to his brother “Page 12, last article on that page.”

Andy grabbed the document, opening on the page his brother said and reading out loud.

“ If an enhanced individual violates the Accords, or obstructs the actions of those enforcing the Accords, they may likewise be arrested and detained indefinitely without trial.” Andy’s eyes widened and he stared ar Ross “What the fuck is that?”

“Let me see if I got it right.” Sam said “If we do anything that goes against the Accords we will be arrested without a trial?”

Before Ross could even answer, Steve talked again.

“I just had time to read 20 pages, but I can guarantee it gets worse.” He said “Page 19, third article on that page.”

Andy passed the pages and stopped at page 19.

“ Any enhanced individuals who agree to sign must register with the United Nations and provide biometric data such as fingerprints and DNA samples.” Andy took a deep breath and if  gazes could kill, Ross would be dead right there at that moment.

“Are you expecting that we will give samples of our DNA to people like you?” His face showed pure disbelief.

“Why do you want samples of our DNA?” Steve asked Ross, who was looking nervous.

He didn’t expect to discuss it now. The plan was to don’t give them time enough to read it.

“It will be discussed three days from now in Viena.” He answered hoping there was no more questions.

Ross started moving towards the door to leave, but of couse the excuse didn’t work.

“He don’t want to admit that the reason they want our DNA samples is so he can make the same thing he did with the Hulk.” Ross could feel Steve’s glare burning a hole on his back.

As Steve planned, the trap worked and Ross turned back to them.

“It’s a serious accusation, Captain.” Ross scolded “All we want is to stop you from disrespecting sovereign borders.”

“So why the Accords includes all the enhanced individuals, not just the Avengers?” Steve raised an eyebrow.

Ross had enough.

“It will be discussed in Viena.” He repeated, leaving the room.

After he left, the room was silent from some seconds before Tony talked:

“What the hell was that?” Tony questioned.

“That was me and Steve taking off the mask of fake concern from a hypocrite.” Andy answered “I thought you would know better than trust Ross. Governments, specially the most powerful ones which are in charge of UN, have agendas, Tony. They won’t think about what’s better for their citizens, they will think about what’s better for the ones in charge. Do you know how many people can die while they lose time arguing about where we can go and if we can go?” Andy put the document upon the table, pulling his chair closer to Steve’s “Steve and I will be here trying to read this before they find some excuse to keep us busy until the meet in Vienna. The ones who want to laugh and at the same time get horrified about what’s written there, stay.”

[heart-eye-harrington]

the last midnight ~ chapter two

Summary: Every aspect of Prince Steve’s life is mapped out with one objective in mind: become king when the time comes. After Robin gives him a taste of freedom, his parents return. When they feel something is off, they get to the bottom of it. 

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: none I can think of. Possibly harsh parents and men yelling

Author’s Note: Hi! I hope you’re doing well! Enjoy this plot building chapter before the big daddy that’s gonna be the next one!  ♡

read the last part here

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★

After your handsome strangers left, the rest of the walk to the bakery wasn’t too terrible. The birds seem to sing a bit brighter, the setting sun’s colors a bit more vibrant. Steve’s boyish laugh seems to be the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. You can’t seem to stop thinking about him, your mind whirling with a million questions. The most important, would you ever see him again?

You’re able to escape your daydream long enough to climb the steps of your family’s shop. You use your hip to open the door, seeing as your hands were occupied with the filled buckets of water. Warmth hits you like a wall, and you know your father is well into his evening routine. The fresh bread sits on the shelf, ready to be wrapped and tied with twine to be sold. By the smell, you know there’s some baking  in the large stove oven, getting a golden crispy brown. 

After a moment of shuffling through the store, as not to knock anything over with the fruits, or buckets, of your labor, your father comes rushing to your aid. He takes a bucket and brings it into the kitchen, giving small thanks for your journey. He quickly adds it to the dry ingredients but sees something in your eyes. While he’s used to your head being in the clouds, it must be well past the stars now. He shakes his head, telling you to spill the beans. Blushing, you tell him of Mr. Steve the apprentice and his friend Robin.

“You’re acting as if you’re the first person to ever meet a pretty boy”

“But he wasn’t a pretty boy.” your words, thought quick and defensive, had a mellowness to them. “Well, he was a pretty boy, but there was so much more to him.”

“Well how much more? You’ve only met him once! How could you know anything about him?” curiosity curls throughout your father’s question. 

“You told me you knew right away when you meet mother”

“That’s different, your mother wasn’t a stranger hidden under a hood”

“Well, you would have loved her anyway.”

“I never would have seen her because it wouldn’t have been appropriate. And my father would have told me what I’m telling you. And I would have listened.”

“No you wouldn’t,” you knowingly chuckle

“Yes I would” he quips back

“No, you wouldn’t”

“I would”

“Wouldn’t.”

“And you’re right.” you beam in your small victory, though it gradually falls with you deeper in thought. Your mother was vibrant, full of life and love. She believed in magic, in true love, and fairy godmothers. She said that they existed, that she remembers them, but isn’t sure where they went off to. 

When she grew sick, doctor after doctor would come in to see her, until one day when they didn’t. Your father sat you down, tried to put on a brave face, but how could someone break such news to a young girl? He didn’t have to say anything. If it took him that long to work out a way to say it, you already knew. 

She passed on all her stories to you, and you felt it was your duty to share the magic with everyone else. Before you fall any deeper into her beautiful memory, your father places a hand on your shoulder. You find your emotions mirrored in his eyes. You both missed her terribly. Before words can be exchanged, a customer comes in. You both wipe the tears, put on smiling faces, and extend helping hands. 

⋆★⋆

Robin was able to sneak Steve back into the castle with time to spare. They both wash up and redress in their usual clothes, Robin in her blouse and royal blue vest, Steve in his hand-embroidered tuxedo. Though he much preferred the billowy white shirt he had donned for the day, he couldn’t deny the beauty in the curling gold designs and cold metallic clasps. 

Once Robin’s done dressing, she rushes into Steve’s room to collect his village disguise. If they were really going to get away with this, she needed to get rid of any and all evidence. After giving their secret knock and hearing Steve’s muffled “come in”, she finds him leaning against the railing of his balcony, dreamily staring over the gardens. After draping his discarded clothes over her arm, she joins him. 

“Thank you” his voice a distant whisper. 

“For?” she raises an eyebrow at his ambiguity. 

“Giving me a bit of freedom. Letting me out of these walls for a day.”

“Well, you’re welcome. I couldn’t let you sit here all cooped up your whole life without feeling a bit bad for you. Plus, you’d probably never stop moaning and groaning about it.” A smile tugs at the corner of Steve’s lips. It only intensifies as she keeps talking.

“But I also know you’re thinking about that girl.” 

“What girl?” the smile has fully taken over his face. Robin’s not a fan of the stupid act he always pulls, earning him a playful punch to the arm. Their laughter fills the air, which is quickly punctured by the sound of trumpets, alerting the staff that the king and queen had returned. 

“Come on, we’ll be late. And punctuality is-” Steve chimes in, the two finishing in unison and mocking voices “the politeness of princes.”  The words had been spoken by Steve’s father so many times they had made a joke of it. Of course, they would never dare to do it in front of him, so they took full advantage of the fleeting moments they had. 

Robin was quick to hide the clothes in the abandoned servant’s tunnels, before following Steve to the grand foyer. 

The extensive hallway seems to stretch for an eternity, creating a sea between the teens and the door his parents will walk in through at any moment. 

“Their Majesties, The King and Queen.” A guard calls out. The heavy wooden doors are pulled open to reveal the pair, regal as ever. Steve knows the routine at this point, stiffening and pulling back his shoulders as he watches their approach. Robin shifts her weight from leg to leg from behind him also watching the parade. 

The cream and gray checkered marble floor make their highness’s cold steps echo. The dozens of chandeliers and statuesque guards do nothing to add warmth. Steve’s parents’ wandering eyes seem to look everywhere but to him, inspecting their perfect castle for the off chance anything is out of place. Even as much as a speck of dust could halt them in their tracts and bring an end to someone’s employment. Luckily for all involved, everything was up the their extremely high standards.

No words are exchanged between the royal family, just nods, and a motion to follow. Not that anyone expected anything different. 

Steve and Robin follow his parents and some guards to the portrait room. The guards open the door, allowing the party to enter. A giant floor to far-too-tall ceiling window illuminates a hand-painted backdrop and a man with an oversized smock rushing about. A guard clears his throat and raises an arm motioning toward the artist

“Master Phoebus, master of the paintbrush, patiently awaits.”

 In front of the painted sunset is a stool with a saddle place upon it. The painter’s assistant is quick to place a fittingly royal blue shoulder cape on the prince, fastening its golden clasps. Steve climbs upon the stool, and Robin does her best to bite back a chuckle. She knew how much he hated portraits of himself being painted, but oh how ridiculous he looked. Once everything is set to the artist’s liking, he grabs a palette and begins.

“Make him look marriageable, Master Phoebus. We must attract a suitable bride.” The king’s voice boomed throughout the room. 

“I shall endeavor to please, your majesty. But, I am not a fairy godmother.”

The nickname brings a small blush and smile to Steve’s face, one that does not go unnoticed by his parents. Their eyes narrow and find one another’s, a wordless agreement to find the reason for his reaction. Robin, ever able to read a situation, picks up on their scheming and aims to distract.

“A splendid canvas, master Phoebus!” her words are a bit overzealous, but her goal of diversion is completed. 

“Thank you,” the painter responds with a pompous chuckle, getting a sword for Steve to pose with. “Now, let’s see if he knows anything about art.” 

“So these portraits will really be sent abroad, to persuade the high and mighty to attend this ball you insist on?” the urge to roll his eyes was strong, but Steve knew he could never do that in front of guests, let alone his parents.

“Which is a tradition, which is beloved,” the queen speaks up,

“And at which you will choose a bride” his father finished the thought, plunging the room into an uncomfortable silence. Steve looks to his feet, and despite the invisible hand crushing his chest, he finds a crumb of courage to speak up.

“If I must marry, could I not marry, say, an honest country girl?” he surprises even himself with his words. Robin wants to scream, in pride or scolding she’s still not sure. 

“What will this country girl provide? How shall she make the kingdom stronger? We are a small kingdom amongst great states, Steven. It is a dangerous world. ” The king leaves his wive’s side to stand just in front of Steve. His eyes fill with a fire so bright Steve swears he can feel it searing his skin. “Listen here, boy. They only way for you to be a proper king is to marry a princess.” Steve’s eyes narrow as well. He’s on a roll, a momentum he’s not sure he’ll every get back. He fights the gravel in his throat, probably his body’s better judgement. 

“Alright father, under one condition. Let the invitations go to everyone, not just the nobility. Hope is a strong gift that should be shared with everyone, is it not?” Steve raises an innocent eyebrow, but the king sees through it. He sneers, turning to his wife and Robin off to the side.

“What do you think? Would that please the people?” his gaze falls to Robin, his face reminding her of a plotting dragon. Treading lightly, she answers.

“I’m not sure if it’s my place to say, your majesty, but I wouldn’t mind a bit of a jolly.” she chuckles, nerves and the idea of having everyone in the kingdom be able to attend a ball released in the joyous sound. The king seems pleased, turning back to Steve.

“I think we might have made a bargain. A ball for the people,” he gestures to his son, “and a princess for the prince.” 

“Sounds like a step in the right direction, if you ask me” Phoebus mutters to himself, mixing his paint to just the right shade for Steve’s hair. 

“We didn’t ask you” the king snaps, venom dripping from his words. And with that, he beacons for his wife to follow him out of the room. 

The call for their horses, and make their way deep into the woods. If it weren’t for the moon’s light and frequency of the trip, they may have gotten lost in the twisting branches and lurching roots. It’s not long before their destination comes into view.

Housed in the exposed roots of a huge tree was a small hut. As they grew closer, they saw bright flashes of color through the windows, showing the inhabitant was still awake. When they reach the hut, they dismount and knock on the door. Clinking glass and chuckling comes from the other side, before it’s opened to reveal the witch. 

Your mother was right, there was once magic in the land. But, once Steve’s parents came to power, it was almost wiped out. Magic was messy and couldn’t be controlled, so any magical creatures were disposed of. The only one who escaped their fate was staring right at them, ushering them inside.

Her house isn’t anything lavish. The dirt floor is well worn, not sending it flying with every step. The shelves are lined with glass jars and herbs hung to dry. The centerpiece was the cauldron, bubbling with life. 

“What do I have the honor of doing for you today?” Her hands are tightly clasped behind her back, as she’s been instructed, so they know she’s not doing anything. 

“We were wondering if you’ve heard of any fairy godmothers?” The king scans the shelves instead of looking to her, as if she wasn’t even worth his gaze. 

“Oh no, your majesty. I haven’t seen any magic since…” she doesn’t need to finish her thought. 

“That wasn’t what I asked you, was it? Don’t make me repeat myself.” His words are stone cold and could make anyone’s knees shake.

“I only know of someone with the nickname. The baker’s daughter tells stories to the kids and they call her ‘fairy godmother in training’. She has no magic and poses no threat.” With each word, the king and queen’s bloods boil. The king bangs his fist against the wall, making it and the shelves attached shake. 

“I will decide who is a threat and who is not.” His tone is sharp as a knife, and just as threatening. Silence falls as the royals assess the situation. Their son has heard of this girl, or maybe even seen her. She’s the reason he wants to invite the kingdom to the ball, and for his outbursts. None of which followed their plan for him. Something must be done. 

“You can still shape-shift, right?” The queen asks, the deviance thick in each word.

“Why yes, your majesty.”

“Good, make sure it’s perfected by tomorrow night.” 

⋆★⋆

The village is bustling with life in the early morning, just as it always has. Just as you close the door to the bakery on the way to the market, a voice booms throughout the stalls. All eyes are on a man standing on the water fountain, the royal crest on his chest and a scroll in his hand. 

“Hear ye, hear ye! Quiet!” 

The crowd obeys, slowly shuffling closer.

“On this day, there shall be held at the palace, a royal ball. At said ball, in accordance with ancient custom, the prince shall choose a bride.”

A few women giggle, leaning in to one another to gossip.

“Furthermore, at the request of the prince, it is hereby declared that every maiden in the kingdom, be she noble or simple commoner, is invited to attend. Such is the command of your most noble king and queen.”

The world seems to stop as you process his words. Excited couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt. All you knew was that you had a chance. He was an apprentice in the castle and would most likely attend as well. 

You hoped to see Steve again soon.