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tobesobri · 4 years

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Traditions | 17.3k

a/n: it's been a while since I uploaded writing and for some reason I decided to sign up for this challenge and by some miracle actually managed to write something for it 🤯anyways, this is for the Valentine's Day Challenge by @1dffchallenges and it's honestly just a bit of fun, enemies to lovers little bit of angst and some smut! so i hope you enjoy! I'd always love to know your thoughts!! (also pls excuse any errors, I wrote this in a week with little editing lol)

prompt: doube date

dialogue: “So let me get this right. You want to hire me as your date for a Valentine’s Day Party?”

Pink and red were speckled throughout the entire office, whether it was a bouquet of chocolate roses, a banner of hearts, or stuffed bears residing next to bowls full of heart-shaped candies. Every employee’s section of the office had been filled to the brim with decorations as well. Pink and red ribbon taped carefully around the edges of their desktop computer, little store-bought balloons, also heart-shaped, grouped together and tied to desk chairs.

And Y/N, dressed in her typical all black outfit, rolled her eyes as she paced through the office toward the one section in the back that was immune to all things heart-shaped, pink, or stuffed.

She sat down at her desk with a loud sigh, her purse hitting the floor in its usual spot just before she slipped out of her jacket and draped it haphazardly between her back and the chair. It’d be wrinkled by the end of the day, but she didn’t care all that much, nor did she put much thought into the stains on her purse from leaving it on the floor. All she concerned herself with, after settling in, was getting straight to work… which was put on hiatus when she came face-to-face with both a pink and heart-shaped sticky note plastered onto the center of her computer screen.

Groaning, she ripped it off and moved to turn her computer on before she bothered to read whatever was written on the note. She considered three potential suspects while she pulled her keyboard down onto her desk and logged in. There was Kayla, who worked front reception and was one of the main culprits of all the Valentine’s decorations. A strong contender. It could’ve also been Ines or Carmen, her closest work friends whom Y/N knew both owned a pad of pink, heart-shaped sticky notes.

However, when she finally let her eyes fall to the note as her computer loaded up, the handwriting didn’t match any of the women she knew, and she was quite positive that none of them would have written was was sprawled out in black ink either.

Roses are red, violets are blue. I will fill your office with teddy bears and balloons, if you don’t send me your half of the proposal by two.

Harry.

She crumpled the note and tossed it into the bin under her desk. He could go fuck himself for all she cared. Sure, she was nearly done with her portion of the work and would be able to send it to him before then, but now that he’d pestered her about it, he’d be lucky if she even bothered to send it to him at all.

She didn’t doubt the promise, i.e. threat, he made on the note, but being surrounded by teddy bears and balloons would be worth making Harry’s life just a tad miserable.

After opening all the apps she’d need to get her work done, namely Photoshop and Illustrator, she connected her drawing tablet and set up the rest of her work station for the day, both on screen and off.

Harry had worked at the company for about two years longer than her and she’d started off as an intern while she was still in college and, after graduating, was hired as a permanent graphic designer. They had never really gotten along ever since Harry—jokingly—asked her to get him a coffee once… or twice. Unfortunately for her, though, they ended up working well together and their boss had stuck them both on the same projects ever since. Especially after the month-long project last spring that had been their most successful one to date.

While she came up with the design parts of client projects, Harry handled the more technical side of things and they’d never really argued much over each other’s work even though they clashed constantly at a more personal level.

“I see your feeling festive.” Just as she’d gotten into the groove of her typical morning and had forgotten all about Harry’s stupid note, his voice interrupted her entire thought process. So when she swiveled around to find him leaning into her little office space, it was hardly a surprise when she glared at him, even though he feigned offense at her bitterness.

“You got my note, I presume.” He let himself into her space anyway, holding a mug of steaming coffee she was sure he’d just made in the workroom, and leaned up against the opposite side of her desk that housed a much larger, digital drawing tablet for when she needed to do more intricate design pieces.

She just swiveled back around to face her computer again and went back to work as if he was no longer there. Pretending to ignore his existence proved to be quite difficult when the very particular woodsy, vanilla scents of his cologne met her nostrils and filled her entire office. Not to mention, the sight of what he’d been wearing singed the backs of her eyelids so that she still saw him every time she blinked. It was as if her brain refused to let her forget what he looked like in his white button-up, sleeves rolled to the crooks of his elbows, all tucked into his fitted black trousers that tended to get the imaginations going of all the women in the building.

Not her though, of course. She was better than that. Obviously.

He cleared his throat, still very much present in her space and still very much giving her a migraine. “So will it be ready by two?”

“Well, I planned to send it to you before lunch.” She tweaked the spacing between letters of a potential logo for the millionth time. “But now… I think I might need the rest of the day.”

She heard rustling behind her and knew he was shifting his weight impatiently and running a hand through his hair as he often did when he was… displeased. “I told you I’m leaving early tomorrow and I need it no later than two.”

She cocked her head to the side, still staring at her computer screen and not giving him an ounce of satisfaction. “Did you tell me that?” She teased, an amused smirk lifting the corners of her mouth when she heard him groan behind her. “I must’ve forgotten.” Shrugging, she went back to her work.

“Unlike you,” he snapped, “some of us actually have a love life and I’d appreciate you not fucking up mine.”

She froze then, only for a split second, when his words sank in. Two thoughts raced through her head. The first a string of curse words because of his assumption that she didn’t have a love life. But the more prominent and worrisome part of his statement was that he did have one. And that he was leaving early tomorrow—Valentine’s Day—so he could get ready for a date.

Throwing both her prickly exterior and heartbreaking smirk up again, she turned to face him. “I’ve known you for three years now and if anyone has the potential to fuck up your love life, it’s you.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and her gaze fell to the hand that seemed to wrap a bit tighter around his Bugs Bunny mug. His knuckles whitened and she met his heated stare again, pleased with herself for getting him riled up before he’d even finished his morning coffee.

“So,” she continued before he get get a word of retaliation out, and sat back against her chair, crossing her legs confidently as she folded her hands in her lap. “Who’s the poor girl you’ve tricked into going on a date with you this time?”

Harry had a terrible track record. The longest relationship he’d been in lasted for two months, and that was well before she’d known him. Everything else he had was just a one or two night thing and nothing more. Sure, it was all more than she had, but she preferred it that way. Harry seemed to resent the fact that he couldn’t keep a girlfriend to save his life.

“You don’t know her.”

Her smile widened. “How long have you been seeing her?”

“Couple weeks.”

“Ooh, that just might be your second longest relationship, Styles.”

“Well at least I’ve had one.”

His jab didn’t have an affect on her however, and he knew it wouldn’t because it never did. He knew she didn’t give a damn about relationships, or at least that’s what she claimed anyway. He couldn’t think of many twenty-four year old women who actually wanted to be alone. He actually couldn’t think of a mid-twenties anyone who wanted that.

“You’ll have to try harder than that.” She said nonchalantly, which irked him even more than he already was, and then swiveled away from him one last time, picking up her drawing pen and getting back to work.

“What’s your issue with relationships?” He went on and she knew he was headed right down a path intended to hurt her feelings just as much as she had his. So, she tensed slightly and braced for impact. “Is it a commitment thing? Or can you just not find anyone to put up with you for longer than five minutes?”

She let his words sink their teeth in and then smiled to herself. “Hm. Seeing as you’ve been in my office now for,” she checked the time at the top right-hand corner of her screen, “eight minutes, maybe we should date.” She lifted a brow, awaiting his next response.

It felt a bit like a cat-and-mouse chase bickering with Harry and since she was usually the cat, it brought her way too much pleasure fighting with him.

He scoffed. “Like I’d lower my standards for you.”

That one hurt, she had to admit. Not out loud or to Harry, but it still stung because it was true. He’d have to drop his standards to the floor to even consider dating her and she knew it.

“Maybe,” she began, still half focused on her work, and ignored his comment all together, “some of us like being alone.”

“Nobody likes that.” He responded quickly and she heard a shift of his weight again and then his voice once more a few moments later. “It’s nice to be by yourself sometimes, yeah, but you can’t tell me you don’t want someone to come home to at the end of the day.” He crossed one leg over the other as he gripped the edge of her desk for support and just when she thought he was done, he kept going, “Someone you can vent to about your annoying co-worker.”

She glanced at him through the little portable mirror hanging above her desk—mostly used to make sure she looked decent before meeting with clients or, sometimes, Harry—and saw the tight smile on his lips. Almost as if that’s what he wanted, like he was talking about himself and not her.

She’d slowed her progress down while he’d talked until she was no longer working at all. She no longer swiped her pen across the pad or had any idea what she was even doing when she focused solely on his words. Because, once again, whether he was talking about himself or about her, he was right.

“Yeah well,” she quickly hid herself back behind her wall and made her hands function properly again. “Some of us also don’t have the luxury of choosing whomever we want.”

She imagined him smirking at that one because, buried deep within her words was a compliment. That he was handsome enough to actually have anyone he wanted.

Instead, when she glanced at the mirror again and found him, there was the complete opposite of a smirk on his face, and as he stared down into his mug, clearly lost in thought, she wondered what the tightness in his jaw and the frown pulling on his lips meant.

She sighed and stole his attention away from his coffee. “I’ll have it to you before lunch. You can go now, unless you’d like to argue some more and slow me down by another…” she glanced at her clock again, adding up all the time he’d been standing in her office, “fifteen minutes.”

Without another word, she listened to the drag of his footsteps as he finally left her office space. And although she was glad to be rid of his distraction, the room felt so much bigger and so much colder and emptier without him in it. Shivering, she slipped back into her jacket and spent the next few hours doing nothing but staring straight ahead at her screen as she made final adjustments to her designs.

Any other conversations with Harry were had over email as he worked in his own respective office, messaging her with every little concern he had in order to get his work done efficiently so that he wasn’t stressing to finish it tomorrow before he had to leave. Even though Y/N considered not responding to him a few times, just to spite him and slow him down for her own amusement, she found herself feeling guilty after leaving him hanging a couple times. Sure, she hated Valentine’s Day and everything surrounding it, but she’d almost hate even more the idea of both her and Harry being miserable tomorrow, so she inevitably gave in and cooperated with him. She’d probably regret it when he came back on Thursday spreading around the office all the gory details of his date, but at least he wouldn’t also be in a shitty mood. Her days were both boring and slow whenever Harry wasn’t having a good day. And although she’d blame it all on selfish reasons, it did also make her sad to see him frowning around the office and sulking when all she wanted to do was bicker with him and make him smile again, even just a little bit. But it was easier leaving him to his own devices than risk him finding out she cared about him enough to not wish sadness upon him.

She couldn’t say the same for him. Harry probably relished in the days she came into the office in a sour mood. He probably celebrated and threw a party whenever she was upset, and, even so, it didn’t change how she felt about him.

The sun had long set and most of the office was gone by the time she finally called it quits and began packing up her things and giving her computer a rest for the night. There were still quiet murmurs from other workaholic employees, which comforting her knowing she wasn’t completely alone in the building, since the last time she’d done that, it took everything in her not to have a panic attack all the way to her car.

Even though her boss told her countless times not to stay past five o’clock, as he told every other female employee that worked for him that he didn’t wish to see attacked after sunset in the city. Of course, when she was the only one who didn’t listen to him, he hired more guards and one of them rounded the corner into her office space, ready to escort her all the way down to her car.

“Figured you were still here.” He leaned against the walls of her cubicle and watched as she startled, twisting to meet his eyes for a moment before she settled and returned to slipping her belongings into her purse.

“I don’t need you to escort me.” Zipping her purse, she rose from her chair, checking one last time across her desk to make sure she’d grabbed everything she needed to take home with her before turning to him as he still lingered in the opening of her little office.

William had been hired a couple months ago, and was only a year older than her, but even so he was more than a foot taller than her and his biceps were about as big as her head. While the entire office drooled over him, she tended to keep her eyes and her thoughts to herself.

“You say that every night you stay late. Just let me do my job and shut up about it.” He smirked at her and when her eyes met his again, sharply, glaring at him, she groaned and whirled past him toward the elevators. He followed swiftly behind, knowing she’d close the doors on him if he didn’t keep close enough pace with her, mostly because she’d done it before.

As he took his spot beside her and she pressed the button for the parking garage at the basement of the building, a familiar voice rang out through the office.

“Wait!” As if she wasn’t already annoyed enough with William’s presence, his stupidly large arm held the elevator doors open as Harry slipped inside a moment later.

“Thanks, mate.” Harry said exclusively to William as he caught his breath and stood wedged in the middle between the guard and Y/N, who was inching closer and closer into her corner to get away from Harry.

“You have any plans tomorrow?” Harry asked, his attention solely on William again while the elevator took off down through the levels of their building. Not fast enough for Y/N, of course.

William sighed, crossing his arms and trying to resist smiling. “Me and my girlfriend take turns surprising each other every year. And it’s her turn this year… so I guess I have plans, but I don’t know what they are.”

“Damn, way to make us feel incompetent.”

Y/N whirled her head to glare up at the side of Harry’s face. “Speak for yourself.” She warned.

Harry just ignored her though. “What did you guys do last year?”

Again, William stifled a grin. “I had been saving up for a while and took us both to Paris.”

“Shit.” Harry’s eyebrows rose and Y/N rolled her eyes away from him, watching the LED screen above the elevator doors as they neared the bottom levels of the building. She knew Harry and William had become friends, mostly because Harry was annoying and befriended everyone. Except her, of course. She heard his stupid voice again and wished she could just transport herself directly into the front seat of her car and be done with the both of them. “And now she has to do better than Paris.”

Y/N glanced around Harry just in time to see William smirk and she should have known what was about to come out of his mouth before it did. “Well, I don’t consider much better than her mouth ar—“

Y/N cut him off. “Ew! Are you serious?”

Both men eyed her curiously just as the elevator came to a stop and, with a ding, the doors opened. She flew toward them quickly.

“Y/N wait, I have to—“

Again, she cut him off, turning once she was out on solid ground. “I’ll be fine, besides trying to rid my mind of that image you just burned into it.” She turned on her heel and headed off toward her car.

William made a move toward her and Harry grabbed his arm, “I’ll walk her. Forgot she’s a bit of a prude.” They shared an amused look and Harry jogged out onto the concrete and asphalt until he reached her side.

“I heard that, you know… and I know for a fact your car is not parked in this direction.” She seethed and he just smiled to himself, happier than ever that she was in the mood to bicker with him, because he wasn’t quite in the mood to leave yet, where he’d have to wait till tomorrow morning at nine-thirty to see her again. And she wasn’t always the most talkative person on Valentine’s Day, either.

“Why are you the only female in our building not foaming at the mouth over him?” He asked instead, referring to William.

He heard her scoff. “Just because he’s attractive doesn’t mean I have to be interested… or want to hear about his girlfriend sucking his—“

“Cock?” Harry finished for her and within a second she spun around to face him, forcing him to stop in his tracks just inches from her now. His smirk only grew when he saw just how quickly he’d gotten her all flustered.

And then, as they started each other down, the hardness in her face softened and she drew out a breath, forcing his eyes to fall to her lips and his smirk to fall from his mouth. He thought back to last spring, when there were numerous late nights with her just like this one. When he went home and couldn’t stop thinking about…

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She asked and he blinked a couple times before he lifted his eyes.

“Like what?” He furrowed his brows, trying to track down all the resentment he had for her but he couldn’t find it anywhere anymore. He couldn’t summon it and say something that would save his ass from being caught looking at her like he wanted to kiss her.

Like he wanted to taste her and feel her against him, and hear what she sounded like when he tugged at her hair for more.

“Nevermind.” She shook her head, silencing the chaos going on in his brain. And then she turned, continuing the walk to her car with or without him, but, when she heard the echoing click of his shoes against the asphalt once more, she knew she wasn’t rid of him yet.

“I don’t suppose you’ll give me a ride back to my car, will you?” He easily stepped back into place beside her like nothing had happened.

She didn’t say anything for much longer than he was comfortable with. And then, finally, they reached her car and she sighed. “Get in before I change my mind.”

As she went for the driver’s side, he took quick steps to the opposite side, watching her over the top of her little Honda as she unlocked her door, and then, after clicking the button, his door as well. They both slipped in at the same time and while she fastened her seatbelt and settled in for her drive home, he sat perched with his backpack in his lap, knowing he’d be out of her car within only a couple minutes.

He still glanced around at his surroundings as she backed out of her parking space. “Should’ve guessed your car would be as neat as your desk.”

She didn’t say anything as she drove in the opposite direction of the exit toward the section of the garage Harry always parked in. It was closer to the elevators because he always came in before her and snagged a prime spot. She preferred an extra few minutes of sleep over walking an extra fifty steps.

And he started up again when she continued to not talk to him. “Most artists I know of are super messy.”

“I’m not an artist.” She gritted out through her teeth as she came to a stop once she spotted the rear-end of Harry’s BMW. Although she knew it well enough to distinguish it from the other black BMWs in the garage, it also helped that Harry had an old, faded license plate cover filled with a collage of cute pictures of puppies. He’d said it won him bonus points with women, but she also knew his screensaver at work was a picture of puppies as well, and no women he was interested in ever saw that.

He peeled his eyes off his car and looked over at her. “I know you can draw, too.”

She paused, gripping her steering wheel. She did enjoy both art and design and she knew Harry knew the difference between the two. She just didn’t know why he always insisted on bugging her about it.

“Yeah, well that doesn’t make me an artist.”

When he didn’t say anything, she glanced at him just in time to find him shrugging a shoulder like he was agreeing to disagree. Even if she couldn’t draw, he’d still consider her an artist because the things she managed to design always blew his mind and if that wasn’t art…

She rolled her eyes. “Are you going to get out, or do I have to drag you?”

He grinned, and it was almost as if her eyes refused to see anything else but his dimples and the bright whites of his teeth, and the birthmark to the side of his mouth…

“I’m going.” He assured, and yet he still hadn’t moved an inch. “Even though I’d love to see you try to drag me.” With her knuckles whitening on the steering wheel, he chuckled and unzipped the small pocket on the front of his backpack, withdrawing his keys as he finally swung her door open.

Once he was out, he gripped the top of the door and leaned back in to find her staring straight ahead. “Drive carefully, yeah? Would be quite tragic for your bitter ass to die on Valentine’s Day.”

She reached over and, despite having to brush her knuckles along the side of his thigh, grabbed the handle of the passenger door and yanked. His body remained in her way, however, and he was unfortunately a lot stronger than her.

Then she finally looked up at him, and those thoughts he had earlier surfaced again as much as he’d tried to bury them. This time though, he didn’t fight it as he glanced at her lips once more, then back at her eyes, which had widened slightly just before the dimples reappeared in his cheeks. “And I guess I would miss bickering with you every day.”

With that, he was gone and she retreated back to her seat as he shut the door for her. She had no idea what to think about what had just happened. Why he’d looked at her like that again. What that look even meant.

By the time she reached the freeway, she’d convinced herself she was just seeing things. Harry wasn’t looking at her in any other way he had before when he was intent on pestering her. But, as she took in the scent of him still lingering in the cabin, she allowed a small part of her to hope she was wrong.

Her eyes fell on the man down the hall from her door as she slipped her key into the lock, her brows furrowing as she watched him. It wasn’t unusual for their paths to cross, as they tended to get home around the same time, but it was quite odd to see him sitting on the floor outside his apartment, his head in his hands.

They’d said hi to each other a couple times in the mailroom, but she definitely didn’t know him well enough to go up and ask what his issue was or try to fix it for him. And after it was confirmed that he hadn’t, in fact, lost his keys, as they sat beside him on the floor along with his phone, she figured it best to leave him be.

Turning her key, she pulled her gaze from him and disappeared from the hallway.

The second she was inside her apartment, she felt all the weight lift right off her shoulders, especially when her cat came racing up, screaming at her from the floor while also coaxing her toward the kitchen to fill the food bowl. Whatever was going on with her neighbor still very much on her mind, she tried to focus instead on relaxing and getting both her and the screaming Pretzel some dinner.

She tried to remember his name as she heated up leftover pasta. She knew it started with an A, but her brain was coming up short. So, while Pretzel crunched on his food in his corner of the kitchen, she tried her hardest to remember.

And it was no question why she cared so much. Her neighbor was someone she was actually interested in, and she had been since she first saw him. Of course, she was never foolish enough to think he was into her, but she still let herself fantasize. He was tall, nearly black curly hair atop his head always in a state of disarray, and he had the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen hidden behind his glasses. And, if she was being honest with herself, he was just a darker-haired version of Harry. Maybe that’s why she liked him.

The beeping of her microwave tore her thoughts from the dangerous path they’d been headed down. Harry’s voice rang in her head a moment later.

Like I’d lower my standards for you.

She’d needed to hear him say that, because sometimes her thoughts got carried away when it came to Harry and sometimes she did let herself be a fool who hoped. But after he’d said that one damning phrase, it was enough for her to stop. She didn’t meet a single one of his standards, inside or out.

Still, she tried her hardest not to go back out into the hall and make sure her neighbor was alright. Maybe he just needed someone to talk to and it wasn’t like she was doing anything important. Even if she didn’t have a dumb crush on him, as she did Harry, she still didn’t enjoy seeing him in the state he’d been in.

Before she could work up the nerve, however, a knock sounded through her quiet apartment.

She held her breath as she opened her door, really hoping it wasn’t the boy from across the hall, since she was still blanking on his name, but she couldn’t imagine anyone else knocking on her door this late into the evening.

So when she inevitably found him there, looking down at her through his annoyingly long lashes as she took in the horrible state he was in—red, inflamed eyes and hair that needed to see a brush rather than his hand—she completely lost her breath instead.

“Uh, sorry, I… saw you come in and I know we don’t talk and this is a weird thing for me to ask but…” He ran said hand through said messy hair and she found her breath again while looking up at him like she’d do whatever he’d asked just so he’d stop frowning.

He sighed, glancing down the hall toward his apartment and then met her curious and somewhat concerned gaze. “Can I come in?”

She recoiled. “Um… why?”

“Well, um, I was hoping you could help me with something and I’d rather not have the entire floor know about it.”

She was beyond confused now, but still, she stepped aside and let him pass, assuming that if he was actually a murderer he would have done her in a lot sooner than this. He had plenty of other opportunities. Plus, something in his face just… made her want to trust him.

She closed the door and turned to him, watching as his eyes scanned her kitchen and where her food still sat before he twisted around, eyes wide. “Shit, I’m sorry for interrupting.”

She shook her head. “It’s fine.” And after clearing her throat, she crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you, um… what do you need help with?”

He swallowed and she watched his Adam’s apple budge in his throat. “I don’t imagine you’ll like me very much after I ask but… I need a date.”

“What?” Again, she nearly flew out of her skin.

His eyes darted back and forth between hers, gauging her reactions and very obviously on the verge of seeing himself out and pretending this never happened. Instead, he stuffed away his pride and went on. “My ex… she, uh… well we broke up a few months ago and I saw her the other day and she’s seeing someone and we were talking and I… told her I was seeing someone too and so she invited me to go on this stupid double date with her… but the thing is… I’m not actually seeing anyone and I just told her that so she’d be jealous but she didn’t seem jealous at all and I don’t exactly have many friends to ask for help and I saw you and…” He rambled, but she managed to understand his predicament just fine.

“A double date? With your ex?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know either. She’s… she does weird shit but… I still want her back.”

Y/N’s heart ached in her chest. As much as she detested relationships, she was a sucker for other people’s relationships and she was definitely a sucker for her beautiful neighbor, even if he was asking to use her to make his ex-girlfriend jealous.

“Not that I’m saying yes but… when? And where?” She finally asked after thinking things over for a moment.

“Tomorrow night… I can pay you. I will pay you, I mean… but, seriously, you don’t have to do it I just thought I would ask.”

“Where is this date at?” She repeated when he didn’t answer that part of her question.

“At this party… and bef—“

She cut him off. “Okay so let me get this right. You want to hire me as your date to a Valentine’s Day party?”

He lifted a brow, “Well, there’s more… she wants to get dinner before going to the party.”

She shook her head, looking away, “I don’t really do Valentine’s Day…”

“You wouldn’t have to do much. I’ll pay for your dinner, too. Whatever you want. I just… really need your help and you’re my only option.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You realize I’m not exactly…” she waved at her face and his eyebrows screwed together in confusion. “I’m not easy on the eyes and I don’t think taking me will make anyone jealous.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, just stared at her incredulously. She shifted her weight nervously and he finally opened his mouth. “You don’t actually think that, do you?”

Her features scrunched up and she kept her eyes planted on the middle of his chest. And then he realized that she, in fact, did.

“I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have asked you to do this.” He also realized that using her to make his ex jealous would possibly hurt her more than it would help him and he could no longer fathom putting her through that. “I’ll figure it out. I’m sorry.” He moved to walk past her, back to his apartment but she stopped him before he got far.

“No… I’ll help you.” And then she realized his identity was still somewhat of a mystery to her. “This sounds even worse than what you just asked me to do, but… I completely forgot your name.”

He breathed out a laugh. “It’s Adam.”

She knew it had started with an A!

“Y/N.”

He smiled wider and nodded. “I know.” And then his face grew sad again. “I am really sorry I’m asking you to do this on Valentine’s Day, it’s definitely not my proudest moment.”

She waved him off. “I wasn’t going to do anything anyway. Just tell me what you need me to do.” She didn’t bother brining up the whole payment thing. She didn’t really care about being paid. He was nice, the only nice person she’d encountered in her apartment building and if getting him back together with his ex meant she’d never have to come home and see him in the fetal position on the floor again, she’d suffer through a date and a party on her least favorite holiday.

It was somehow even worse than it’d been yesterday. The decorations seemed to triple in size. Not an inch of the office was untouched by something pink and she prayed whoever had put up even more decorations had spared her little cubicle.

“Oh, hey, Y/N!” One of the receptionists most responsible for the overflowing decor, Kayla, called her over to her desk not even a minute after Y/N had arrived. And she stalked over until she saw the package Kayla pulled out that instantly lifted her spirits.

She stopped in front of Kayla’s desk and took the thin box from from her, already knowing what it was and thanking god for the timing so that her entire day wasn’t completely miserable. It was a new drawing pad she’d ordered, a bigger one that she hoped would be a bit more efficient to use than her current one.

Even with her back turned to the rest of the office, she sensed Harry’s presence long before he stopped beside her with his mug in hand.

He lifted a brow at the package in Y/N’s hands just as she reluctantly turned to look at him. “Getting gifts sent to the office? That’s a first.”

She rolled her eyes and stuffed the box under her arm, holding herself back from running off to her office to set it up. “Jealous?” She cocked her head.

And instead of his condescending smirk and a hateful response to go with it, the sparkle in his eyes seemed to fade as he eyed the box again, genuinely worried now that it was actually a gift from someone.

Before either could say anything, they all turned to find a delivery man walking up to Kayla with a giant bouquet of flowers in tow. And so it began. Although, when Kayla took the vase from the man eagerly, a bright smile on her face because Kayla loved love a little too much, Y/N couldn’t help but think about Adam. About how the only time she’d managed to get a date on Valentine’s Day was when it wasn’t even real. Instead, she’d stupidly agreed to help her cute neighbor win back his ex-girlfriend in exchange for a free dinner.

It was… pathetic. To say the least.

She felt Harry watching her, too, while she eyed the bouquet of flowers as they departed reception with Kayla and made their way to their recipient. As stupid as she found everything about the holiday, she couldn’t help but want someone to send her flowers. To give her anything for that matter. To have thought about her for at least a second of their day. Harry cleared his throat and she tore her eyes away.

“So… what’s in the box?”

“None of your business.” She rounded him, heading to her office, but he grabbed her free arm to stop her short and didn’t speak until she met his gaze again.

“Can we meet up in my office to finish the proposal? Think it’ll be easier to get it done than over email.”

She had every reason to be suspicious of him. They almost never worked in each other’s offices. When they did work together, which was often, it was in one of the empty conference rooms and it was usually at the beginning of the process when they needed the space to plan things out. The last time they’d really been in each other’s offices was last spring. Figuring he just wanted to get things done so he could be out of the office on time, she let it go.

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

He watched her walk away, watched her even as Kayla returned and noticed his gaze and giggled at him as she took her spot back behind her desk.

“It was something she ordered for herself, by the way.”

“What?” Harry whipped around again, not having even realized the other woman until now.

“I know you two pretend to hate each other but I see the way you look at her, Harry.” Kayla lifted a brow at him as she began typing on her keyboard.

He feigned disgust. “I’m seeing someone, you know.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.” He insisted. “I have a date. Tonight.”

She lifted her hands in surrender. “Okay… I’m just saying.”

“I don’t look at her.”

Kayla suppressed a smile and snorted instead. “If you say so. I guess you didn’t also sneak into her office this morning, either.”

“I think all these flowers and stuffed bears and heart-shaped things have gotten to your head.” He pointed around to the decor littering her desk while holding his mug steady.

Kayla met his eyes and her smile slipped off her face. “Harry, please don’t mess with her.”

His face screwed up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you don’t like her then don’t lead her on.”

“I don’t think she’s capable of being led on.”

Kayla froze for a moment and then nodded. “You’re right.”

He wasn’t sure what she meant by that either. “Why are you being weird?”

“Because,” Kayla sighed, brushing her curled brunette hair onto one shoulder and then lowered the volume of her voice. “I happen to know she doesn’t think very highly of herself and I’d rather not see her get hurt, especially not by you.”

Now Harry froze. The hand that gripped his mug tightened and he didn’t even flinch as it began to burn his skin. He heard Y/N’s voice in his head then as he drowned out his surroundings.

Some of us don’t have the luxury of choosing whomever we want.

He had instantly regretted what he’d said to her yesterday when she’d told him that. And now hearing Kayla, in a way, confirm what he’d read between the lines of Y/N’s words… his chest tightened in quite possibly the worst way ever. He’d hated himself most of the day after telling her he’d never lower his standards for her and he could say he was just bickering all he wanted, but he knew now for certain she took it the wrong way. And he wished more than ever that he hadn’t said something so horrible to her, especially when it was the farthest thing from the truth.

And the real truth, that he was trying desperately to shove away with stupid remarks like that, was that he didn’t meet her standards. She wasn’t into relationships and he knew he wasn’t good enough to change her mind.

“How do you know that?” He finally asked.

“That Christmas party last year… she’s a really happy drunk until she’s not.”

He flinched. “Did she say something?”

“I don’t want to get into it, mostly because I don’t think she remembers and would probably kill me if I told you but… just leave her be.”

He hardened back up again. “She does’t have any interest in relationships anyway, ‘specially not with me.”

Kayla scoffed. “She’s a really good liar.”

Harry stood there for a few more moments, feeling as if his life had just gotten flipped upside down. He’d been in such a good mood mere minutes ago before his dumbass waltzed into reception all because he’d seen Y/N. Because, despite everything and despite the fact he was already attempting to date someone else, it was Y/N he wanted to be close to all the damn time. Groaning, he turned on his heel and left for his office, hoping she wasn’t there waiting for him so he could have a moment to himself to gather his thoughts.

In a hurry to open her package, Y/N slumped down into her chair tossing her purse on the ground at her feet and pulling out her box cutter in a rush of movements. She was so distracted, in fact, that she didn’t even notice the little stuffed frog, the box of chocolates and envelope sitting on the other side of her desk near her mouse. Instead, she unboxed her new tablet and began setting it up, not noticing the gifts until she went to turn on her computer. And then she froze.

With reluctant hands she grabbed the envelope first, her name printed on it in perfect cursive. She knew nobody in the office who had such good penmanship. Opening the card in hopes of finding out who had placed the items on her desk, instead, she just found it signed as ‘secret admirer.’ Rolling her eyes, she set the card down and realized it had to be from her boss. Sometimes he remembered to go around and give everyone little gifts on the holidays. Obviously he’d remembered this year.

She dug into the chocolates as she set up her tablet and began calibrating it to suit her needs before finally testing it out in the little bit of time she had before she needed to make her way to Harry’s office.

And once that time came, she left everything in its place, besides the box of chocolates, which she continued to pick at while she made her way through the room. What she didn’t notice while stuffing her face with candy was that… no one else had a stuffed frog or chocolates or a cheesy little card on their desks.

She rounded the corner into Harry’s office, which was a real office and not a cubicle that he usually shared with one other person who was thankfully out with clients for the day. She knocked on the doorframe to get his attention after just watching him focus on his screen for a moment. Harry was cute when he was focused.

But then he turned to her and his eyes fell to the box in her hand.

When he didn’t say anything, she held it out toward him. “Do you want some? I think Andrew was feeling generous this year.”

Harry’s eyes quickly panned up to hers and his brows furrowed as if she’d just punched him in the gut. And she couldn’t make out what that expression meant no matter how hard she tried.

“He didn’t give me anything.” Harry motioned around his desk.

“Maybe he doesn’t like you.” She shrugged, setting the chocolates down on his desk while she grabbed his office mate’s chair and pulled it up beside him.

Harry sighed, turning to his computer for a moment and then watching her from his peripheral while she picked out another piece of chocolate. “I didn’t see anyone else with chocolates on their desks this morning.”

Y/N just shrugged. “There was a frog too. And a card.”

“And why do you think he’d give you all of that and no one else?” Harry hoped she’d get the hint but he didn’t hope too hard. She was still Y/N after all. And he really didn’t mean to sound so bitter… well, okay, he did. But he knew she’d misplace his bitterness, crushing what little hope there was to bits.

“Maybe he likes me better than all the rest of you.”

Harry scoffed, shaking his head as he put his attention back on his screen.

“No one else in this office would give me a card signed as a secret admirer so… maybe I did something I don’t remember doing and he’s thanking me?” Now that she really thought about it, and if Harry was right… then it really didn’t make much sense. It’s not like she was Andrew’s favorite employee.

Harry just lifted a brow and then pretended to lose all interest.

Sensing the tension, she slipped the box closer to him. “Here. I think you need a knock-off Snickers if you expect me to work with your grumpy ass.” He made no move to indulge her, however. And so she went on, continuing to poke the bear. “Why are you in a lousy mood anyway? Isn’t this your favorite holiday? And you get to leave early.”

His eyes fell from his screen and he stared at the brick of sticky notes below his monitor before mumbling, “I’m sorry about what I said yesterday.”

Taken aback, she searched what she could see of his face for answers to what he was apologizing for. He’d said a few things she could imagine deserved an apology and yet, so did she. Maybe she should have been the one to apologize to him first.

“I didn’t mean to say what I did.” He finally turned to meet her face on. He’d hoped the frog and the chocolates would have been atonement enough, but considering she thought they were from their boss and not him, he just had to suck it up and actually say what he meant.

She shrugged. “It’s fine. I can be a prude sometimes.”

He searched her eyes for a moment and then shook his head, “No that’s not… I meant what I said earlier in your office… about lowering my standards. It was a stupid thing to say and not true in the slightest.”

But then she smiled and he grew confused. “Yes it is. It’s okay to have standards, you know.”

“I know that. But if we… I wouldn’t have to lower my standards. And it was cruel of me to have said that to you.”

She couldn’t stand looking at him any longer and averted her gaze, clearing her throat. “Well it doesn’t matter so… can we just get this proposal done?”

He’d wanted to spend how ever long it took to convince her that it did, in fact, matter, but Y/N was persistent, more so than him, and so he’d given in and they moved on to being productive with their time. And in less time than he’d anticipated their proposal was finished, being sent off to Andrew for approval before their presentation at the end of the week with their clients.

Harry sat back in his chair and she returned her own to the other desk where it belonged, all while he watched her.

“What do you do on Valentine’s Day?” He asked, just trying to get her to stay longer, knowing that if those were his true intentions, then he was fucked. That he wanted to be around Y/N, even though he was seeing someone else, albeit for just a week so far, even though she’d never want the same from him.

Maybe he was just as terrible with relationships as she claimed if he always chased after what he couldn’t have.

“That is also none of your business.” She grabbed her box of chocolates from his desk, his voice pinning her in place again though.

“Let me guess… it involves chocolate, your cat, and the most anti-romantic movies you can find?”

He would not think her very prudish if he knew what else she did on Valentine’s Day while alone in her apartment, but she figured it was best to keep that to herself. Instead, she smiled at him. “Something like that.”

He narrowed his eyes and threw his arms up behind his head as he laid back in his chair, watching her curiously like he was trying to figure her out. Meanwhile, she was trying to not make it obvious she was staring at his biceps as they just about bulged from underneath the sleeve of his pink button-up. He’d done it on purpose though, so as much as she tried to hide it, he still grinned with satisfaction when she became flustered.

“Well, have fun with that, then.” He nodded, and for a moment while she was lost in his eyes and growing embarrassingly hot, she wondered if he could read her mind. If he knew exactly what not-so-innocent things she did on Valentine’s Day. Then he brought his arms back down to rest his elbows on the edge of his desk, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers and watching as she rolled her eyes, held her chocolates close, and left his office.

Adam arrived right when he said he would at five-thirty. It had given her plenty of time to change out of her work clothes and into one of the few dresses she owned, to at least seem somewhat convincing that this was a real date. She also fixed her makeup and put on a pinkish-nude lipstick before switching out her bulky purse for a smaller crossbody.

When she opened the door to him, he most certainly did not disappoint. She almost let herself get lost in the delusion that it was a real date when she saw him dressed to the nines and cleaned up for the first time since she’d known him. And she especially got a little lost in it when he pulled a small bouquet of flowers from behind his back and handed them to her.

“You didn’t have to—“

“I know.” He gave her a once over when she wasn’t looking. “You didn’t have to do this for me either.”

She quietly accepted the flowers and let him in while she found a vase and filled it with water. He leaned on the counter, watching her as she did so.

“You look… beautiful, by the way.” He blurted out once she had cut and placed the stems into the vase. Her hands froze, though, and when he met her eyes, he knew he’d made a mistake.

“You’re paying me to make your ex-girlfriend jealous. Please don’t flatter me.”

“Sorry.” He muttered, although he was beginning to wonder if the bigger mistake was not taking her out on a proper date that had nothing to do with his ex.

She sighed and adjusted the strap of her purse. “Let’s go then.”

He went over all the final details on the Uber ride to the restaurant. Things about his ex he thought Y/N should know about. And he made sure she knew, for about the hundredth time, that she didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to. And she reminded him for an equal amount of times that she never did anything she didn’t want to do. So, settling that, he helped her out of the back of the Uber when they arrived and opened the door to the restraint for her as well. Everything that she’d expect from a normal date, which only left her disappointed when she reminded herself it wasn’t.

She waited quietly, and tried to catch her nerves, while Adam talked to the hostess and gave her his ex’s name for the reservation. The place was packed and anyone who didn’t call ahead surely would not be getting a table tonight. She’d never been out on Valentine’s Day, though, so it was like stepping into a brand new world for her. And as she followed both the hostess and Adam, she paid more attention to all the couples enjoying their meals than anything else.

Except for when he reached back and grabbed her hand, entwining their fingers just before they came to a stop. She blinked her eyes at their hands for just a moment before he gently pulled her around next to him. And whatever way she’d felt about holding Adam’s hand went right out the window when she locked eyes with Harry.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

The last thing she expected to find, while Laura, the gorgeous blonde ex-girlfriend, stood to hug Adam, was Harry fucking Styles. And what a fucking coincidence it was, almost as if this was her karma for feeling the need to constantly help people.

Adam’s hand slipped from hers but she didn’t even notice it anyway. She and Harry still stared each other down and neither of them moved a muscle either. Well, besides the one in his jaw as it tightened. Then he did move, glancing over at Adam with a blank expression before landing his gaze back on her again. And then his eyes fell to the glass of water in front of him and she felt like she’d been released from chains he’d tied around her wrists.

“This is Y/N,” Adam’s hand went to the small of her back, guiding her forward to meet his ex-girlfriend and Harry’s current… whatever they were.

Laura held out her hand, her smile a little too forced. “Laura. It’s nice to meet you. Please, sit.” She ushered them to the table as she took her spot beside Harry again. Adam, of course, took the chair opposite Laura, which left Y/N in the one opposite Harry.

This would be a long, hellish night.

She couldn’t help but wonder what Harry was thinking. That maybe she’d come to crash his date. Or, even worse, that he’d already figured the whole thing out. That Adam was paying her to be here. She really hoped he’d never find out because it was just embarrassing enough to make her want to change her name and move across the country, thousands of miles away from him. Harry finding out that she couldn’t get a real date to save her life… beyond humiliating.

“This is Harry.” Laura motioned to him and he just barely lifted his gaze, nodding at Adam and ignoring Y/N entirely. “You know,” the blonde went on, glancing between Adam and Y/N, “I was a little shocked when you told me you were seeing someone again.”

Adam just shrugged.

“How did you guys meet?”

Y/N left all the talking to him. Mostly because she was still in shock that she was sitting across from Harry. And she hadn’t even taken the time to properly take him in and realized he’d also changed his clothes since work. Swapping his wardrobe out for a fitted black button-up, that wasn’t buttoned all the way to the top as his shirts normally were. The sleeves were already rolled to his elbows. He’d shaved off the scruff along his jaw as well and fixed his hair so that it was combed back out of his face, although a a couple rebellious strands hung down onto his forehead. He looked… like absolute perfection. And he was being forced to be on a date with the ex-boyfriend of the girl he was seeing and his annoying co-worker. She felt terrible for him.

“Oh, uh, well we live on the same floor.”

Laura nodded, clearly anticipating more. “Is that it?”

Y/N felt Adam tense up beside her and so she took over, easily spinning a lie. “I ran out of milk one night a few weeks ago. He’s the only one who answered the door.”

She noticed a flash of movement in her peripheral and turned to find Harry’s gaze on her again, one eyebrow lifted curiously. He was either wondering how she hid it so well, or trying to figure out what to ask in order to reveal their ploy. He never said anything, though.

“Sorry, um,” Laura’s tone changed as she glanced between Harry and Y/N, both of them looking away when the other girl interrupted. “Do you two know each other?”

Harry grinned, sitting back against his seat and folding his hands in his lap. “Something like that.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “We work together.”

“Really?” Although her tone said otherwise, Laura’s face said everything about how she felt upon hearing that bit of information.

Adam twisted his worrisome gaze to Y/N, but she ignored it. Harry, however, did not.

“Don’t worry, mate. I was under the impression she was celibate up until now.” With that, Y/N kicked him under the table and he sat forward to swallow the groan that very nearly left his lips after she’d jabbed him in the shin with the toe of her heels. “Guess she’s really good at hiding things, though.”

Adam just chuckled nervously and Y/N shot him an apologetic smile, trying to reassure him that this date would still work out despite Harry.

“What a small world.” Laura laughed, trying to break the tension but dinner hadn’t even started yet.

Sometime during the main course, Laura excused herself to the bathroom and Y/N almost, in a desperate attempt to flee both Adam and Harry, invited herself along. But she figured it’d be worse to be alone with Laura than with them. Laura might ask questions she wasn’t prepared for. So, she stayed put, as much as it pained her to do so.

“So, Adam, what do you do for a living?” Harry asked suddenly and she wanted to kick him again. Mostly because his tone was that of a jealous teenager and he’d waited until Laura was gone to pester her ex-boyfriend who most certainly did not deserve Harry’s pestering.

“Oh, uh, I’m an artist. I work for an animation studio at the moment but I’m trying to get into freelance.”

Harry’s eyes shot to the suspiciously quiet girl sitting across from him. “So is Y/N.”

Adam turned to look at her, but she just glared at Harry. “Oh, I didn’t know that.”

Harry titled his head as he narrowed his attention in on Adam again. “So you’ve known her for a few weeks and you never asked what she did?”

“Harry.” Y/N warned, trying to kick him under the table again but he dodged out of the way.

“Well… she said she was in graphic design… not art.” She had told him that, during their crash course yesterday while they got to know as much as they could about each other in a span of a couple hours.

“I think it’s the same thing.”

Adam just shrugged. “I guess. I don’t think I could be a designer, though. Most artists make what they think looks good, designers create things to appeal to customers.”

“Just ignore him.” Y/N advised and Harry was the one shooting her daggers and attempting to stomp his foot on top of hers under the table this time.

“You and Laura used to date then? She never told me how you split up.” Harry moved on.

Adam swallowed nervously. “She broke up with me.”

“Why?” Harry pushed and Y/N looked at him like she wanted to kill him, which he ignored.

“I, uh… I had a drug problem for a while. I was not the best person to be around sometimes. But after we broke up, she helped me with rehab and everything.”

“Guess that explains why you’re on such good terms.”

Now Y/N really wanted to do more than just kick him.

Adam grabbed Y/N’s hand under the table and pulled her straight from her violent thoughts about Harry. And he didn’t lace his fingers between hers, instead, it felt as if he had just been looking for something to ground himself with. And her hand resting on her lap was the closest thing he could find. It didn’t, however, go unnoticed by Harry and his jaw clenched as he stared at the point in the table where, just below, there their hands met almost as if he was trying to set everything on fire.

Laura returned shortly after that.

As promised, Adam paid the entirety of both his and Y/N’s bill, even though she attempted to snag it from him, seeing as the date had gone to shit and it was all her fault. Well… maybe it was also Harry’s fault a little bit too. But she definitely did nothing to make Laura jealous. Adam, on the other hand, did a great job at making Harry jealous just by existing and being Laura’s ex, whom she was still friends with.

The four of them stood outside on the curb awaiting their Uber after dinner was over, agreeing upon splitting one car to get to the party instead of taking two. Laura was apparently very cautious about fossil fuel consumption.

Y/N shivered as she stood between Adam and Laura, wishing she’d bright a jacket instead of relying on a long-sleeve dress to keep her warm. Then an arm wrapped around her shoulders and Adam pulled her close, running his hand up and down her arm to form heat. She tensed up, though, forming into an immovable brick. She had no idea the last time she’d been that close to another person, let alone a member of the opposite sex. When he felt her go rigid, he leaned down until his lips were at her ear. “Is this okay?”

She just nodded and tried to relax. Which turned out to be quite easy because Adam was warm and he smelled nice. She, of course, didn’t let her mind wander off too far. He was still in love with his ex. He’d still shove cash into her hand at the end of the night for her troubles and go on with his life.

Adam let go of her when the car pulled up and quickly went to the passenger door to confirm with the driver. Then he opened the back door for the three of them to climb in, Laura going first, then Harry, and, at last, Y/N, while Adam slipped into the front seat beside the driver.

While the car took off, Y/N was shoved into the corner when Harry moved closer to her in order to find both his and Laura’s seat buckles in the dark. Eventually, he settled back into the middle and gave her some space again. When she made no move to do the same as them, Harry turned to look down at her.

“Put your seatbelt on.” He whispered.

Her eyes whirled up to his. Wordlessly, and of course after rolling her eyes, she grabbed her seatbelt and he made room for her to buckle it in. Then she sat back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest while she stared out at the traffic through her window.

She would have stayed in that exact position the entire trip, too, if Harry’s knee didn’t insist on bumping into hers constantly. And she couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose or not.

When she glanced up at him, and found the corner of his lips curl upward, she figured it was, in fact, purposeful. So, with the hand closest to him as her arms were still crossed, she poked him in the side, right against his ribs, hoping it hurt.

“Ouch.” He whined, covering the spot with his hand dramatically. Everyone in the car glanced at Harry, all except for Y/N who snickered as she returned to staring out the window.

Harry wasn’t giving up, though. This time, with his arms crossed in his lap, and glancing at Laura to be sure she wasn’t watching, he walked his pointer and middle finger up the outside of Y/N’s thigh, close enough to her hip to make her squirm slightly when his touch tickled her. And as soon as he got her attention, he looked down at what he was doing and pressed his middle finger against her, meeting her gaze with a smirk.

In the same moment, the driver turned up the music in the car as they waited tirelessly at a red light. It was better than silence or listening to his passengers breathing. But Harry mentally thanked him and turned his attention back to Y/N, leaning into her slightly until his lips were at her ear and she shivered for an all new reason.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress before.” He whispered for her ears only. The music was especially loud in the back and he wasn’t sure Y/N had even heard him.

Especially since she didn’t respond right away. But how could she? Harry’s fingertips were still grazing her thigh, as if trying to emphasize the dress she had on. And his stupid knee was pressed right up against hers. She couldn’t think straight.

Though when she finally turned to him and whispered back, “Don’t get used to it,” he knew she had, in fact, heard him well enough.

He leaned again, “Afraid I already am.”

She hated that there were butterflies in her stomach. That he was saying such odd things to her when his date was sitting just on the other side of him. The date who most definitely met all Harry’s standards.

Huddling away from him, she stuck her eyes out the window and kept them there the rest of the trip.

It was just past eight when they arrived, a fifteen-minute trip up through the city taking half an hour due to all the Valentine’s Day traffic. Another reason she hated this holiday.

The party was being held by Laura’s best friend, who’s name Y/N did not care to commit to memory. In the elevator ride up to the penthouse, though, Harry stood close to Laura, his arm wrapped around her waist and Adam to Y/N, although he didn’t touch her. She wouldn’t have minded if he did, but she figured it was best to keep those boundaries in place anyway.

Pink and golden balloons littered the ceilings of the penthouse. The drink cups were also pink, as was the communal punch bowl that Y/N steered clear of, having no idea what was in it, or who had already spiked it. She knew nobody at the party besides who she’d come with, though she assumed both Adam and Harry were somewhat acquainted with Laura’s friends.

It was most definitely not someplace Y/N ever saw herself being at, not only because it was a Valentine’s themed party, but also because she wasn’t exactly comfortable around so many people. Especially when those people were all so unfamiliar to her.

“Here,” Adam handed her a drink and then grabbed one for himself. She downed the thing in one go, needing to take the edge off. It might’ve been a slight mistake when the alcohol burned the back of her throat, but she didn’t care too much when she grabbed another.

Then he was leading her into the dancing pit of bodies where they huddled close enough so that his lips were at her ear. “Is it alright if I touch you?”

She glanced over at where Laura and Harry had been left, finding both her hazel eyes and Harry’s green ones glued to the both of them. She wasn’t sure what Harry’s deal was, but this was her moment to fix things and make Laura jealous, so, turning back to Adam, she nodded.

He eased his hands onto her waist as they began swaying to the music. And then he pulled her closer, his hands slipping to the small of her back as her arms wrapped around his neck, being careful with her own movements even though she desperately wanted to sink her hands in his hair.

And, god, he smelled so good as her head rested in the crook of his neck. And he felt good, too, as he moved against her body. She knew it wasn’t real, and that the alcohol was making skewing her perception of things, but it was still nice. Nice to be held and to just let go for a change.

Over Adam’s shoulder, Y/N caught Harry’s eyes again. His jaw clenched and he looked the same as he did back at the restaurant. Angry. And then she realized that maybe she wasn’t really trying to make Laura jealous anymore at all, but rather Harry.

It was dumb, she knew that. He’d have to like her in order for her to make him jealous. But… the way he was looking at her. The way he had looked at her. His eyes lingering too long on her lips. What he’d done in the car ride here.

She heard Adam in her ear again. “I think it’s working. She just stormed off into the kitchen.” Then he pulled away and she realized she hadn’t even seen Laura. Just Harry. Harry and his stupid, obnoxious green eyes.

“You owe me more than just dinner.” Y/N teased but Adam grew serious.

“I know. And since you refuse to accept my money, I’ll have to figure out another way to repay you.” He smiled and then twirled her around so that she no longer had any line of sight toward Harry. He pulled her close again, one hand going to her waist while the other stayed locked to one of hers. “Suppose I could start with making your coworker just as jealous… although I think he already is.”

Confusion flooded her features as she peered up at him.

“Oh, come on! He was ready to rip my head off when he realized I’d grabbed your hand. And when I put my arm around you? I thought I might be better off just giving you my jacket and freezing to death instead.”

“I don’t…” she shook her head in disbelief. It was one thing for her to be pretending to make Harry jealous in some delusional hope that it’d work. But this… this was a whole other thing.

“I’m actually quite interested to see what he does if I kissed you.”

She was shocked at first and then, possibly due to the alcohol, just as interested. “Are you asking my permission?”

“Are you saying yes?”

Y/N hesitated. “Is she back?”

Adam’s eyes scanned the room and Y/N realized he hadn’t asked to kiss her for Laura’s sake at all.

“She is.” He finally announced.

Without any more second guessing, Y/N’s hand slipped to the back of his neck and pulled him in. As soon as their lips collided and she tasted the alcohol on him, she knew that she’d never agreed to this without it. Or maybe she would. Adam spun them back around again, deepening the kiss as her eyes opened and fell into the direction she’d last seen Harry.

He was still there.

Still watching.

His hands in fists. His jaw tightened into a crisp line. His nostrils flared. His eyes… sad.

She pulled away. Adam steadied her, grabbing her shoulders when she swayed. But, as she caught her breath, the dizziness went away.

“I’m going to find the bathroom.” She told him and after he nodded, she left, forming a rift for herself through the bodies that danced all around them until she was in the clear. Then she was avoiding Harry as she walked past him, not so sure his gaze was still set on her. Maybe she’d gone too far. She didn’t often just kiss people for no good reason and that’s exactly what she’d just done with Adam. She barely even knew him.

She didn’t exactly need the bathroom, just an open, empty and quiet place. And so, she fell back against a wall in the foyer and ran a hand through her hair.

“That was quite the show.”

She startled at the sound of his familiar voice and looked up just as he stopped a few feet away from her. “What are you talking about?”

He lifted a brow. “You expect me to believe that that you, anti everything to do with this holiday and with relationships and romance, are actually dating that guy?”

“Is it that hard to believe?” She crossed her arms, willing to go as far as she needed to before she let Harry see the truth. That she was that pathetic.

“Yes.” He didn’t even hesitate to respond and she flinched.

“Well, I’m sorry that you have a hard time believing that someone may actually like me.” She had no reason to nearly be shouting at him and no reason to be saying what she was because Adam didn’t like her.

“That’s not what I said. It’s hard for me to believe you just dropped all your ideas about relationships for some guy with obnoxious blue eyes.”

“I didn’t.”

“So then what is this?”

Y/N hesitated. Hating that the truth was about to boil over out of her mouth for him to see all the embarrassing bits of it, but she had no other way of convincing him. And it didn’t really help that Adam was so far out of her league that it wasn’t even convincing to begin with. Nor did she want to convince Harry of anything either. It was clear now that he hadn’t been jealous, he was just trying to figure out when she stopped hating relationships so much.

And the truth of that was she never really hated them. It was just easier telling herself she didn’t want it than admitting no one ever actually wanted her.

She trembled, not even sure why, but he was making her incredibly nervous, so much that she wished she could rewind and stay squished next to him in the back of the car forever. Being that close to him... his stupid fingers on her thigh, whispering things in her ear that made her head spin. She’d much prefer that than standing in front of him now, seeing every ounce of judgment he was about to throw her way.

“What do you want me to say, Harry?” She shrugged and dropped her eyes to the white marble floors between them, focusing on calming her anxiety while she was no longer looking at him. “He needed a date and I felt bad for him.”

“What does that mean?”

Letting her head fall back against the wall, she stared up at the ceiling this time as her eyes burned with embarrassment. “He paid me to be his date so his ex-girlfriend didn’t find out he wasn’t actually seeing anyone. That’s what it means.”

Harry didn’t say anything.

“So, yeah.” She folded her arms, looking down at the floor again, still unable to meet Harry’s eyes and see the look that would be on his face. A smirk of amusement at her expense. Even probably his dimples, taunting her and turning her into the joke she already was. “You were right. I can’t find anyone to tolerate me, which is why I’m on this stupid date that isn’t even real.”

“Him kissing you seemed quite real to me.”

There was more exasperation than humor to her laugh. “It wasn’t.”

Harry seemed to finally understand. “He’s trying to make Laura jealous.”

Y/N just nodded. “I promise I didn’t know you were going to be there, that he was trying to get her back from you.”

“You still kissed him though.”

She couldn’t argue that, nor could she tell him the real reason she’d agreed to the kiss. That it wasn’t exactly Laura she was trying to make jealous. She’d never live that one down, if she ever managed to live any other aspect of this night down.

When she didn’t say anything, he stepped closer. “Why did you kiss him?”

“I’m sorry, Harry I just... I don’t know.”

He shook his head and took another step, making her eyes widen when he was close enough that she had to crane her head back to meet his gaze. “Seemed like you were trying to make me jealous.”

She swallowed, not exactly in the position to laugh it off and argue with him when he was this close and all she could feel were the traces of his fingertips on her thigh. Her voice was quiet when it finally came out. “Making you jealous would mean I assumed you liked me in the first place... which I’m definitely not stupid enough to assume.”

A crease formed between his brow and his stupidly perfect jaw hardened as if he was biting his tongue from saying something. And fuck him for choosing then to finally stop opening his mouth.

Just then, a pair of drunk guys, one on the other’s back, came racing through the foyer, screaming at the top of their lungs while a few others followed quickly after them. It was enough to force Harry away from Y/N again, enough for the both of them to step out of the little bubble they’d been in together the past ten minutes.

Once they were alone again, their eyes gravitated toward each other and just when she thought Harry might say something after all, he flipped around on his heel and left. And she watched as he turned the corner and mixed back into the party.

After a few moments to gather herself, she followed him, not exactly sure what she was going to do now that Harry wouldn’t talk to her and it felt weird being with Adam while Harry knew everything. But, whatever plans to keep herself occupied no longer matted when she spotted Laura.

Making out with Adam in the middle of the room.

Without even thinking, she turned to locate Harry and he might as well have been a source of gravity because her eyes fell right to him within a second. And he was watching them too. He knew.

He met Y/N’s eyes and she wasn’t quite sure if he was upset or not. She couldn’t really read anything on his face, and stopped attempting to when he moved towards her and she had other things on her mind, like where he was going and if he was going to bother taking her with him.

Shortly after he stormed past Y/N she made sure he wasn’t going to leave her behind and chased after him. She didn’t know Adam very well and definitely not Laura to want to stay with them. And everyone else in the room were complete strangers to her. Adam had promised he’d take her home, but he probably hadn’t expected to be making out with his ex by the end of the night, either.

Harry didn’t say anything, not even when they’d reached the foyer and Y/N asked where he was going. He just located his jacket and slipped it on before making his way out the front door.

And right when she thought he really was going to leave her behind, since she was the reason he’d just lost Laura to her ex, he held the door open and glanced over his shoulder at her while she still stood on the other side of the threshold.

“Are you staying?”

Without a word, she sprung into motion and trailed right behind him into the hallway like a lost puppy, letting the door shut behind her that cut them off from the music as it faded into the background behind them.

It was a silent trip down the elevator, mostly because she had no idea what to say that would sound sincere and he didn’t say anything at all. At least not until she followed him through the lobby until he stopped on the curb just outside the main doors.

She took up the spot next to him, eyes glued to the side of his face as he took in a deep breath of fresh air, or at least as fresh as traffic allowed it to be.

Then he spoke, and it seemed like the first time she’d heard his voice all night. “I’m the one who gave you the chocolates and the frog.”

She narrowed her eyes, both not exactly sure why he’d just said that or if he was even being serious. “What?”

He looked down at her. “It wasn’t Andrew, it was me.”

“Why?” She breathed and while she was positive she’d be freezing cold soon, the fresh air after being surrounded by so many people felt good. It felt freeing and she wondered if he felt that way too.

His eyes scanned hers before he looked away. “Well partly to apologize for what I said.”

“What’s the other part?”

Sighing, he turned his entire body to face her now. “Something else entirely…” He trailed off, only confusing her more as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared at his feet. “I didn’t tell you because I know you don’t like all this stuff, but seeing you with him tonight... I wish I had.”

“It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just a frog.”

He shook his head, grinning. “It’s not just a frog, Y/N... because the thing is,” he paused to catch his breath, “I’ve been in love with you for... a really long time… since last spring. But with you being the way that you are, I never thought you’d feel the same way.”

She opened her mouth and then closed it.

“And then you come in with that guy and...” He pulled his fingers through his hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more jealous in my life... because all this time I thought you weren’t interested in relationships, but you just weren’t interested in me.”

Inhaling, she summoned every ounce of courage she could fathom. “You were right about why I kissed Adam.” He lifted a brow, waiting for her elaboration which never came. “You were right about other things, too. I wish I had someone to come home to almost every single night I got to bed alone. No one—“ She cut herself off, trembling again as tears stung her eyes. “I pretend not to be interested so I can ignore the fact that no one’s ever wanted me.”

“That’s not true.” He had that same look on his face as before, when she’d told him she wasn’t stupid enough to think he liked her.

She just nodded. “And I’m sorry but... why would you want me when you could have someone like Laura?”

“Y/N...” He huffed and stepped closer to her, the heat from his body making her shiver. “This is not the first time I started seeing someone to get over you... in fact, all my relationships since I met you have been shit.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Well you’re very anti-relationships so I think I was justified in wanting to avoid you rejecting me… especially since we work together and it would have been really awkward.”

“I don’t, uh... I...” She stammered, not really sure what to say to him even though her heart was screaming at her in full volume.

He held his breath and then, in almost a whisper, “Is this the inevitable rejection?”

“No.” She didn’t even hesitate that time and at this point, her mind no longer controlled the words coming out of her mouth as she let another organ finally speak for itself. “No, I liked you the second I saw you, Harry... and at no point tonight was I ever trying to make Laura jealous.”

The corners of his mouth began to curl into a smile. “That was very cruel of you to do to me.”

“I didn’t think you liked me at all twenty minutes ago, Harry.”

“Twenty minutes ago,” he fully invaded all of her space now, leaving the smallest gap between their bodies as he could get away with, lifting his hand to her jaw and rubbing his thumb over her cheek. “I was still on this date with the wrong person.”

“I think the date is over now.”

“No,” his eyes fell to her lips just like they had before. “It’s not.”

“You’re looking at me like that again.” She mumbled, out of breath.

He lifted a brow and didn’t once remove his eyes from her lips. “Like what?”

“Like…” she trailed off, not having the courage to say it in case she wasn’t right.

“Like I’ve wanted to kiss you for a very long time and I’m tired of pretending?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

He grinned, both of his dimples making an appearance just before he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. And once her brain realized what was happening, she sunk right into him, letting his arm wrap around her waist as his other hand tangled its way into her hair to bring her closer. She threw her arms over his shoulders and he hunched lower to meet her. She staggered back a step when he did, nearly losing her balance but he caught her instantly and then drew his lips back as he laughed.

“This is not how I expected tonight to end.” She couldn’t help but think the way he struggled to catch his breath was possibly the hottest he’d ever been. Not to mention the tiny bit of her lipstick smeared on his face. She could look at him just the way he was right there and then for days and be perfectly satisfied.

“It doesn’t have to end yet.” She fully blamed her sudden burst of confidence on the cold, but refreshing February night. And maybe she also just wanted to get out of it before it caught up to her and she would, yet again, regret not having a jacket.

“Oh?” She wanted to smack the mischievous smirk off his face and leave him there on the curb. “And here I thought you were a prude.”

“You thought a lot of things about me that weren’t true, Harry.”

He thought about that for a moment and after realizing she was right, he then wondered just how wrong he was when he’d called her celibate. “I suppose… I’d quite like to find out just how wrong I was.” He slipped a loose strand of her hair back behind her ear, which is where his lips ended up as he whispered softly, “And I’d also quite like to show you just how wrong you were about me not liking you.”

They stumbled into her bedroom in the dark, Pretzel racing out between their twisted feet in a hurry, screeching at them in the process. Harry giggled against her lips, “Your cat sounds friendly.”

“Well, since I was supposed to be spending tonight with her, and chocolate, and anti-romantic movies…” She pulled away from him, watching as his smile spread further. Maybe she could actually believe he’d been in love all this time.

“Right… I’d be upset too.”

She shook her head and kissed him again, then pulled back a second later. “You know that’s not actually what I do on Valentine’s Day.”

He lifted a brow and waited for her to explain but she didn’t.

“And what is it that you do, then?” He finally asked, curiosity getting the best of him, although he had some inkling as to what she was talking about.

Her smile was devoid of innocence as her hands fell to his belt. Harry’s shirt had already been lost to the kitchen floor. Her dress hardly covering what it was supposed to once Harry had gotten his hands on it.

“Maybe you’ll get to find out.”

When she brought her lips back to his, after undoing the buckle just under his navel, he spun them around and led her backwards to the bed. He wasn’t sure how far it was, but hoped he was headed in the right direction. And because of that, when her knees did finally bend over the mattress, he practically came flying down on top of her.

She squirmed out from under him, crawling back towards the pillows as she watched him at the end of the bed while he stood and removed his belt completely, trying not to drool at the sight of him. At the sight of Harry, her fucking annoying ass, perfect, beautiful, coworker standing shirtless at the end of her bed where he was also about to be…

He pushed his trousers down off his hips and they fell to the floor with ease, almost with the same amount of ease that her eyes fell to the tight boxer-briefs he wore underneath. She swallowed as he adjusted the waistband back into place, quite certain that, even in the low light, her eyes were not deceiving her.

The bed shifted at her feet as he joined her, and then it took all her willpower to not fling herself at him as he crawled up the length of her. As he settled himself between her thighs and she felt every last, very hard, inch of him pressed against her. She couldn’t be blamed for the whining moan that she let out in his ear as his lips became familiar with the shape and taste of her neck. She also couldn’t be blamed when her hips instinctively collided with his.

He just giggled again and shook his head, the loose strands of his curls tickling her forehead. “Easy now.” He warned in a hushed mumble, his lips vibrating right against the vein in her neck that pulsed so much faster the more his free hand began to wander up underneath her dress.

He left her speechless for multiple reasons, but the main one was when she felt his fingers tracing down her thigh and then, moments later, after he shifted his weight and used his knees to keep her legs open, she sucked in a breath of air as she felt him pressed against her clit, forcing her nails to dig into his back but he didn’t seem to mind.

Coming back down to kiss her, he began moving his hand in expert little circles, grinning against her mouth every time her body begged him for more. It wasn’t long that he complied, either, when he sat back on his knees between her legs and tugged her underwear off for good, throwing it to the depths of her bedroom floor. He wouldn’t have known where they landed even if he tried because his gaze belong to her only as he lowered himself to his elbows before her, kissing his way up her thighs until he reached her center.

When she squirmed away from him, he wrapped his arms around her thighs and pressed his hands into her hips after gently moving her dress out of the way.

“You know when we used to stay late at the office working?” He asked suddenly and the heat of his voice against her made her squirm again, but he held on tight. “And you would get sick of sitting in an office chair and made me promise not to tell Jim when you sat on his desk instead?” She had no clue where he was going with it, but still, she nodded. “Every single time I turned to look at you, I thought about doing this.” Before she could get words out or even a coherent thought, she felt his tongue on her. And this time when she jerked against him, she nearly slipped out of his hold until he grabbed her again and pulled her back down, digging himself further into her as she struggled to breathe properly.

She dug her fingers into his hair when he brought her close to the edge and showed no mercy. And somehow, she’d managed to get the sole of her foot up onto his shoulder in order to kick him away, but it didn’t matter much because he never budged. Not that she wanted him to, but he just felt so good…

“Harry!” She shouted, pulling at his hair and making matters worse for herself when he moaned against her sensitive bundle of nerves. He let her come, never once lifting his mouth from her even as her hips jerked off the mattress and she very nearly pulled his hair out. When she stopped screaming, her voice caught in her throat because she was lost to her own orgasm, is when he lifted his mouth, replaced it with his fingers and watched her as she came down. As her eyes fluttered shut and her chest heaved, her lungs struggling to get oxygen back into her system. Her hold on him loosened as she came undone around him, melting into his hands it seemed like.

And when he began rubbing his index and middle finger into her, once she was far and beyond overstimulated, and he knew that, she reached down with a whine and grabbed his wrist with what little strength she had in her and pulled him away. His hand fell to the other side of her hip, which he used to his advantage to pull himself up over her again, his other hand taking her dress with it until he was able to tug it over her head and toss it. Then he came back down to kiss her, letting her taste herself on her lips. He rubbed his thumb across her cheek and when he pulled away, found her looking at him finally. Although it was with heavy lids as she still struggled to regain her bearings.

Before they could get much further, a loud crashing sound from the other room made both of them nearly jump out of their skin. She shot up instantly, grabbing hold of Harry’s bicep before moving him out of the way and sliding off the edge of the bed.

“It’s just the cat.” Harry would have probably said the same thing even if it was not just the cat, he’d say anything just to get her to stay with him.

“I know but it sounded like…” her voice trailed off as her feet hit the floor and the moment she went to stand on her own two legs, her knees buckled. He reached to grab her waist but she righted herself before he could. She didn’t see the way he hid his cheeky smirk at the fact that he’d been so good, she was still dizzy.

“You good?” He asked as she stumbled her way into a shirt. With only a groan in response, and what he was sure was her middle finger, she left him alone in her bed to investigate the noise. Sighing, he laid on his back and got comfortable amongst her pillows. And after about three minutes, decided to locate the remote to her TV to entertain himself.

He flipped onto his side and felt around her bedside table, but his fingers never landed on anything remote-like. So, frustrated, he reached up and switched the lamp on. Again, he found nothing. Looking further, he realized the table had a drawer and so he pulled it open in hopes of finding the damned remote before she got back.

But what he found instead was so much better than turning on late night news.

“Fucking cat knocked over my vase.” Y/N was back within ten minutes. Harry had left the light on, but made sure it wasn’t obvious he’d gone snooping into her drawer, at least not yet anyway. She crawled back into bed beside him and it was then he noticed the bandage on her thumb.

“Are you alright?” He forgot all about what he planned to tease her with when he gently grabbed her hand to inspect the damage.

“Yeah. I was in a bit of hurry trying to clean up the glass…”

Harry rolled his eyes and dropped her hand. “I would have come help you.”

She just smiled up at him as he fit his arm around her shoulders, his bicep under her neck. “That’s alright.”

He shrugged. “It was for the best anyways that I didn’t.” When he smirked, she narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him.

“And why’s that?”

She followed his other hand as he reached for something and then, moments later, it reappeared with a very familiar pink object clutched in his grasp. “Because then I wouldn’t have found this.”

Her first reaction was to pry it from his snooping fingers, but when she reached across him to grab it, he way too easily held her back and, at the same time, held it far out of her reach.

“So this is what you do on Valentine’s Day, then?” He flicked his wrist back and forth, waving her vibrator in the air as he taunted her.

“If you don’t give that back to me,” she reached for it again to no prevail, “you won’t be doing anything, least of all, me.”

He clicked his tongue. “Why would I give it back when I plan on using it?”

She froze and he chuckled at her reaction.

“Would be rude of me to break your traditions, wouldn’t it?”

She swallowed, her eyes slowly meeting his again. The appearance of his right dimple told her he wasn’t playing any games. She had no idea how many times he planned to make her come tonight or whether or not she’d even be able to walk tomorrow at work. But, given the stupid look on his face, she almost began making plans to call out sick instead.

“Do you actually know how to use that thing?” She finally asked, glancing at the wand still held very firmly in his hand.

He looked at her like she was crazy moments before he pivoted and pinned her onto her back, settling himself into the position they’d been in before the interruption of the cat.

Just, this time… he was clicking on her vibrator and watching her face as she began to regret her words.

“‘Course I know how to use it. The real question is,” he brought his lips to her ear, the soft vibrations and the sound of his voice mixing together like sin itself. Even more so when he nipped at her earlobe. “Do you know how to handle it?”

#1dffvalentine #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine

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stormblessed95 · 3 years

Note

Hi Storm,

Please bear with as i am new stan of bts.

In jimin vlive he mentioned that he is so awkward during the debut days and he shouldn't have lied to us instead of bluffing. What do you think about that? Are the bts bombs fake ??

Sorry of i have asked something wrong

Hello, This is a loaded question. You are new so it's okay, and sure we can talk briefly over this.

What Jimin said wasn't that he lied to us, but that he was pretending. There is a difference in that word choice and what it comes down to was his self confidence and ease in front of a camera. He talks about his journey of self love and acceptance and his past self multiple times over the years, here is a short video that complied a few of those times:

youtube

He was given this tough overly confident sexy muscly yet cute guy persona. He was a kid trying to act like he knew what he was doing and was confident on camera when he instead felt very awkward filming and talking into a camera. He wasn't lying. He was still being him, he was just faking confidence instead of actually feeling confident.

You can easily see his immediate awkwardness at the camera coming up to him when he was just sitting there playing with the toy and you always see him immediately try to cover up that awkwardness and play it off:

youtube

Verse more current content when even when he gets taken off guard with the camera, he is in general more relaxed in front of it, more at ease and more comfortable just continuing what he was doing. The confidence there is true, it's real. He is more comfortable with who he is now. Even with it being a similar scenario.

2020 Vmin playing together on a break, you see the difference. How Jimin is more relaxed, more able to just continue vibing with his friend, doesn't feel the need to try and engage the camera directly but is more comfortable just existing and being in front of it

youtube

He was in essence talking about how in his effort to try and be cool, be tough, be confident and push through his awkwardness that he felt on camera, he felt like he was trying too hard. Lol and honestly can you tell me which person has ever looked back at the things you did on camera wirh friends or posted about as a teenager don't make you cringe at times? It wasn't you being a liar or not authentic, it was just you being young and trying to be the coolest you that you think is what other people think is cool.

2013 Jimin pretending to "seduce" the camera:

youtube

Verse 2019 Jimin actually just comfortable looking into the camera and his charms making the camera woman blush and have to walk away. It's not only that he is much better at now, its that it comes more natural and he is more comfortable doing it and being himself now too

youtube

It's the glow up people talk about it, but it's a glow up of confidence and being comfortable in your own skin. It's also probably a significant amount of training and getting used to being in front of cameras to the point where you are less awkward about it and more comfortable just living with a camera shoved in your face all the time. None of it is fake, it's just being more comfortable not forcing things on camera or for the camera.

It's all been him, it's always been him. He is just more relaxed and letting the persona drop more now. I hope this all makes sense and is a little helpful. He was never inauthentic, he was just trying to present the sides of himself that he thought the fans would want to see and now he is just, embracing the awkward when he feels it instead of trying to pretend it's not there, and living life how he wants.

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donutloverxo · 4 years

Text

Tainted

*gifs not mine*

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

Note - this is inspired by a hc @sweater-daddiesdumbdork once wrote me and gave me a frigging murder kink. Life ruiner😡😡

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Summary - Steve saves you and plans on never letting you go again.

Warnings - 18+ only, smut(m/f), kidnappings, being held hostage, murder, blood, non descriptive violence, captain kink, slight murder kink.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 6.8k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

One of the most amazing thing about living with you was that Steve never had to come home to an empty house. He was now responsible for you, he’d have to shoot you a text message, he had gotten pretty good at texting, thanks to your guidance, or call you, he definitely liked calling and hearing your voice better. He’ll always be old school.

You’d get that slight waver in your voice as you tried to pretend that you weren’t sad, he could see your cute little pout through the phone. And while he would never want to cause you any sort of pain, knowing that you’d be waiting for him, that you’re missing him when he’s away, made him feel wanted.

That even someone like him deserved love and happiness and a safe, boring life. That may be there was a reason he died only to wake up again in a strange new world.

That wasn’t to say you didn’t come with your own set of challenges. You were messy if anything, leaving clutter everywhere and putting off doing your dishes and laundry for days. Maybe not the most practical but definitely the cutest roommate in the world.

He’d learn to put up with it because it was worth it. Maybe, he could even learn to 'let loose' a little as people always recommended to him.

At first, he couldn’t wait to ask you to marry him. He had even impulsively bought a ring with your birthstone, he knew you were obsessed with them and astrology and maybe even dark magic. But then you surprised him with a date to an old diner and introduced him as your boyfriend to your friends.

He liked your friends quite a lot, he couldn’t really understand what they were talking about half the time. From what he could tell - by their fascination with his muscles and all the touching and squeezing to his biceps, them wanting to hear about his life before the ice - it seemed that they liked him too.

But hearing you call him that, your guy, your boyfriend, your beau, as your friend Stacey had put it, he decided that he wasn’t quite ready to let go of this blissful courting period. He was rushing things.

He needed to live in the moment and just enjoy being your boyfriend for now, he had all the time in the world to wife you up - preferably not to late though.

He was so unbelievably happy, ecstatic to see you, to surprise you, his mission ending a week early he got home as soon as he could. He thought of maybe taking you to Vermont for the weekend, he had never been but Nat told him it’d be a nice little getaway and that you’d love it.

His wide smile slowly fade away as he looked at the state of his door - the latch broken. Forced entry. Somebody broke his door in. He pushed the door wide open and made his way in.

He knew what was to come next but he willed that thought away. Maybe you kicked it in yourself, maybe you forgot your keys. He kept telling himself that because he was terrified of thinking the alternative.

He stepped in as soon as he was able to shake himself out of his haze. Looking at the state of his, and your, apartment. A broken vase, and the coffee table smashed in.

Crouching down to take a closer look he saw some blood on the ceramic. Whoever did this to your home, better hope that it’s wasn’t yours.

He got up, directing his simmering rage towards his new mission. He didn’t panic, not yet, he couldn’t give himself that kind of luxury. His mind coming up with ten different to find you and make the bastards who did this pay.

NOBody can hurt the people he loves, especially his girl, and get away with it.

***

Your eyes fluttered open before scrunching shut to adjust to the harsh fluorescent light. You blinked, looking around you while squinting.

Some sort of empty grey room... a window to the side but it was dark outside. You dress sticking to your skin as your whole body was covered in a sheen of sweat.

Three men in a corner, one for them shouting at the others in a foreign language.

You felt a yip of pain radiating in your arms and then realised they were tied up behind you - strapped to a creaky chair.

You tried to shake free of them, by wiggling your wrists but then winced at the burn it caused, capturing the attention of your kidnappers.

One of them smiled at you, walking towards you.

“Finally awake, are we?” he asked in an abnormally chirpy way. “You were out for quiet some time. Did you sleep well?”

He squatted before you, you could see his face, his cold grey eyes betraying the warm smile that graced his lips. Many white scars littered over his jaw...

And then you remembered.

How you rushed home when you felt someone was following you. Locking the door, you tried to call Steve but couldn’t get through to him.

And then your stalker broke into your home. You tried to smash his head in with a vase but couldn’t really do any real damage. Everything was hazy after that. Maybe he drugged you - you couldn’t recall.

You exhaled shakily when you realised he was watching you both from the corner. You could never forget his dark hoodie and hair. Or fresh cut on his forehead. You had never so much as hurt a fly or even slapped anyone. How you managed to smash his head in you’ll never know.

You looked at the man before you again when you heard him calling out your name, his smile haltered for a moment as he looked back to your stalker.

“I’m sorry about that, he’s a rookie. He’ll be reprimanded soon enough. This wasn’t exactly our plan but we’ve decided to improvise.”

You tried to speak but with your throat and mouth dry and your mind in shock the words wouldn’t come out.

“Oh, that’s alright, don’t struggle. We don’t want anything to do with you, you’re just a normal plain Jane going about your life, aren’t you?”

You could only give him a weak nod, still trying your best to shake yourself free of your bounds without him noticing.

“That’s right. You haven’t done anything wrong, you don’t deserve to have anything bad happen to you, do you?”

You nodded again. Your breath hitched when he got closer to you, in your face, his hands planted on your bare thighs with your skirt pooled just below your hips.

“But we don’t always get what we deserve. You’re close to the Captain, that’s right Michael’s told me all about how taken he is with you. I mean... I never would’ve imagined Captain America would pick someone like you but to each their own,” he cupped your cheek, the cracks in his palm harsh against your soft skin.

“What do you want?” you asked, not looking away from him.

“I want justice. For things to be in the right order. You’ll have to suffer for it, but know that it’s for a good cause.”

“You’re wrong,” you shook your head, “he’ll come for me.”

“We’re counting on that,” he snickered.

You’re not sure what came over you, all you knew was that you wanted his disgusting hands off of you, “He’ll come for me, and then you’ll regret ever touching me.”

“Uh, I don’t know about this,” you pulled on a thread from your skirt with your right hand, your other hand in Steve’s as he held onto your waist, pulling you into his side. “It’ll be inside me?” you shuddered.

“Yes, but,” Bruce scratched his head, he was adorable like that. You never would’ve imagined him to be the hulk, a 'rage monster’. “it’s not as bad as you think. You won’t even feel it. All shield agents and Avengers have one. Except Thor, because that wouldn’t be of any use. The radius is only on earths surface. You would’ve thought that would be enough,” he chuckled.

You pressed your lips in a thin line, looking at the chip, smaller than an acrylic nail, watching Bruce load it up.

“I know it’s not ideal, doll. But I’ll feel much better knowing I can find you, in case something goes wrong.” He kissed your temple, as you braced yourself.

“Will it hurt?” you gulped as Bruce lined the shooter or gun, by the looks of it, to your forearm.

“Just a little. You’ll barely feel it.” He gave you a sympathetic smile.

“Look at me, pup,” Steve gripped your chin, moving your head till you looked into his blue eyes, he pressed his lips to yours, massaging your tongue with his to distract you.

“Mm,” you winced and moaned into his mouth when you felt the piercing pain. It was like getting a flu shot but you had never having been a huge fan of needles either.

He released his hold on you as Bruce worked on cleaning your the blood seeping through your pierced skin. “You did good.” Steve said.

“Do I get a sucker?” You asked Bruce and he chuckled - as if you were joking, you do not joke about candy, “No I really want one.”

“Let’s keep this between us.” Steve told you both.

“Of course,” Bruce nodded, “I can keep tracker dormant till we need it but are you sure?”

“I’m not sure who I can trust.” But he knew he could trust his teammates.

You sniffled, keeping your tears at bay because really something so little shouldn’t make you cry, rubbing your hand over your wounded bicep as Bruce handed you some gummy bears.

“They’re Tony’s. He leaves snacks everywhere, it’s annoying.”

“Thank you.” You blinked up at him and offered some to Steve.

You never thought you’d need it. Until now, you were sure your friends or your mother would notice that you’ve been gone and Steve will find out and track you down. You knew he would. He had to.

He frowned, his nails digging into your cheekbones, pluckering your lips, “Where’s all that confidence coming from?” he quirked a curious brow up, “He’ll walk right in and pay for everything he’s done,” he snorted.

“You’re way underprepared to take someone like him on,” shut up, shut up, shut up, why the fuck are you egging him on? “He’s strong, he’s a survivor.” Even without the serum, he survived an abusive household, being bullied, being sick, and you knew how protective he could be. To the point where it was downright irritating.

“We’ve got all the time in the world to prepare, you should be worrying about yourself,” he spat.

You had always been bold, even in the most inappropriate of situations. Like when you lectured a boy for over an hour on respecting boundaries for throwing spitballs at you, in kindergarten. Steve even said that he fell for that ‘spunk' in you.

‘Well-behaved women rarely make history’ your mother had told you.

And really, you liked that about yourself as well. You liked that you found a man that would encourage that side of you instead of calling you ‘difficult’ or ‘bossy’.

However, you immediately regretted everything you had said. Not because it was untrue, but because your captor took out a sharp pocket knife, a dark glint in his eyes.

“We only need you alive,” he said as you gulped, “I suppose, it wouldn’t matter if you’re missing a finger or two.”

You frantically shook your head, choking on a sob. “No,” you pleaded, “you’ll... he will find me and you will - ”

“Go to prison at best. It’s a risk we’re all willing to take,” he put the blunt end of the knife against your cheek, “We have to do something to kill the time.”

You couldn’t breath, your heart hammering in your chest, what if he doesn’t come for you? You won’t be able to do anything about it. It wasn’t like you could protect yourself, at least in this situation, all you could do was wait for him.

You shut your eyes, and braced yourself for the pain. Except... it never came, you simply heard someone fall down, some sort of clattering sound.

Upon opening your eyes you saw one of his friends face down before your in the corner, the other guy, your lovely stalker, drawing out his gun, looking at the only window to your left. You swore you a saw a glimpse of a flying disk knocking your stalker out.

The man before you cursed under his breath, “Get. Up. Come on!” he ordered.

“Yeah, if I could do that I probably would’ve,” you snarked, still trying to get your aching wrists free.

You barely even registered - who could only be your Captain - sneaking up behind him, snapping his neck with his hands in a matter of seconds. He collapsed on the ground and you could finally see Steve.

His clenched jaw and cold eyes softened up on seeing you, you couldn’t help but let out a sob as you realised you were going to be free.

“You’re okay, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he soothed you, kissing your forehead before swiftly free your hands.

You stood up on wobbly legs, holding onto his arms for support, “Steve,” you breathed out, “you came for me.”

“Of course I did,” he sighed, gently pushing your face against his chest as he hugged you close to him. “As if I’d ever abandon you,” he smoothed a hand over your back and decided to not dwell on your comment. This wasn’t about him, you were in shock.

“I was so scared,” you sniffled, “he said, he - ” you couldn’t even finish your sentence as you broke down in a fit of sobs and hiccups.

“You’re safe now,” he promised.

“You - did you kill him?” you pushed away from him to look up at his face so you could take him in.

You had never seen him in his uniform. Only ever seeing him on the news but he had his cowl on and a suit that was much more on brand for ‘Captain America’ than the darker one he had on now. It made him look bigger - if that was even possible. Bigger than the shield now strapped to his back.

His usually clean shaven face had the faintest shadow to it while his hair was slicked back. He looked beautiful, so soft and innocent, definitely not someone who’s capable of hurting anyone.

“He hurt you,” he replied, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your bruised wrists, “and so many others, he got what was coming to him.”

“You knew him?”

“Yes. He got away the last time we tried to catch him - but we don’t have to talk about that right now. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

You shook your head, “No, I’m just thirsty and I really want to lay down,” you murmured, resting your head on the star in the middle of his chest.

He pressed a hand to his ear, letting his team know that he had found you. You vaguely saw agents clad in black gear storm the room.

“We did a sweep of the place. No one else is here,” Natasha said. “How you doing?” and then frowned when you didn’t respond.

“She’s tired. It’s okay, love,” he kissed your temple, snaking a hand under your knees and picking you up with ease.

You weakly nodded, wrapping your hands around his neck, glad to be babied by him because you didn’t have the strength to stand.

“They didn’t give you anything to eat?” Nat scoffed as you shook your head.

“How long have I been here?” you looked at Steve, struggling to stay awake.

“A day and a half. We’ll get you fixed up,” he swore, carrying you towards the quinget.

“Where are we?” you nuzzled your nose against the rough kevlar of his suit.

“Bermuda,” he said.

“Oo, I’ve always wanted to come here... just maybe not like this,” you chuckled but Steve didn’t find it all that amusing. You cupped his cheek in your palm, hoping to maybe calm him down a bit before falling asleep.

***

You vaguely heard a familiar voice calling out your name, you’d recognise it anywhere, it was one of your favorites, one you’d known your entire life.

“Mom?” you muttered, opening your eyes and looking around the room to look for her. You smiled when you saw her sitting on a chair just beside your bed, the faint, annoying beeping told you that you were probably in a hospital.

“Hey there, honey,” she smiled back at you, her eyes misty as she pressed her lips to your cheek. “Do you have any idea how much you scared me?”

“I’m sorry,” you tried to sit up as she fluffed your pillow up to support you. “I was... um... kidnapped.” Saying it out loud made it feel so ridiculous. Never in your wildest dreams would you have thought.

“Yes, Steve filled us in on everything. So, Captain America, huh?” she raised her brows.

“Yeah,” you chuckled nervously. Doing a once over to your large, mostly white room to look for him. He wouldn’t just up and leave you, would he?

“How long has it been going on?” she asked.

“Um, three or four months?” you winced when you realised just how much trouble you were in.

“And, you live with him. Linda filled us in on everything. You’re quitting your job too now.”

“It’s - it’s not as bad as it sounds...”

“Never mind that, you need to rest. Then you won’t have to worry about all this. I’m taking you home with me. And you’re never coming back here again.”

“What? No! I still have over two years of school left.”

“You can do it online! You can find just as a good a job in Queens.”

“No! I’m not coming,” you whined.

“Well, you’re not living with a man you barely know either.”

You were interrupted by a knock on the door. A doctor entering, apologising for disturbing you and Steve right behind her. He still hadn’t changed out of his suit.

He stood at the end of your bed, squeezing your foot to let you know he was there for you as your mother glared daggers at him.

“Looks like you’re doing good. Blood sugars back to normal as well...” the doctor said, “You’re free to go home.”

“Really?” you smiled. So done with everything. Sleeping in your own bed sounded like heaven.

“Yes, let us know if you need anything.” She looked over your chart again and then left.

“Good then, you can come home now.”

“No! I’m going to my apartment in Manhattan, the one I share with Steve.” You rolled your eyes. Pleading Steve to back you up with your eyes.

He cleared his throat, “Um, ma'am, you can come stay with us, if you like.”

He held your mothers gaze, to let her know that he was serious and earnest.

He knew he wasn’t perfect by any means. He had a million flaws and cuts that ran deeper than anybody would ever know but he always thought, or maybe arrogantly assumed, that if nothing else he was someone ‘you take home to mama’ as Clint had once put it. He thought that your parents, like most, would like him. That he’d easily get their blessing to be with their daughter. He was known to be America’s golden boy after all.

But your mother had ripped him a new one as soon as she saw him. Accusing him of abusing his power to woo you. That you were here because of him. That he’s not worthy of you.

And all he could do was stand there and take it because everything she had said was the truth. He didn’t deserve you, you were captured and possibly traumatised because of him.

At the same time, he couldn’t just let you go. Not till he gets to the bottom of who had hurt you and makes sure that you’re safe from now on.

“No, thank you.” She scoffed, looking back at you and shaking her head. “What are you doing with your life?”

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes but being with Steve definitely isn’t one,” you looked over to him, he looked just as tired as you, “I just want to go home. My home with Steve.”

“Fine, I’ve always let you make your own decisions.” she sighed, finally giving in.

“And I’ve never disappointed you.”

“That’s debatable,” she snorted, “I’ll come check on you tomorrow then. Maybe send me your address. You know? Something you should’ve done months ago.” She returned to glaring at Steve.

“I’ve only been living with him for a month!” you tried to defend yourself.

***

“I can take off my own clothes, Stevie,” you giggled, him kneeling before you to help you out of the sweets the med bay gave you. Your dress was dirty and ragged now. “I really liked that dress though. I don’t have many like it. You think we can get it back?”

“Maybe, I’ll see what I can do, doll,” he kissed your bare thigh before rolling your panties down your legs.

“You’re kinda dirty too,” you remarked, sniffing him. He didn’t smell bad, as if Steve would ever smell bad to you. Just a bit of gunpowder, like that of firecrackers, a bit pungent instead of his normal piney and woodsy scent.

“Thank you,” he deadpanned before cracking a smile, “I was just excited to see you. Or I would’ve showered before coming home and then I didn’t get a chance to.”

He worked on unbuttoning your shirt He insisted on you getting a button up instead of a t-shirt considering how sore your arms were from being toed up for so long. Tied up... like an animal.

“Hey,” you whispered softly, caressing his cheek, “come back to me.”

“Sorry, I’m just... I don’t know,” he shook his head. He couldn’t let you know the guilt and despair he felt, you’d end up comforting him instead of the other way around. “It’s just been a long day.”

“Yeah. Still can’t believe any of this was real.” Running your hands up and down his suit, the feel of the material almost soothing to touch. “You wanna shower with me?”

“Don’t know, doll. That showers pretty small.”

He did have a pretty generous salary but opted to live in a more modest apartment, he never took more than he needed anyway, with a small shower. Not too small, but definitely not big enough for you both.

“We’ll make do, come on. I’ll make you squeaky clean.”

He took over ten minutes to get rid of the suit. You watched intently as he removed more latches than you could count.

“Is it bulletproof?” you wanted to know.

“Yes. But probably not as good as a vest. I’ve never been shot so I wouldn’t know.” He answered, taking off his undershirt.

“It’s funny because I always thought y’all were naked under there,” you chuckled, and then your jaw dropped as he took off his briefs.

You had never seen his cock while it was soft before. He was always more than excited when you got to him. It was amazing how pretty he looked either way.

“You and so many other people,” he almost shuddered at the thought of having been asked the same question so many times.

After making sure the water was hot enough, you both stood under it.

You took some of the lavender wash you had bought from lush, squeezing it on your sponge. Steve, bless him, was amazing at so many things. Shopping - it seemed was not one of them. All he had in his bathroom was a bar of soap, one toothbrush and a vintage straight razor.

Which just won’t do for you, so you took it upon yourself to stock the whole place up with your favorite stuff. The lavender being Steve’s favorite, you remembered how flustered you got when he told you that you smelled good. And then tried to explain that you always smell good while turning redder than a tomato.

You did his front, asking him to bent his neck a bit so you could wash his hair because he was almost a foot taller than you. You were about to do his legs, you’d take any excuse to feel up his thick thighs but he told you he’d do the rest himself.

Taking the sponge from you, he ran it under some water, working on cleaning you thoroughly. Under your arms, your breasts, your stomach, between your legs and then your legs.

You were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen - he knew that since the moment he had met you. But something about washing you up like that felt so intimate even though there was nothing erotic about it.

After washing you thoroughly he wrapped you up in a towel, “My cute lil' burrito,” he booped your nose.

You puffed your cheeks out, you weren’t sure if you liked that nickname. Observing just how gentle he was with you, helping you into a cotton nightie, as opposed to drying himself off hastily and carelessly before pulling some sweats and briefs on.

“Don’t wear a shirt,” you pleaded, he looked amazing shirtless, but that wasn’t the only reason, you really liked feeling his skin on hours, pressing kissing on his perfect, smooth, golden skin, ”pretty please.” Right now, he’d give you anything you wanted and you intended on milking that as much as you can.

“Alright, doll,” he replied, pulling you up in his arms again as if you were his bride, as you giggled so sweetly, “now, what would you like to eat? No take out, it has to be healthy. And remember my culinary skills are limited,” he said, carrying you to the living room and putting you on the couch as he started working in the kitchen.

“Stevie, I’m not hungry. Well, that’s not true, I’d like some ice cream,” fluttering your lashes at him, “Mint chocolate chip? I’m pretty sure we have some.”

“Of course, puppy,” you smiled, at the prospect of getting a sweet treat and the nickname, “as soon as you eat something.” He added and you huffed in annoyance.

He whipped up a sandwich for you, two for him because he was starving, some peach iced tea so you wouldn’t eat his ear off while complaining.

You only picked at your food, giving more than half of it to him. You truly didn’t feel like eating, instead craving some cuddles with him.

You tried striking up a conversation with him multiple times. Not because you didn’t like silence. You did when it came to him, you could go hours without talking and it would feel so serene and perfect. You never had to talk just for the sake of it when you were with him.

But you had come to read Steve pretty well. He seemed distant and closed off. The air around you both thick with tension. You tried to ease it while telling him about how brave you were while quitting and didn’t cry at all, how Tony dropped by and was apparently stalking you - which was a bad idea because it seemed to make him angry, clench his jaw tight, his brows furrowed as he placed your plates in the sink.

Unsure if you had done something wrong or were mean to Tony, who was technically his boss, you twiddled with your fingers, “Um... I - I’m sorry,” you stuttered, trying to hold back tears. Spending the night at your mom’s house sounded like the better choice now.

“Hm?” he looked back at you, he could do the dishes tomorrow, “what for?”

“I shouldn’t have been snarky with Tony. I know he’s your boss and all that but he’s kinda cocky... And I got really mad when I found out he did like a ‘background check' on me. I mean I get why he would but still. I can apologize to him.”

“No no,” he shook his head, kneeling before you, taking your hands in his, “you misunderstood, love. I’m not mad at you, I could never REALLY be mad at you. It’s Tony I’m angry with, he went behind my back, ambushed you at work.”

“To be fair, you did the same when you asked me out,” you snickered as a blush crept up his neck.

“Right.” He finally cracked a genuine smile placing feather light kisses on your knuckles and the to the bandages on your hands.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” you asked, running your hands through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly with your nails.

“It’s probably better if we don’t talk about it,” he said, laying his head on your lap. Your slight scratching massaging his never-resting head.

“I think we should. My mom said I don’t know you. And to some extent, she is right. I don’t. Maybe I’m just imagining things but... sometimes it feels like you’re holding back.”

He gathered enough courage to look up at you, your almond shaped eyes looking down at his and he knew that he could talk to you about anything. He did. But there will always be that little voice that tells him that he shouldn’t. He would only trouble you.

“Don’t you pride yourself on being honest?” you caressed his scratchy cheek.

He snorted. He really was dense enough to think he was the perfect son-in-law package.

“I just, the way you looked at me, when I killed that man, I’m afraid that you’re scared of me now. That’s the last thing I want. It’s my worst nightmare really.” He leant into your touch.

“Steve, that wasn’t because I’m scare of you. It was because I’m fond of you. You were so strong and brave and you saved me. I liked being the damsel in distress more than I thought,” He chuckled at that, his doubts a bit relieved, “that’s... not all though.” You murmured.

“What is it?” he wanted to know.

“You, um, the fact that you would do that for me... it’s just. I never thought anyone would love me that much.”

“I only regret doing it in front of you. I’m sorry you had to see that or go through any of that.”

“I’m not a child, Steve,” you rolled your eyes.

“Of course not, but you’re you. You’re pure and an angel. I - I’m tainted - tainted by blood, tainted by war - ”

“Steve, that’s not true. You’re not, you’re the pure-est person I know. War and - that doesn’t define you.”

“You wouldn’t feel that way if you knew about all the things I have done, sweetheart.” The sweet nickname he had for you, which now he used in a patronising tone, “I let my best friend die. And I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“What’re you talking about?” you frowned. You heard about Bucky from him and your history textbooks but you don’t remember reading anything like that.

“It’s... something I’m not ready to get into.” He put his forehead on your knee. He knew you loved him but there was only so much baggage you would be willing to accept.

“Okay. You can take your time and tell me if and when you’re ready, baby.” You went back to idly playing with his, “But I need you to know that I love you. Nothing you could ever say will change that. To think that... for a second I thought that you wouldn’t come for me.”

He snapped his head back up, “What?”

“I thought, that you’d be busy with your mission. You wouldn’t even find out I was missing or... you just wouldn’t care enough to come yourself. I mean, I knew you would come, obviously. But you have other more important work...”

“No,” he shook his head, “How could you ever think anything's more important to me than you and your life?”

“Yeah, I was being stupid.”

“You can be a bit silly sometimes, doll.” He nuzzled your tummy, making you giggle. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again. I was so scared I’d never see you again,” he confessed against your nightgown.

“That’d be a bit hard to do. Keeping an eye on me like that. But if it means I get to spend more time with you then I’m down.”

You convinced Steve to let you have some ice cream. He only let you have half a scope, telling you that you’d have trouble sleeping otherwise.

“I’ve been sleeping for most of the last two days.” You tried to argue but it was hard to change his mind once he had it set on something.

You both brushed your teeth together and he stared at you as you went about your night-time skincare routine.

Cleanse, serum, moisturize, sleep mask.

All he did was wash his face and he still looked fucking perfect.

He stayed true to his word, sticking by your side to the point where you had to kick him outside to have some privacy to pee in peace. He was right there waiting for you when you opened the door.

Finally, you were in your cosy bed. Light’s off and cuddled tight with your boyfriend. Your stuffed unicorn and your Captain America plushie to your other side.

With your legs tangled together, you rubbed your feet up and down his legs. Which were unfortunately covered with his sweats.

“Steve,” you whined.

“Yes?”

“Take off these damn pants. They’re hurting my skin. So friggin' prickly.”

“Sorry, doll. I know how precious your skin is.” He sounded like he was mocking you but he followed, pushing his pants away.

“Good?” he asked holding you close to him again.

“Mm-hm,” you hummed against his naked chest. “Let’s sleep like this everyday, please.”

“Sure.” He replied. He liked being a ‘human furnace' for you.

He wasn’t going to fall asleep. Not after everything that happened. He hadn’t slept well in the past week but he was afraid that if he’d shut his eyes for a single moment and you’d be gone. This time, he wouldn’t be lucky enough to find you.

He hadn’t been to crunch or even prayed in a while. Losing his faith a long time ago after all the terrible things he had seen. But he had prayed when he came back found his home to be wreck. He prayed that you’d come back to him because there were some things he just could not control. Nobody could.

After a while he lowly whispered your name. “Are you awake?” he asked.

It was silly but he missed you. Even though you were laying right next to him in his arms - the safest place you could be.

“Yeah. I can’t sleep. Even though I’m so tired.” You yawned. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?” You snorted. “You’re not a good liar, Steven.”

“Can I ask you something? And you can say no if you want I won’t mind.”

“Sure, shoot.”

“Can I, um, have you? I just need to feel you, sweetheart. After everything – I need to know you’re really here.” he was cut off by your lips crashing on his.

You winced when your teeth clamped together but he soothed your upper lip by nipping at it with his tongue.

“Steve,” you panted as he broke awake, shifting under the sheets and pushing the helm of your gown up.

He placed quick open mouthed kisses all over your thighs, over your stretch marks, spreading your thighs further to accommodate his broad shoulders, he made sure to check in with you again.

All you did was push his head towards your heat, begging him to eat your pussy - as if he needed to be told twice.

Swirling and spreading your glistening juices of arousal around your weeping lips, he dove in for his prize. Drawing patterns on your bundle of nerves before sucking at it harshly, he plunged his tongue inside. Lacing his fingers with yours and pinning your hands down by your hips.

You kept desperately pushing your hips up, wanting more. Arching your back up and holding onto his hands tightly as he lightly grazed his teeth over your clit.

“Say my name, sweetheart,” he demanded against your heat, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure up your spine.

Your orgasm washing over you in waves, electrifying every nerve in your body as you clamped your legs around his head, holding onto him.

He kept lapping you up through it, taking everything you’d give him.

He loved worshipping you - spending as much time as he could between your legs - because you were his goddess but right now, he just needed to feel you.

He climbed up the bed, hovering over you, he pushed two thick fingers inside you mouth till the second knuckle.

“Get them nice and wet, doll.” He instructed.

You moaned around him, making loud suckling noises, “Yesh, Captain,” it came out muffled, what with your mouth full.

“Captain?” he smirked. You had only ever called him that as a joke, he never knew being called that in a salacious way could stroke a fire inside him. Making him them painfully hard in the confines of his tight briefs. He pulled his fingers out of you, pushing his hand down till it was between your legs. Nudging your entrance with them.

“Sorry, it slipped out.” You were too unabashed to feel guilty.

He scoffed, “Say it again.”

Pushing his fingers inside you. Pumping them at a fast pace before you even had a second to think. It was desperate and fast so unlike how it is usually between you both. He needed to be inside you but your needs would always come before his.

“Captain,” you mewled, chewing on your lower lip and holding onto his face. You couldn’t see him clearly in the dark but you still need to look at him. “I told them my Captain would come for me. And you did...” he swallowed your screams with his mouth as you clenched around his fingers.

“That’s right,” he groaned, sucking your slick off of his fingers, “I’ll always protect you. I’ll do anything for you.”

Shaky fingers working on taking his cock out of the hard confines of his uncomfortable underwear. He didn’t waste a single second before sinking inside you, as deep as he could. He moaned into your neck, “So fucking tight, doll. Like you were made for me,” he bit your neck.

Drawing his hips back he thrusted inside you, brushing against your g-spot, making you keen.

He stopped immediately, propping himself up on his elbows he looked down at your hooded eyes. “You alright, sweetheart?”

You nodded, “Yes, it’s just so good,” as if to prove it you clenched around his length, to make him feel all of you just as he was doing to you.

He groaned at that, his balls already tightening, aching for release, “What’s the safe word?”

“Mm... buttercream.”

“That’s right, good girl,” he cooed as you whimpered at his praise as he withdrew his hips again, loving you in a slow soft way.

Pushing your gown up till it was above your breasts - he didn’t really have the patience to properly take it off. He sucked a spot just above your breast, so you’d remember his love every time you looked at it. Your nipples pebbled and goose bumps painted your skin, with your cunt tight around him he knew you were close.

Wrapping his mouth around one bud, He pulled and pinched at the other. He stopped his ministrations, he needed to look at you as you climaxed. To know that you needed him at least half as much as he needed you.

Your face scrunched up as you met your bliss, your nails drawing blood from shoulders - not that he cared in the slightest.

His hips retracting and thrusting as he lost all sense of rhythm and finesse chasing his end as you laid boneless beneath him. He kept fucking into you, filling you to the brim.

He heaved above you, making sure not to collapse on top of you. Reluctantly he pulled himself out of you.

Pulling you close to him, his lips pressed up against the crown of your head, he whispered sweet nothings to you. “My brave girl.” He kissed the tip of your nose. “You’re so strong, sweetheart.”

“Stronger than the hulk?”

“Yes, definitely,” he replied, tracing the bandages wrapped around your wrists. “Now try to get some sleep.”

“Oh, I’ll sleep alright. Thanks to you.” You giggled.

***

tags will be in the reblog.

this was my longest fic!i know it wasnt the best conclusion to something i drew outover 4 chapters but its the best i could do. sorry for weird format tumblrs mad i had too much fun lol. comments and reblogs are really appreciated!!

#the donut series #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #berry writes

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teawaffles · 3 years

Text

Louis and the Aquaria: Chapter 5 / End

Now, we return to the scene at the beginning of the story.

A little regretfully, Fred left for his work as the “Crime Consultant’s” point of contact, and Louis was alone in the hall once again.

However, the situation was completely different from before. He was no longer watching helplessly as the fish grew weaker — instead, he’d found a ray of hope for its recovery.

Standing before the aquarium, Louis was now gambling on both the medicine’s efficacy and the fish’s own willpower.

“Please, help him……”

Fervently, he prayed for the angelfish’s recovery.

And as the so-called king of the aquarium swam about its tank, the image of his brother surfaced in his mind.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Five days after that, the time had finally come for the tropical fish to be transported to Stapleton’s residence.

It was early in the morning, and the sky was perfectly clear. Several horse-drawn carts lay parked on the street outside their mansion. For ease of transport, the fish had been transferred to suitably-sized bottles; and as the members of the Moriarty household carried the bottles, tanks and other aquarium equipment onto the carts, Louis stood at the mansion entrance, quietly watching over the scene.

Although he’d nearly collapsed after those consecutive days of exertion, by the time the fish were set to be moved out, Louis had been able to recover his full strength. That haggard complexion of his was now restored to its healthy glow, and behind those spectacle lenses, his eyes shone with the sparkle of success.

At first, Louis had wanted to move the items onto the carts all by himself, saying that the entire enterprise down to the fishes’ transport was his responsibility. However, knowing he had contributed the most this time around, the rest of the Moriarty household insisted that he not work any longer. As a result, though dissatisfied, Louis had hence been relegated to a spectating role.

Occasionally, as they moved past him while carrying the fish in their bottles, the glint in Louis’s eyes would tremble ever so slightly. And when that happened, he would pretend to adjust his spectacles in order to hide the tremors in his heart.

“Feeling emotional, Louis?”

Seeing his younger brother readjust his perfectly-positioned spectacles for the fifth time, William walked up beside him.

Embarrassed, Louis gave a small cough, then straightened his back.

“I would never——”

He stopped. Then, looking at the carts, his voice grew soft.

“No, you’re right. I didn’t want to acknowledge it — but for once, I’m feeling rather sentimental.”

Hearing Louis reveal his true feelings, William gave him a fond look.

Before the two men, the bottles containing the pufferfish and guppies were being loaded onto the carts. Ever since the tiny fish had been given names, Louis’s tropical fish-keeping endeavour had taken a strange turn.

Recalling the reason that a spanner had been thrown in the works of this enterprise, Louis turned solemn, and dipped his head.

“Nii-san. I am truly sorry for what happened before. I went overboard, and ended up causing everyone unnecessary worry. I was immature, and I shall reflect gravely on that.”

Not only did he grow fanatical over the angelfish named after his brother, he even made the aquarium layout needlessly extravagant, and recreated a South American habitat through and through. To top it off, in caring for the sick fish, he had nearly destroyed his own health. Looking back on it all with a cool eye, he had really been quite reckless.

As Louis reflected on his actions in earnest, right then, Moran and Fred walked past bearing pots of tropical plants: the by-products of his over-enthusiasm. They would now become a surprise gift for Stapleton.

Without taking his gaze off the trees, Louis burned those symbols of his inadequacy firmly into his eyes.

Watching his brother ruminate on the subject so gravely, after a beat of silence, William spoke.

“You may be right. If the situation had persisted, and you’d collapsed, the care of the other fish may’ve been impacted. Although you took care not to let that happen, I do wish you had taken the worst-case scenario into account and talked with me more.”

“…………”

Louis knew that. But still, to have his faults pointed out by someone he respected — those words had pierced through his chest.

Naturally, the sense of achievement that’d grown within Louis now began to wilt; though his face once bore a proud expression, he now favoured looking down instead.

“But you know, that’s just one part of the story.”

“Eh?”

Out of the blue, William had added that in a gentle voice, and Louis was startled.

He couldn’t decipher the meaning behind that remark. Then, William narrated his own thoughts.

“Louis, you went overboard for a single fish, so much so you neglected your own body — I don’t think you should’ve done that, since there were in fact two other angelfish which could act as substitutes. But in a way, to go so far in order to ensure that not even a single life is wasted: that could be seen as an expression of your sincerity.”

Sincerity.

Louis knew he’d been driven by an impulse akin to selfishness. But strangely, he did not resist as that word seeped into his heart.

“Certainly, I had said that it’s possible to replace the fish if they die. But I think it’s wrong to take that at face value, and put one’s faith in how there’ll be replacements, or second chances.”

William moved on to talk about the attitude Louis had taken towards his work.

“Such naive thinking can undermine one’s focus on the task at hand. For example, if you were to think ‘There’s two more of them, anyway’, and approach the enterprise with that optimistic mindset, it wouldn’t be a surprise if all the fish ended up dying right away. In other words, Louis: from that point of view, I would say your earnestness towards that one fish was exceptionally appropriate.”

“��…Nii-san.”

William’s tone had contained no more emotion than what his words conveyed, and in no way had he defended Louis’s actions. He was simply assessing them from an objective standpoint.

And that, was precisely why Louis was glad.

He’d thought his actions were nothing more than a mistake born from his own foolishness. But William had shown him that they could in fact be seen as the complete opposite. Taken another way, his persistence towards that one fish was proof of his ardour for his work — that, was what his older brother was telling him.

For now, William fell silent. And right then, the two brothers caught sight of Moran carrying an aquarium tank toward the carts. He hadn’t faltered at all since the start: with his physical strength, it seemed no load was too heavy for him to bear.

It looked like there were only a few things left to move; Fred, who’d also been hard at work loading the items, now put in a last burst of energy. Incidentally, Albert had already moved his share of the items onto the carts earlier, and left for his work at the universal trading company.

Taking his gaze off Moran, Louis now stared at the empty tanks lined up on the carts.

Then, the sight of the three angelfish swimming in close formation sprang to mind.

“…………”

In truth, before their departure from the mansion, he had wanted to return ‘William’ to the tank with the other two angelfish. He’d thought it would be nice to see them swimming harmoniously together once more.

But that wish had not been fulfilled. For Louis, who was in charge of this endeavour, it was truly a pity.

Then, following behind Moran, Fred stepped out the doorway of the mansion. In his arms was a bottle that held a certain fish.

Louis stood before the entrance. Fred studied his expression, and asked him a question.

“This’s the last one…… Is it really alright to load it up?”

“……Yes, please do.”

His reply bore a faint sense of loneliness. Hearing that, Fred nodded solemnly, and proceeded towards the carts.

For one last time, Louis looked at the bottle Fred was holding.

Swimming within it, was the angelfish that’d been ill up to a few days ago.

Earlier, as Fred spoke to him, Louis had noticed it swimming languidly yet powerfully through the water. The rays of the morning sun, just risen, gleamed off its silver scales — their lustre was simply beautiful.

In other words—— the angelfish had thoroughly regained its former elegance.

The day after he used the treatment William provided, the fish had gradually recovered, and fully regained its strength just the day before. However, as Louis was hesitant to stop the treatment immediately after it had recuperated, he had no choice but to abandon the thought of letting it rejoin its former tank mates. Instead, it spent its remaining days in the mansion confined to the small aquarium.

At the very least, he’d wanted to see the “three brothers” together once more.

However, as Fred loaded the bottle onto the cart, Louis quietly closed his eyes, and put that thought away.

——They are but three fish; they’re not the same as us, by any means.

That cold line was directed at himself.

After caring for them so wholeheartedly, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t grown fond of them in the slightest.

Moreover, if he had asked his brother seriously, it might have been possible to leave just the three angelfish behind in the mansion. In any case, there were many other varieties of tropical fish: they didn’t necessarily have to part with those three.

However, Louis did not do that.

As Fred had brought up, the one who’d asserted that the fish were nothing more than tools — was none other than himself.

He had no intention of retracting his words now. Furthermore, he was afraid that when the next mission came around, he might just let his emotions get the better of him, and end up causing irreversible damage.

When all was said and done, those stunning tropical fish were simply tools — a means to an end.

There were some things that could only be obtained by pushing aside sentimentality, disciplining oneself, and devoting one’s heart to their work, just as he had done.

And he was sure that his brother understood those feelings of his.

Even as he felt a pang of regret, Louis banished those thoughts, and met his brother’s gaze beside him.

William smiled back. “Well then, we’ve had a rather long chat, if I do say so myself,” he said. “But all that was just waffle. There’s only one thing I want to tell you, Louis.”

He knew what Louis truly wanted to hear right now. Then, he spoke in a warm and gentle voice — not as the leader of a criminal organisation that lurked in the darkness, but as an older brother.

“You didn’t let a single life go to waste: you did a great job, Louis.”

“……Yes!”

Louis replied with vigour. Then, dropping his guard, he nearly broke into a grin — and tried to suppress it in a panic. But he barely managed to stop himself from cracking a smile; emotion welled up from the depths of his heart, and his eyes misted over: it seemed that such sentiment could not be suppressed, even by a cool-headed man like himself. Through a mist of tears, he could vaguely make out the figure of his brother standing before him.

To become his brother’s strength. To fulfil his brother’s wishes. And, if possible, even if it was only for a little bit: to receive his brother’s praise.

Right after receiving that task from William, he had inadvertently obtained what he’d desired — and Louis was trembling with emotion.

William adjusted his tie. “Well then, it seems everything has been loaded up,” he murmured. “I think it’s time for me to get ready to leave as well.”

Then, he softly placed a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder.

“Leave the rest to me, Louis. I’ll make sure your work wasn’t in vain.”

“I know, nii-san.”

Without a shadow of a doubt, Louis was certain of it. ——That his brother, would never let his own efforts go to waste.

Hearing that, William smiled; then, his expression immediately reverted to that of the “Crime Consultant”, and he went back into the mansion.

After seeing his brother off, Louis glanced at the carts full of glass tanks, and murmured to himself.

“……It’ll be time to make breakfast soon.”

Once he’d ascertained that the transport preparations were complete, the memories of his arduous days spent with the fish then morphed into a record of observations. In his mind, his thoughts switched back to their usual subjects: those of managing the mansion and their estate.

However, deep in his heart, that gorgeous silver light remained as an unfading memory.

Louis had taken on the challenge of maintaining aquaria, and completed his mission since. Surrounding him was a refined atmosphere, and the air of a man who’d finally brought an enterprise to fruition.

T/N: omg I have so many thoughts about this one — much longer than the usual one-liner at the end of each story — so they’re in a separate section below if you’re interested :3

Translator’s thoughts (haha)

Louis’s growth

I think this story in particular is the previously-untold link in Louis’s character development! As seen in the Baskervilles arc and the start of this story, Louis initially had this worldview that he needed to be a cold-blooded machine to fulfil William’s wishes. To him, everything else was unnecessary if they did not serve his brother’s goals.

But in the course of caring for the angelfish, Louis was forced to confront the fact that he was actually fond of the angelfish — even though this contradicted his existing worldview, since emotion is unnecessary in rearing mere tools. And upon reflecting on how he handled the whole debacle, he finally realised that although the way in which he acted on that affection was not entirely right — showering the fish with too much love, which might’ve led to its falling ill, and sacrificing his own health and potentially the entire endeavour to save just one fish — the very presence of that affection was not a bad thing; and as William affirmed, he should continue to value every single life.

So I think this was the turning point from which Louis started to let go of that obsession toward his brother, and act on his own emotions and wishes: what he thinks is right, as opposed to merely what William wants. And this culminated in him seeking Sherlock’s help to save his brother, even as William himself did not want to be saved.

So in short, I really think this story is a key point in Louis’s character development, connecting the Louis of the Baskervilles arc with the Louis we see in the Final Problem arc — a missing link in the narrative, if you will!

Some random thoughts:

I’d think that sometime after the events of this story, Louis would properly apologise to Fred over what happened in the Baskerville mission

William told Louis he was right to not let even a single life go to waste — I think those words would’ve echoed in Louis’s mind when he sought Sherlock’s help together with Fred

Parallels to the Final Problem arc

Furthermore, some aspects of this story do parallel what happened in the Final Problem arc:

‘William’ being the one to fall ill

Louis trying very hard to save him

Louis praying for someone to help his brother

Help coming from a friend, rather than Louis himself

‘William’ remaining separate from the other two angelfish for a time

I wonder if it’s intentional, in the same vein as that past illustration by Hikaru-sensei where William covered his left eye with a rose… It could be possible: this book was published alongside the Phantom arc (Volume 7), so it’s conceivable that the Final Problem arc had already been planned out by that point.

Wow this has been a long one — thank you for reading this far! And onward to the next story ヽ(*・ω・)ﾉ

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #a study in scarlet

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uwurakax · 3 years

Text

another day ♡

pairing: oikawa x f!reader ♡

genre: angsty // exes // mutual pining ♡

summary: after the constant fighting and bubbling insecurities, you and oikawa both decide that breaking up is probably for the best. too bad that it wasn’t what either if you had wanted ♡

♡ read part one ‘save your tears’ here ♡

word count: 2k ♡

author’s note: super tired, i should be packing but im not lol, 4am gang ayyy. as always not proofread because i cannot stomach the idea of rereading what i wrote. this was what originally ‘save your tears’ was going to be, but part one got too long so haha. spoils of part one, so if you haven’t read it go ahead, or don’t lolol it could be read alone ig hurr hurr ♡

♡ (inspired by save your tears - the weeknd/ariana grande) ♡

At one point in time, you would’ve enjoyed an atmosphere like this; the blaring lights, pounding music, and even the heat radiating off warm bodies in a cramped space. It was much more enjoyable when you had the familiar, comforting presence of him.

Yes him: Oikawa Tōru. Also known as the the guy who broke your heart less than two months ago. You hadn’t seen him since the week after, finally being able to pick up everything and go. It was scary how silent it was between you two. The unit the both of you had made a home, your first home with him, just a little more barren. Just a little more bare.

Just a little more empty.

Once homely rooms were now plain. To anyone else, it could be called minimalistic or modern. Sleek if you were to exaggerate it. To the both of you however, it was just stone cold. A lifeless corpse. One poor imitation of what it once was.

And seeing it like this was almost enough to have your heart break for a second time. It was a physical representation of your relationship. The feelings of warmth, comfort, admiration, any and every word any literary body could ever akin to love was once found here. It was sad to see it gone, almost like it was never there. However if you looked past the surface you’d see all the small details of things that once occupied the room. The once full drawers now easily fitting clothes with plenty of room to spare. A countertop with products only to one half of the sink. The minuscule dust imprints left behind on the shelves that once housed your books.

The lingering smell of your perfume that was once so prominent.

You couldn’t tell, but Oikawa could. In the week you were gone, it slowly started to fade. The first night Oikawa was drowning in it. It clung to, what once was, your pillow and on the blanket. Choking and suffocating him with the sweet smell. He couldn’t bear to see the bed without you in it, and hated the God awful smell. Opening the window and facing away, he had a dreamless sleep that night.

And as the week passed, so did the scent of you.

He couldn’t explain why, but the moment he opened the door, his body felt at ease. His eyes blessed, even if you had those dark circles and slightly red eyes with unkempt hair. It was as if it was instinct to feel relief at being near you.

It was the longest few hours of Oikawa’s life that day, and somehow it was still just too short. Helping you gather your things, putting them into boxes and loading them into a tiny hired truck until eventually there was nothing left.

You were gone from the apartment, and now Oikawa’s life.

It was awkward the second time, saying goodbye. The finality of it all dawning on the both of you. You at least had this excuse to see each other once more. After this, there was nothing. No more reasons to come back, to call, message or even see each other again.

This was officially the last time you’d ever get to see Oikawa Tōru.

You’d both stood there for a few moments, only the wind against leaves and the occasional car offering any sort of background noise. Neither of you wanting or willing for this moment to end. Despite it all, it wasn’t hard to see that you both yearned for each other. Just how cruel it was that you couldn’t see it.

Oikawa kept your pillow close that night. The smell of you was so faint, he was sure that it wouldn’t be too long before it completely faded. As he held the plush item near his chest he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of life he could’ve had with you if he wasn’t so prideful? All the fantasies and white picket fences surged in his mind, and so he finally drifted off to sleep, thinking of you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Here”

You turned to see your best friend handing you a glass of, well you weren’t sure exactly but anything to dull your senses at this point was okay in your book. Yes, almost two months since your breakup and you were still so torn. It was what he wanted right? Your lives are better this way. You’re sure his is. He wouldn’t have to hear you “nag” as he so put it, and you didn’t have to feel the exhaustion resulting because of it.

It was better this way. You knew it. Oikawa knew it. Your friends and family knew it. Heck even the old ladies down the damn street knew it.

So why did it feel so shitty.

You downed the drink quickly, not wanting to go through the spiral of emotions you were sure you were going to experience. You’d deal with the pain and hangover tomorrow like the adult you were. For now you just wanted to dance till your feet hurt, and then drink until they stopped hurting. A quick descent into self destruction that you’re sure you’d regret.

Or maybe you wouldn’t.

The moment you turned your head to get back to the dance floor you locked eyed with him.

For a moment you stopped breathing. The music faded out quickly and the patrons of the club disappeared. Suddenly it was just you and him.

He looked good this time around, nothing like the last time you saw him. His perfectly fluffed and styled hair that was just so effortlessly Oikawa had become messy bed head. His bright chocolate eyes that twinkled just a little with mischief when he smirked had become sunken. His whole demeanour had completely drooped into a depressive state. It hurt to see.

He wasn’t like that now. He looked like how he had been before. No longer were the remnants of a heartbroken man. Oikawa Tōru had gone back to his charming self once again.

A cute girl with silky, long black hair approached him and just as quick as they went, everything came flooding back; the music, people and you found yourself being able to breathe again.

She touched his arm and laughed. The look in her eyes filled with the glimmer coyness. Her body language oozed with flirty persona. It was all too familial.

You should’ve guessed that he’d date again. It wasn’t like he couldn’t. The moment you both severed the relationship he had every right to do what he wanted. You did too. Sure you were seeing someone, but it wasn’t like that.

All too, touchy-feely.

It hurt to see, you weren’t going to lie. Seeing the way he touched her, held her, danced with her. For a good portion of the night you saw it. Seeing him be with her, the way he used to with you. No longer being the main character in his story; you were in the audience, watching.

You didn’t want to stay until the ending.

Without a word, you briskly brushed passed sweaty bodies, being bumped a few times before you finally made it to the door and opened it.

You walked a couple paces to the middle of the footpath, deeply inhaling the fresh air. It wasn’t suffocating anymore. You fumbled with your purse, reaching inside to pull out your phone. With the glow of neon lights emanating behind you, you saw a stray tear on the blackness of your screen.

Fuck, when did that happen?

You wiped it with the palm of your hand, and went to unlock your phone. As you prepared to send a text you heard the call of your voice.

“Tōr-Oikawa?”

He mentally winced at this, the formal tone of using his surname struck something inside. He didn’t like it, not at all. It wasn’t right, it felt strange.

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here? You followed me”

“Right... I guess I just wanted to see how you were, that’s all” he looked away, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. You softened at this. It just took you back to why you fell for him in the first place. The little things like this, that made you feel cared for and loved. Perhaps for a few minutes you could be delusional and pretend that Oikawa still cared for you.

“I’m fine, what about you? How is everything going?” Yikes. You cringed at how awkward you were being. You supposed that that’s how it was, not exactly friends and not complete strangers either.

“Yeah fine too...” he trailed off, and just like that you were brought back to that time before you left. Before the official goodbye. Not ready to end things just yet, but neither knowing what more to say.

Just for a little while, let me remember every trace, curve and detail.

You didn’t know what came over you, but soon enough you found yourself drawing closer to Oikawa. He looked at you with half lidded eyes, not daring to move a step, almost afraid if he did it would ruin this moment with you. Yes, it was selfish but...

You lifted your hand to cup his cheek, just like a memory from before. Using the pad of your thumb, you gently brushed over the soft skin. Ever so delicately, you traced down his jaw. The intimacy of your movements crossed a boundary between you. You knew it and he did too. You’d let yourselves be greedy though.

Oikawa raised his own hands to touch your face, perfectly ingraining it into his mind and body. His fingers slowly going over your features. He wouldn’t allow himself to forget any part of you.

It wasn’t long until you both wanted to overstep more.

The longing between you too great to try and stop. Eventually you both moved closer, faces and soul alike reaching for the other. Just a bit closer.

“Y/N?”

“Oikawa?”

You both frantically pulled away, heart racing now.

“Kageyama..”

“Tobio”

Oikawa tried to hide the venom in his voice, he really did, but when he saw Kageyama make his way beside you he couldn’t help but see red.

It didn’t seem like life was playing a very fair game.

“Oikawa are you alright?” He looked down at the petite girl beside him, now clinging to his arm. He threw on one of his brilliant smiles and told her it was okay.

“Are you cold? Here” Oikawa couldn’t keep up that smile for too long, not when he saw him putting his jacket around you. How you snuggled into the warmth. How it showed Oikawa that you were no longer his, and that you now found solace in another.

He couldn’t blame you, he knew that deep inside. He did the same, why shouldn’t you? It didn’t stop the burning hatred and envy he felt. The overwhelming sadness that enveloped him. All a heavy dump of emotions thrown on him within a few seconds.

You felt it too though. That girl hanging off his arm. Getting to parade around that Oikawa was hers. It was totally unreasonable to feel this way. You both ended things. It was mutual right? You would’ve told him and he would’ve told you if this breakup was a mistake right?

Right?

“Wanna go?” Kageyama whispered in your ear. You nodded.

“It was nice seeing you again T-Oikawa” you smiled sadly.

“You too Y/N...bye” you both turned away, walking in opposite directions. With every step, your heartache grew just a little more. Almost like your body needed to be near his, the memories it held being more truthful than your head could ever be.

Your heart, body and soul wanted Oikawa.

Your mind told you to let him go for his sake.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Hey Oikawa?”

“Yes Kageyama?”

“Hmm?”

“He was your ex right? Oikawa?”

“That girl back there, is she her? The ex?

“Yeah he was”

“Yeah, she was”

“Do you still love him?”

“Do you still love her?”

There was a pause and you both stopped, mulling the question over.

Did you still love each other? It wasn’t hard to tell, everyone knew the answer. Ask any stranger but...

“No”

...

You both lied.

#haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu angst #hq angst #oikawa angst

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natasha-romanoff-deserved-better · 3 years

Text

The Day The Music Died

Summary:

“This’ll be the day that I die,” Yelena had sung those exact words in the car that day, and no lies were told.

Natasha never wanted to hear that song again.

Word Count: 3437

Also on Ao3 here

~~~

Natasha stares at the bandages wrapped tightly around Clint’s left wrist, eyes locked in on the red spots where extra blood had been soaked up by the gauze. Clint’s tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, softly drumming along to the song playing from the radio as he maneuvers the car around a bend in the old back road.

“I can feel you staring.” He says, snapping Natasha out of her trance. Clint takes his eyes off the road for a second to catch her gaze. “Nat, I’m fine. I promise.” It’s not going to change what happened, but he still tries. These types of missions were always hard on Natasha, and it’d only been made that much worse when one of the target’s bodyguards had managed to catch Clint’s forearm with a knife, dangerously close to critical veins. There had been a lot of blood and although Nat was easily able to stitch his skin back together, the close call had scared her - even if she refused to admit it out loud.

“I know you’re fine, idiot. It’s impossible to get rid of you.” She snorts and sends him a small smile. The radio cuts into a commercial, advertising their station and morning talk show before launching into another song.

A long, long time ago

I can still remember how that music

Used to make me smile

Natasha frowns at the song as an alarm bell begins to blare in the back of her head at the notes that drift out of the speakers. She furrows her eyebrows at it, a sinking feeling coming over her. Images from another time threaten to overtake her, and she’s too weak to stop them.

And I knew if I had my chance

That I could make those people dance

And maybe they'd be happy for a while

A blonde little girl, only five years old, prances around the front yard. She’s barefoot and wearing her pink sparkly sundress, hair pulled up into pigtails as she tries to catch a ladybug. Natasha watches from her perch among the tree branches. Mom Melina is kneeled on the ground as she works on the garden in front of the house, planting new flowers to replace the dead ones. She’s brought her portable stereo out, sitting it on the porch and playing at full volume. Natasha isn’t even aware of what song is playing until Yelena is running up to the porch, begging her to play it again. Mom Melina does. And then plays it again with an amused smile and quirked eyebrow when Yelena asks for a third time. Yelena cheers with joy as it starts again and rises to her tip toes as she begins to twirl and dance to the music.

Nobody knows what it is about the song that Yelena likes so much, but she loves it. She constantly asks for it, so much so that Melina loads it onto a cassette tape and keeps it in the car just for her. Natasha doesn’t quite understand what most of the lyrics are talking about, but she decides she doesn’t mind the song for Yelena. In a way, it fits- Yelena is the picture perfect little all american girl, apple pie personified.

Natasha’s frozen in her seat. She pleads with herself to move, to turn off the radio. She doesn’t want to hear this. She knows what verses are coming next, and her breathing catches in her throat as they start. These words hold no comfort for her anymore.

Bye Bye Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry

And them good ol boys were drinking whiskey and rye

Singin’ this’ll be the day that I die

This’ll be the day that I die

Her sister’s high-pitched voice singing the words, a beat behind as she moves her hands cheerfully, lost in the rhythm of the song. She’s buzzing with excitement- ready for her promised big adventure, too young and oblivious to notice their parent’s anxiety or her sister’s internal crisis happening in the seat next to her. Natasha can’t look at her sister, she doesn’t want her to see the panic she knows is written over her face. Instead, she keeps her eyes locked out the window, trying desperately to commit everything to memory. The red, white, and blue lights that light up the night, the football game where a band plays and people cheer, the abundance of restaurants where families are sat enjoying dinner. The normalness of it all makes her angry - how can all these people be so casual when her world is falling apart at the seams? Yelena begins to sing the verse about dying, and it takes everything within Natasha to not snap at her. She can’t bear to listen to her little sister singing about dying, so blissfully unaware of the possibility of the verse becoming true at any moment now. Natasha should say something to her, tell her to stop, tell her what was happening. But the lure of pretending one last time is too great for her to give away. She doesn’t say anything.

Did you write the book of love

A photo album, thick with pictures of them all sit on the shelf. It’s Natasha’s favorite thing in the house, and she often sneaks out of bed to stare at the photos. Realistically, she knows they’re all fake. But if she tries hard enough, thinks long enough, she swears she can recall the events. Thanksgiving had been fun; the food had been the best she’d ever tasted. Their summer vacation had been at the beach, and she swears she can feel the sun warming her face and the sand between her toes.

And do you have faith in God above

If the bible tells you so?

She and Clint had gone to a church once, as part of an undercover mission. She’d ended up having to walk out in the middle of the service. It had been too much. She could never believe in it, even if she wanted to. No loving God would ever create the horrors she had seen before her 13th birthday or give her a family purely to steal it all away so violently.

Can music save your mortal soul

And can you teach me how to dance real slow?

Natasha’s feet hit the ground, still en pointe, as she lands the perfect Grand Jete. She tosses her arms out in the landing pose and holds it for a second before excited clapping breaks her concentration. Yelena sits there, smiling wide as possible, clad in her own black leotard and pink tights. She’s in the younger classes, not as advanced as Natasha yet, but it doesn’t stop her from trying. Yelena scrambles to her feet, crossing the floor to stand next to her sister.

“Teach me, teach me!”

It’s a complicated step, and Natasha knows she’s not ready for it just yet. She doesn’t want her to get hurt.

“I’ll teach you when you’re older, okay?” Yelena nods, and turns to the mirror, copying Natasha’s arm positions.

Natasha tries to force another breath into her lungs, but it’s harder now, her throat and chest constricted. She squeezes her eyes closed, trying to block out the flashbacks that continue to assault her.

Now for ten years we’ve been on our own

And moss grows fat on a rolling stone

But that’s not how it used to be.

Fifteen years. It had been fifteen goddamn years since Natasha had seen her sister for the last time. She refuses to let herself think of what might have happened to her. It pains her to think of her baby sister, who had once been so full of life, in such a horrid place.

Natasha wraps her arms around herself, arms holding each other tightly. She digs her fingernails into her skin, attempting to give herself something else to focus on and ground her. It doesn’t work.

Bye Bye Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the Levee but the Levee was dry

Them good ol boys were drinking whiskey and rye

And signing this will be the day that I die

This’ll be the day that I die

Natasha doesn’t know how long they’ve been stuffed into this shipping container, crowded against a hundred other little girls. They’re all dirty, all starving, all terrified. The scent of sweat and urine threatens to suffocate them, the air hot and heavy.

She has tugged Yelena into her lap, arms protectively crossed over her torso to hold her close- hasn’t let go of her since the second they were put into here for fear of losing her amongst the other girls. She’s so tiny, and Natasha doesn’t trust any of the others.

Yelena stirs, a small whimper falling from her lips. Natasha tries to shush her gently, but it doesn’t work, and her sister keeps squirming. Her cries are starting to grow in volume, and one of the girls next to them sends them a dirty look.

“Yelena, Yelena. I’m here. You’re with me.” It’s the only words of comfort Natasha can offer her. She wishes she could tell her they were okay, that she was safe, that they were going to be fine. Instead, all she can do is assure her that her older sister had her. Yelena had stopped calling out for her mom a while ago, after her calls went unanswered and she finally realized no one was coming to rescue them. Natasha shifts them around, turning her back towards the others and away from prying eyes. Natasha turns Yelena on her lap, so that Yelena is facing her. “Yelena, look at me.”

Yelena shakes her head, so Natasha gently cups both sides of her face, titling her face up so that she has no choice. Yelena doesn’t resist, just locks her tear-filled eyes onto Natasha.

“I’m scared,” Yelena sobs through hitching breaths as her body trembles.

Natasha clutches her tighter and brings her closer, so close their noses are almost touching. “Don’t cry, Lena. Just sing with me.” Yelena frowns at her in confusion, and Natasha starts to sing under her breath, quietly, so that Yelena is forced to quite herself down and focus to hear the words.

She starts with the chorus, the part that Yelena knows and likes the best. “Bye, Bye, Miss American pie,” Natasha sings. The corner of Yelena’s lips quirks up in recognition. Nat pauses, prompting Yelena to sing the next line herself.

Her voice quivers, but she sings it anyways. “Drove my chevy to the levee…” Natasha nods in encouragement and joins her for the next verse. “But the levee was dry.” They sing the next few lines together. They near the last two lines of the chorus though, and this time, Natasha can’t allow her to sister to sing the last line. They hurt too much, they’re too real.

So she interrupts Yelena, skipping forward past the “Day that I die” line and jumping right into the next verse. Yelena doesn’t even question it, just follows her sister’s lead and allows herself to be completely absorbed in the whispered song.

Natasha sings almost the entire song to her sister, doing her best to remember as many lyrics as she could, and then starts over. She keeps singing, over and over again, until her voice starts to crack, and Yelena’s eyes are slipping closed in exhaustion.

“Tasha?” Clint calls, picking up the tension in his partner. She doesn’t respond, just stays frozen in her seat, locked in her own little world. “Hey,” He calls, a bit louder this time. He takes one hand off the wheel and places it on her shoulder gently. “Nat. What’s going on?” She’s shaking.

Instead of answering, Natasha claps her hands over her ears and leans forward, bending at the waist so she can rest her head atop her knees. She’s shaking her head, muttering something under her breath.

We all got up to dance

Oh, but we never got the chance

“Teach me, teach me!”

“…When you’re older.”

Natasha never got the chance to teach Yelena that ballet move. She wonders just how many other promises to her baby sister she’s broken.

“I’m going to pull over, Nat, okay?” A male’s voice comes from somewhere close by. His hand moves from her shoulder onto her back, to rub small circles on it.

Do you recall what was revealed

The day the music died?

She had never felt so stupid. Standing on that airway strip, holding a gun out in front of her, blocking Yelena. She had let her fall into the lie, childishly believe that maybe, just maybe Dad Alexei loved them like he said he did. As Alexei kneels before them, showing no sympathy to his daughters tears, she realizes that had never been the case.

The chorus starts again, and she feels bile rise in her stomach. “Bye Bye Miss American Pie” Natasha remembers how she had stolen that gun from a solider, shoved her sister behind her and threatened to kill numerous grown men for touching her. How desperately she had clung to Yelena when they’d been ripped apart. She hadn’t been ready to give up her sister, not ready to say goodbye to the American dream lie they had built side by side. “Drove my Chevy to the Levee but the levee was dry” The memory of Yelena’s face during those few days had haunted Natasha’s dreams for years. It had frightened her- even more so than the men with oversized guns. She had never seen her sister, who laughed at everything and loved the world with everything in her, look so despondent. She had tried telling her jokes to pry some kind of smile out of her. It didn't work. “This’ll be the day that I die” Yelena had sung those exact words in the car that day, and no lies were told. That day, when dad Alexei handed them back to Russians soldiers, they had both died. Died only to be remade and ruthlessly forged into something new, nothing more than weapons of mass destruction and trained killers.

There’s cussing to her left that pulls her back halfway to the present. She’s in a car, and she’s covered in vomit that runs down her front and onto her chest and lap. Clint has a hand on her, and he’s telling her just a second, Nat.

“Clint?” She asks, still slightly confused. She can still feel the weight of a smaller body on top of her, feel the soft blonde curls against her chin.

“I’m here, Tasha. Hold on.”

Oh, and there we were all in one place

A generation lost in space

With no time to start again

Countless little girls standing in a straight line, blank expressions, awaiting their next commands. They’re all mirrors of each other, no identity left for any of them to cling onto. Natasha scans over each girl, searching for the blonde waves she knows so well. She can’t find her.

The song drags on as Clint navigates the car off the road, coming to stop. He jumps out and jogs around, flinging Natasha's door open. She doesn’t move, so he reaches in and unbuckles her before slipping his hands into her armpits and pulling her out of the car. She tumbles to the ground, falling onto her knees.

And as I watched him on the stage

My hands clenched in fists of rage

No angel born in hell

Could break that Satan’s spell

Natasha catches Dreykov’s eyes on them, and she tightens her hold on Yelena’s hand. Her sister makes a small noise - she’s going to have bruises with how tight Nat is holding her- but doesn’t pull her hand away. Natasha curls her free hand into a tight fist, ready to swing if need be.

Dreykov says something to the men with guns next to him and points a finger at them. The soldiers start moving forward, and Natasha backtracks, tries to back up but Yelena stumbles at the sudden change in direction.

I saw Satan laughing with delight

The day the music died

Natasha screams her sister's name, gripping onto her as tightly as she can. Soldiers have hands on them both, ripping them away from each other. Dreykov is standing several feet away, a tiny smile on his face. Yelena is shrieking, hands desperately trying to keep her grasp on Natasha with all the strength in her six-year-old frame.

They lose their grip on each other and are dragged apart. Yelena’s voice dies out as they carry away the only thing Natasha had left.

Bye Bye Miss American Pie -

“Turn it off!” Natasha pleads, before promptly vomiting even more onto the ground. Clint’s hands support her head, keeping her from falling. “Off, please. I can’t. Turn it--” Clint’s hands leave her for a second as he scrambles over her, reaching through the open passenger door and slamming the power button on the radio.

Natasha lets out a breath, thankful for the silence. With the song no longer playing, her head is beginning to clear, the painful images retreating somewhere she could lock them away again.

“All done?” Clint asks her. She spits out one last string of bile and nods her head, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as Clint helps her sit up and lean against his leg. He doesn’t rush her, just allows her to sit and try to regain control of her breathing as he combs his fingers through her hair.

When Natasha can finally think again, she frowns at herself in disgust. “Sorry,” She apologizes.

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” he tells her. Clint reaches over and opens the backdoor, grabbing his go bag and digging around until his fingers find one of his clean T-shirts. He yanks it out, closes the door. “Can I help you change, or do you want to do it yourself?”

He’s honestly not even sure if she could change herself right now, with how much she was still shaking, but he gives her the choice anyways. She shrugs her shoulders, her way of accepting help without actually having to accept. “Okay, arms up.” Natasha raises her arms, and Clint carefully tugs her shift off her by the collar, making sure the filthy outside never touched any of her skin. He crumples up the shirt into a ball and tucks it in a bag. He bunches up his shirt at the neck hole and slides it over her head before gently guiding her arms through. It takes a lot for his partner to get to this state, and his concern grows with every passing second that goes by and Natasha is still out of it. He fixes the shirt over her torso, making sure she’s completely covered and then sinks down to the ground, leaning his back against the wheel of the car. There’s a soft breeze in the air, the slight chill nipping at their skin a welcome distraction. “C’mere,” he says, and guides Natasha into his side. She tenses for a moment, but then lets her head drop onto his shoulder, allowing Clint to take her weight. He wraps an arm around her to hold her close.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha repeats, and this time Clint doesn’t say anything. He knows she’s not apologizing to him, but someone not in their presence. He doesn’t push it. She’ll tell him when she’s ready, on her own time. He has guesses though. Clint had an older brother, and he knows what a protective but burnt-out older sibling looks like. He’s seen the way her eyes linger on certain little girls in public before snapping back, caught the way she had once brushed her fingers over a fabric doll with pink hair on a store shelf, heard the way she is able to understand children’s speech without any effort. She’s never mentioned a younger sibling before, but sometimes in her sleep, she mumbles a girl’s name, her hands clenched in fists as if trying to hold on to her.

He presses a kiss to her temple, a silent promise. He won’t push her- He doesn’t need to know exactly what happened. He knows how to support her and how to take care of her when she needs it and for now, that’s enough.

Years later, Natasha will press her forehead to an adult Yelena’s, both panting from the fight, Yelena upside down and laying in the wreckage of the red room. Dreykov is finally dead, by Yelena’s hand. Yelena cracks a joke, and Natasha smiles. They’ll never again be those little girls they once were, but they’ve finally found each other.

#natasha romanoff #yelena belova #kid natasha romanoff #kid yelena belova #songfic #black widow 2021 #black widow fic #angst #natasha centric #marvel liho #mcu #mcu fanfic #Clint barton #he's here too #look i actually wrote something

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jayeray-hq · 4 years

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How He Shows You Affection: Ushijima Wakatoshi

This is a another repost to get this one to show up in the tags! Thank you to everyone who found it through the masterlist! You all are amazing! Notes: 72

Post Time Skip/Manga Ending Spoilers!

Warnings: None all fluff!

How He Shows You Affection Masterlist - Character Masterlist

He Does Little Things to Make Life Easier for You

You woke up feeling a bit groggy, unsure just how or when exactly you’d fallen asleep. However, once you’d gotten your bearings a bit you quietly cursed yourself for allowing to happen, glancing at your phone and wincing as you registered what time it was. You’d had a lot to get done today and now more than half the day was gone. You’d only meant to sit down for a second and rest your eyes as you waited for the dishwasher to finish, but you must’ve accidentally dozed off.

In hindsight it probably wasn’t that surprising you’d fallen asleep. It had been a really long week at work, you’d been putting in extra hours, and had come home almost every night exhausted. It meant you’d been putting off your chores, all of which you’d meant to do today, on your only day off. The laundry in particular had been incredibly important as your clean clothes situation had become rather dire, but you’d fallen asleep before you could get to it.

Even worse you’d wanted to get it done early because your boyfriend was going to be home later, and you desperately wanted to be able to spend your evening relaxing with him. Unfortunately, it looked like that wasn’t going to be happening now.

Heaving a sigh, you stood, figuring there was no use crying over spilled milk, and that you might as well get to work. Especially if you wanted to have that nice dinner done you’d planned for when Ushijima got home. Only to pause in surprise as something fell away from your shoulders.

You stooped and picked the familiar fabric off the ground, and immediately recognized it as your boyfriend’s Adlers jacket, the same one he’d worn out of the house that morning which meant…

“Wakatoshi?” you asked curiously, as you cradled the jacket to your chest.

“I’m here,” the low deep rumble of your boyfriend’s voice was both familiar and incredibly soothing, and you couldn’t help the smile that broke over your face at the sight of him, clearly recently showered, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt.

“You’re home early,” you told him crossing the room eagerly to wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his strong, warm chest.

“Coach let us go early,” he explained accepting your embrace with ease and folding you into his arms.

“Did you have a good practice?” you asked, slowly pulling away from him after taking a few minutes to just soak up his warmth and presence.

“It was adequate,” he told you, which you assumed meant yes, his eyes fond as his large hands lingered gently on your hips, not letting you pull away entirely just yet.

“I was just going to start dinner for us,” you informed him with a smile, “Just let me finish up a few things and I’ll get right to it.”

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked gently.

“No, no I’ve got this,” you assured him firmly. After all the two of you usually split chores fairly evenly, and he’d already done his, it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to do yours as well.

However, when you went to check your hamper, all your clothes were gone, and a quick peek showed that there were loads of laundry in both the washer and the dryer, both running. The bathroom was also cleaner than you remembered it being that morning, and the dishwasher had been emptied, the dishes put away.

Your heart melted as you realized your boyfriend had apparently taken it upon himself to do it for you, and when you returned to the kitchen and found him quietly pulling out some of the things you’d need to make dinner you couldn’t help yourself diving back into his arms.

“Is everything all right?” he asked, clearly a little concerned.

“It’s perfect,” you assured him affectionately, feeling like a weight had lifted you’re your shoulders, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he told you pressing his cheek to your hair and cradling you close, making you sigh contentedly. You really did have the best boyfriend.

He Makes Time For You

Despite your feelings you’d managed to keep your perfect customer service smile pasted to your face throughout the party, nursing a glass of wine you hadn’t even bothered to touch, but held on to, to keep anyone from trying to get you another drink. It had been a rather horrid night, and you definitely didn’t want to be here, especially since, for the first time in a long time you’d had to come alone.

Normally at these mandatory office parties you at least had your boyfriend with you. Ushijima, with his strong, calm presence and a stoicism and intimidating mien that managed to keep all but the most determined or familiar away from you, was a blessing at times like this. Unfortunately, he’d had a game, which while fairly close by was still over an hour away, and he wouldn’t be back until later that night.

You honestly missed him dreadfully. Just his reassuring presence always helped to take the edge off your anxiety at times like these. Still he had his job, one that he truly loved with all his being and you’d never want to take him away from it, especially not for something as silly as an office party.

Still you couldn’t help your grimace as one of your male coworkers, who’d been giving you the eye all night, and who regularly stood just a little too close, and lingered by your desk just a little too long slowly approached you. You braced yourself, fully ready to face the unpleasant conversation and hopefully send him on his way politely.

However less than a few feet away from you his eyes suddenly darted to something behind you, and he quickly made a beeline around, clearly pretending he’d never been heading in your direction in the first place. You frowned in confusion, but were quickly jolted out of it, by the feeling of a large, warm hand on the small of your back.

You turned, a frown on your face, ready to tell off whichever jerk dared put his hands on you, that you had a boyfriend and to leave you alone, only to find your boyfriend there looking down at you with a soft look on his face.

“Wakatoshi?” you asked a little disbelieving, blinking several times to ensure he wasn’t an illusion of some kind, dreamt up by your wishes for his presence, but no he was still there, his hand warm and grounding, “What are you doing here?”

“I always come to your office parties,” he told you a slightly puzzled frown on his lips.

“I know,” you assured him an amused smile tugging your lips, “But didn’t you have a game?”

“It’s finished,” he affirmed, then added unnecessarily, “We won.”

“I know,” you told him with an amused smile, “I watched what I could of the game before coming. You managed to finish before I had to leave. I sent you a text.”

“I saw,” he assured you a fond smile tugging slightly at the corners of his mouth, his eyes soft, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you told him a bit bemused, “But that still doesn’t explain how you’re here. The game was over an hour away.”

“I left right after,” he explained casually.

“Wakatoshi you didn’t have to,” you exclaimed startled, especially since you knew leaving right after meant he’d skipped the victory celebrations with his team and gotten a cab back instead of taking the team bus.

“I wanted to,” he stated firmly, in a way that left no room for arguments, “I never miss your office parties.”

The sentiment behind the words honestly made your heart melt. Ushijima wasn’t the best with expressing his feelings verbally, but at times like this, when he even cut his volleyball activities short you could almost palpably feel how much he loved you, to put you over his favorite activity, even if it was only a little bit, it honestly meant the world to you.

“Thank you for being here,” you told him, figuring there really was no other response, at least none that would be appropriate in this setting, though you made a note to show him how much you appreciated it when you got home.

“Of course,” he answered firmly, as if there had never been any doubt, as if there was nowhere in the world he’d rather be then right by your side.

He Buys Little Things That Remind Him of You

“Oh Ushiwaka whatcha lookin’ at?” Tendou asked curiously peering over his friend’s shoulder so he could see the display that the large former Ace of Shiratorizawa was studying so intently. His lips quirked in amusement as he saw what had captured the stoic man’s attention, a rather adorable display of plush toys

“Are you expecting?” he asked eagerly.

“I’m not expecting anything,” Ushijima told him a slight frown on his face, clearly perplexed by the question.

“No, no, no I mean is your girlfriend expecting?” he tried again shifting eagerly from foot to foot.

“No, she never expects anything,” his friend and former captain told him completely honestly, his face softening at the mere mention of his beloved who was back home in Japan while he and his team were in France for a game, “But these are very cute.”

“They are,” Tendou agreed nodding sagely, he never would’ve expected the man to be so sentimental and to think such things about toys like that, but well, you learned something new everyday.

“She is also very cute,” Ushiwaka murmured more to himself than to Tendou, before nodding firmly and making his way into the store, clearly intent on buying one for his girlfriend, leaving a dumbstruck Tendou behind wondering if he should stop him or not but in the end decided to let the man make his own mistakes.

Several days later, back in Japan you opened another package from your boyfriend and stared at its contents, more than a little dumbfounded. These little gifts from Ushijima had been arriving nearly every day since he left, nothing too big or expensive, mostly small interesting things that he claimed in his daily chats ‘reminded him of you.’

However staring at this latest gift you had to wonder if maybe he was trying to send you a message of some sort. After all was there any other reason to have sent you what was admittedly, a rather adorable plush baby toy, with a tag in the ear whose French you’d painstakingly translated into “congratulations it’s a boy!”

It left you rather dumbfounded, however, luckily you didn’t need to ask more than why he’d bought it for you for him to explain, and you never had to tell him that he’d given you a baby toy of all things. However, the small gift did find its way into your daughter’s crib several years down the line, so it certainly never went to waste.

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minty-mumbles · 3 years

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Souvenir

Whumptober Day 16 & 17: Scars/Dread

I said at one point that I wold never write a Warriors centric story, and yet, here I am.

(Read on AO3 Here)

~~~

“What’s taking so long? Am I dying, doctor?” Warriors pretended to swoon, earning him several laughs from the others mingling around. The Captain's tunic was stripped off, laying on his lap, and bearing his back, which was currently being fussed over by Hyrule. The healer was rebandaging Warriors' back. He had gotten caught in a bad tussle with a lizalfos which had wielded a strange sort of flail, which had torn straight through Warriors' tunic, leaving deep gashes in his skin.

`The wounds weren’t too bad, thankfully. The cuts were shallow and didn’t even need stitching. But even the smallest things can leave you with a lifelong scar if not healed with magic or potions. And they were out of potions.

The Captain had insisted he was well enough to travel, as long as he removed his armor and someone else carried his bags. Hyrule had agreed, so the group continued traveling on with Epona shouldering extra load of the Captain’s bags. They took frequent breaks, for the Captain's sake. At noon, they actually stopped for lunch so Hyrule could check Warriors' bandages, and make sure the wounds were healing. It had the added benefit that Wild was actually able to cook something for lunch, and not just hand out stuff to eat while the group was walking.

Hyrule had just finished peeling away the last of the bandages, and had caught sight of the wounds on Warrior's back. He was struck with a dreadful realization.

“No. You’re not dying.” There was a certain hesitance in Hyrule's voice that made it soft and quiet. His words were almost lost in the laughs from the other heroes. He seemed… regretful, almost.

Now Warriors actually looked a little concerned. “Hey, is something wrong?” His question drew Hyrule out of his trance of staring at the Captain's back.

“No!” Hyrule reassured him. “It’s fine, and it looks like you’re healing well.” Most of the others took this good news in stride, and returned to their own conversations readily. Warriors, however, weren't convinced. He turned to look at the healer over his shoulder, raising a perfectly manicured brow pointedly. Hyrule didn’t meet his eyes, not wanting to break the news.

Warriors was going to scar, and scar badly.

Warriors pretended to be vain, and to an extent, he really was. He prided himself on looking well put together. To anyone else, the Captain might seem effortlessly meticulous at any given moment, but those who had been traveling with him knew exactly how many hours he spent polishing his armor, fixing rips in his clothes, and touching up his hair. Hyrule figured it was probably fifty-fifty Warriors’ own personal preference to be well put together, and his training from the military to always look his part.

But the Captain was also very familiar with scars. He had more than his fair share of them, and had seen many, many more. Hell, they traveled with the champion. Even the most squeamish among them had grown used to seeing scars.

Besides that, Warriors had seen war. He had seen men die, had seen men live, had seen the aftermath of both. He was the group's other healer besides Hyrule, and wasn’t afraid of blood or gore.

Warriors wasn’t stupid. He likely already knew he would be scared from this. A permanent souvenir of his failure on the battlefield etched on his body. Hyrule didn’t need to remind him of that fact.

“Nothing, Wars.” Hyrule smiled shakily. Warriors didn’t look convinced.

That night, when the bandages needed to be changed again, Hyrule let Time take over the task.

#whumptober2021 #no.16 #no.17 #scars #dread #linked universe #fic #mint's fanfiction #lu fanfiction #lu warriors #lu hyrule

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cmagines · 3 years

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What We Become: Prologue

Fandoms: Criminal Minds, Agents of SHIELD

Summary: In the aftermath of Afterlife, Y/N decides to leave SHIELD and aim for a job opening in the FBI.

Word Count: 1,278

Nightmares were to be expected before starting a new job. That’s what you told yourself, repeatedly, until you halfway believed it. Never mind that your new job was likely to be a cake walk considering the last year you’d been through. Rapists? Murderers? Dark stuff, but nothing compared to the webs of violence and espionage you’d finally left.

It was too early to be awake. It was too pointless to go back to sleep. The treadmill took a pounding from your feet, and then your shower ran as hot as you could bear. When you had first joined SHIELD, you had hated training, but now exercise was such a part of your routine that you struggled to rest without burning out the energy in your muscles. The shower that followed was even better. You could imagine that the water washed away more than just sweat and shampoo. On bad days, you unwillingly imagined tiny specks of stone being carried down the drain.

The clock read almost six once you were dressed in your robe, so you took your time making breakfast, hoping that some food would calm your stomach. After all, you had no idea what exactly you were walking into and being prepared could only serve you well. Coulson had said you were a shoo-in, but it was a competitive position and you still had to get the other foot through the door. That in mind, you had a sizeable meal and packed an equally sizable lunch.

Though there was enough time to fuss about your outfit, you didn’t see the need to bother. SHIELD agents dressed just like FBI agents. At the end of the day, a fed was a fed, and to make a good impression, you needed to show that you could fit in, play ball. You spent the rest of your extra time skimming recent news on your phone before heading out early in case of traffic. Driving was another thing you’d have to quickly get used to, right up there with staying in one place and cooking only for yourself.

The FBI had a parking garage that connected to their two buildings. One was their training center, while the other was headquarters. Both were heavily secured – not to the point that you didn’t think a sufficiently motivated terrorist could get in, but enough so that you felt fine leaving your emergency stash of cash in the glove compartment before taking out your gloves.

It was the first time you had opened the box, and you let out a deep breath as you saw them. Fitzsimmons had come through, as always. They were almost identical to the pair they had made for Skye – well, she went by Daisy now – except for that there was less texturing on the outside. Jemma had designed them that way to be less conspicuous. The gloves fit like gloves, to borrow a satisfyingly accurate phrase, but they felt airy enough to be comfortable.

After you had landed in her shoes, Daisy had been able to help you in a more efficient way than Lincoln had been able to help her, simply because she knew exactly how to train you. Once you had a handle on exercising your powers, targeting your abilities came more easily. The gauntlets weren’t supposed to be as necessary as they had been in the beginning for Daisy, but it was better to be safe than sorry – especially among people who knew the bare minimum about how the world was beginning to change. You curled your fingers into fists and inhaled deeply, practicing the mindful breathing that Dr. Garner preached to you. Between Fitz’s genius engineering and Dr. Garner’s coaching, you felt confident that you could control yourself enough to blend in and leave your strange “heritage” in the past.

Daisy ached to see you go and it pulled at your heart to leave her behind. She had become such an essential part of your life that it felt like betraying a sister, especially now that she could use your support more than ever. Her Secret Warriors project was on thin ice from the start, and a trusted right hand would go a long way to solidifying the tentative ground she rested on. But, as you looked down at your gloved hands, the power in them still made you wish you’d never set foot in Afterlife, and that was how you knew it was the right call to walk away.

The question that remained was whether you had walked to the right place in the aftermath. Leaving your lunch and your go-bag – which you had packed in the spirit of optimism – in your car, you headed for the doors to headquarters and fastened your new ID to your belt where you could easily reach it. Bobbi would have had a fit if she’d seen, scolding you about how easily a thief could steal it. Right now, a thief was the last thing on your mind. You had an interview to ace, and hopefully a new team to impress.

The directory told you where to go. There were two other people on the elevator when you entered, but only one of them got off with you on your floor. The big glass doors in front of the bullpen office space were more nerve-wracking than exciting, especially when you realized that if you failed to impress, the odds were slim that you would ever walk through them again.

You weren’t certain where to go but hoped that if you walked with confidence, no one would think you looked pathetic or suspicious. Your gut told you that the man in charge would have an office to himself, so you picked a path that went along the left side of the room towards the mezzanine stairs. You caught the attention of a brown-haired man at a desk facing the wall you walked past, and to pretend not to notice, you looked at the wall instead and realized it was a memorial to agents who had died in the line of service. It was sobering.

Maybe this wouldn’t be such a cake walk. SHIELD had put you through loads of convoluted worst-case-scenarios, some of them even involving aliens, but that didn’t mean that danger began and ended with what could be classed as science-fiction. Even with your added advantage – which you were determined to keep under wraps for as long as possible – you were fallible, just like Daisy, Sif, and SHIELD itself. Thinking otherwise would get you killed, and possibly some others alongside.

Breathe. You were perfectly qualified. This was still bound to be safer than your former position. And as a bonus, no one was going to know what your former position actually was. An old friend at the Triskelion had helped you make sure of that. The last thing you wanted was to quit before you even began, beaten to the punch by breaking news or bureaucratic red tape. You were even outsmarting the newborn Index by legally taking a new surname. Just so you didn’t forget all you were capable of, all you had survived, and all you could still lose, you picked one that reminded you of family.

The agent’s name was on a plaque centered on his ajar office door. You raised your left hand and knocked with your knuckles.

“Come in,” the man’s voice called, sounding busy but almost friendly.

With your wrist, you pushed the door open wider to step into the organized office and introduced yourself, politely but confidently. “Good morning, Agent Hotchner. My name is Y/N Johnson, and I’m here to interview for the open position in the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

A/N: This crossover idea has been floating around in my head for a couple of weeks. I’m curious if anyone is interested, so I decided to write a quick little introduction. What do you guys think?

#cmagines #fanfic #prologue #what we become #crossover #agents of shield #criminal minds #reader insert #agents of shield x reader #criminal minds x reader

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thatslikely · 4 years

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Stowaways - G.W.

Stowaways- George Weasley x Fem!Reader (former Gryffindor)

Warnings: none! just tooth-rotting George fluff :)

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Sorry this took so long! This is my longest fic to date, and I’m so proud of it. I love Georgie so I’m glad to finally write for him. Hope you guys enjoy this one <3

Just a reminder: Y/N is Your Name and flashbacks/thoughts are in italics.

93 Diagon Alley is a place of wonder, mystique, and above all else, joy. A place where all your best memories are enshrined, a place where you can be your best self, alongside your doting fiery-haired boyfriend, who wears his ginger mop of hair like a halo. Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes occupies most of the address, its orange and purple exterior lightening up Diagon Alley effortlessly.

Its interior is just as magical, the multiple levels of the shop are engulfed with shelves stocked full of Fred and George’s mischievously ingenious products. Some threatened to transfigure you into an eye-popping xanthic canary, while others could spontaneously spawn a whole swamp in the blink of an eye.

Everything within its walls brings smiles to children of all ages, and it could be argued that George is still one of those kids too.

The store seems to make George truly come alive, even more than he was at Hogwarts just a year prior. The look in his eyes as he skillfully operates the store with Fred reminds you of the glow that your face used to hold as a child as you looked longingly through countless toy-store windows around December.

While the shop is the main source of his pride and joy, even its power couldn’t halt the toll of a busy workweek. Every day, new shipments had been zooming in and out of the store, sales at an all-time high. The new lot of Hogwarts students must have a mischievous streak, for student-sent owl orders in preparation for the school year were arriving daily by the barrel-load.

It was finally Friday evening, and George trudged up the back stairs to the flat, his eyelids droopy and back hunched. His lack of energy, however, couldn’t take away from the playfully handsome purple and brown ensemble he wore. He pitifully fiddled with the keys before finally turning the lock, entering the flat promptly, taking in the familiar home-y aroma.

He promptly plopped down at the small breakfast table near the kitchen, a tired sigh escaping his lips. He pressed his elbow onto the surface of the table, his arm supporting the weight of his head that his neck couldn’t bear any longer.

“How was your day? You look absolutely exhausted,” you asked with concern. You already knew you would have to plan something to cheer poor George up.

“I am simply dying, Y/N,” he said, while pretending to go limp like a corpse, “there’s no hope for me. Tell Mum and Ginny I love ‘em.”

“Not even your own twin brother, huh?” you asked sarcastically. He could only respond with a zombie-esque groan.

You sarcastically rolled your eyes at his dramatic display, glad to see his lack of energy didn’t affect his sense of humor. You walked over to your tired George, who had his head now resting on the back of his chair, eyes spaced out at the ceiling.

You calmly sat down next to the Titian-haired love of your life and laid your head on his strong shoulder, your arm slowly snaking up his back. The motion of your hand alternated between tracing soothing circles lightly on his strained back muscles and massaging his tense shoulder.

He turned his face to you, painted with a soft and grateful grin, glad to finally be home, especially with you. For a few serene minutes, comfortable silence filled the air.

George had nearly drifted off before the both of you were disrupted by his stomach emitting a loud growl. “I take it you’re hungry, Georgie?”

“Apparently so,” your boyfriend responded, patting his stomach.

He languidly started undoing his bright amaranthine purple tie when you asked, “Do you want icky leftovers or yummy takeout? I know what I’m voting for.”

“Such a tough decision…” George responded with a wink.

----

By the time dinner was over, the tired look in George’s eyes remained, but the delicious takeout helped remedy his splitting headache.

The two of you quickly settled on the comfortable marmalade-hued couch to watch one of your favorite muggle movies (it was a comedy of course). George’s laugh never ceased to make your heart flutter, even after all these years. The way it used to echo so freely through the crimson Gryffindor common room, and now through you two’s cozy flat, couldn’t help but make you fall even more madly in love with him.

George somehow brought out the kid in you that laid dormant for so many years. With him, the world seemed so vibrant; there was always a little adventure waiting for you both, even in mundane activities like laundry. He would bunch up the freshly-washed paisley and tessellated dress shirts that he wore down to the shop daily, pelting them at you like the snowballs that he enchanted to hit Quirrell all the way back in third year.

You loved George with all your heart, as did he.

After a while of movie-watching, George drifted off into a light sleep. His hazy dream was filled with thoughts of the school he called home for so long. The smell of the burning logs and pumpkin that would drift through his nostrils every morning as he walked down the steps from his dorm; the sound of first years’ giggles as they messed with one of his pranks.

His brain then swam through the blurry memories to the first time he met you, the real you, drinking Firewhiskey and playing truth or dare in the back of the common room with the Golden Trio and crew after a victorious Quidditch game.

He thought of your first date, your face scrunched with belly-aching laughter as you tried stuffing in as many sweets as you could on a snowy Saturday at Honeydukes. The way the twisted rainbow lollipops and chocolate frogs made your face uncontrollably grin cemented what he swore the moment he first saw you: he vowed to never stop making you smile.

He couldn’t live a day without your joy-filled face; it enchanted him like the beautiful glow of fireworks against a smokey black sky, like the addicting feeling of adrenaline from breaking the rules.

----

“Georgie,” you whispered, “Georgie!”

Your drowsy boyfriend slowly drifted back to reality after hearing your soft whisper, your hands lightly tapping his chest to an invisible rhythm.

He released a yawn before asking, “What is it, angel?” His eyes fluttered lazily, and his lips were quirked to the smallest of smiles.

“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t fall asleep on the couch for the night,” you said caringly, “I knew you’d be even sorer in the morning if you did.”

George’s heart warmed at your thoughtfulness. He quickly took in his surroundings, which starkly contrasted his dreamscape. The television softly droning cheap infomercials instead of the muggle movie he fell asleep to, the blinds closed to hide the velvety black sky, and bits of buttery popcorn strewn across his chest and lap.

He sat up tiredly, swiping his hand carelessly through his vermillion-pigmented locks. He rubbed his umber eyes as you brushed loose kernels from his clothes to the carpet.

George muttered, “I love you, Y/N,” quietly, thinking you wouldn’t be able to hear it.

You did, however, and you reciprocated an “I love you, too” sweetly. You stood up from the couch, extending your hand to help droopy-eyed George up. He took your hand and he rose before walking towards the kitchen, drawn to the stark blue light of the refrigerator.

The fridge doors popped open, revealing tupperware full of picked-at leftovers, a few odds and ends, and a half-drank bottle of Dragon Barrel Brandy. He groaned at the meager scraps of food occupying the fridge, shutting the door disappointedly. The crisp air that surrounded him with a chill dissipated within an instant.

“Georgie, I think we should go off to bed. Tomorrow's Saturday, and I have a big surprise for you planned,” you said excitedly, coming up behind the man of your dreams, resting your hand steadily on his shoulder. He leaned into your touch as you guided the sleepy boy to the bedroom.

As the two of you laid down to go to sleep, facing one another, George asked in a tired, raspy voice, “What’s the surprise, darling? Or will I have to find out tomorrow?”

“You know I would never spoil a surprise. Don’t worry, you’ll love it.”

----

George awoke to the delectable scent of freshly-fried bacon and eggs wafting from the humble kitchen. The other half of the bed, he noticed, lay empty, the cozy handmade quilt blanket you usually dozed under laying askew. Sunlight poured through the windows, letting his linen covered body bask in golden morning rays.

After minutes of continuing to peacefully lay under the covers, absorbing the pure morning ambiance, George finally decided to get up and follow the delicious aromas emitting from the kitchen like a bloodhound.

As he entered, you were bent over the stove, guiding a spatula around in a lightly tarnished pan, appetizing pancakes browning within. You were still in your sleepwear, wearing oversized plaid pants that dragged across the tile and one of George’s shirts, which was huge on you and smelled strongly of his cologne.

He snuck up behind you quietly as a mouse, before unexpectedly poking the sides of your stomach. You let out a shocked, “George!” before bursting into laughter. Your chuckles blended with his effortlessly, creating a beautiful symphony.

“Morning, darling. I see you’re making breakfast,” George said with a smirk as he surveyed the surrounding food-covered counters. He seemed in a much better state than he was yesterday, his tired eyes replaced with resplendent brown and gold-speckled ones, which were flooded full of energy reminiscent of his adolescence.

“I am! And I made all your favorites, so get excited! The day’s only getting started.” You sent him a knowing wink, and he responded with a child-like grin. George giddily opened a cupboard, grabbing two shiny ceramic plates. He forked some already-cooked bacon and eggs onto each plate, shaping the food into two adorable smiley faces.

“What did I ever do to deserve such an amazing girlfriend like you?” George asked after giving your cheek an affectionate peck.

“The real question is, what didn’t you do? You’re perfect in my eyes, Georgie,” you heartfeltly admitted as you carried a small plate stacked with butter and syrup-coated warm pancakes coated to the table.

George had beaten you to the breakfast table, waiting patiently until you finally sat down in the chair to his side. He eagerly stabbed a forkful of egg, stuffing it into his mouth. While Ron was usually credited as the biggest food-lover of the Weasleys, there was no way you could deny that George was runner up.

He gulped down the rest of the meal quickly, sending breakfast-filled smiles in your direction after every bite. After both of your plates were squeaky-clean, you ventured to the bedroom to get ready for the busy day ahead of you.

You instructed George to wear “something comfortable,” and he happily complied, throwing on a cream-colored, pin-striped short-sleeve oxford with a pair of worn jeans. You selected something equally as comfortable, and adorable.

You were in the middle of packing a backpack full of snacks and water when George finally asked, “So… when do I get to know where we’re going?”

“We’re going to Hogwarts,” you said promptly with a knowing smile, greatly contrasting George’s look of perplexion.

“And how exactly are we going to manage that, love? Surely they wouldn’t allow an impromptu visit like this, even good ol’ McGonagall?”

“Well, let’s just say Hogwarts doesn’t actually know we’ll be there.”

----

Platform 9 ¾ could be seen bustling with life, the delicious taste of magic floating through the air. It sent you back to all of those years you spent before term, pushing a luggage-stacked trolley across the station.

The scarlet express heaved tufts of smoke from its chimney, a piercing shriek occasionally echoing from its whistle. The magical platform was coated with clumps of young witches and wizards and their parents; the brick floor could barely be seen under all the boots.

You bid goodbye to your parents, ready to start a new (magical) chapter of your life. As you skipped gleefully to the entrance of the enchanted coach, you caught sight of a rufescent sea of wizards bickering and chuckling with each other. There were six carrot-topped wizards in total: a middle-aged and balding father, an equally middle-aged warm and caring mother, a short and freckle-ridden son who appeared to be the oldest, a tall and stuck-up boy with pretentious-looking glasses who was tightening the crimson tie around his neck, and two identical-looking boys who seemed to be first years as well.

One of them could be seen tieing the stuck-up boy’s shoelaces together, a mischievous smirk on his face as he did. The other was distracting the glasses-wearing brother, shooting the knotter an occasional sneaky glance.

You smiled at the sight before stepping into the train, eager to make new friends. You felt a little less nervous upon seeing students chatting in their compartments; pure joy from students’ laughing and yelling filled the corridor.

You looked around in search of a promising compartment. Finally, after what felt like hours of looking, you settled on a compartment filled with three other first-years. There were two girls and a boy: one of the girls, Angelina, was animatedly recounting a story, the other, Alicia, sprinkled in witty comments, and a smitten-looking boy named Lee was blushing in the corner, listening intently.

After a while of bonding with your new friends, the train slowly began to chug along the tracks, rhythmic clanking creating some pleasant background ambiance. The train began to gain speed before your compartment door was slid open by none other than the vexatious redheaded twins.

The twin who tied his brother’s shoelaces together, who you later learned was named Fred, confidently took a seat next to Lee. They quickly struck up a conversation, seemingly clicking almost instantly. The twin who served as the distraction for his poor older brother, George, sat down next to you timidly.

At first, George was too shy to say anything other than a meek, “hello”, but as soon as the trolley stacked with sweets rolled around, he became quite talkative. He was very observant; he would enchant you with beautiful descriptions of the most minute details in the most mundane things.

George was so observant, in fact, that he noticed you didn’t get anything from the trolley, despite the look on your face saying that it wasn’t by choice. He could only afford a single chocolate frog with the spare change his mother gave him, which he handed to you with a toothy grin.

You yanked on George’s long arm, pulling him behind one of the large brick pillars supporting the platform. “Okay, George, for this to work, we can’t be seen by anyone.” You unsheathed your wand from your pocket, preparing to cast a spell.

“I’m going to cast a disillusionment charm, okay? This should make us blend in with our surroundings so we can sneak onto the train. If I do it correctly, we should be able to see each other just fine, though.”

After receiving an accepting nod from George, you gave him a light tap on the shoulder with the tip of your wand. Camouflage slowly dripped down his body, as if someone poured some sort of invisibility paint above his head. Just as quickly as he faded into the pillar behind him, he returned back to normal colors. You hoped he was still invisible to everyone else.

“Wicked,” he uttered, checking out his arms as they turned invisible and back.

You did the same to yourself without hesitation. George watched with curiosity as you blended seamlessly into the platform; he then admired you as your features slowly returned from invisibility. Every eyelash, every blemish, and every inch of your lips never failed to go unnoticed by him.

“What’s the next step of the plan, Captain?” George asked with a salute.

“So, without being seen, once all the students are off the platform and on the train, we need to sneak onto the caboose, where we should be able to ride safely. After that, it’s smooth sailing to Hogwarts!”

“That sounds easy enough… I think,” George said with his hand in his palm, thinking over the steps of the plan intently.

“Oh trust me, it’ll be great! I mean, if you can set off fireworks during an exam guarded by Umbridge, you can sneak onto a bloody train.” You gave George a reassuring thumbs-up.

“Don’t even remind me of that soul-sucking bright pink nightmare!” George said with a sarcastic eye roll.

As students slowly started filtering into the train, your time to strike inched closer and closer. Finally, the clock struck eleven, and you and George were dashing across the platform to the back of the train with your hands intertwined with one another’s.

You and George leaped onto the back ledge of the train just in time, for the scarlet locomotive slowly started rolling along the tracks just as you latched onto the railing. The both of you broke into cheers of triumph the moment the train was out of the vicinity of the station.

“Y/N, look at the window, there’s no reflection of us in it. We really are undetectable,” George mentioned, gesturing towards the window.

It was unsettling to not see your usual features bouncing off the window, but you were thankful that your charm had worked.

You moved to sit on the ledge of the train, which was small, only about a foot wide. You put your legs through the wide rails so that the soles of your sneakers nearly dragged on the tracks. George took a seat next to you, his lanky legs sitting crisscross.

The scenery that the express heaved through was breathtaking; it was even better feeling the crisp air on your face. The rolling moss-tinted hills, vibrant green and yellow trees that dotted the horizon, and worn stone archways that cut through the landscape allowing the train to huff on. All of it reminded you of the impressionist paintings in museums.

The sunlight bashfully peeked through the clouds like the small flashes of vibrant strawberries hiding under their large green leaves on a serene spring day. The air tasted sweet and refreshing; it felt like you hadn’t ever breathed until your lungs were filled with it.

You and George sat peacefully in silence, listening to the noises of the express and the faint chirping of birds, reflecting on the past. Eventually, he said softly, gaze pointed to the scenery, “I can still remember the moment I realized I was in love with you.”

He continued, “It was the start of fifth year, on this very train. The moment you sat down in the compartment next to me, I just knew. Everything was different. There were so many things I never noticed until then; it was like my eyes were finally open.”

Silence filled the air. You couldn’t think of what to say, and even if you did, you wouldn’t know how to say it.

“Everything about you looked so beautiful all of a sudden. The way you moved or swished your wand, the way your lips enunciated every heavenly word that fell from your tongue. All of it.”

George turned to you nervously. What if I messed it all up? What if that wasn’t the right thing to say? he thought. You stared down at the track, lost in the depths of your mind.

Everything George had ever spoken to you danced through your brain like ballet; his words sounded like rich and eloquent poetry, even his simple cheers or quips at teachers. Your heart felt like it was beating a million times the speed of the chugging crimson engine.

You rapidly pivoted your head to him, his uncertain gaze immediately locking deeply with yours’. Your eyes were clouded with determination and passion, which reflected in the kiss that you swiftly pulled him into. His lips felt magical against yours’, still oozing with lively youthfulness as always.

George tenderly tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, you wrapped one of your hands around the nape of his neck. The kiss softened, becoming something slow and loving. Your other hand intertwined delicately with his’, which lay softly on your thigh.

After a while of sugary sweet kissing, George’s lips parted, uttering an “I love you,” lightly.

“I love you, too. Promise me you’ll marry me someday?” You asked, still heavily under the angelic ginger’s trance.

“You know I couldn’t marry anyone but you, Y/N.”

----

The sun slowly retreated behind the horizon, painting the sky a brilliant and fiery orange, which nearly matched the hue of George’s wind-swept hair. You languidly rested your head on his broad shoulder, staring out in the distance. Your face lingered with euphoria, courtesy of George’s amazing kisses which had just peppered every inch of it.

The backpack stocked with snacks you perfectly packed was now filled only with empty food wrappers. Most of the various foodstuffs had found a new home safely in your boyfriend’s black hole of a stomach, leaving you with mere crumbs to chew.

“Georgie… why’d you have to eat all the snacks? I’m starving,” you asked dramatically, pretending to be skin-and-bones.

“I’m sorry I didn’t save enough for you, darling. I would give you some but… y’know… they’re in my stomach.” George petted your hair caringly with a regretful smile, his strong fingers gently brushing through your strands, taking in the familiar scent of your shampoo.

As you sat, gaze towards the breathtaking sunset, George mechanically started braiding a small section of your hair. He had always been an expert at braids; Ginny taught him how to fourth year. His mind was elsewhere than your strands, however, for he was plotting something significantly more mischievous.

George retracted his hands from your hair, the soothing touch of his fingers dissipating from your scalp. He stood up from the cozy spot beside you, turning to peer through the window of the coach. His eyes scanned the corridor like a hawk, his brain spindling abstract ideas into a devious plan reminiscent of the schemes he so often plotted back at Hogwarts.

“Georgie, what are you doing?” you asked quizzically.

After one final glance through the coach window (bearing no reflection), he said with a devilishly handsome and mischievous smirk, “I have a plan.”

Before you could interrogate him any further, in one calculated motion, he swung the emergency door open, leaping inside the train full of students.

If anyone was skilled enough to pull off whatever he was set on doing, it was George. While Fred was often the instigator of the twins’ famous pranks, George was often pulling the weight of the trick.

You just hoped the disillusionment charm hadn’t worn off yet.

----

George silently crept through the corridors of each enchanted coach, elaborately dancing around stray students who occasionally ditched their compartments. His face was scrunched with determination as if he were a raider searching for the holy grail.

It took all his self-control, and more, to resist sneaking into Malfoy’s compartment and giving him a slap across the head; it was even harder resisting giving Ron a friendly spook, along with the other members of the Golden Trio. He decided to stay on track of his mission, for you and you only.

Every coach he passed through, he became increasingly more irritated and nervous. Now that he was an adult, there wouldn’t just be a simple ten points deducted from Gryffindor, no. Sneaking onto a train full of students and stealing candy from the poor old lady’s trolley of sweets would be a hefty fine. Molly would definitely not be pleased.

Finally, in the coach closest to the engine (and unfortunately furthest from the back), laid the trolley, luckily unattended. It was practically overflowing with classic sweets that he used to enjoy so much: colorful Berties Botts Every Flavour Beans (he swears he got a booger flavored one once), towering stacks of frosted cauldron cakes, clear-as-glass sugar quills, and chocolate frogs.

George, of course, knew your favorite anything and everything like the back of his hand. He swiftly grabbed a package of candy from the bottom rack of the trolley, a twinge of guilt hitting him in the heart. The kind old lady would be down one treat. His guilt was quickly alleviated when magically, another perfectly packaged sweet filled the empty space.

The expedition back to the caboose was a decidedly more risky one; it’s a lot more obvious that someone is invisible when a piece of candy is levitating midair. Luckily, the darker it got outside, the more students opted for the comfort of their cozy compartments, which fostered the perfect environment for sleeping. After all, when he and Fred would pull pranks on the train, this was the hour they’d hit the hardest.

He was nearly to the back coach when a now sixth year Neville Longbottom emerged from his cabin, a defeated look on his face. A harshly conquered game of wizard’s chess could be seen, Luna Lovegood sitting next to the board with a neutral smile resting on her lips.

George had tried to dance around Neville, but Longbottom’s clumsiness was no match for him. Not even a second passed before Neville rammed headfirst into George’s chest, falling backward. He laid on the floor for a minute, dumbfounded, before cautiously getting up, reaching for the floating sweet that George grasped high above his head.

George couldn’t help but mutter a low ‘sorry’ to poor Neville before rapidly darting past him towards the door. Neville looked around suspiciously for a minute longer before accepting the fact that he had likely been the subject of another foul prank.

Finally, unscathed, George returned to the rear of the train, where you lay half sprawled across the ledge sleepily. Your eyes were closed, your ears focused on the calming rhythmic rattling of the wheels on the track.

A small smile couldn’t help but creep onto George’s face at the sight of you asleep. He gently tapped you awake, a soft hum escaping his lips. Your eyes fluttered open, a loving look glazing them.

“What is it, Georgie?” you asked, taking in your surroundings.

“Just wanted to make sure that you didn’t fall asleep here. You’d be sore by the time we get to our destination if you did,” George said with a wink.

He outstretched his hand like Prince Charming, helping you stand up from the floor. Your rubious-haired boyfriend inconspicuously held his other hand behind his back, concealing the candy in his large palm.

“Where did you go, George? One moment you’re out here with me, next moment you’re off into the train packed full of people!” you questioned curiously, inspecting George from head to toe.

“Well, you said you were hungry, so naturally....” he said, “I had to get you something to eat.”

George held out a single chocolate frog in his hand like a proud little kid. He wore the exact same smile he sported first year: a look radiating innocence and kindness. You gingerly accepted the frog, slowly unwrapping the chocolate and stuffing the card in your pocket for Ron.

“...just like first year,” you muttered, barely able to make a sound.

You were seated on the tail of the express once again, eyes pointed towards the inky black and star-blemished sky. George quickly mirrored your actions, comfortably sitting next to you. While you munched on your chocolate frog joyfully, George rested his head on your shoulder, even though he was very much taller than you. He momentarily began humming a lullaby he learned as a baby; the vibrations emitted from his voice box resonated comfortingly through your body.

His angelic humming echoed lovingly through your brain all the way to Hogwarts.

----

The train screeched to a halt at the Hogwarts station behind the school. The soothing rattle of the train ceased, to your dismay, and exuberant students began to flood out of the express like a tidal wave. You and George trailed far behind the various cliques of students, cracking jokes at the expense of the new first years.

“Look at that poor one! He’s fixed to become the new Neville!” you said laughing, before getting a playful elbow from George.

“McGonagall will have quite the handful with those two over there. Reckon they’ll be tricksters like us?” George asked with a nostalgic laugh, pointing at two boys who were sneakily distributing some sort of (surely hexed) candy to their gullible peers. They looked so much like Fred and George did in their first year, down to the very same expression.

“No doubt about it,” you said confidently, darting your eyes comparatively from the boys to your boyfriend. “It really is quite uncanny.”

Soon enough, the towering main entrance to the castle was opened with a swish, and the distinctly familiar smell flooded your nostrils. You were finally home once again. Not much had changed since you left, besides the absence of all of Umbridge’s devious decrees, replaced with some friendly-looking paintings.

“Looks the exact same, doesn’t it?” George whispered, careful to be unnoticed by the excited soon-to-be-sorted first years who were guided to the Great Hall. You nodded yes, clenching his hand harder with exhilaration.

Instead of risking getting caught during the time-honored Sorting Ceremony, you and George walked aimlessly, enjoying the unique ambiance of the school. After a while of galavanting around the halls, you climbed the moving steps towards the Gryffindor tower.

“Open up, it's George,” he whispered to the portrait of the Fat Lady with a smirk, and surprisingly, she obliged with a pleasantly surprised smile. Your stare flickered from George to the portrait, mouth agape.

“Let’s just say, me and the Fat Lady have a lot of… history. Oh, not like that!” George let out a laugh followed by an adorable wink.

You gravitated towards the comfortable crimson couches which sat by the large and inviting fireplace, dragging George’s hand behind you.

Your body melted into the red plush of the couch, the soft material much more desirable than the stiff metal rails of the express. Your carrot-topped better half took a seat next to you, his body intertwining with yours.

Gryffindors threatened to flood into the common room any given moment, so you wasted no time pulling George’s soft shirt to your chest for a gentle and loving kiss.

“Blimey! Get a room you two!” Ron said, walking towards the two of you from the portrait, gagging.

“I guess the charm’s worn off, Georgie.”

“Just in time, too,” he said with a slightly cocky smile.

You turned to Ron, who reluctantly held his arms out for a hug. You ran to him with all your might, meeting the messy-haired ginger’s chest. “I’m so glad to see you again. It’s felt like ages.”

“Glad to see you too, Y/N,” he said with a genuine smile.

Harry and Hermione entered not long after, a matching perplexed expression on their faces. “Y/N? George? How’d you get in here? Surely McGonagall wouldn’t permit a visit such as this?” Hermione asked, giving you a small but confused hug.

“Well, the thing is, no one knows we’re actually here,” George said, a grin on his face.

“How’d you do it? Sneak in here, I mean,” Harry asked, eager to learn a new way to sneak to the school.

“Snuck onto the express. Brilliant idea and execution courtesy of my dear Y/N. She’s a genius in training. Learning from the best, of course,” George said sarcastically, his thumb pointing to his chest.

“Very funny, Georgie. This one was all me. My magnum opus, some would say.”

----

The ensuing night was amazing. Laughter echoed through the cherry-tinted walls of the common room like a magnificent orchestra; classic games like spin the bottle and truth or dare were played religiously.

By the time it struck midnight, your mind had nearly escaped to your hazy dreamscape too many times to count. It had been a long day; you started early with cooking a full breakfast, sneaking onto the Hogwarts Express, and partying for hours into the night with the Gryffindors, all with the love of your life. To say you were exhausted was a massive understatement.

Harry had graciously offered his comfortable bed to you, Ron reluctantly sacrificing his to George. “You owe me one,” he repeatedly grumbled to his older brother, who plastered a sickly innocent smile on in response.

George took quick notice of the unfathomable exhaustion plastered onto your face from his couch across from you, immediately announcing to the chatting group of friends, “I think it’s time for me and Y/N to turn in for the night. See you all in the morning.”

‘Goodnights’ drifted in and out of your ears as George picked you up from the couch bridal-style, carrying you light-as-a feather up the steps to the boys’ dorms. He could envision a furious Head Boy Percy demanding, ‘Put her down, George! Girls sleep in the girls’ dormitories, boys in the boys’! They have that rule for a reason!’

He smiled as he creaked open the sixth year boys’ dorm’s door, laying you peacefully onto Harry’s scarlet four-poster bed. He grabbed some cozy knitted blankets, gently setting them over your body.

“There you are, angel, have a good nights’ sleep. I love you with all my heart,” George cooed. He turned to Ron’s bed with a smile before you grasped his hand desperately.

“Before you go to bed Georgie, did you have fun today? I know you super were stressed out yesterday and all,” your words came out slurred and tired, some borderline incoherent.

“I have fun any time I’m with you, darling,” he said, smoothing your ruffled hair. “But yes, I had the time of my life with you today. Just being with you makes my day infinitely brighter. You’re like my little sunshine.”

“And will you actually marry me someday, Georgie?” you asked, your droopy eyes filled with an unfathomable and everlasting love. You were deep under the heavenly redhead’s spell once again.

“I always keep my word, darling.”

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