#i just throw everything and the kitchen sink into my game and hope it sticks lol

[i4bellingham]

Ugh, pt 2 for the choice!! Maybe when she goes home and tells Jude what happened? (Here’s to hoping she comes to her senses and sticks with him)

THE CHOICE part two : jude bellingham x reader

part two to this jude fic right here !! + not proofread !!! and can i just mention how my fondness for musiala and bayern grew basically a ton since i last posted a fic ?? like i've been rewatching games that i missed and have been binge-watching their entire content in youtube like ???? bruv i need to calm down

Everything was a blur.

A series of images flashing by your eyes in a fuzzy memory.

One minute you were answering your phone, mumbling a hurried “I’m on my way back home,” before you're wrenching your car door open in a frenzied state just to get away from Trent’s grasp.

You can faintly remember him calling out for you, a soft grip on your wrist as he tried to pull you back to him but you prevailed, an angry set of muttering leaving your lips before you now find yourself in front of your home.

Jude’s car is parked just beside you, signalling he's probably home now after hearing the shakiness and stress in your voice during the call that didn't even last for a mere minute.

The engine was already shut but you still remained stationary inside the warmth of your vehicle, with your thoughts running in crazy directions inside your head.

Jude is not aware of what truly transpired between you and Trent, and although you feel like he's got the gist of it, he doesn't know the entire thing that went down.

You feel like an absolute shit. Both as a person and as his girlfriend. You knew you should've told him everything before you said ‘yes’ to his question of being his girlfriend, sure you might hold some residual feelings for Trent and they're not as strong as the one you hold dear for Jude but the thing is, there is still a remainder fondness for the guy who you should have never let cross boundaries with you like that in the first place.

And worst of it all, Trent kissed you not even a full hour ago and you weren't there fully in your consciousness to stop it.

You don’t want to tell Jude and hurt him. But either way, you know there is a possibility that you'll end up doing just exactly that if the secrets and lies keep on piling up.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips at the thought. You really really don’t want to hurt Jude. It's the last thing you'd want to do especially to him but if you truly want to move past this stage, not just for your own self but for your relationship as well, you knew that coming clean to everything is the right thing to do.

And that's exactly what you're about to do.

The unmistakeable pounding in your chest and the clammy palms you wiped a few times over your shirt made breathing normally a tad bit challenging for you.

You take another deep breathe before pushing the door to your home open, immediately being greeted by the soft savory smell of a familiar dish you loved.

As you emerged from the hallway, you notice Jude on the open kitchen right away. There are drying pots and sauce pans on your sink, to which you presumed he used when cooking. The man himself was busy wiping down your marble countertop and mouthing the lyrics to a song playing in the background to notice your arrival.

In the dining table, two plates of your favorite pasta dish, a box of your favorite pastry and a bottle of your go-to non-alcoholic drink sat.

The temptation of punching yourself straight in the face was more than just a reoccurring thought. The guilt and anxiousness the brewed in the pit of your stomach made you want to throw up.

You could lose Jude after this.

There is a possibility that you'd lose him after this.

But you knew that he deserves to know the truth, for the entire thing even what happened tonight.

You're not certain how he'll react to it and you know losing him was feasible at this point. But if you have to beg on your knees to keep him, to make him stay, you will. If you have to endure a lot of things in order to keep him, you will go through them painstakingly.

Because you can’t lose the only man who showed genuine care and love for you. You can never get back up if you lose him, not after he picked up the only remaining fragile bits of you. Most importantly, you certainly can not let the man you love go even if it means not having some form of connection with Trent after this entire dilemma.

Slowly and silently, you walk over to where Jude was.

You wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face against his back feeling him jump at the sudden motion.

“Bloody hell- love!” Jude sighs at the sight of you, turning his entire body around to properly face you before he encircles his own arms over your shoulders. “You scared me! Do you want to give me a heart attack or something?”

He plants a kiss on your head, brows wrenching when you remained unresponsive.

“Surely you're not upset you didn't give me that no?” He jokes, almost making you cackle had the weight of this entire situation not been dragging you down. Jude shakes your shoulders, slightly pulling you away from him to take a look at your face. He immediately sees the tears pooling at your lash line, and with this he grabs you by the shoulders before pulling you with him on the couch; the food on the table he'd cooked all forgotten.

He sits you down on the couch before crouching in front of you, cupping your face on his palms.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen? Are you hurt? You were at Trent’s right? What's wrong? Did you guys fight-?”

“Jude.”

Sensing the seriousness and dread in your voice, Jude fixes his stance in front of you as he anticipates for the next words to come out of your mouth.

If you had a choice, you would take some time to collect your wits. Maybe spend a day with just yourself and think everything that you needed to tell him through. Just to settle down everything you wanted to confess to have your thoughts enunciated clearly in the manner that Jude can understand better.

But you don’t have that opportunity as you sat now, mouth opening and closing for a couple of times before you're being instructed by your boyfriend to breathe.

And take a deep breathe you did before the words came tumbling out of your mouth in a succession of how the events took place.

You told him about your feelings for Trent, what went down during the New Year’s eve and how your supposed best friend acted during his own birthday. You told him about how incredibly grateful you are to find him as a friend, before that title was ultimately changed into being your boyfriend. You told him about how you didn't want to lose him and everything you both got, not even in exchange for a future with Trent. You told him about your lingering feelings for Trent, one that he shouldn't worry about because you know they're only there and existing because you still care about him and the memories you had together. You told him about what happened during your visit at Trent’s tonight, how his friend and your best friend had kissed you and how you weren't able to push him fast enough because you were shocked and in disbelief. You told him everything, not leaving one single thought and memory behind, all the while gripping onto his hands that grew loose the moment you mentioned about the residual feelings you still hold for Trent.

Jude was silent the entire time you rambled, now hanging his head low as the space between you two grow silent.

He was still crouched down in front of you, but the hold on your hand had loosened incredibly that made your worries grow tenfold.

You know the thought is still a possibility, with the entire thing being let out in the open and susceptible for him to know of and understand, you know he could potentially break things up with you.

And the thought scares you more than you let on.

“... Jude?” You grip onto his hand harder, lightly shaking his wrists. “Baby please talk to me...”

But he doesn't.

Not straightaway at least.

When Jude removes his hands from your grasp, you almost felt like your entire world collapsed from that alone, thinking that everything was gonna be over for you and your relationship and the reprimanding thoughts spread wide inside your head, thinking that you deserved every bits of it if it did came down to having Jude break it off with you.

You wanted to breath a sigh of relief when he instead moves to sit down beside you, an arm's length of space dividing you both.

But you don’t. Not until he says something anyways, even if you're gonna be on the receiving end of his harsh remarks and accusations, you'll gladly open your ears to accept them.

Jude swipes a thumb over his lips, eyes fixated on the carpet underneath the coffee table as he speaks.

“Do you still love Trent?”

“Not in the way you think I do, but yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before? Everything that happened?”

“Because Trent and I swept it under the rug ourselves. That night you and I met at the party, Trent and I didn't really talk and meet up after that. We only started communicating back when we began dating officially and the whole thing kind of was just forgotten... until tonight.”

Jude takes a glance at you, seeing the pout in your lips and the tears that gathered once more on your lash line. “Why didn't you tell all of this to me by your own then?”

You grow silent at this for a few moments, fingers swiping underneath your eyes before a shaky breath leaves your chest, fingers fiddling with the loose ends of your shirt as you recollect yourself.

“Because I’m scared.” You whisper, shoulders sagging. “I’m scared that you'll leave me the moment you find out about my history with Trentㅡnot that it's impossible right now anyways but I’m just scared... I was scared that I’ll lose everything we have and that I'd lose you because of this. So I kept a tight mouth about it thinking that I’ll tell you everything once Trent and I talked, but obviously shit went down tonight so here we are.”

Jude didn’t show any reaction as he listened to your explanation, just sitting still on his spot with a nonchalant face that gave you no leeway to gauge of his thoughts.

Knowing how extremely expressive your boyfriend is regardless of the situation, this sight of him with a deadpan face on just concluded the thoughts racing through your head.

“... I feel betrayed and hurt.” He starts off, eyes meeting yours for the very first time since you've done your ramble. “I had an inclination of what happened between the both you, just that I thought you'd liked him and he didn't reciprocate the feelings or whatever but I didn't know you guys hooked up-”

“We made out a couple of times Jude I swear to you that's all there is to that.” You chime in. You sit in front of him, taking his hands in your shaky, cold ones. “I’m so sorry for keeping this from you. I’m so sorry that it had to end up like this but I swear if I had known Trent would try something like that I wouldn't have gone to his house in the first place. Jude, please believe me. I would never intentionally hurt you... please, I don’t want to lose you.”

Globs of tears freely rolled on your cheeks as you drop your head low, voice turning into a mumble at the end of your sentence to stifle down the sobs that wracked your body to quiver.

“Please believe me... there was not a single time in this relationship that I lied to you. I would never lie to you Jude, please don't hate me-”

He'd never pinpoint what it is, but Jude thinks it's the amount of love and trust he has for you that made him pick you up from the ground and onto his lap, securing you with an arm around your waist and one over the back of your head, cradling you as you wept for forgiveness against his chest and wetting his shirt with your tears.

Love is such a fickle thing. One moment he was ready to pack some of his things, let the entire situation cool down and give you a moment and space to think about everything.

Jude did feel hurt, and upset and betrayed and angry. But he couldn't entirely shift the blame of how this night ended on you. He did have a clue of what your previous connection to Trent was, he knows he could've done something then to prevent it from spiraling out of control entirely but Jude himself was afraid.

What if everything you both had and built was from a foundation of lies? What if you still loved Trent? What if you were still seeing Trent behind his back? When he wasn't there with you?

But Jude wills himself to stop forming these kinds of thoughts; ones that places you in a bad light because if he's being honest, all he's ever seen and felt from you since you started dating was your genuine fondness and care for him. All he's gotten being on the receiving end of you attention was nothing short of your love shown in many different ways. You were always so lovely, so kind and so thoughtful of him that there's not a single day where he doesn't think that he got lucky to have you as his girlfriend. You've never once lied about anything except for when the playful conversation starts.

And your panic and anxiousness from when you answered the phone and when you got home was also enough for Jude to believe you. He's not gonna question if it's the right thing to do or if he's gonna regret doing this, all because he trusts you.

If Jude had diminished all of it the moment you told him the truth, he wouldn't even bother hearing you out for every questions that you answered with a worried gaze to him, as if you're anticipating for him to just up and leave through the front doors.

Jude kisses your hairline, planting a few more over your head. “It’s alright love, I believe you... it’s alright, I don’t hate you...”

But you don't stop muttering apologies against his chest, almost as if you didn’t hear him.

“’m sorry please don’t leave me... I’m sorry...”

Jude holds you close to him, not even minding the time and how late it had gotten since your conversation. Your cries had simmered down now and your pleas had reduced into a sporadic whisper. There is a huge wet patch of where your tears had drenched his chest, almost soaking the fabric through and through. The hold you had on his arm was still in the same tight grip as he's carrying you to your shared room, never once faltering in their firmness even as you slept in his arms.

Jude places you on your usual side of the bed, taking of your shirt, pants and shoes and replacing them with your go-to nightwear that's basically just an old plain shirt of his. He takes your makeup wipes from the bathroom, slowly and carefully wiping away the residue of any cosmetics before he's doing it two more times just in case he didn't get all of them in three tries. He also combs your hair, unknotting the matted parts from the cold air before letting it freely lay on your pillow.

Jude himself freshens up, changing his shirt and throwing the dirtied clothes in the hamper along with yours before he's sliding underneath the blankets with you, throwing an arm over your waist as you turn around in your sleep, wrapping a hand over his biceps and a leg in between his with your head against his chest.

Jude holds you close to him, laying wide awake on your bed as you slept soundly. There are no other thoughts in his head, but he knows the both of you needs to talk this through if you want the relationship to work.

Though he feels as though you're not the person he should be having the conversation with the next time. Jude had already heard your side of the story, it's only a matter of time before a confrontation between him and Trent happens too.

And if sensing that he's in Jude’s intrusive thoughts, your charging phone on the night stand lights up before it shortly begins to vibrate against the wood. And the name that used to be on good terms with Jude flashing on your screen now brought nothing but a knitted brows and a frowning face.

Jude reaches out to take the device from the table, unlocking it briefly before swiping the icon to the left, red button and ending the on-going call immediately. Jude doesn't waste any more of his time before he's sending a message to the contact number, and not long after that he blocks the contact off your phone too.

　

　　　　　　　　　　ㅡ

　　　　　　　　to: trent AA

　　　　　　　　　　 　 3:06 am

nice try mate

some good friend you are

don’t contact my girlfriend ever again.

　　　　　　　　　　ㅡ

[ja3hwa]

Little Miracle | Yeosang Pt.1

「Synopsis」 : You're not ready for a baby and neither is Yeosang. But what will happen when you tell him...

「Word count」 : 1.3k

-> Genre: Angst

Paring: Idol! Yeosang x Reader

[Warnings] : Hella angst. Heartbreak, Yeosang Blows up, blood, pregnancy, ultrasounds, doctors, talking about the female Anatomy. Miscarriage. This could be very triggering. Please be mind full.

Note : Thank you to my anon on wattpad for this request. I don't normally do fics like this but I hope you read it well. And given this is a triggering subject I hope i was able to deliver a emotional fic for you. Please be mindful that though I write for entertainment, this fic is no way in any shape, glorifying, fantasising, or exposing miscarriage in and "trendy" or popular way. Please note that this is a serious topic.

[REBLOG AND COMMENT FEEDBACK]

Part Two

The feeling of uneasiness crept over your soul and body. How were you supposed to tell your boyfriend that he got you pregnant? The worse part, by accident! Granted you both always take protection very seriously but none of that helps when you both get drunk off your head one night...

That was almost 4 weeks ago and now here you are with a pregnancy test in your bag heading over to see the boys at their dorm. It was supposed to be a chill-out day. Come over for lunch and games, but waking up with morning sickness made your heart sink. You're not ready for a baby, and neither is Yeosang. He only has just become successful with his Idol career, he doesn't need to have a baby scandal to ruin it.

Walking up to the door of the dorm, you give it a knock before entering. "Hello" you call out, heading further into the house. Upon entering you see Mingi, Jongho and Yunho in the kitchen. By the looks of it, they are going over a take-out menu to see what to order for lunch.

They all wave hello, giving you hugs and affirmation. Smiling them off, you head to the lounge room that connects with a nice balcony. Hongjoong is on the phone outside, most likely talking about work. He gives you a wave which you repeat back, before saying hi to the two boys sitting on the floor playing Mario cart. San and wooyoung scream back making seonghwa hiss from the loudness.

"Hi ahha, anyone know where Y-Yeo is?" You suddenly got stuck on his name. A lump in your throat form. Even though the boys around you are so cheery and happy, the feeling of pain comes lurking behind.

"He's in his room, I think he was getting dressed from being at the gym," Wooyoung answered. You waved off a thank you, heading to his room.

"Yeosang..." You call out, knocking at the door. You hear a faint 'Come in' accepting your entry.

"Hey, Darling, your here a little early." He gives a half smile, slipping his phone away from his grasp, placing it next to his slumped body on the edge of his bed.

"Yeah well, I was hoping to tell you something. And I-...I couldn't..wait.." You stutter out your sentence taking a seat next to him.

"What's wrong?" He places a hand on your leg rubbing small circles to try to calm you. Reality kicked in and everything seems like time has stopped. The world was falling apart. And you had to be the one to bear Yeosang into the mess.

"I-I'm..." You take out the stick and grabbing his hand, you place it in his palm. Pulling away the words finally fall out.

"I'm Pregnant..." His soft loving eyes soon fell dark and unreadable one's show. His body stiffens, staring down at the test with two very clear lines on it. He stood up the sense of anger within panic grew on him.

"This is impossible.." He finally spoke.

"Well N-Not really, Remember we got Drunk An—.." before you could finish your sentence, He snaps the stick in half throwing it to the ground. At that moment your heart broke.

"NO! THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING." He rakes his fingers through his hair, stress clouding over him seeing the broke test before storming out the room, slamming the door hard behind him. The tears no longer were able to be held back. You yelp out feeling your body, heart and soul, shatter at the event that just happened.

A minute passed, wiping your tears away you go to make your leave for good. Not wanting to come back here for a while. All the boys except Yeosang were standing in the lounge, wondering what just happened.

"I'm leaving." You spoke making them all turn to you. They all started hugging you and asking if you are okay and what had happened. You choke on your tears trying to hide the broken feeling inside.

"Yeosang and I just had a conflict. And I don't think it's good for me to stay here anymore..." You look over at hongjoong as he gives you a worried look.

"Please tell him that he doesn't need to worry about what's going to happen. I'll be okay on my own. I'll stay out of his life." And with that, you make your quick exit. Heading home before any of the others could chase you.

Two days have passed and Yeosang hasn't even made an effort to contact you. To your knowledge, the boys all think you both just broke up and have no clue of you carrying a child. His child. What's worse though is the morning sickness is becoming unbearable. Luckily you being your own boss taking time off work was a gift to you.

You end up calling the hospital to book an ultrasound and as if it was like a wish being granted, you got booked in for later that same day.

Knee bouncing you wait for the doctor to come back into the room to give you, your results. Not only did you do an ultrasound to see if the baby was doing okay but you did some other tests to make sure everything was going smoothly.

"Ms L/N. I have some news for you.." She cleared her throat, making you become anxious.

"What is it?."

"Well, it seems your baby your having is nothing but a miracle. Your ovaries seem to be damaged from genetic reasons. The sack seems worn as well. So what I'm trying to say is you shouldn't be able to get pregnant naturally..."

"Wh-what do you mean not able?"

"The womb where you carry the baby shouldn't be working for you. And you only seem to have had the one egg. So the chance of having a child naturally for you is one out of a hundred chances. So congratulations" she smiled. Your hand fell to your stomach rubbing it in circles before looking down.

Your baby is a miracle...

It's been officially 6 days since you've seen Yeosang or the other boys. They have tried messaging you but you brush them off saying you need time away. But Yeo was still silent. How could he put you through this? Ditching you with a baby, yelling and screaming at you. And now you're alone. All you wanted was to not be alone in this but yet he did just that.

You huff, throwing the t.v remote across the couch in annoyance. You needed to do something other than watching mindless shows. So you go to get up but suddenly a sharp pain— as if someone was stabbing you— erupts through your stomach. You rush to the bathroom, blaming it was something you ate but the feeling was unlike any other, your head became dizzy, the air seemed to escape your lungs and the stabbing continued. Until a heavy sound echoed with splashes of water...

You look down and you see nothing but blood. Blood covering your upper thighs. Glancing at your discarded shorts and underwear the blood was all over them as well. All your emotions came pooling knowing exactly what has just happened.

"No no no no no no no no." You scream out in pain, tears falling like a waterfall. Time has stopped and life becomes meaningless. The feeling of mourn filled with betrayal. As if it was something out of a twisted film...Your baby was gone... this can't be happening. She was supposed to be your little miracle...

-

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[heshoes]

She was his best friend and they shared everything together already anyway. What difference would it make if it were a hat, shampoo, or the same bed sometimes? So what? That's what the Uni Daze were about, having fun, traditions, getting serious, new relationships, friendships, heart ache, break-ups, make ups, secrets, the occasional/casual bajingo here and there, and possibly, just maybe, finding the love of your life and hoping that it all works out.

Warnings: smut, slow burn, angst, mentions of abortion, mentions of verbal abuse

Harry Styles x OC (Face claim Zendaya)

Uni Daze Masterlist

Chapter 1 (Word Count 4k)

Harry

Water droplets cascaded down my neck before I grabbed a towel to throw over my head. That shower was definitely needed. My muscles would be sore from my workout this morning, but I enjoy the ache. As I headed towards my room to put on clothes I noticed that my roommates door was still closed and for Michelle this can only mean one thing.

I pulled up my trousers and pulled my t-shirt over my head before layering it with a plaid button up. If she doesn't wake up soon, I'll be forced to take measures into my own hands. I walked halfway down the hall and then stopped to pick up the beanie that I let Michelle borrow last night. The hat was carelessly tossed on the floor along with a t-shirt of hers and a pink-ish orange lace bra. This was just one of the many downsides of living with a woman. Even if she is your best mate, finding the occasional bras and panties mixed into your clothes on laundry day can put a damper on your chances of trying and talk to a girl if you don’t have a washer and drier in house, and lets not even mention those four to five days out of the month when a tampon box is left on the bathroom sink and you have to explain that to a date. Not thinking, I picked all of the items up before I dropped the shirt and bra on the ground, feeling somewhat awkward touching something that was so close in contact with Michelle's...intimate bits.

"Michelle?!" No answer…

"Mitchell?! Wake up you're gonna be late for our first class!”

I laughed to myself at her lack of response before I sauntered back down the hall to my room grabbing the Ultimate Alarm; a fog horn that Michelle, the lads, and I nabbed from a school footie game. We each have one and have all have organized to use it with each other when the drink has made us more sluggish than functional.

Not much has changed since the first day I met Michelle. She's the only one here that I've met who seems to have stayed the same throughout all the three years of university that I've known her....That can be looked at as both a good and a bad thing.

Shaking the foghorn with devilish delight and biting my cheeks so that I wouldn't blow my cover, my feet stopped in front of her door once again. I cracked the entrance slightly sticking my arm in the room and turning my head away to shield my ears as much as possible from the noise. As soon as I pressed the button to sound it off, I heard a loud thudding sound followed by cursing. If she wasn't up before, she's up now.

"WHAT THE FUCK, HAZLAND?!”

I ran back to my room to put the horn down and grab my bag. This is the first year that I haven't strained my back to pick it up. Fouth year with a lighter load but more studying than I did in all the other three years combined seems pretty backwards to me, but I won't complain.

"What time is it?”

"Half- Oh-“

Michelle emerged from her room looking worse for wear. Her hair was in a nest atop her head and she only wore a long sleeved burgundy t-shirt and a black pair of boy short knickers on her lithe, lanky frame. I  swallowed deeply and turned my head away not expecting her to be so scantily clad. The colors contrasted with her warm honey/caramel skin tone and it was only then that I took in how much of her skin was actually showing. I've seen her naked before but it was an accident and brief. Very brief. I only saw her outlines really, nothing of real importance... not that I was trying to look or anything.

"Half past eight. Go put on trousers! I don't want to see your bajingo!”

Michelle primped her dry lips at me prior to moistening them with a swipe of her tongue, making sure to flip her middle finger up in my direction before she disappeared back into her room.

"Everyone wants to see my bajingo Harry and that's plenty of time for me to get ready. You didn't have to use the Ultimate Alarm. It's not like I was in a drug induced coma!”

"I called you twice but you didn't answer. I thought that-“

I trailed off my words as a gorgeous blonde walked out of Michelle's room. Her hair was tussled and she was scrambling to adjust her skirt as Michelle looked at me with a tightlipped grin, feeling out the room.Michelle walked her secret house guest to the door and gave her a lingering kiss that caused the girl to stand on tip toe before awkwardly waving a goodbye to her and shutting the door. I was left stunned.

"Pick your jaw up off the floor Styles!”

"That- that was a girl.”

“Yes."

"She was your friend?”

“No."

Michelle walked into the kitchen grabbing an orange juice carton out of the refrigerator. She took a sip straight from the jug causing me to grimace before she rolled her eyes at me and grabbed a  red solo cup. I was only momentarily distracted before I continued on my previous trail of thought.

"But, you were...and she…"

"Yes Harry, spit it out come on. You're almost there. I know it. I can feel it”

"She was putting her clothes back on.”

Michelle nodded her head in agreement as she continued to guzzle the rest of our citrusy, pulp free juice. After she finished it, she tossed the empty plastic to me and then walked out of the kitchen. I was right by the bin but set the cup on the countertop as my brain continued to navigate through what I think I want to ask.

"You didn't have on many clothes…"

"No, Harry. Neither of us did last night.”

Michelle folded her arms while squinting at me. The hint she's dropped allows what comes out of my mouth next to be uninhibited and honestly sound a bit too over zealous about the idea.

"You had sex with her?”

Michelle nodded her head up and down grinning slightly. Almost a smug look on her face I would say. She hadn't been in a relationship in a while. The last one I remember was when she was with my best mate Louis. It's how I met her as a matter of fact. Michelle and Louis are virtually the same person. It's freaky sometimes. She could be a reincarnate of him as a girl. They were inseparable, but when it ended it ended badly. I'm still not clear on the reason why. Neither of them will talk about it, but I managed to stay neutral in the whole situation and still be able to carry on a friendship with both of them. I'm still good friends with Lou, but he doesn't come around as much since I moved in with Michelle. Me and her got on so well while her and Louis dated it was hard not to become friends with her as well. Louis moved on and moved in with his bird earlier this year and I haven't really seen Michelle with anyone...Until now.

"So-so, you're a lesbian then?”

"Yes Harry. I've 'switched teams' as they say.”

"Since when?” I was just so shocked.

"Since over the summer...Does it bother you?” Michelle looked down at the ground and scratched the back of her neck as if she were bracing herself if I said it did and to be honest I was slightly offended that she’d think that way of me.

“No… No, I just never saw you with anyone over the summer.”

I could hear a sigh of relief escape Michelle’s lips as she turned to leave the front door.

I could have sworn she only hung out with me and the lads when Louis wasn't around. She hung out with us so much and we'd gotten so comfortable around her that we actually started counting her as one of the guys and calling her 'Mitch' or 'Mitchell' instead of Michelle. She always pretends to get cross with us when we called her that, but she can never keep a straight face long enough for us to believe that she doesn't like it.

"That doesn't mean I wasn't with anyone Harrow." Michelle winked at me and went back into her room coming out ten minutes later in joggers, a t-shirt, and Nike trainers with no backpack, one pencil, and a pen. Very prepared.

"Told you thirty minutes was more than enough time. Come now, Hazland.”

"...That's what she said." I smiled proudly at my own joke while Michelle gave me an unwavering a stale face.

"If I can say anything about growth in these last 4 years of our friendship it would be that you have made the least of it. You are the worst.”

“The pot shouldn’t call the kettle names. I thought it was funny." I grinned at her irritation grabbing all of my things in preparation to start the final year.

"Of course you did. Usually when you think it's funny that means it's not.”

Michelle exited out leaving me to lock the door to our new off campus apartment but I wanted to know more. 

I followed behind her and asked her all types of questions. You can't just spring on people that you've switched sides and not expect them to want to know all of the details. In all honesty it wasn't a big deal as long as she was happy. Perhaps I was just being nosy, but after usually seeing her with mainly men my underlying question to her was probably, "Why?"

"I wasn't having that much luck with guys, Haz. One night I went out for a drink and a girl approached me so I figured, why the hell not? What could it hurt, really? Nothing. I went for it, and I enjoyed myself.”

She didn't have a great track record with guys after her split with Lou. She was so unhappy at one point, but then again when you bring home assholes and expect them to turn into stand up gents tears are to be expected. They always looked like gutter grunge to me but at the moment that seemed to be her type, so I didn't say anything. I've actually spent a lot of nights with Michelle rubbing her back as she cried against my shoulder and handing her the odd Kleenex to substitute for my shirt. Now that I think about it, last summer I really didn't see her with any guys. I guess when I saw her with girls I always assumed they were just her friends.

"So...What's it like?”

"What's what like?”

"You know the, um, the switch...What's it like?" Michelle threw her head back and laughed as we reached the main building for our senior seminar class.

"You mean what's it like going from cock to fanny? Is that what you're asking me?" I raised my eyebrows at her bluntness and I could feel heat rise in my cheeks. There's no beating about the bush with Michelle, not anymore anyway.

"Pretty much, yeah. That's what I'm asking. I’m just being nosy. If it’s too much you don’t have to-“

"Honestly," Michelle shifted her eyes back and forth as if she was going to tell me the secret to life in her next sentence, "It's so much better. Guys have no clue what they're doing down there. It's so refreshing to have someone know exactly what it is that I want, when I want it, and how I want it without explaining myself like I'm a bloody rubix cube. Did you know that there are three holes down there?” She asked me sarcastically as if we weren’t both on track for Med school.

"I resent that! And no…no I didn't know that.” I replied to sarcasm with sarcasm, grinning to myself much like the purple devil emoji. I surely did know all the holes.

"Why is that, Hazland? The resentment issue?”

We took our seats in the half full lecture room at the back of the class as we normally do. Michelle, myself and the rest of the gang have started many an early weekend by sitting in the back of the class, signing the attendance sheet and then leaving when the professors back was turned. I don't think I'll do that this year though. I have too many important tests to take if I want to be a doctor. I mean to pass the UKCAT exam the first time.

"Because I'm not half bad at it. At least I don't think I am... Never got a complaint before and I don't intend to.”

Michelle laughed loudly as the professor walked in, drawing attention our way. I smiled and waved at the onlookers before Michelle chuckled again grabbing my hand to stop me as the professor started to speak.

"Just because you never got a complaint doesn't mean that it wasn't said, Harrow. Nine times out of ten, if you don’t hear a complaint it’s because she cares more about your ego than her orgasm...It’s a shame really.”

I primped my lips at her and we continued to whisper to each other back and forth while we took notes on what the professor wrote on the whiteboard during the lecture. There would be two major papers in this class. Thankfully for the twenty page essay that we'll be assigned to do later on in the quarter we can have a partner. Michelle quickly leaned her head on my shoulder choosing me to work with when the paper isn't even due until the last week of class. I of course accepted her. Not only is she my friend but she's one of those annoyingly clever people. I've honestly never seen Michelle open or purchase one required textbook in all of our three years knowing each other in our university careers, but every time marks are posted her marks are always first class honors.

By the end of class, I ended up giving Michelle a hefty amount of paper for notes in seminar and for the other classes she had throughout the rest of the day. It baffles me as to how she's this born genius, but the most unorganized person that I know at the same time. Her only response to my annoyance was, "At least I have writing utensils.”

"Was that girl this morning your girlfriend?”

"No. I'm an admitting fuckgirl. What’s the saying? If you can’t beat them join them. I refuse to be part of the played group any more. It's our last year after all. I figure it's time to up the ante. Let monogamy go.”

I laughed and shook my head before another question came up. It was always something I wanted to know about lesbians but was too embarrassed to ask. It's not like I have many lesbian friends who I could turn to and get the information that most want to know.  I'm never that embarrassed around Michelle though.

"So, erm, um...who's more dominant, when you're...You know?”

Michelle rolled her eyes at the question and I began to feel like an ass.

"When we're scissoring?" She spoke loudly making my thought about embarrassment wrong.

“Chelle!"

Michelle snickered knowing that she's put a vivid image in my head of her and the mystery blonde. I shake the thought before I get too carried away. I'm not supposed to get aroused with the thought of my best friend and another girl.

"Whoever feels like it whenever they feel like it? It was always a competition with men isn't it?”

“I don’t think it’s so much a competition as it is that some women don't like being on top?” I spoke presenting the idea causing her to pop her lips in disagreement.

“It’s never asked though is it? Sounds like male assumption to me. When I'm with a girl it's just flat out pleasurable for the pair of us. It's not about dominance, Harry. It's about getting off. Scissoring isn't a thing though, by the by.”

I nodded my head up and down still in awe that she of all people had taken a liking to someone who has the same bits as she does. It didnt' bother me like she thought it did earlier and I hope I didn't give her that impression by my line of questioning. Honestly these were just things I always wanted to know. I'm actually more hurt that scissoring apparently isn't a thing...They make it look so pleasurable in porn...I've been bamboozled.

"That's enough questions about me for now. What's happened to you?”

"What do you mean?"

"Harry full offense, but you were a slut when I first met you. You've since depleted in your numbers dramatically, except I'm sure the use of your hand. There were tissues in your bin the other night when I was cleaning the apartment and you don't have a cold…"

"I have h-hay fever Michelle! Allergies kick up at random times... Don't clean my room, I'll do it! It's personal in there. I knew I couldn't find any of my shit for a reason. And hang on-" I knotted my eyebrows playfully at her earlier slut comment.

I admit that I got around, but I moved very slowly. I've only ever had sex with seven or maybe nine girls in my twenty-one years give or take. I don't really keep count. It's not like they were souvenirs or notches on my belt for me to keep track of. All of them were an experience and I'm pretty sure I could name them all if I had to.

The first time happened my last year in 6th form or high school you could say and I didn't even know Michelle then. I got teased for that a bit, but I wasn't in a rush. The maybe other seven or eight happened here at uni but it wasn't as frequent as Michelle makes it out to be. The first two were in my first year when I met Michelle, one of them ended up being my girlfriend over a span of Five months. After that, I only was only ever active with a few more spaced out over the course of two and a half years, and they were regulars. That's not that bad when you think about it, especially for a guy my age at university.

"You were Haz! You had a new girl every weekend.”

"I did not! They were the same few people. They just kind of, alternated? You just never paid them any attention so you thought they were different every time. You're giving me more credit than I deserve." 

Michelle rolled her eyes and continued to tease me.

"Whatever. What's happened then?”

"I don't know what you mean. I got invested in my studies. I have to take the UKCAT this year.”

"When is the last time you fun bit wrestled, willy waggled, played 'hide the helmet', rolled in the hay as they say?" I scrunched my nose and then thought about it and then got frustrated that I had to actually think about it.

“Yet I’m the worst? Who’s this they you speak of?" I asked her, squinting my eyes and tilting my head to the side.

"Everyone says those things when talking about sex. The more mature ones do anyway. Stop dilly dallying and answer the question. When is the last time you put your 'p' in a ‘v'?"

"S-spring? Early spring? Early Spring terms I guess…"

I could feel my cheeks turn red as I answered her question and Michelle bit her cheeks as an odd snorting noise left her nose while she tried to hold in her laughter. It's not that funny.

"You haven't fucked since the spring?" I  laughed more at myself than at the shocked look on her face and shook my head no.

"No, not actual Spring. Early spring terms, so February...My birthday.”

"Harry, we're at the end of August here! You might as well count yourself as celibate. Not that I can blame the girls for dodging you. You still call a vagina a bajingo.”

I chuckled before I spoke, "The word vagina is honestly just as bad as bajingo. And this is coming from someone who has over a hundred words and phrases for sex.”

"A hundred and counting, Harrow.”

I shrugged my shoulders and tried to make the red in my cheeks less noticeable by rubbing my hand over my face. Spring term is when I decided to get more focused. I threw myself into clubs and my books to try to get more into school and buckle down. I'm even president of our graduating class now, prepared to serve on the Alumni council after graduation and I for one am proud of myself for getting this far. The greater half of my first three years here at university was spent at frat parties and in my bed sleeping class time away. I barely know how I made it through this far with decent grades, but I'm grateful that I did. Failure isn't an option.

Michelle stood on tip toe, leaning her head on my shoulder all the while soothingly rubbing my back. When I turned my head to face her, she batted her long lashes at me and made her big brown eyes look like one of those odd cartoon characters whose eyes cover more than half of their face.

"It's okay, Harry.”

"What is?”

"That you haven't gotten any pussy in over six months." Michelle has officially taken a back seat and let Mitchell take the wheel. This is how she got the nickname in the first place.

"Sod off Mitch! It's not like it's a bad thing-“

"Like shit it isn’t."

"I'm busy anyway.”

"With your hand and those bin tissues." I nudged Michelle off my shoulder feigning to be fed up with her masturbation jokes.

"Well if you weren't in my room you wouldn't have seen them! Gosh, you do something one time and then that's what people automatically associate you with!”

Michelle lets out another awkward snort that causes both of us to laugh out loud as we walk through the halls preparing to go our separate ways for the rest of the day.

"That was actually kind of funny Harry. Your jokes are getting a bit better.”

"Yeah, I know. They're funny when they're at my expense.”

"Aw, Hazland. You poor, poor serial masturbator. I'll see you later, yeah?”

"Yeah," I grinned at her before I turned to leave.

"Wait, how much later?” Michelle walked back towards me with one eyebrow raised to the sky as I tried to quickly map out my schedule for the day in my head before spitting it out to her.

"Uh, I get done with classes at half five, then I have a class meeting at six, and then I work at the first year halls front desk from seven to eleven thirty tonight. So I'll probably get home around midnight."

I contently sighed and grinned at Michelle as a look of pure horror took place of her once relaxed features. Her eyes seemed to widen larger after every additional activity that I listed, but I truly enjoyed remaining busy. Michelle's face remained contorted with displeasure before she spoke.

"So you're still coming to the pub later with the lads right?”

"Uh-oh. Chelle I don't know. I kind of forgot all about that. I don't think I will though, it's Monday and-“

"Ah, ah, ah, I'm not taking no as an answer. You promised and it's welcome week anyway. The pub is gonna be live! Just swing by and have one drink.”

“Nahhh I think I’m gonna-”

"One drink.”

“Sit this one out.”

"One drink, Harrow. One. Come on its tradition. You can't just bum out on tradition. This is our last year." She held up her tiny pointer finger to emphasize her point before she spoke again, this time in a small whisper, “One."

“No."

“Please?"

“No."

“Please?” Her lips pouted and her eyes turned sad trying her hand at manipulation.

"No, Chelle. No. Stop looking at me that way...Oh! Gah! Fine. I'll head to the pub when I get off work. One drink. One.”

Michelle bounced on her feet and clapped her hands in excitement making me shake my head before I turned to leave. Before I could make a real step Michelle called my name again.

"Hey, do you think I could borrow a pen? I seemed to have dropped mine."

[ohmycenchaheart]

Came across these headcanons that I’d written post the finale because I refused to accept the show ending like that. I refuse to believe that after everything they’ve gone through, Cha Young and Vincenzo cannot be together. Sorry PJB, but that’s not happening (even if it was sorta realistic and brilliant). Anyway. This is what I’d have loved to see play out. 

Homecoming

It happens on one of their game nights. Game day became game night because Cha Young often has trials at the court these days.

They’re playing Mafia again. Of course they are. And when Cha Young ends up as the Mafia, she thinks momentarily of a compliment, indulgently given over cups of Makgeolli, that maybe she truly did believe in the Mafia.

Their game is interrupted by the arrival of two of Geumga Family’s honorary members — Ahn Gi Seok and Cho Young Woon, who are lovingly welcomed with hugs and pats on the back. Because it’s not often most of the family gets to be together (most and not all, because one of them is always missing).

“Well, my old-looking hoobae and I were wondering if there’d be room for three more players at tonight’s game night…” “Yah, Ahn gun, we’ve been the ones drinking, but it seems you’re the one who is drunk,” says Mr. Tak. Upon which, Mr. Cho adds, “Ahh, you see, we brought an old friend along.”

And it is then a familiar voice greets them. “Annyeonghaseyo.”

To say that the Geumga Plaza family collectively loses it would be an understatement.

Mr. Nam is the first to tackle Vincenzo with a hug and his trademark “Byeonhosa-nim!”

Cha Young stands at the back, elated and trying to process if this is really happening, while Vincenzo gets hugged by the rest of the family. With a knowing smile, Yeon-Jin reassuringly squeezes Cha Young’s arm, while her husband gushes over Vincenzo, and others wait their turn to hug the now returned man.

When it is her turn for a hug, no one misses on how Vincenzo is the one to initiate the hug. No one even remarks on the soft look both their faces sport, or how their hug lasts a few seconds longer than the others’.

And then game night isn’t game night anymore. Over Tteokbokki and beer, Mr. Cho and Mr. Ahn reveal how they worked it all out, using their agency and the guillotine file to clear Vincenzo’s name and let him come back. On Vincenzo’s part, he still has his secret island, but he has moved his Italian family somewhere safe, and left someone very capable in charge. It’s not that he has changed his ways, no, he is still the man he was when he left. It’s just.. it was about time he returned home to his family.

The three also let the plaza people know how well Han Seo has been recovering after undergoing numerous surgeries, and how they hope he will be joining them back in Seoul after completing his rehabilitation therapy abroad. Mr. Nam wonders if that means they’ll be getting a new intern at Jipuragi sometime soon.

When Hee Soo accidentally drops her napkin and bends down to retrieve it, she catches the two lawyers holding hands under the table, while being the perfect picture of nonchalance. She smiles and doesn’t say a word.

When the family has finally finished catching up, and sleep gradually takes over them all, the group decides to disperse.

Before leaving, Mr. Lee and Yeon Jin let Vincenzo know what time his goddaughter will be awake the next day, so that he can finally meet her.

Cha Young and Vincenzo make their way to the footbridge (a place where some of their fondest memories linger still despite all the time that has passed) because there’s something Cha Young has to let him know: she might have (read: definitely has) taken over his old apartment.

It was honestly a matter of convenience, nothing else. For those days when work makes her put in longer hours, and it’s easier to sleep at the apartment rather than going back all the way home. Plus, she already had the spare key and it was easy to negotiate with Mr. Cho (who didn’t charge her a penny for the place, as if he’d dare). It had nothing to do with the fact that on days when Cha Young found herself missing him more than usual, curling up in this apartment brought her comfort. With all his things still there, sometimes it felt as if he hadn’t left.

But of course, Vincenzo already knows all this. Mr. Cho had already filled him in.

And so they make their way to the apartment 606. It still is sparsely furnished like the way it was when he lived there, but there are a few new additions. His couch has more pillows and a soft throw blanket. His living room table is littered with case files and a familiar bunny massage stick. In the kitchen there are boxes of ramen and instant coffee mix, and cartons holding makgeolli bottles. In his bathroom, there’s an extra toothbrush and a small make up bag by the sink. Bottles of shampoo and perfume and soap that smell like her now stand next to his old toiletries. It makes him smile because it feels he never left, like they’ve been living here together in this tiny apartment all this while, his world and hers mixing together. He won’t admit how many times he’s dreamt of this -- just them and the life they’ve made together.

When he enters his room, he finds half his closet space is taken over by her “emergency wardrobe”... And it seems his old Booralro sleepwear has somehow made its way to her pile of clothes. In Cha Young’s defence, despite looking silly, that silky nightshirt is ridiculously comfy, and it’d be such a shame if she let a limited edition piece of work go to waste. That she kept it because it reminds her of him remains unsaid.

The one addition Cha Young has made to the apartment that Vincenzo loves the most is in his room. Atop the dresser, next to all his lighters and Inzhagi’s bird food, are three photo frames. The first has a picture of him and his mum. The second is the portrait of the two of them with Cha Young. And the third is the picture from their fake proposal that the art gallery had emailed them. It’s funny how, despite spending all that time together, this was the only photo they had together. Vincenzo thinks it’s time they change that.

They both stand by the window, and when Inzhagi finally comes by to say hi to his old friend, Cha Young is reminded of a Shakespearean quote — Journeys end when lovers meet — because lets be real, Vincenzo’s true love is this pigeon. Vincenzo is highly offended when Inzhagi shows preference to the bird food Cha Young has laid out for him, and not the one Vincenzo has to offer. Guess Cha Young’s diligent feeding of the bird during his absence has secured her a new friend.

Given the late hour, it only makes sense that Cha Young sleep over. And traditions must be continued, so some ramyeon is made (this time it’s two servings because no matter what Cha Young says about not wanting ramyeon, Vincenzo remembers his lesson all too well) and bottles of Makgeolli are consumed.

The two wake up the next morning, all tangled up on the living room floor, in the space between the couch and the coffee table (that is now pushed aside). And despite the uncomfortable floor, it’s the soundest sleep they’ve both had in the last year and half.

But they need to wake up soon and head out. First stop coffee, a quick check up on their gold,  and then to meet his goddaughter over whom he has promised to look after. And after that, a quick stop to their old Bungeoppang stand (if it’s still there) and a drive to where their parents now rest.

This, Vincenzo thinks as he holds an asleep Cha Young in his arms, is what it means to finally be home.

[happysoldlady]

Game Night - Ezekiel Reyes

a/n: sorry that I went MIA again. y’all know how it is. here’s this. I cried. 

taglist: @woahitslucyylu​ @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @peaches007​ @cocotheclown​

You and EZ had been together for a little over a year, him being patched for a few months now. Most of the time the two of you were too exhausted to do much of anything but eat dinner and sleep. But once a month, at least, the two of you hosted game night for the club at your house. It wasn’t anything crazy, as all the members brought their wives and Coco usually brought Letty. It was something for all of you to do as a group that didn’t involve killing anyone, so everyone was on board. 

You had taken off work early today, and then wasn’t scheduled for tomorrow and you thought that tonight would be a great night for the infamous game night. You had been cooking literally all day, as feeding the whole crew was a job in itself. EZ had made sure that everyone knew to be there around 7:30, so they could all eat with plenty of time to play whatever game they decided on. It was nearing on 6:30 now, and you had a little mix of everything. The large spread calling your name as the smells made for a delicious enticement. 

You were keeping an eye on the rolls in the oven when you heard EZ’s bike pull up. You immediately smiled and peeked out the kitchen window to see him backing the bike up toward your garage so that all the other members could park with ease. 

You cracked the oven open to see your rolls a crispy brown. You grin, grabbing an oven-mitt and pulling them out.  You’re arranging them into a oblong bowl when EZ walks through the door, throwing his keys onto the small table beside it. He strolls into the kitchen and you swear you almost hear him moan at the spread of food. 

“How long have you been cooking?” EZ asks, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the counter, watching you. 

You place the last roll in the bowl, and then grab the cling wrap from underneath the sink to wrap around them hoping to keep them fresh for when the men start rolling in. 

“Feels like forever.” You say, leaning to give him a sweet kiss before pulling the cling wrap out of it’s box. 

You spend the next hour swatting at his hands, and then forcing him to go shower before everyone got there. You just hear the water turn on when you hear the first few bikes pull up. 

You touch up your lipstick and then open the door to step out onto the porch to greet everyone. Angel, of course, is first, him planting a kiss to your cheek as he walks inside. Then, Coco strolls up your porch, with a less than enthused Letty in toll. 

“Coco...” You greet with a grin, pulling him into a hug. You feel his jaw twitch as he bites back a smile. He also presses a kiss to your cheek and then strolls inside, stopping under the door frame to wait on Letty. She gives you a tight smile and a nod and you return it with a friendly grin, watching as they disappear inside. 

Gilly jogs up the steps and pulls you into hug. “I’m gonna give you a hug while EZ isn’t around to get pissed about it.” You both laugh, and he presses a kiss to your cheek before he also walks inside. 

You follow him inside to wait for the other members. Angel, Gilly and Coco always show up early so that they feel like they get first dibs on the food. You swat Angel’s hand away from the fried tortillas and then wink at Letty as she swipes a strawberry from the fruit tray. 

“Boy scout in the shower?” Coco asks, leaning against a wall. 

You smile and nod. “He should be almost done.” 

Angel, Gilly and Coco all exchange a look before they’re rushing down the hallway to the bathroom to pester him. 

You laugh and move the bowl of rolls to the end of the spread, and then making sure everything still looks fresh. 

“No lemonade this time?” Letty asks. Her eyes are peering at you from the opening in the kitchen and you smile. 

“You know, I forgot all about it. Do you wanna make some while we wait for the others?” You ask, walking to a cabinet above the stove and pulling out the lemonade mix. 

Letty hesitates for a second and then nods. “Yeah, that’d be cool.” 

You wave her over and show her how much mixture to put into the pitcher and then how much water. She nods, and then starts scooping. You smile encouragingly and then ask about her day. Of course she only gives you simple answers but you figure that that’s better than nothing. 

“I fucking hate you guys.” You hear EZ grumble and you see the three of them shoving each other as they return back to the living room. You and Coco make eye contact and he looks proud to see Letty doing something productive. 

“And I just fill the water up to this line?” Letty asks for clarification, holding the pitcher up to the light to get a better look. You hum and nod, pointing to the line in question. “Seems too easy.” She says, shaking her head, but she sticks the pitcher under the faucet and turns it on anyway. 

“I like to stir mine as I fill it up, but that’s up to you.” You say, laying a spoon down on the counter. You decide leave her be, but as your turning to cross into the living room, she picks the spoon up and starts stirring. 

EZ’s in a freshly ironed black t-shirt (thanks to you) and a different pair of jeans. His cut is folded over the back of one of the recliners as he ties his boots on. 

“Well don’t you look handsome.” You comment, and the boyish grin he gives you makes you smile. He finishes tying his boots and then stands, giving you a short kiss. His hand lingers on your hip and there’s a familiar twinkle in his eye that you can’t wait to explore later. 

“I don’t think y’all have time for a quickie.” Angel remarks, and then picks up the clock to look at for emphasis. Gilly and Coco both laugh but EZ just shakes his head. 

The five of you sit in the living room and talk for a little while before Letty strolls in carrying two glasses of lemonade. She hands one to you with a proud look on her face. 

“It’s not bad.” She says, taking a sip of her own and then looking at you expectantly. 

You smile and then take a drink. “This is really good! Better than mine, for sure.” 

Letty smiles proudly, lifting her head a little and then takes a seat next to Coco who gives her a soft look. 

It isn’t much longer until you hear the motorcycles rolling up outside. You stand and smooth out your dress, and EZ pulls his cut over his shoulders. The two of you open up the front door and greet the older Mayans as the walk in, along with their wives. 

Before you know it, everyone’s already eaten and are scattered across your living room with a handful of cards, and a drink. Gilly, Coco, Riz and Angel are all playing a game of poker. Bishop, Tranq, and almost all of the wives are focused on a game of rummy. And you, Letty, EZ and Creeper are playing monopoly. Creeper is losing badly and he’s already so deflated by Letty’s natural gift toward capitalizing that he’s not even putting up a fight anymore. 

“Shit, man!” Creeper curses as Letty lands on yet another free parking. You want to be mad for your own game but you can’t help but feel at least a little responsible for the wicked grin on Letty’s face as she scoops all of the monopoly money towards her pile. 

EZ’s been particularly touchy for most of the night. Little things. A hand on your back as you offer drinks. A helping hand when someone actually takes you up on your offer. A hand on your thigh while the four of you rotate through your monopoly turns. A kiss to the hairline when he catches you gleaming at a giddy Letty. 

After most of the house clears out, and you’re waving goodbye to the slew of bikes rumbling down your street, you make your way inside to see EZ picking up beer bottles and paper plates, his hands balancing way too many. You smile, and rush over to him, praying to god he doesn’t spill any remains on your floors. 

“You don’t have to do that, baby.” You say, taking some of the plates from his grasp to lessen the load. He shakes his head, and continues to help straighten up your house. 

After most of the trash is picked up and the dirty dishes are at least near the sink, EZ’s focus turns to you. His hands slithering around your waist as your scrubbing one of the pans. 

“Leave that for tomorrow.” He mutters, planting wet kisses up your neck. You smile and lean into him. 

“If I do it now, then I don’t have to do it tomorrow, though.” You say, and you feel his chest rumble from behind you. 

“Fair enough.” He sighs, and then picks up a sponge. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, shaking your head. “You don’t have to do that. I got it.” 

“If we both do it, it gets done faster.” He says, giving you a sly grin. So there the two of you are, in your kitchen, talking softly over the soapy bubbles as you wash the dishes and he dries them. And he’s right, in less than twenty minutes, the entire kitchen is cleaned up, and the dishes are put away. 

You plop down on the couch with an exasperated breath, and EZ sits down next to you. 

“Thank you for tonight.” He says, his eyes gleaming with gratitude. 

“It was my pleasure.” You say, grinning. “But fuck, if I’m not exhausted.” 

He laughs. “It’s because of Angel, isn’t it? Can’t get his own beer for anything in this world.” 

“Definitely Angel.” You joke back, before leaning down to take off your wedges. Your ankles were definitely going to be sore tomorrow. 

EZ’s quiet for several moments and when you look up, he’s staring at you. A very different look on his face and it makes your stomach drop. 

“What?” You ask, your hand immediately swiping against your cheeks to check for anything. 

You watch as he swallows, and then opens his mouth, “Marry me.” 

You blink, mouth agape, and shake your head. “EZ, wha-”

And before you can ask him anything, he’s getting on a knee in front of you. 

“I don’t have a ring because I just looked at you just now and realized that I won’t ever be happy if I don’t have this forever. So, we can pick out a ring tomorrow, but will you marry me?” He says, taking one of your hands into his own. 

You’re crying. Of course you’re crying. “Of course! Yes!” You say, squealing as he lifts you off the couch, wrapping your legs around his waist. He buries his head in your neck, his strong arms holding you tightly against him. 

“I love you so much, Ezekiel.” You whisper, pressing a sloppy kiss to his lips through your tears. 

“I love you, Y/N. I can’t wait to be your husband.” He whispers back. 

[hornedsimp]

Ayeee its ya boi, schlatt addict-

So last year I got my foot caught in a bear trap, and I was just thinking about if the reader got hurt during a fight with another mc youtuber (in game ofc) and schlatt finds them really badly hurt, and he has to take care of them. Bc they can't walk and ya know ✨b l o o d✨

So yeah thats my idea, peace ✌

Oh dear god, I hope that everything it’s alright with your leg now!

Thanks for taking the time to request this, it’s so soft and I love it so much!

I hope you like it!

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Jschlatt x Reader (Fluff)

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Warnings: Cursing, mention of alcohool, light level of violence at the beggining.

That's what I got, but if you see anything that you want me to put in the warnings please let me know

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You had gotten into a pretty bad fight with Willbur after Schlatt had announced the festival, you were walking around the city, to make sure everything was fine when you had spotted him at the top of a tree, his eyes once so caring filled with rage.

You knew that wasn't the Willbur you met long ago, and since you were on Schlatt's side now, you went to confront him, it didn't end up well for you.

No one was expecting to fight on the day of the announcement, for that reason you weren't with your netherite armor, only wearing the black suit you liked so much to seem more serious.

It was a pretty suit, yes, but it didn't work well against arrows and a diamond sword, granted, you couldn't even imagine how Willbur got his hands on a diamond sword when he was wearing the dirtiest outfit you've seen in ages.

Nonetheless, the fight dragged through the forest, as both of you were screaming at each other, Willbur trying to make you see how he was the victim of the system, trying to get back to the country he loved so much, while you were trying to explain why the rules were made to keep him away.

When he stopped trying to convince you that he wasn't doing anything bad, and started to attack you with more rage than before, you knew you were right since the beginning, Willbur had gone mad in his exile.

He shouted curses at you, throwing punches in your direction until he could trip you and hold you down on the ground, he got his sword with hands trembling, a dangerous smile on his face as he put the sword at the top of your chest, you tried to move, tears forming in your eyes as you screamed trying to get him to lose his balance so you could escape.

It was to no avail, you could feel the sword slowly making contact with your skin, the pain running through your skin slowly, almost taunting you to do something to stop it.

You bit hard on the inside of your cheeks, tasting your own blood trying to not focus on the pain, it would only get worst and worst, you closed your eyes waiting for the blackness to swallow you whole right after Wilbur pierced through your chest, but the void never came to take you out.

What came instead was another sudden wave of pain, this time concentrating on your leg, as you opened your eyes, you could see the blood running through your chest, but what got your attention, was the sword impelled at your leg, there was blood everywhere, your clothes ripped in many places where Willbur had attacked you.

And thinking about the devil, he was gone, no words or apologies, no shadow lurking behind the trees to see if you would survive, simply gone.

As the adrenaline in your body started to go down, and the pain got bigger, your eyes started to close, they felt too heavy, but you knew deep down you couldn't pass out from the pain in the middle of the forest, so you did the only thing you could think of.

You called Schlatt for help, since your arms weren't too damaged to move, you grasp on the small string of consciousness to open the message board everyone could use as a sort of direct link to each other.

Typing out your coordinates you pressed sent, letting your hands fall limp close to your body, and finally letting yourself crave the dark embrace that awaited for you, telling yourself that it would be fine once schlatt found you, your vision turned dark, and you blacked out.

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

When you woke up again, you were in a large room, in a massive bed, with lots of blankets organized messily around you, there was an enormous window from where you could see Manberg in all of its glory, as you were trying to get a better view by moving, the door of the room opened, revealing schlatt, with a tired expression carrying a small plate with what seemed to be mushroom soup.

"What the fuck you think you're doing woman?" He asked with his loud voice practically running to your side.

"Trying to get up?" You asked still trying to move your body to at least sit on the bed more comfortably.

"Yeah that's the fucking problem dumb bitch, you can't move or else the stitches can get worst." Schlatt argued putting the plate on the bed table at your side.

He pulled the blankets off of you so you could see the white bandages covering your leg, quickly you pulled your shirt a little so you could peek at your chest, there was also white bandages firmly wrapped in your torso, you looked at schlatt, feeling your face get hot as you pieced together the pieces of what probably had happened after you blacked out alone in the forest.

Before you could say anything about the whole situation though, Schlatt let out a sigh, rolling his eyes dramatically.

"Don't ever think about that, I asked Nikki to help with the bandages, and she is the one that dresses you up on some spare clothes she had with her."

You could feel yourself relax at that, nodding your head slightly Schlatt approached you, moving his hands so he could support your torso and pull you up, making you sit on the bed, after making sure you were comfortable enough the hybrid handed you the small plate with the soup.

"Nikki thinks you're going to be able to walk in two weeks, but if you have any problem with the wound, it can take three weeks or more, you can stay here while you're healing." Schlatt says before leaving the room.

You blink a few after he leaves, your face still a little hot as you think about how careful he held you to help you move your body, deciding to not give yourself a headache thinking about it, you start to eat the soup, only to be interrupted again by Schallat entering the room.

He was carrying a shit ton of magazines and random books, the hybrid crossed the room to come to the other side of the bed and let all of the magazines down at your side, he sat right beside you and moved the magazines around so you could see all of the titles.

" I also thought... you could get bored, so I got some shit for you to read if you want to." Schlatt said with a proud smile.

You could only smile in return and offer a quiet "thanks" as you went back to eat the soup, after you finished Schlatt quickly took the place and went out to the kitchen as you moved around a little, picking a random magazine you moved the others away so there could be more space for the president in the bed.

You knew he wouldn't leave your side, not until you were completely okay again, he was just looking out for you in his way, standing close and making sure you wouldn't have any problem in your recovery.

Just as you expected, he came back soon after leaving the plate at the sink, he sat once again beside you, putting his head at your shoulder you hummed quietly, moving your hand so you could caress the side of his face.

You had learned long ago that the ram hybrid was pretty touch starved, although he kept the charade of a tough guy that doesn't need anything else other than his whiskey, you've been on his side for what seemed like forever now.

Schlatt took your hand, placing a soft kiss on your wrist before moving his head, headbutting you lightly to gain your attention, you moved your gaze from the current magazine on your lap to his face.

"Don't ever do this again to me alright?" He said in a more serious tone, his fingers tracing the lines of your hand.

"Okay, I'll make sure to not get hurt again to take up your bed." You snorted with a small smile forming on your face.

"You know what I'm talking about, don't give me another heart attack like this one, I thought I lost you when you sent the coordinates and didn't answer when I asked what was happening." He held your hands more firmly, afraid that you would suddenly vanish right in front of his eyes.

Placing a small kiss on his temples you smiled with confidence, headbutting him lightly like how he had done moments ago.

"Don't worry, I promise to do my best to not get stabbed again."

That got Schlatt to laugh as he gave you some more space, squeezing your hand he moved on the bed, sticking his legs out and pushing a blanket over himself.

"You better do your fucking best alright, now, let's talk shit about those magazine people, and how they look so uncomfortable in the covers."

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Aaron Hotchner / August Part I

Request: Hotch and reader become unlikely friends after a broken doorknob brings them together, and maybe start to feel something a little more? (College AU) 

Word Count: 8,224

Warnings: Fluff, angst, mutual pining, mentions of Hotch’s dad and difficult home life, Haley being jealous, a kiss (*gasp*), 

He was never yours, you thought, your fingers grasping at the pen, the same hands that had held his once. You knew that, but you let him in anyway.

Into your apartment. Into your life. Into your heart. 

And then you let him go. 

Out of your apartment. Out of your life. Out of your heart. 

You signed your name, placing it on the arrangement of fresh cut white lilies, wrapped in plastic, before handing it to the florist.

But you wouldn’t now, not again. 

~~~

A knock on your door roused you from sleep. A groan on your lips, you rolled over on your bed, kicking off what remained of your thin blanket draped over you. A cool breeze rolled over you, cutting through the thick, sticky August humidity, but it wasn’t enough to lull you back to sleep. And the sharp rapping at your door certainly didn’t help. You grumbled, stuffing the pillow over your head, hoping whoever it was would take a hint. 

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Apparently not. 

You threw yourself up, face twisted in a scowl, as your eyes flickered to your clock: 12:17 AM. 

Yet another knock, and you pulled on a robe over your tank and shorts, draping it over your shoulders, “I’m coming,” you growled, and the fourth knock stopped short, and you tripped over nearly every piece of furniture in your sleep, throwing open the door, “what?” 

He blinks, his dark hair as black at the night behind him, several locks falling in front of his forehead, “Sorry, I, uh—” 

“Hotchner?” you tilt your head, crossing your arms, “what are you doing here?” 

And it’s his turn to be confused, “I’m sorry, do we—” 

He didn’t remember you — how lovely, an unwelcome interruption who doesn’t bother to learn your name. You tell him your name, and it still doesn’t register, “We’re in the same criminal justice class? The one we literally started last week?” One of two summer classes that you seriously believed that you conned into taking, all in the hopes that you would be able to finish up your degree a semester earlier. If you passed, you would be done next semester.

Red runs across his cheeks, “I’m sorry, I sit in the front, I—” 

You wave him off, while fanning yourself with your hand, “I don’t care honestly, just why? Why are you here?”

A flush climbs his neck, “I just moved in next door, and I got locked out of my apartment. The door handle is rusted over, and my roommate is out of town—” 

“And?” you rubbed at your brow, your manners didn’t exactly shine at 12 AM. 

“Could I stay with you? Just for tonight,” he held up his hands, “we have that midterm tomorrow in Crim, and I really—” 

“So you remember the midterm but not my name huh?” and the flush bridges over his nose and cheekbones, “I’m kidding Hotchner.” you scratch your head — on one hand, you didn’t want to let a stranger into your apartment, but at the same time, you didn’t want him to sleep outside his apartment, you sighed, “take the couch, but I’m locking my door, and I don’t want you disturbing me unless I’m somehow sleeping through the exam tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, I—” you wave him off, “I really appreciate—” 

“Just come in,” you yawn, stretching your tired muscles, still heavy with the sleep you were deprived of, but just like that, you felt your mind rouse, sleep deflating from your head in a slow leak, “ugh fuck.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I’m wide awake now,” if looks could kill, you were sure your criminal justice class would be investigating Hotchner’s murder, “I have a hard time falling back asleep once I’m awake.” 

He raises a brow, “I thought you were exhausted?” 

“Well tell that to my brain,” you groan, collapsing in an armchair, covering your face, “now I’m going to be up until 5 AM.” 

He glances at your kitchen, “How about I make us some tea?” you look up, lips twisted in a frown, “decaffeinated, if you have it?” 

“Third drawer from the left,” you snuggle into the chair, hoping to lull your brain into a false sense of sleep.

  His voice cuts through your haze, the familiar click of the gas burner, “Can I ask you something?” 

“At your own risk,” you mumble, utterly too comfortable. 

“How did you know who I was?” the sink knob squeaks as he turns it, the rush of water, the quiet hum of the water as it filled the cups he was undoubtedly rinsing now, “there must be at least fifty people in that class.” 

“You make a hell of an impression, Hotchner,” you sigh, shifting in your chair, wiping the sweat from the back of your neck, “the first day of class, you argued with the professor about his opinions about criminal justice reform and the necessity of it, or as he put it, the unessential nature of it. ” 

“Well, his opinion was wrong,” you laughed, eyes still very much shut, “his opinion wasn’t even based on facts, he was just dictating to us on his own notions—” 

“I know, and you made sure he knew that,” you finally opened your eyes when you heard the tea kettle whistle, “that’s why I remembered your name — the way he asked you for it, and the way you replied—” 

He poured the hot water into each freshly washed mug, “With hopefully with an equal amount of respect,” 

“A very minimal amount,” you propped your head up on your elbow, watching him bring over the mugs. 

“So an equal amount,” you take the mug from his hand, pressing it against your lips, warming your lips, chuckling, “I give respect to those who deserve it.” 

“And what does that mean for me?” and he smiles. 

He raises his mug, a wry smile on his lips, “Well considering you could kick me out at any point, I have the utmost respect.” 

You roll your eyes, hiding the smile on your lips by taking a sip, “Smart.” 

~~~

And you soon learned Hotchner was very smart — when he touted his 100% on the exam a week later, next to your measly 98%.

“You owe me two points, Hotchner,” you would say to him, walking back to your apartment building, the humidity as thick as a fog. You tugged at your oversized shirt, hanging loosely around your torso, but somehow still sticking to your sweaty body. You felt like a drowned rat who hadn’t even had the pleasure of being in the water, “I would have gotten your score if someone hadn’t woken me up in the middle of the night.” 

“Well, how about instead of talking the professor into giving you two points, how about a coffee instead?” he offers, hands in his pockets, “on me.” 

You grin, “It better be.” 

~~~

“FBI track?” you whistle lowly, sitting across from Hotchner in a coffee shop around the corner from your building, “some ambitions you got there, Hotchner.” 

“I aim high,” he takes a sip of his drink, “What? Can’t see me as an agent?” You shrug, your eyes flickering over his form, biting your lip — well he would look good in a suit and tie, wouldn’t he? And the vest— “What are you smiling about?” 

“Just imagining you as a G-man,” you admit, a grin on your lips, “let’s just say I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

“And what high aspirations do you have?” 

“Nothing too fancy,” you stir your drink, watching the liquid swirl, “law school is the plan, hopefully eventually landing at a corporate firm and then move into the nonprofit sector.” 

“You don’t seem so excited,” you shrug. 

“Not everyone has high hopes and dreams, G-man,” and he rolls his eyes, lips pressed into a purse, unconvinced, “well I would love to be a writer, but I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know?” he raises an eyebrow, “or you’re too scared to try?” 

“Cute mind games, nice try,” you sigh, eyes falling to stare at your drink again, “it’s hard to believe in yourself when you’re the only one who does, and I can barely manage it.” 

He leans back in his chair, black locks falling across his forehead, “Well, how about I pick up the slack?” 

“You don’t have to say that—” 

“I want to,” he cuts you off, and you glance up, his gaze utterly paralyzing and earnest, that you almost want to believe and maybe you do just a little — otherwise that thump against your ribcage is something else — some other feeling you are not ready to contend with. But you don’t get the chance. He breaks your gaze to glance at the clock, and curses, “I have to get home. My girlfriend is going to be calling me soon.”

Your heart twists, but you ignore it, because this was enough — this moment was enough, “Yeah, get home quick. You gotta tell that girlfriend of yours about that grade of yours. Nothing is hotter than a nerd,” 

“Speaking from experience?” you scoff, and he pauses, “can we do this again sometime? This was fun.” 

It was enough, right? 

You smile, “Of course.” 

~~~

“Fucking fuck—” you hissed the shattered glass all over the floor, and the hot liquid splattered across the wood, “Shit.” you stare at the mess, cursing, stepping over the broken glass, as you pick up the shards with a cloth napkin, grabbing the broom and dustpan from the closet. 

You sweep up the mess best you can, but now before cutting your finger on a shard, “Shit, fuck,” you wrap the cloth around the wound, digging through the drawers for a bandage. Fuck your roommate for going away for the summer, and also moving everything around while digging through the apartment for their shit. You slam the last drawer shut, no bandages, but you found a dozen condoms of varying shapes and colors — not exactly useful for treating a wound. 

So either you walk down to the corner to the store with a cloth wrapped around your finger, or you could tie this cloth around your finger while you studied. 

Well, you glanced at the door, there was a third option. 

You and Hotchner had seen quite a bit of each other over the past few weeks— June bleeding into July — studying, watching TV, grabbing bad coffee after class. He was one of the only people in three years who had made you comfortable to be yourself — to admit to things you would have never dreamed of telling, without guarantee of a memory wipe (well maybe if he joined the FBI). 

What was it about him anyway? 

He opened the door, a smile pulling at his lips, before he glanced at your hand, “What happened?” 

“Cut myself on some glass, do you have a bandage neighbor?” you glanced at the door knob, “I see the landlord finally fixed your door knob, so I won’t have any more late night visits.” 

“Come in,” he herds you in, shutting the door behind him, “give me a second, I have to find the first aid kit.” 

You grip the cloth, watching him dart around the apartment, brow furrowed, eyes narrowed in concentration — you particularly enjoyed the way his lower lip— no. No you could not do this. 

“You’d think a first aid kit would be easier to find,” you call after his disappearing back, “since ‘first’ is in the title.” 

“And where’s yours?” he asks, as he walks back into the living room, kit in hand, “I don’t think you’d be over here if you found yours.” 

“Ah, I like the company,” he raises an eyebrow, placing the kit beside you, “plus I don’t have to use my own bandages,” you watch him grab a paper napkin, running it under water, before returning. You reach for the cloth, but he brushes you off, taking your wrist, “you don’t have to—” 

“It’s fine,” his eyes remained concentrated, as he pulled the rag away from your finger, “it’s mostly stopped bleeding now, it’s not so deep.” 

“Really, Dr. Hotchner?” and you hissed a little as he cleaned the wound, red staining the nearly translucent tissue, “did you ever consider a career in medicine?” 

He clicked his tongue, his hand was so much bigger than yours, his touch gentle, sending warmth blooming up your body, “Biology puts me to sleep,” he raises his eyes, “no jokes. Plus,” he scrunches his face and pulls the napkin away, grimacing at the blood, “I don’t like blood.” 

You chuckle,  “Come on, Mr. FBI agent, won’t you have to deal with a lot of blood?” 

His lips twist in a line, “Actually seems like I may see you in law school,” 

You furrow your brow, “What do you mean?” he sighs, grabbing a bandage from the kit, peeling the backing off of it, “Hotchner—” 

“Law school is a safer option. I can still put bad guys away, I can be a prosecutor, and I won’t be at risk of getting shot—” 

“Bullshit,” you cross your arms, “it’s not what you want.” 

“It’s not always about me—” 

“This is your life,” you get up, and his shoulder sag, “we get one life, Hotchner — are you going to waste it doing what other people want?” 

“You’re one to talk,” he snaps, “you should be a writer, but you’re going to law school, just like me.” 

You know he’s right — you know you’re a hypocrite, but you don’t care, “Why did you change your mind?” 

Your question is quiet, but heavy — it hangs in the air, in the silence, and you feel as if you know the answer already, “I was talking to Haley,” and you hold your tongue, “it’s safer if I go to law school. It’ll be better when we start our life together.” 

“Hotchner—” 

“That’s not the only reason,” he swallows thickly, he slumps in his chair, “my father — he—” his voice broke. 

You shake your head, throat dry, “You don’t have to—” 

“He abused us,” he says quietly, “He worked a lot, and if it wasn’t for that, I…” he trailed off, glancing down, “but when he was around…” he scoffed, “nothing was good enough. No one could please him, not my mom or my brother. I never tried. He didn’t like that,” he ran his fingers across his face, flinching as if he can still remember the blows, “It wasn’t long after he gave me a black eye and broke my rib that he had shipped me off to boarding school. And I never looked back.” 

Your chest aches,“Aaron—” 

“I want a good job, and I want a good life,” his eyes are hard when he looks up, “ I don’t want to be the kind of husband that my wife isn’t happy to see. I don’t want to be the father who isn’t there. I want to give them everything I have, and if this is what it takes…” he shrugs, biting his lip. 

“I understand, I get it,” and he nods, taking your hand again to place the bandage over your cut, “But Aaron, one thing?” he smooths over the bandage with his finger, glancing up, “just don’t lose yourself along the way, okay?” 

Your fingers entangle with his, he squeezes your hand, “It’s a promise.” 

~~~

There’s a knock on the door, but you don’t bother to get up from your bed. Only twisting in the sheets, burying your head in the soft comfort of the pillow. And you hear the faint and familiar call of your name through the plaster thick walls and paper thin doors.

And you knew how this went. 

So you rolled out of bed, stalking over to the door, but instead of opening it, you frowned at it, rubbing at your forehead, “What?”

“Some way to greet someone who brought you today’s notes and assignment,” and you sigh, opening the door, plucking the assignment from his hands, tilting your head. 

“Thank you. Anything else?” 

He frowns, “What’s wrong?” you sigh, shaking your head. 

“You sure that you’re here to study criminal justice? Maybe you would be better off as a Psychology major,” you mutter, allowing him in, as you collapse on the couch in a huff. And you see him sit, waiting and watching, and you slump against the cushion, “what?” 

“Words are dangerous around you,” he shrugs, “I’m waiting for them not to be.” 

“I’m just having a bad day,” you cross your arms, words sharp, “have you ever had one before?” and then you crumple at the hurt that flashes across his face, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry — this is why I wanted to be left alone.” 

And he moves, sliding in beside you, grabbing the TV remote from the coffee table, “You up for something light?” and you furrow your brow, “or we could watch what I want to watch?” 

“What are you doing?” 

“You clearly don’t want to talk about it, but I’m not going to leave you alone,” he shifts next to you, gaze unverring from the now lit TV, casting the contours of his face in a low light, “so what are we watching?” 

He clicks on some medical drama, and you snatch the remote from him, hiding your smile from him, as your shoulder brushes his, “Not this.” 

~~~

Aaron doesn’t remember when he falls asleep, but he does. When he wakes up, the sun has already peaked over the horizon, the low hum of the TV rousing him from his sleep. And he stirs, before feeling a distinct weight on his shoulder, the mumble of his name near his ear, and fingers brushing his thigh. 

His eyes flutter open, and he realizes where he is. 

Shit. You both had fallen asleep. His neck aches as he turns to look at you, making him pay for the position the muscles were forced to contort to the night before. He glances at you, biting his lip. You snore softly against his shoulder, lips parted. A few strands of hair fall across your forehead. He brushes them back, tucking them into place. He should move. He should wake you. But he doesn’t. He watches you sleep a moment — you were so peaceful, unlike yesterday. 

There was a part of him that wished you would have told him what was wrong. Told him what was bothering you. Told him what was on your mind. Told him everything about you. 

But that was normal right? Friends always want to know everything about each other? And he would consider you a close friend, right? A friend, a good friend. Just a friend. 

You murmur his name again, under your breath, and he feels a small shiver run down his spine, as he shuts his eyes again, finding your hand and resting his on top. 

Just a few more minutes. 

~~~

“Hey Hotchner,” you knock at his door, clutching your binder to your chest, hearing only silence in return. “I wanted to give your notes back, and see you were free, open up,” still nothing, you knock harder, “come on. I know you don’t have class today, I really don’t want to go to that movie alone—” Your fist nearly collides with a person’s face as the door whips open, and you rear back, finding not Hotchner, but a very upset girl, “hi, uh—” 

“Who are you?” she crossed her arms across her petite frame, her blond hair tied in a loose pony, bangs hanging loose and framing her face. 

“Hi,” you say your name, plastering a weak smile on your lips — you weren’t used to this much hostility this quickly (usually at least took five minutes before someone hated you this much), “I’m Hotchner’s neighbor, we’re in the same criminal justice class. I wanted to return his notes and see if he was free—” 

“He’s not,” a saccharine smile pulls at the corners of her mouth, “He’s spending the weekend with me. I’m his girlfriend, Haley.” 

You nod, “He’s mentioned you before, it’s nice to meet you—” 

“And you,” her fake smile informs you that it very much has not been nice to meet you, as her eyes flicker to the bathroom, “Aaron’s busy, but I’ll let him know you dropped by—” and you open your mouth, holding the notes up, “I’ll take those. Thanks again. Bye!” 

The door shuts, as you stand mouth open, staring at the door. 

And that was Haley. 

~~~

You see Aaron the next Monday in class, as he slides in beside you, rubbing his eyes, hair askew, “What happened to you?” 

“Didn’t sleep very well last night,” he mumbles, pulling his book from his bag, and you frown, opening your mouth again, only to be interrupted by your professor. 

Class passes in a painfully slow haze as always, with one exception — Hotchner wasn’t taking notes. Usually each class he would be thoughtfully taking careful notes, while you scribbled every word the professor said, hoping your notes would be legible when needed later. But today, he wasn’t. Instead, he stared straight forward, his pen unmoving, lying flat against the page between his fingers, but he wasn’t looking at the professor. Not really anyway. His eyes were glazed over, his brow impossibly furrowed, expression twisted under a thick haze of anxiety and worry. Even when the professor adjourned the class for the day, he still sat, staring at the blank notebook page. 

“You planning to attend the next class? Heard that Immunology is a hot ticket,” and he jerks from his thoughts, blinking as he glances around the quickly emptying classroom. 

“Shit,” the expletive flies from his mouth, as he gathers his things, shoving them unceremoniously into his bag, following you out of the room as students for the next class begin to file into their unassigned assigned seats. 

He doesn’t say a word as you both schlep back to the apartment building, the only accompaniment the low buzz of flies, the too warm embrace of the sun, and the silence that hangs between the two of you, much like a funeral march. 

“Okay,” you said, standing in front of him, “what is going on?” 

“Nothing, I’m fine—” 

“So you don’t want the notes from today?” his mouth opens and closes, shaking his head, “Hotchner, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to — but I just want to know you’re okay.” 

“I’m having a bad day, you ever had one before?” he echoes your words, before a smile pulls at the corners of his lips, a heavy sigh following it, but your gaze is unwavering, “You really care, don’t you?” 

Your cheeks burn, ignoring the way your heart skipped a beat, helplessly exposed, scratching at your skin under his steady gaze. You hide it under rolled eyes and a coy smile, “That’s what friends do, isn’t it?” 

Friends, just friends. Because that was all you were. That was why you cared. 

And you don’t notice the corners of his lips falling or the dimmed amusement in his eyes, “Of course,” he sighs, “I’m fine, just long distance with Haley has been hard on both of us.” 

You nod, not bothering to bring up your tension injected meeting in the hallway, “I understand, it’s tough doing long distance,” 

And you see an unreadable look cross his expression, before it’s gone in a moment, and he just sighs, “Yeah.” 

~~~

Things don’t get better. 

When Haley isn’t here, Hotchner is constantly on the phone. And when she is, you could hear the faint sound of yelling through your all too thin walls, until you chose to put on headphones to drown out the noise. 

You don’t want to hear his heart breaking anymore than he wants it broken. 

He’s quiet in class, and snapping when he’s not. He comes out less. He declines your invites. He spends most of his time on the goddamn phone. 

And it stings. 

You stare at the wall you share, the apartment feeling wholly emptier than it did at the start of summer. You glare at it, a cross between huff and a sigh filling the silence for a moment. How did Hotchner weasel himself into so deeply in his life that you felt his absence? 

Three years at this school, and you had barely made a friend. It was hard in large lecture halls and even small classrooms lined with people who were nothing like you. It was harder when you often left class right after. It was difficult to connect to people, it was difficult to get beyond small talk. But it was never difficult with Hotchner. 

Not once. 

You supposed that’s what made this so difficult. And there was nothing more to it than that — right? The question lingered in the back of your mind, an unspoken thought that did not wish to be punctuated with a question mark, but nevertheless was. 

It was stupid. It was so stupid. You lay back on the couch, staring at the ceiling, pulling a cushion over your face — hoping it would be enough to drown out the “evidence” your mind presented as signs of his affection — it wasn’t. 

He stayed with you that night. Like a friend would. 

He always is looking at you, longer than necessary. You’re imagining it. 

He was so gentle when you got cut. You were hurt, he was trying to help. 

He told you about his dad and about his dreams. Again, a friend? He trusted you, but it doesn’t mean he has feelings. 

He fell asleep with you on the couch. And then went back to sleep. You paused. That was one thing you couldn’t explain. 

You were awake when he had woken up, you had felt him rouse because you had already awoken yourself, his name flying from your lips without a thought when you saw him, felt his solid presence, his head resting against yours. You panicked. So you pretended to be asleep, and you felt him awake, heard his pause, felt his touch, and then felt him settle back in beside you. 

But you didn’t know why. 

It was easy to explain things away, it was simple — but nothing was simple when it was him. Nothing was easy. 

~~~

"No I'm sure, I don't want to go to the party tonight." you waved off Alex, who still followed you instead, her arms crossed. 

“You shouldn’t be waiting for him to call,” you furrow your brow, as she jerks her head toward the wall you and Hotchner shared, “you need to move on.” 

“I’m not waiting, I’m just tired, and unlike you, I haven’t had the entire summer off, and just came back after a fabulous vacation,” you cross your arms, lips pursed, but you know that she sees right through you, “just go, Alex. I’ll come to the next one I promise.” 

She sighs dramatically, shaking her head, "I'll see you tomorrow." The door shuts behind you and you groan. 

What the fuck were you doing? 

Who were you kidding? You collapsed onto your couch, facefirst into the couch cushions. You knew what the fuck you were doing — the exact thing you promised to never do, you sighed loudly into the cushion, pulling a pillow over your head — canceling any plans in hopes a guy would call. A guy — a guy with a girlfriend who he was in love with, one who didn’t give you the time of day anymore, and one who was barely a friend now. 

But still, he wasn’t just any guy was he? He was Aaron Hotchner. 

And that was the fucking problem. 

But right now, you turned your head to glance at the clock, your main problem was that you were still conscious, and that meant it was time to go to sleep. You looked to the wall you and Hotchner shared — you weren’t going anywhere tonight, that was for sure. 

~~~

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

You groan, pulling the pillow over your ears, “This is a joke, right?” and again, you are stumbling out of bed, half asleep and half blind, eyes barely open, “who is it?” But a part of you knew the answer before you even asked. 

“It’s me,” Hotchner intoned, and you opened the door, frown on your lips dropping when you saw his face — even in the dark, you could see the tell tale sign of tear tracks on his cheeks, barely glistening in the dim light, “can I come in?” 

You step aside, shutting the door behind you, “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, and he catches a glimpse of your hands crossed across your chest. He scrubs a hand down his face as he slumps down on your couch, “I just...broke up with Haley.” 

The words echo in your ears, as you gape at him, blinking, “You...what?” you shake the shock from your mind. He needs you right now. He needs your support. 

You slide next to him, “I’m so sorry, Hotchner, I—” the words die on your lips, as you see him stare at the floor, his gaze blank, “hey—” He finds your gaze, his eyes glassy but somehow still so steady, and your heart stutters in your chest, “It isn’t your fault.” 

He gives a bitter chuckle, “How do you know that?” 

“Because I know you,” you tuck one leg under the other, one hanging off the end of the couch, “and I know you wouldn’t hurt anyone, much less Haley, intentionally.” 

His expression is inscrutable as his eyes fall to his lap, his teeth grazing his bottom lip, and he looks back to you, “Are you sure?” 

And the question hangs in the air — words wrapped up in meaning, tucked away behind punctuation and subtext. And he’s looking at you — a look that you can’t pin down, but it makes your heart squeeze harder in your chest and your blood turns molten in your veins. Why is he looking at you like that? And why for so long? The way his eyes linger make you want to believe — makes your foolish heart want to believe — maybe, maybe there’s something more to his question, something he’s asking you without asking you. A question within a question, that only makes your head spin and butterflies bloom in your stomach. 

“Of course I am,” a statement within a statement, tentative and as unsaid as his, but the words were on your tongue like an ice cube, rapidly melting away like your hope was that maybe — maybe this was something more. But the moment is broken when he looks away, and silence encroaches once again, strangling and consuming — you have to say something, anything to break it. More than that, you needed to do something — so you said the only thing that occurred to you, “Do you want to go to a party?” 

~~~

You were surprised. 

And you weren’t sure by what more — the fact Hotchner agreed to go to a party on a weekday or the fact he was two shots ahead of you now. 

The party was in full swing by the time you arrived. The blaring music shook the fraternity house to the screws and joists holding the building together. The kitchen had been set up as one giant alcohol station — bottles of every kind of cheap alcohol lining the counters and shelves, much of which Hotchner was helping himself to. 

He was pouring himself another shot, and another beer into a red cup, as you watched him, eyebrow raised. 

“Pace yourself,” you tell him over the music, as he downs another, no chaser, the chaser long forgotten, but Haley seemingly wasn’t by the melancholy scrawled across his face, “have you eaten a single thing tonight?” 

“Isn’t the point of college parties to drink?” his words are more than a little slurred, his usual crisp intonation down for the count, and his balance was barely existent at this point, swaying as he spoke. 

“To drink, not to leave in a body bag,” you say, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder, and to your surprise he doesn’t brush it off — no, his hand rests over it, holding it there. His eyes flutter shut, as he leans against your hand and his, “You alright there?” your cheeks burn as his eyes open again, his gaze intense and steady, and you see something you hadn’t seen before — a look that you can’t decipher. 

“Let’s go,” he says suddenly, his hand around your wrist now, dragging you through the kitchen and the throng of people in the house. 

“Where are we going?” you call over the roar of the party, but you don’t know if he even hears you, his head still turned as he weaves through the crowd, and up the stairs, until he pulls you into an empty bedroom, the door shutting behind you. Moonlight streams in from the window beside the bed, what little light illuminating his figure in the inky black between the shutters, “Hotchner, what is—” 

“I just wanted to say sorry,” he shakes his head, sitting on the bed, gaze dropped to his feet, “sorry for pushing you away. I didn’t mean to— I didn’t want to— I just—” 

“It’s okay,” you find your way to his side, the creak of the bed beside him making him look to you, “It happens. You were going through something. I’m not mad—” 

“You’re important to me,” he shakes his head again, insistently, “I shouldn’t have— I was a fucking ass, I just—” 

“Hey, I know you’re a fucking ass,” and he scoffs, “who’s the bigger fool? The person who’s an ass or the person that’s friends with him?” 

“I always knew you were a nerd, but Star Wars, really?” he grins, elbowing you, “you are full of surprises.” 

“Takes a nerd to know a nerd,” and he leans back, palms splayed against the bed, “I am a person of many facets.” 

“I know,” he whispers, finding your gaze in the dark, “And that’s what I love about you.”

You blink, your heart stuttering in your chest, “Hotchner—” 

He leans forward, his fingers cupping your cheek, his eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes and back again. He’s so close, you can see his eyelashes flutter as he stares at you half-lidded, the heat from his body radiating off of him, as his chest nearly brushes yours now, “I’ve wanted— I want to kiss you,” he murmurs, his words sending warmth blooming across your cheeks — his scent consumes you — pine, musk, and mint, your breath stolen by his words — ferreted away in the night that covers you both. 

“Please,” you whisper into the night, and when his lips brush yours, you wonder if it is real. Or a dream of your own design in the dark. But no, it’s real as the forehead that brushes yours after he parts a moment, “Aaron,” you sigh against him. 

Your lips find his again, noses brushing, and he lingers this time — more sure, but still hesitant. Just as hesitant as you are. He’s sweet on your lips, sliding against yours softly, his thumb brushing at your cheek, before your fingers knot themselves in his hair, deepening the kiss. You want more, you need more. And you hear him moan against your lips, a deep rumble that sends a shiver up and down your body. 

Then his tongue runs across your lips and you taste it — the alcohol on his lips, and you remember — Haley, the drinking, everything — it had been just to get over her. 

And your palms press against his chest, stopping him, his quiet pants still warming your lips, “I can’t do this.” 

You couldn’t be his rebound. Not after all of this. Not after what you felt for him, what you still felt for him. You didn’t want to be something he’d used to forget, something he’d want to forget. You couldn’t be his second choice. You deserved more. You wanted more. 

But you also wanted him. 

A moment passes, another, and he pulls back, “I understand,” he nods, “I’m sorry if—” 

“Don’t be sorry, you didn’t—” you cut off, “I’m sorry if I—” 

“You didn’t,” he rises slowly to his feet, rubbing at his eyes, “let’s go home?” 

The walk home was in silence, which was somehow more eruciating than the two hour of constant, deafening music you had just endured. Your head throbbed, and whether it was from the alcohol, the music, or the night — you glanced at Hotchner — that was up for debate. Your nausea burned at your throat in time with your headache hitting a crescendo —- just not at this particular moment. 

“Good night,” were the only words he managed when he dropped you at the door, stumbling into his own apartment. And you only realize as you slide into bed that you realize you didn’t explain why you couldn’t — why you couldn’t kiss him. But with your face pressed against the cool pillow, the memory of his lips on yours lingering, and the siren song of sleep, you couldn’t dwell on it. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, the sandman’s embrace too tempting. There was always tomorrow.

~~~

Or maybe there wasn’t, you realized as you stepped out of your apartment, at least, not a tomorrow that included him. After pacing for an hour, convincing yourself to talk to him — to say something about last night — after you had re-lived that kiss a dozen times, after you practiced what you were going to say to him, and after you realized he was worth the risk. 

But you weren’t to him. 

But Haley was. 

Her lips pressed against his, right where yours were last night, her bags dropped beside their feet. His arms winded easily around her waist, comfortable and familiar, pulling her somehow impossibly closer than she already was. Her fingers cupped his cheeks, evidence of tears gliding down her cheeks. He inhales her breath, as they part, murmuring things only the other can hear, until your door bangs against its frame, still helplessly open behind you. 

Their eyes snap to you, and you have to tuck away the hurt and pain quickly — quickly, your lips somehow finding itself in a small smile, even as your heart splintered to pieces in your chest. 

His mouth opens silently, eyes painfully wide a moment, while Haley greets you with a smile, your name from her mouth painful to your ears, “It’s so nice to see you again. Aaron told me he wouldn’t have been surviving class without you.” 

Painful because you can’t hate her, painful because it isn’t her fault, painful because maybe in another life you could have been friends, painful because you had to fall for her boyfriend — “Of course,” you manage to find your voice, “someone has to keep their head on straight.”

And you had to. 

“I keep mine on,” he withers under both of your gazes, “sometimes.” His eyes linger on you a moment too long, but Haley doesn’t seem to notice, instead, stepping over her bags, and pulling you aside a moment. 

“I just wanted to apologize for how I acted before,” she shakes her head, “me and Aaron have been having a hard time lately, and I think I took it out on you — but we’re okay now. I just don’t want any bad feelings between each other because I know you’re a good friend to him.” 

Friend, the word rings in your ears, “Of course,” friend, and you wonder if your ears are bleeding by now, “we’re good. Don’t worry about it.” 

You find him unable to meet your eyes, his stare fixed on Haley instead. 

Of course. 

You were just friends after all. 

~~~

You don’t see him much after that. 

And you prefer it that way. 

There was only one more class before the final, and you arrived late, slipping into the back of the lecture hall, tucked away — out of sight. 

You left before it ended, sparing one last glance at Hotchner. 

Out of mind. 

The exam rolls around soon enough, the study period relatively short for summer courses, and you find yourself packing as you finish studying. But still, your mind drifts to him in between moments of taping up boxes and trying to remember the answers you scribbled on the back of flashcards. You would have been studying with him — he would have quizzed you while you boxed up your kitchen, he would have teased you for your barely legible chicken scratch, and he would have been here. 

But he wasn’t. You folded the flaps of yet another box down, tape gun in hand, pressing it to the lip of the box. 

Out of sight, the rip of tape across cardboard, But was he out of mind? 

~~~

“You’re moving?” he catches you moving boxes out of your place, the van you rented outside, sticking his head out of his apartment, his brow furrowed. 

“I am,” you continue down with your boxes, and he moves forward to help you, but you brush by him, heading down the stairs, “I got it, thanks.” 

But he doesn’t let you go, “I thought you still had another year left—” 

“I’m finishing a semester early,” you reply, opening up the trunk again to place the two boxes in the back, “and next semester I’m studying abroad. That’s why I did summer classes.” 

“Studying abroad?” he blinks, “when—” 

“I’m going home for two weeks, and then I’m flying to Switzerland,” the thump of the boxes is loud in his silence, as you slide them into place, “that day I wasn’t doing well— It was because I had gotten rejected from the program. My financial aid hadn’t pulled through,” you pull the trunk closed again, locking it, before brushing past him and  trudging up the stairs again, “But last week, my financial aid office helped me to find a private lender. So I’m going.” 

You hear the slow clunk of his shoes following you up, as you grab another two boxes, and you finally glance at him, finding his lips in a thin line twisted in something resembling a smile, “Congratulations, I’m really happy for you.” 

“Thank you,” you nod, bite your lip — biting back the words burning on your tongue — hauling the last two boxes into your arms. You try to slip past him again, but he grabs a box from your hands. 

“At least let me help you with this,” at least let me do this if not anything else — unspoken words lingered in the air, his fingers grazing yours as he took it, hefting it with relative ease. 

“You know, I’m happy for you too,” you say when you slide the box into place, after unlocking the trunk again. His brows knit together, and it’s not from the strain of carrying your things down the stairs, “I mean it,” and his eyes meet your gaze — you see too many emotions to pull them apart — sadness, regret, worry — and a few you don’t care to pick apart. It doesn’t matter now, “for you and Haley, it’s great you worked it out. You’re good together.” 

And you know it’s true. He’s happy, lighter than he had been for weeks, but now, his shoulders seem so heavy, weights pressed upon the corners of his lips and against his brow. 

“We are,” he shakes his head, sighing, “I just wanted to say s—” 

“We’re good,” you cut him off with a small smile, and you shut the van up, locking it. You turn back to him, only to find his lips pursed, glancing between you and the van, “I’m not leaving until tomorrow morning, so this isn’t goodbye. Can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

He chuckles, “Intent on dragging this out?” 

“I’ll never make it easy for you, Hotchner,” your hands slip into your pockets, walking back up to your apartment, adding, “but you’ll always have my respect and my friendship.” 

“I know,” he says softly, over the low buzz of the hallway fluorescents, “you’ll always have mine too,” he frowns, looking at your door and his, a question on his lips. 

“I should get to bed early,” you turn to unlock your door, “I’m leaving at 7 tomorrow.” 

“Right,” he shakes his head, stepping back, before sparing one more smile, “I’ll let you get some sleep. I should too —  you don’t mind if I say goodbye tomorrow right?” 

You shake your head, “I expect it, bright and early,” and he rolls his eyes, “Good night Hotchner.” 

“Good night,” he says your name, and even as you shut the door behind you, you love the way his mouth curls around your name — achingly and annoyingly perfect. And you remember what else he could do with those lips, how your name felt whispered against your own lips — 

And you remember who those lips would be kissing for the foreseeable future — at home, at their engagement, at their wedding. You catch yourself, heart twisting unto itself, and you had almost forgotten that it was broken — for a moment. 

And you know — you know then that you can’t say goodbye to him. 

Not in person. 

Because you wanted him still, despite it all. And wanting was enough — for a time. But now wanting only hurt because you were wanting what you would never get. You wanted him — but he was never yours to begin with, was he? 

He wasn’t yours to lose — but you did. 

And he would lose you too. 

~~~

Aaron had woken up on time. 

He woke up before his alarm went off, eyes fluttering open to sunlight streaming in his bedroom window. And he tossed off his sheets, rubbing at his eyes. 

He couldn’t be sad — he was happy for you. 

You were graduating, you were moving on, you were doing something you always wanted to do. He sat up, throwing his legs over the bed, pressing his fist to his lips, elbow digging into his thigh. He only wished he was brave enough to go after what he wanted.

What he wanted, his eyes drifted to the picture of Haley on his bedside table, did he even know what he wanted?

He slips out of bed, brewing two cups of coffee — knowing you would be on the road for quite a while. He still had some time before you were leaving.

He opens his apartment door, finding your apartment door open. The landlord pokes his head out, “Hey Hotchner, that doorknob treating you well?” 

Aaron raises an eyebrow, “It’s fine, what are you doing?” 

“Just going over to see what the damage is and if I’m going to be returning that security deposit or not,” he fussed over the clipboard in his hand, pulling the pencil from behind his ear, “looks like the apartment was in relatively good shape so guess I’ll be mailing a check.” 

“Mailing?” Aaron blinks, and the landlord tilts his head. 

“How else do you suppose I give something to a tenant who has already moved out and split?” In that moment, he brushes past him, peering into your empty apartment — the only things left were those of your roommate’s, “Left about an hour ago in a rush, couldn’t even wait for me to do my walkthrough.” 

He was on time, he was early even, he stepped downstairs to only find the truck long gone. 

But he was still too late. 

Always too late. 

~~~

But always wasn’t always forever. 

“Hey, stranger,” you nestled the phone between your cheek and your shoulder, hands full with a bread dough you were currently trying to knead for its next proof, “it’s been a long time—” 

“Did you hear?” 

“Hear what, Alex?” her voice grows quiet on the phone, “what’s wrong?” 

“You know how I’ve been organizing in preparation for the reunion in a few months?” and you lick your lips, moving to wash your hands. 

“Yeah, you told me about that and said on uncertain terms could I refuse to attend, unless I’d like to risk certain bodily harm,” you shook your head, “I didn’t forget, so is that what—” 

“It’s Haley, Haley Hotchner?” 

You pause, “Yeah Hotchner’s gi— wife?” 

“She died, just a week or two ago,” her voice falters, “I just heard about it from Paul, do you remember him? He was in your poli-sci class. He’s in the FBI too. I wanted to get Aaron’s information, and he told me it probably wasn’t a good time. And I pressed him and then….” 

“Oh my god,” you rested your back to the counter, “How did she—” 

“He didn’t get into details, but it was pretty fresh it seemed like. He’s still on leave, and the funeral is soon.” 

Your hands shook, squeezing your eyes shut as your mind returned to that summer — his smile, his laugh, his touch, his care — “When is it?” 

She says your name slowly, “Why?” 

“I have to go,” you swallow the lump in your throat, “I have to go see him.” 

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff/Reader - Land of Thieves - #ChapterSix

Read on AO3 (EN)

Summary: When you were a child, you swore that no matter how high the reward in your head, she could always count on you. Life as an outlaw in the west is not easy, but you believe that train robberies are still easier than asking a pretty girl to dance. Land of Thieves, also know as your love story with Wanda Maximoff in the Wild West.

Chapter Resume: The one where you hunt a bear, and gather wood to make a fire.

Warnings:  18+, explicit language, explicit violence, slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, cursing, blood.

tags: @mionemymind

It didn't take long for you to realize that this was not a good hunting area. It had been a long time since you had separated from Pietro and Wanda, and it seemed as if you were walking in circles without really finding any animals.

You walked in the direction you thought you came from, feeling your boots sink against the wet grass. And then you saw on the ground, the footprints you will learn to recognize with Thor. You realized that the reason you hadn't found any animals yet was because of the recent bear tracks. One animal of this size, and you would have enough food for the days you would be here.

Taking the rifle that was slung over your shoulder to hold it with both hands, you moved toward the trail of footprints, as quietly as possible.

The majestic creature was only a few meters away, its brown fur glistening in the sunlight. You noticed that it was feeding on some fish that were probably from the same lake that surrounded the cabin.

Moving forward in slow steps, you raised your rifle toward the bear, hoping to get a good shot of it. 

And then you stepped wrongly, a stick breaking at your feet, attracting the animal's immediate attention. You hurried to shoot, but your gun locked up.

- Oh shit. - You grumbled, throwing the rifle to the ground, and rushing to run, the bear noticing you the same second you moved.

The animalistic sound of the bear's roar filling the entire room as it got up to chase you, you ran as fast as you could, and just when you thought you had put some distance between you, you spotted Pietro and Wanda, meeting you halfway down the path from opposite directions.

- I found a bear. - You shouted, as you threw yourself to the ground to get under a log. Wanda and Pietro were quick enough to pull you off the ground. You shivered at the sight of the approaching creature, but you drew your revolver, just as Wanda and Pietro aimed their rifles.

The creature fell to the ground with a thud as the shots hit it squarely in the head.

- Does that mean we tie? - asked Pietro after a moment, while the three of you were standing there staring at the dead animal. It took a second, then you all burst out laughing.

- Come on, folks, help me skin it. - You asked, stepping closer to the bear. 

You spent the next few minutes skinning the animal, and a lot of meat was taken. And then you frowned as you realized that you had no way to carry it.

- Do you have any idea how we are going to get all this stuff to the cabin? - you ask, looking at the twins. All of you are covered in blood.

- Shit, it's true. - Pietro says as he looks at the pieces of meat. - I wonder if it will slip off if we take it in our hands.

You nod in agreement, and he sighs. Then you say:

- Take off your shirt. 

Pietro looks at you with surprise, and then he smiles with amusement.

- Look, I'm flattered...

You roll your eyes, interrupting him: - To use for carrying idiot.

Pietro laughs, but raises his eyebrows.

- And why don't you take off your shirt? 

Without patience, you start to unbutton your own shirt, while grumbling:

- You don't have the slightest bit of chivalry.

Pietro laughed, holding your hands to stop you. 

- Okay okay, sorry. I wouldn't want you to feel uncomfortable in front of Stark either. - he says before pulling off his own shirt. 

You can carry some pieces of meat on it, and on the jacket that Wanda was wearing. You wish you had your jacket too, but it was soaked with Steve's blood somewhere in the cabin. 

Walking back, you share the weight of the makeshift "suitcase". When you finally reach the cabin, Steve is outside waiting for you, worried about the noise of the gunshots.

You show him the meat and take it to the small makeshift kitchen, dumping the supplies on the table. 

- Okay, I'll take care of our dinner, you get cleaned up right away. - He says, pushing the three of you out of the hut. 

- We provide your food and you kick us out of the house? - Pietro dramatizes being pushed out, Steve just laughs. 

You and Wanda come out in front, laughing while Pietro tries to avoid being pushed out.

- Come on, Pietro! You stink! - said Steve.

Pietro laughs before giving up, then walks off, throwing his arms around both your shoulders and Wanda's.

- You know, girls, I've been thinking. - He starts to say, keeping his arm around you as you walk towards the lake. - I would love to be best man at your wedding.

You laugh, feeling your cheeks flush. 

- If you promise to take a shower, we might consider it. - You retort, and try not to look so nervous at the almost worshipful look Wanda gives you. Pietro agreed, pretending to swear an oath. You laugh, telling him to shut up.

When you reached the lake, you exchanged a look with Wanda, and the two of you pushed Pietro into the water, laughing as he fell, struggling dramatically. 

- Damn, it's cold! - he exclaimed, and then started moving his arms, throwing water on you and Wanda. The redhead sidestepped your body, trying to escape the jets of water as you both laughed. She threw you into the lake the next second, and you felt the icy water soak your clothes.

Pietro jumps on you as soon as you fall, and you start playing fight, while throwing water at each other. Pietro lands a quick blow on you that knocks you to the ground, he strikes a dramatic pose as he says:

- Do you accept your defeat, foreigner?  

- My god you are such an idiot. - You say between laughs as you stand up. Pietro laughs and steps back a bit, only to take off his soaked boots and pants

Wanda sat on the edge of the lake while you played, and she had a tender look on her face when you approached. You looked away in embarrassment as you began to undress. Unbuttoning your shirt completely, you removed it, placing it on the edge of the lake to let it dry. You removed your boots, tossing them beside your shirt, and then you began to unbutton your pants. You felt like you were being watched, and looked up to find Wanda staring at you with a glint in her eyes that you didn't quite know what it was, her cheeks red. When she noticed you watching, she looked away, focusing on unbuttoning her own blouse. 

- Ouch, I think a fish just bit my ass! - shouted Pietro, jumping around the lake while looking down.

- God, Pietro. - said Wanda laughing. 

- No fish will want to bite you, you stinker! - You jokingly said, making the twins laugh, while Pietro gave you a gentle shove.

You spent a lot of time at the lake, running around and throwing water at each other. 

The sun was setting when Steve left the cabin.

- God you guys are still there? - he asked in a disapproving tone. - Get out before you catch cold.

It had been so hot all day that this probably wouldn't happen. You picked your clothes up off the floor, now completely dry, and put them on. And then you remembered your jacket, and went into the cabin looking for it.

- What is it, kid? - Steve asked as soon as you walked in. You noticed that he and Tony had taken all the sheets off the furniture, and now the cabin was extremely cozy. Tony was crouched over the fireplace, probably trying to see how to light it. 

- My jacket. - You say, looking around. - I wore it to...

- To stop the bleeding. - Steve interrupts. - I remember. - He says with amusement, walking towards the room where Bucky was sleeping. - I cleaned it up shortly after you went out hunting. - He says, and his voice is a little low because of the distance. He returns next, handing the jacket to you.

- Thank you, Steve. - You say and he smiles, ruffling your hair.

- Let's build a fire outside, okay? - He says. - Just like old times.

You nod your head in agreement, smiling. He asks you to fetch wood to light the fire, signaling that there should be a wood storage compartment under one end of the hut.

Leaving the hut, you smile when you see Wanda and Pietro playing with their hands, like those games you used to play as children. You tell them that you are going to look for some wood to make a fire, and Pietro starts looking for bigger logs for you guys to use as a seat. Tony then leaves the cabin and asks Wanda to get some wood for the cabin fireplace, and he joins Pietro in dragging a fallen log to the center of the yard.

You try not to think too much about being alone with Wanda again, walking beside her through the forest as you search for sticks, your hands rubbing together occasionally between stolen glances.

Returning to the cabin area, you look for the storeroom Steve mentioned, finding it on the outer side, almost at the back of the cabin. You let out a contented exclamation as you spot it.

- Steve says to keep some firewood here. - You say without turning to Wanda. You bend down to put away some branches, leaving the amount needed for the fire. - Let's split the weight. - You say to Wanda as she puts away the branches she has split and gets up with the others she is going to take to the fireplace. She smiles at you as you try to keep the amount the same, maybe even adding more branches for yourself. - There you go. - You smile and look at Wanda, only to find her looking at you with intensity. - Is everything mmm...

The question dies in your throat as Wanda moves forward, bringing her mouth to yours. You sigh, while closing your eyes. Wanda drops the sticks on the ground, grabbing you by the waist as she pushes you against the wood of the hut. You lift your hands to her face, the sticks long forgotten at your feet.

Wanda runs her tongue across your lower lip, asking for passage, and you open your mouth slightly to feel her tongue meet yours. When your tongues touch, you feel a sharp twinge under your stomach, and you let your fingers slide to the nape of Wanda's neck, running through the strands of her hair.

The kiss is intense, and leaves you with weak knees. Your brain goes blank, the feel of Wanda's tongue takes your breath away.

You feel Wanda push your body against the wood, the sensation draws a gasp from you as it chills your entire body. 

You think you hear laughter, everything around you seems muffled. But you force yourself to focus on something other than Wanda, and then you remember where you are. 

- Wanda. - You call her between kisses, completely breathless. - Wands. 

And then she presses you against the cabin once more, her knee coming up between your legs, and you see stars. You really thought that there was your doom there, and you would take her for yourself at that moment, but then another noise, which sounded like Pietro shouting with joy as he managed to carry the logs, caught Wanda's attention. 

She parted your mouths, probably startled by the noise, and you whimpered at the sudden loss of contact. Wanda quickly brings your mouths together again, a smile on her lips, and this time she kisses you with less intensity. A moment passes before you end the kiss completely, keeping your foreheads resting together as Wanda pulls the rest of her body away a bit so that she's no longer pressing you against the cabin, which makes you miss her body heat in the same second.

You were going to tell her that you need to take the firewood, but then Pietro's voice sounded in the distance.

- Stop making out in secret and get over here! I'm hungry! - he shouted. 

You and Wanda let out a half breathless laugh. Stepping back a little, you stared into her emerald eyes, swearing that she never looked so beautiful.

- Let's go before Pietro comes to get us. - Wanda says in a playful tone. You nod in agreement, as you bend down to gather the twigs.

Before you leave in the direction of the lake, you steal a lingering kiss from her, which makes her blush and flush. You just smile, and she hurries to get in your way, kissing you firmly before walking away. She takes one last look at you before turning toward the cottage, and you try to stop grinning like an idiot as you walk toward the garden.

As you finished setting up and lighting the campfire, the others sat around the fire, warming themselves from the cold night. Steve brought blankets, and mugs, while Tony loaded the raw meats for roasting.

You and Wanda share a blanket, sitting side by side on the makeshift bench, while Pietro sat next to his sister. You tried not to blush as you felt Wanda's hand entwine with yours under the blanket.

As the meats roasted, Steve began to hum softly. 

- Help yourselves. - He said after a moment, and you noticed him taking a piece for Bucky. He then got up and walked towards the cabin, signaling that he would be back in a few minutes.

- So, you're sort like his children? - Stark asked as you served yourselves. Pietro let out a little chuckle.

- I think Y/N is yes. - He teased and you rolled your eyes. Tony looked at you, looking really interested to know.

- He is not a biological father if that is what you are asking. - You said. - But he has been taking care of me since I was a child, so I guess we are like father and daughter.

Tony nodded slightly, a gleam in his eyes that you couldn't recognize. Maybe it was relief, but you couldn't tell why.

- What about you two? Are your parents with the rest of the gang? - Tony asked the twins. You guessed that he knew about the rest of the gang because Steve should have told him during the conversation this afternoon. Pietro and Wanda exchanged a look with each other, as if deciding whether to trust Tony. 

- No, our parents are dead. - Said Wanda after a moment, you felt her squeeze your hand lightly. - We joined the gang as children too. Stephen, you don't know him, took us off the streets.

- Oh, I see. - Said Tony - I'm sorry about that.

Wanda shrugged. - It was a long time ago.

You were silent for a moment, enjoying the dinner. The meat had a strong flavor, and was not usually what you eat, but it was tasty. Steve returned after a while, looking pleased.

- Bucky finally woke up. - He commented as he sat up, then helped himself. - He managed to eat a little.

- He'll be fine. - You assured him, and Steve smiled at you tenderly. 

When everyone was finished eating, you just sat quietly, enjoying the warmth of the fire. Tony was the first to get up, telling you that he was going to check if Bucky didn't have a fever, and Steve quickly followed him. 

Pietro quickly switched places, sitting on the log in front of you and Wanda, looking at you both with mischievous amusement.

- So girls, let's do something fun? - he suggested.

- There's not much to do in this place. - You commented, looking at him. Pietro blinked, thoughtful for a moment.

- We can always hunt another bear. - He joked, making you and Wanda laugh. After a moment, his expression changed to concern, causing you to frown.

- What's up, Pietro? - you asked, and he looked away from you into the fire.

- Do you think everyone is all right? - he asked, but didn't expect an answer. - With all those O'Driscolls and guards, how can we be sure that they got out without being seen? And even if they did, where do we go from here?

Wanda gave your hand a squeeze, before letting go and getting up to sit beside Pietro, hugging him by the shoulders.

- We'll be fine, Pietro. - She said in a tender tone. - Stephen will find a place for us.

You wanted to tell Pietro that everything would be all right, and that you would be home with everyone soon. But you were overcome by your own insecurities, worrying too much about everyone. You could only nod in agreement to Wanda, forcing a smile from your lips.

- We take care of each other right? - Pietro grumbled after a moment, his eyes filled with tears. Wanda smiled.

- Of course. Y/N and I will take care of you. - She teased, and Pietro let out a hoarse laugh, wiping the tears from his eyes.

You fell silent for a moment, until Pietro said that you should sleep, and you actually agreed, finally acknowledging how tired you were from the robbery. You put out the fire while the twins got up, and then you walked together to the cabin.

Steve was tidying up the rooms when you came in, carrying blankets to the wooden beds. You were pleased to hear that there were mattresses in the cabin.

- So, how are you going to share the beds? - He asked, and you were about to say that you would sleep on the floor if you had to, but Peter was quicker to make an ironic comment.

- Well, wives should sleep in the same bed. - He joked and Wanda slapped him on the head, and he just laughed along with Steve.

- We can all sleep together, Steve. - Wanda then said.

- Actually, Pietro might be right. - Steve said with humor in his voice, and looking at the confused and surprised expressions of the three of you, he clarified. - We have a queen-size bed in the empty room. And then two bunk beds in the room where Bucky is. Maybe it would be better if the girls slept together.

You felt your face get very hot, and maybe Wanda had the same expression, because Steve took on a mixed look of seriousness and humor when he said:

- Behave yourselves, girls. - He teased, and you heard Pietro laugh. He remarked something like "early honeymoon" but you ignored it. Steve dragged Pietro into the bedroom next, and the boy wished you both a good night.

You followed Wanda into your bedroom in silence, feeling out of place. You tried not to think too much in the double bed. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your anxious brain. It was only Wanda, you had slept together hundreds of times before. You closed the door as you entered, while Wanda sat up in bed.

You gave her a shy smile as you took off your boots and jacket. She did the same. 

You lay in silence, your eyes staring up at the ceiling. You sighed, turning your body to face her as you waited for her to do the same. Wanda turned around, and you smiled at her, who was looking at you with flushed cheeks.

- Hi - you whispered.

- Hi. - She said in the same tone.

You rested your head against your arm, and raised your other hand to Wanda's hair, playing with the strands in your fingers.

- Why is that strange? - she asked, looking away from you. You smiled slightly. - We've slept together before.

- Because now I want to kiss you. - You answered, tucking her hair behind her ear. Wanda blinked, surprised at your honesty. She bit her lower lip, and you let your fingers run across her face and around her cheeks. Wanda grimaced slightly when you touched her on the top of her nose, and you smiled tenderly, feeling your heart inflate with love for her.

- I want to kiss you too. - She confessed after a moment, looking into your eyes. You remembered the three men in the next room, and let out a sigh.

- We don't have to do anything just because we're in a bed together. - You said, and then let the palm of your hand rest against Wanda's cheek, who leaned into your touch. - We have all the time in the world.

Wanda nodded, closing her eyes. You moved closer, placing a kiss on her forehead. She had a smile on her lips when you pulled away. 

- Goodnight, Wanda. - you whispered.

- Good night. - She answered in the same tone, practically asleep. You watched her for a few more moments before closing your eyes.

It had been three days since you had been in the cabin. Your routine consisted of waking up completely entwined in Wanda's body, smiling like an idiot, and then having coffee with Pietro. Then bathing in the lake, and spending time in their company. Sometimes you chopped wood, or tried to fish, but most of the time you just joined Pietro and Wanda in song, or you played the deck of cards he had found in one of the cabinets. The best moments were the stolen kisses that Wanda would take from you, leaving you breathless and clumsy as she walked away as if nothing had happened.

The problem was that Steve's nervousness about the delay in hearing from the camp was palpable, and it made everyone quite uncomfortable. Bucky was finally awake, and this cheered Steve up a bit, but he still had a distracted look whenever you looked at him.

And then, you finally got a letter. Peggy sent a coded message, and after a few minutes of reading and rereading the paper, Bucky finally deciphered it. They had set up camp in the Rhodes region, and everyone was safe. You let out a sigh of relief when you heard these words.

Steve signaled for you guys to have some coffee, and then said that you needed to arrange some horses.

- We are going to walk to the Esmerald Ranch. - He said while putting on his boots - And then me, Pietro and Y/N will steal the horses.

Everyone nodded in agreement, Tony looked slightly uncomfortable, but you guessed he was going to take the train as soon as he arrived at the ranch.

Then you covered the cabin furniture again, and checked that you didn't leave anything important behind. 

The way to the ranch was slightly long, and halfway there Pietro started carrying his sister on his back, while everyone sang a song excitedly. You kept the pace slow so as not to tire Bucky too much.

When you finally spotted the ranch, you stopped walking, finding a place for the others to hide while you, Steve and Pietro stole the horses.

- So you see the stables? - Steve asked, pointing to the place. You and Pietro nodded. - There are only pawns inside. Don't hurt anyone, and go around the bars so as not to be seen. Now, masks please.

You and Pietro quickly put on their masks. Steve turned to Tony.

- The station is on the other side. - He said signaling. Tony shifted the weight of his feet, before shaking everyone's hand, saying goodbye. He waved last before walking the distance.

- What are the chances of him going straight to the police? - Pietro asked looking at the distance image of Tony.

- Don't worry about it. - Said Steve, he looked at Bucky fondly before pushing you and Pietro lightly by the shoulders, so that you were heading for the stables.

Stealing horses wasn't hard, you had done it many times before. So you just picked the one that looked healthiest, and you were glad he didn't knock you down. You and Pietro followed Steve out. He had to confront one of the ranchers, pointing his gun at the man, who backed away at the same second, before you left

Riding quickly to the corner where Wanda and Bucky were, you watched as Wanda helped Bucky onto Steve's horse. And then she climbed on with you, ignoring Pietro's teasing. The feeling of having her hugging your waist was good.

You didn't start riding more slowly until you were a good distance away from the Esmerald Ranch. 

- Do you know where the camp is exactly? - Pietro asked Steve, while riding beside him.

- We will find it, relax. - replied Steve. - I have some idea of good places in this region, hidden enough.

You were trying not to smile so hard as you felt Wanda hugging you, and then your face flushed when you noticed Pietro's suggestive expression.

It took a few hours, but you finally reached the spot where Steve believed the camp was set up. He entered the forest ahead of you, followed by you.

- Hey, look who decided to show up! - shouted a voice, and you heard Steve laugh. You didn't recognize Thor until he walked towards you, no longer hidden by branches.

The reunion was quite exciting. Thor helped Bucky dismount, leading him to a cabin, while the other members ran up to you. Nat almost knocked you to the ground when she jumped up to hug you, making you laugh. You felt your chest lighten when you noticed that everyone was safe.

- Come, come, you must see the place. - Signaled Potts cheerfully. Nat held your arm as you walked together, and you looked back a moment, exchanging a smile with Wanda, who was walking along with Monica and Pietro.

The new camp was in an open area, which contained two tall trees. It was on the edge of a large lake, and you were happy to know that you could fish without leaving the camp. Potts signaled the location of everyone's tent, and then the group split up. Nat escorted you to your tent, which had been stowed. You made a mental note to thank Potts for this later.

Nat threw herself on your bed as soon as you came in, and you laughed as you took off your jacket. That region was very hot.

- So, dear, what's your news? - she asked, and you sat down in the chair at your makeshift little table, taking off your boots.

- Well, I hunted a bear with a revolver. - You joke, and Nat looks at you with confusion. You shrug. - Wanda and Pietro saved my ass actually. And then we had bear meat for days.

- Hmm, speaking of Wanda. - Nat started, sitting up in bed, and you just laughed, looking away. - I just mentioned her name and you were all smiles and giggles.

- Shut up. - You retorted, finishing taking off your boots. You got into a more comfortable position in the chair. Nat laughed at your embarrassment.

- Go on, tell me. - She asked. - I saw you exchanging passionate glances. 

You sighed, laughing slightly. Scratching your head absently, you looked away before speaking again.

- Wanda kissed me. A few times.

- WHAT? - Nat shouted wide-eyed. You felt your cheeks heat up even more when you noticed some gang members looking at your tent with curiosity.

- God, can you keep your voice down? - You asked as you stood up and closed the tent, without first nodding awkwardly at the ones who looked at you.

- My God, what do you mean? - she asked excitedly, pulling you to sit beside her. - And it wasn't just one kiss, it was several? How long have you been hiding this?

You laughed, cradling your face in both hands, clumsily. Nat giggled, nudging you and making you look at her.

- The night before the robbery. - You told her. - I apologized for ignoring her and she kissed me outside the tent.

- And I missed this? - She shouted, and you signaled her to keep it down with a laugh. - That explains your little smile that morning. - You shrugged, smiling shyly. Nat assumed a mischievous expression. - But did you say several kisses? Girl, you're standing there grabbing Wanda in the middle of a robbery?

You laughed, pushing Nat lightly.

- Of course not, Nat, my goodness. - You denied it. - After we escaped, Steve found us a place to stay.

- If you say a brothel, I'll punch you in the face.

You laughed, and Nat smiled lightly. And then she waved her hands signaling for you to keep telling her.

- It was a cabin, somewhere near the Esmerald Ranch. - You explained. - Wanda kissed me again there.

You felt your cheeks heat up as you remembered how she had kissed you, and looked away quickly. Nat frowned, and then laughed, putting her hand over her mouth.

- My God, you want to sleep with her! - she exclaimed, and you widened your eyes. - Look at your face! 

- There's no face at all. - you mumbled clumsily.

- Oh yes, you do. The face of someone who won't even wait for the wedding. My God, does Pietro know you're trying to deflower his sister?

- Oh my God, Nat. - You said closing your eyes, Nat just laughed at your shame.

- And here I thought you were an innocent girl. - She teases. - But tell me, are you two officially dating then?

You frown, looking at Nat, realizing that you didn't know the answer. You certainly wanted to, but you and Wanda hadn't talked about it.

- I will take your silence and your stupid face as "we haven't talked about it yet because our mouths were busy. - Nat joked with irony and you let out an embarrassed exclamation of shame, laughing ruefully. - My God, you two are a disaster.

- We just haven't had time to talk yet. - you said after a moment. - I think I'll invite you into town. We can do something fun.

- Look at you, planning dates and all. - Nat teased, and you rolled your eyes humorously. 

- Can you tell me what happened here now? - you say, and Nat just shrugs.

- The usual I guess. We set up the camp and got busy with the daily chores. - She said and you nodded. But then Nat exclaimed as if she remembered something. - Sorry, you haven't seen them yet. Bruce and Carol have improved! I think Carol went to Rhodes, by the way.

- What? - You exclaimed excitedly. - This is amazing. 

- Yes, and now that everyone is available for work, you'll have plenty of free time to date.

You laughed, telling her to shut up. Nat just smiled, looking away.

- Have you talked to Bruce yet? - you ask after a moment. Nat bites her lip, slightly embarrassed.

- We don't have much to talk about. - She says. - He still thinks we shouldn't happen.

You sigh, and hold Nat's hand, who gives you a sad smile.

- Banner is an idiot to let someone like you escape. - You say. - Maybe things will work out for you two over time. If not, I'll go over there and kick his ass myself.

Nat laughed, nodding. You fell into a comfortable silence, until Nat remembered that she had chores to keep up with, and hugged you before leaving the cabin, telling you to talk to Wanda soon. You nod, feeling your heart race with anticipation, and Nat leaves.

A new camp always generates a lot of new tasks, so you force yourself out of bed to help the rest of the gang. As soon as you leave your tent, Potts signals for you to go talk to her. She had some papers spread out on one of the camp's wooden tables, and seemed to be trying to organize everything you guys had.

- Everything okay there, Pepper? - you comment as soon as you reach her, who looks nervous. - By the way, thank you for organizing my tent. 

- No worries, really. And yes, everything is fine. I'm just trying to keep this place running. - she says. And then she fiddles with the papers, reading for a few seconds, before handing one of them to you. - I need these items. 

- Right. - You say as you pick up the list. And then you frown at the number of items.

- We don't have any money. - She tells you. You sigh, tucking the list in your jacket pocket. - Maybe you can rob a grocery store.

- No, it' s okay. I can do some robbing in some other town, and then buy the items. - You say, knowing that robbing stores was much more work than robbing travelers.

- Okay, thanks Y/N. - She says, but you don't leave yet, remembering something.

- Pepper, any chance that you have found Knight? - you ask. - He knocked me down during the shootout at Heartlands.

Potts assumes a mixed expression of confusion and sorrow.

- Damn it, Y/N, I'm sorry, I thought you saw him. - She says and you look at her with confusion. - Unfortunately, he did not survive.

- Oh. Oh, shit. Damn, that's really too bad. - You grumble, feeling immediately upset. You think crying over a horse would be childish, so you just nod, telling Potts that it's okay, and that you'll get the supplies. You walk toward the makeshift camp stables, where the horse you stole could serve as a mount. As you are fixing the saddle, you feel your face wet. And then you realize that you were crying. Wiping your face quickly with your forearm, you mount the horse in front of you. Trying to ignore the feeling that this really wasn't your horse.

[unholyplumpprincess]

Valentine’s Day

Fluffy/sfw commission for @thebiggestnaturaldisaster ft a long distance relationship between Crypto and a gender neutral reader!

(Older content)

Though this post is SFW, this blog is not! Minors do not follow me, but this post is okay to interact with!

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Crypto/Reader

Warnings: SFW, none

Words: 1.3k

_________________

When you had entered this relationship with Crypto, he’d been rather...well, wary for starters. It hadn’t meant to happen. Just talking online to someone until it became a need to check his phone for any texts from you. The ache if you were having a bad day. The smiles he had when you posted selfies on social media and being able to look at you.

Truthfully, he hadn’t meant to fall. Especially when he was who he was. A participant in the Apex Games meant that he would always, always be far from your home planet. He would always be busy if it was a match day. But. it also meant he knew one person cheering for him alongside his mother was out of love, not just to see him slaughter.

Or even sponsors hoping to sign his name.

No, he’d become familiar to you by now. Long nights spent on the phone at the end of the day, or having his computer set up to watch you as you lied down. Rubbing at your eyes and yawning out a joke that had him smiling at how domestic this could be.

Well, could be.

~Rest under the cut~

Often nights he dreamt of being held by you, tasting coffee on your lips and becoming familiar with your scent. He watched over social media and anything you sent him with great joy and a sparkle in his eyes when you posted about something you were excited about. Anything you did enamored him greatly.

Yet, despite being comfortable with the distance, the longing between you two had grown and grown until Crypto finally asked.

“When can I see you?” He had murmured one night, arms around a pillow and watching as you washed your face. Your phone set up behind your sink and your face covered in white foam. It was endearing, especially when you broke out into a smile and glanced at your phone at him. Rubbing the cleanser into your cheeks.

“You don’t have to rush, Crypto. I know you’re busy with the games- besides, you know a ship to my planet would be expensive. We’ll hold out!” You comforted him, bowing your head until he could just see your hair and hear the sink running as you washed off your face.

He had laughed instead, “You are kind. But...Taking up sponsors has allowed me to, ah, as you had put it before ‘make bank’.” His voice soft, smile growing fond as you snorted at his impression of your voice.

Dabbing your face with a dry towel, you soon held your phone up so he could get a better look at you pretending to think. Biting your lip and humming long as if considering his offer. When he offers you his characteristic ‘Look’, you crack with a small laugh.

“We’ll text about it tomorrow, yeah?” Your voice so soft as you said it he could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Nodding quick in reply as you said your goodnight’s.

Crypto couldn’t sleep that night, finding the nearest space shuttle that would be heading your way. A long flight of twelve hours was worth it, but finding out the timing was even more worth it.

Valentine’s day. He had laughed once when you brought it up, sticking your tongue out in mock distaste. But he’d seen you smile when he offered to send cute chocolates and exotic flowers your way.

It would be cold on your planet, snowing. He wasn’t good with cold weathers, but he’s sure you wouldn’t mind if he bundled up closer to you.

It’s set a month out. You both plan as he finishes up the last game of the season. The next day he’s packing, heart racing out of his chest and ignores Elliott’s soft prodding about where he’s going so late at night.

A lower mask and a big hooded jacket conceals his identity from excited fans. Flipping his phone in his hands as he stares at your last ‘goodnight’ text. Having to stop himself from selfishly keeping you awake just to tell you how much he loves you.

--

Going through space via a packed ship is a little bit nauseating. He never got used to the dropship for the matches either. Thankfully, Crypto’s excitement keeps him from throwing a fit. And, of course, a little fidget toy you’d gotten him in the past. Much like a rubix cube but once completed it clicked and changed into a totally new pattern. Something he liked to twist and turn.

When the pilot announces the hour away mark, he texts you so. Watching your icon light up green and online as you type back your excitement and that you’re on your way.

The whole hour is the worst part. Having to keep his cool as he walks off the ship with everyone else after gathering his backpack and slinging it behind him over his shoulders. It takes everything in Crypto not to dart out and push past everyone.

You’re waiting for him in the sea of people. Hands rubbing together and dressed in a big sweater and jeans. It’s beautifully white outside with snow, standing everyone out. Crypto’s breath shakes, watching how you stand on your tiptoes, peeking over and around bodies until you spot him. With his lower mask on, black with a bright green sharp teeth design and his hood up, he could be mistaken for just about anyone else.

But, you know who it is.

You dart at him through people, making it to him in just a few steps and slam into his body. You both laugh as your arms go around his waist, holding tight as his arms go over your shoulders, cradling your head to his neck as people brush by you both.

Your fingers twist into the back of his jacket under his backpack, sniffling as you press your face to his throat and inhaling his scent as a sob rips through you. Too overwhelmed with emotion as he rocks with you from foot to foot and murmurs into your hair to calm you.

Once people part and it’s just you two, you laugh and pull back enough to look at him. Keeping your arms around him as you two make eye contact. With one last sniff, you offer a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He murmurs back, eyes narrowing with his smile as you beam back.

--

The drive back to your home is met with you trying so hard not to look at him and keep your eyes on the road. You lived in a one bedroom apartment, nothing fancy as you lead him to the third floor. Your cat greets you first, twirling about your legs and then his with soft mewls that make him smile.

You both waste no time. Kicking off your shoes at the front door as you try to stutter out if he’d like something to drink, if he had snacks on the ship. All whilst gesturing to your open kitchen until he’s tugging you with him to your couch.

You wind up holding each other, you lying back on the couch with his head on your chest. Jacket discarded and mask set on the coffee table. You comb your fingers through his hair, running your fingers along the shaved sides as he exhaustedly leans into you with your precious kitty curled up on his lower back.

“Crypto?” You murmur softly, hearing him hum as he lifts his head up to look at you.

He’s greeted by your lips pecking his. One hand cupping his cheek as you gently guide yourself to sit up and him following. Propping one hand behind you as you both balance. He takes some weight off you, keeping his spine bent in a beautiful flexible shape to keep the cat asleep. Chasing your lips as you cup his jaw and hungrily kiss him. Soft, open mouthed and your fingers brushing up into his hair instead.

When you both part, he’s the first to laugh as you move to lie back down comfortably.

“I have chocolates in my bag for you.” He murmurs, nosing at your chest as you bark out a laugh.

“You fucking sap.”

[high-functioning-lokipath]

SH - Sherlock & Mycroft Friendship/Brotherly Bonding - Prompt: Holmes brothers as kids, Myc being a good brother, playing the deduction game. - Words: 1,715

WARNING: MYCROFT IS A BIT NOT GOOD AT THE BEGINNING. THIS IS NOT MYCROFT HATE THO! ALSO, DEVIL CHILDREN WHO DON'T LIKE SHERLOCK MAKE AN APPEARANCE. IT DOES END WELL THOUGH.

That being said, I guess I should add a Trigger Warning for bullying.

I do hope you enjoy the story! Let us know!

"You simply are not trying hard enough, Sherlock! It's quite obvious!" Mycroft yelled. The Holmes brothers were standing in the living room in 221B. Mycroft had decided to pay his brother an in-person visit rather than just turning on the security camera he'd installed. Sherlock had decided to ask Mycroft to play the deduction game with him over a cup of tea. Sherlock was rarely so cordial with Mycroft thus Mycroft was, not that he'd admit it, concerned that something was wrong. He realized he'd miscalculated greatly (again, he'd never admit that) when, only an hour later, a shouting match had ensued.

"Really? Obvious? You're bloody insane, Mycroft! That solution is simply not possible!" Sherlock yelled, dressing gown swishing dramatically as he waved about.

"Look at the facts little brother. We've eliminated the rest. And what do we say about what remains?" Mycroft attempted to bring his voice back down to it's normal, placating, patronizing tones.

"Must be the truth," Sherlock replied, hanging his head low as he finally came to rest on the couch. Mycroft briefly, and rather guiltily, pictured Sherlock as a whipped puppy tucking its tail between its legs. He hadn't intended to hurt his brother so, but the damage was done.

'Nothing worse than past fights,' Mycroft thought. 'He'll recover in a few hours.' He decided not to reconcile at the moment as that could quite easily be taken as caring. 'Sherlock knows I care about him, I just don't want to appear too soft,' Mycroft justified mentally.

"Very good, Sherlock," He said aloud. "I understand you couldn't see it my way today. Perhaps one day you'll be able to think clearly about things." Mycroft turned to walk away. "Perhaps once your brain recovers from your last overdose. Maybe then it will return to acceptable functionality."

'Why did I tack that last jab on?' Mycroft wondered. 'Perhaps I really am becoming too calloused.' He shrugged off the thoughts for the moment as he got in his usual black limousine for the ride home.

Back in 221B, Sherlock sat crying on the sofa for some time. Soft whimpers of "Myc" fell from his lips occasionally. Eventually, he fell asleep, although not a restful one.

"William! Come outside! It's a perfect day to explore!" Sherlock's mind palace had conjured up the memory he was trying so hard to forget. He saw everything so clearly though. Mycroft, still as proper as ever, yet this Mycroft was more free, more innocent. About 14 years old and just under 5' 7", Mycroft had already adopted most of the personality that would stick with him for the rest of his life. Sherlock was seeing his memory as though it was a movie he could walk through. He didn't see it from his 7 year old point of view. Rather, he watched on the sidelines. He looked around and found himself in the backyard of their childhood home. Mycroft was examining a particularly bright patch of flowers by the corner of the house. Some of them had been crushed, others torn up.

'The old tabby cat,' Sherlock remembered fondly. 'Mrs. O'Malley did always let that cat wander too much.'

"I'm coming, Mycie!" Sherlock heard behind him. Turning about he saw himself, right at 4' tall, running out of the house to join his brother.

"Tell me, William," Mycroft said. "How do you think these flowers were destroyed?"

"The old tabby cat, Mycie! That's easy! Find me something harder!" His 7 year old self exclaimed. Mycroft smiled approvingly and patted little Sherlock's shoulder.

'I can't seem to recall why he ever stopped calling me William,' Sherlock thought. Shaking his head in his dream, he chuckled silently. He knew he would remember, but his mind was attempting to fool him.

"Timothy Lexington," Mycroft called out, tossing a frisbee to young Sherlock. He caught it absently, brows drawn together in thought.

"Blond and blue, 19, 5' 9", science class, held back a year," Sherlock replied, throwing the disk back with a smug grin.

'The original deduction game!' Sherlock thought with an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia. Sitting on the grass, he settled in to watch.

Mycroft had gotten into the habit of having Sherlock deduce his classmates to the nth degree.

"Why was he held back?" Mycroft quizzed, returning the frisbee.

"Cheating," Sherlock replied, about to throw it back. "Wait," he paused. "Cheating and skipping class." With every throw, Mycroft would ask a question or name a person, and with every catch, Sherlock would answer.

"Samantha Hanshaw."

"Red and green, 17, 5' 5", fairly intelligent. Moved ahead 2 levels over the summer." Mycroft was just about to catch the returning disc when Sherlock added, "And she has a crush on you. She likes your intellect." Mycroft completely froze. The frisbee hit him squarely on the forehead, snapping him out of his trance. "Mycroft! Are you ok?" Sherlock yelled, all deductions forgotten.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Mycroft assured him. "Let's go up front." The two Holmes children ran around to the front yard and Sherlock hurried to catch up. As he was about the round the corner, he noticed a group of boys, about his younger self's age, bicycling down the road.

'Oh,' Sherlock remembered. 'This was it.'

"William! Want to come and play with us?" One boy yelled, coming to a stop in front of the house.

"Can I, Myc? Please?" The younger Holmes asked. Sherlock could see the love and care in Mycroft's eyes. But also the sadness.

"They're no good for you, Will," He whispered, kneeling down to his brother's level. The younger's face dropped, tears welling up in his eyes. Mycroft hesitated briefly, hoping with all his heart he was making the right decision and that his initial readings of those boys were false, and added, "But if you want so badly, I suppose an hour or so wouldn't hurt." Sherlock lit up and hugged his brother around the neck.

"Thanks, Mycie! I'll be good! I'll be back in 1 hour!" Sherlock then ran across their large front yard to the road to meet up with the other boys. Mycroft began to walk into the house when he heard yelling.

"Where's your bodyguard now, William? Think you can just use your brain to get out of this, William?" Mycroft's heart sank. Those scumbags were holding Sherlock down on the pavement, kicking him. "Freak! Weirdo!"

"Leave him alone!" Mycroft bellowed. Sherlock had been struggling, trying to get away from them, but there had simply been too many. The bullies quickly scattered, grabbing their bikes and running off. Mycroft pulled Sherlock onto the grass immediately.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock whimpered.

"No, no, William. You don't have to be-"

"Don't call me that!" He yelled. "Never again! If I'm to be a freak, I'll be named as such. Never call me by that name again. Call me Sherlock from now on." Sherlock's face had turned adamant, a preview of his future personality.

"But-"

"Please?" Sherlock begged, face softening once again. Mycroft silently nodded and pulled Sherlock in for a hug.

"Come on inside. Let's get you washed up and have some cake together, hm? Sounds good, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked, the name feeling strange on his tongue. He certainly did not think the name sounded freakish, nor was his brother a freak, but he would, at least for now, make his brother happy.

"Yes, please."

"And Sherlock?" Mycroft continued, pausing his steps. "I'll always love you and I'll always take care of you. I will never hurt you. Never forget that."

Sherlock woke up with a start, gasping and still sobbing a little. His face was sticky with half-dry tears.

"I will never hurt you." Those words echoed in Sherlock's mind. It seemed that these days all Mycroft had done was hurt Sherlock.

'Not that it was really his fault,' Sherlock thought. 'I'm really the cause of it all. Maybe if I could find a triple homicide I could finally make him proud.' Sherlock shook his head. He'd already solved those types of cases. He really didn't know what to do to make his brother happy. Turning over on the sofa, he looked to the abandoned mugs on the coffee table. No doubt, the contents were far past cold so Sherlock got up and took them to the sink. Hearing the door lock click, he readied himself for an intruder since no one else he knew should be coming in at this time of day.

"Sherlock?" He heard a voice call out.

'Mycroft?' Sherlock wondered. 'Why is he here?' Slowly, Sherlock walked out of the kitchen.

"What do you want?" He spat, unintentionally angry.

"I wanted to apologise. I'm sorry," Mycroft said, absolute sincerity showing on his face. Sherlock was surprised beyond words. Mycroft quickly took in his brother's appearance and realized he was responsible for it. Mycroft sighed lightly before continuing, "Lately all we've done is fight. That's not right for brothers. Even arch-nemesis brothers," He said with a smirk. Even Sherlock chuckled at that. Turning serious once again, Mycroft continued, "Please believe me when I say I'm sorry. I-" He paused for a moment, deciding he may not have another chance like this for a while. "I'll always love you, little brother, and I'll always take care of you. I will never intentionally hurt you. Never forget that. I may be harsh sometimes and say things I don't mean when I'm especially frustrated but I'll try to say 'I'm sorry' a bit more."

"I love you too, Mycie," Sherlock replied, hugging his brother tightly. Mycroft smiled fondly at the man who, at the moment, was burying his face in Mycroft's suit jacket. Mycroft hugged Sherlock back.

"I'll always care, William," His brother's name finally felt right again after all these years. "You're never a disadvantage."

"Neither are you, Myc," Sherlock replied with a smile. "But you know you're not allowed to call me that around anyone else. Not even Mummy and Daddy." Mycroft nodded. "Good. Now why don't we stop this emotional madness and finish what we started," Sherlock commanded. To the average person, it would seem Sherlock had gone back to normal. But Mycroft saw the glint in his eyes. "Chocolate cake with whipped icing?" Sherlock offered.

"Of course," Mycroft smiled, taking the plate and sitting again in the living room. "Cluedo?"

Sherlock BBC Taglist

@lucywrites02

@delightfulheartdream

@bartv21

@another-crazy-fangirl

@ladylulu143

[sneezefiction]

apple pie & ice cream

Kenma x Reader - Scenario

desc: gloomy days can always be brightened with sweet smells, cinnamon sugar, and a homemade apple pie from yours truly: Kenma Kozume

a/n: to the anon who requested this a little while ago... happy birthday, love!! i hope you’re okay that i switched things around a little bit & had Kenma make you something sweet instead <3</i>

warning: slight language

wc: 1580

---

Some days are longer than others.

You’ve never had a good explanation as to why, but there are at least some telltale signs.

Like when red lights seem endless, your favorite song doesn’t sound as pretty as it should, and you just can’t keep your tired eyes open. Even with a cozy mug of hot tea in hand or the gentle stream of sunlight filtering through your office’s window, the warmth on your fingertips and face simply refused to reach you on the inside.

It also doesn’t help that you were flipped off not once, but twice, by some shitty drivers when you clearly had the right of way.

So you determine that the faster you can get home to Kenma, the better you’ll feel.

You take every short-cut and any back road, impatiently awaiting the moment that you can kick off your uncomfortable shoes and step out of those constricting work clothes. To turn on the air-conditioning and crash into a couch that proves to be far more welcoming than the outside world. Even just a nice, long stretch would do your aching back and heavy arms some good.

But most of all, you long to sink into Kenmas chest and lazily breathe in the comforting smell of home that rested on his well-worn hoodies. To run your fingers through his silky, soft hair and make messy braids out of it while sighing heavily to relinquish the day's grip on your tight shoulders. You can’t wait to bother him until he sets aside his black and red headphones to kiss your forehead and pull you into a soul-catching hug.

Most crappy days call for extra love from your gamer-boyfriend… but today Kenma has really gone out of his way to shower you in sweetness. Literally.

You’d sent him an awfully lengthy text about the number of crazy drivers on the road, the dreary weather overhead, following it up with a recap of your teary-eyed breakdown in a fast food chain parking lot... and you topped it off with just how much you missed him.

So he did the one thing he knew could lift anyone’s spirits.

Kenma got to baking his world famous apple pie.

Countertops were covered in white and brown sugar, apple peels, and other various, scattered ingredients. A store-bought pie crust was preheating in the oven, because only God knows how long it would take for Kenma to learn how to make that from scratch. Spices plumed in delicate, little clouds throughout the kitchen. Everything was coming together beautifully.

Kenma mumbles to himself quietly, a little miffed that he’s missing his weekly streaming session...

But secretly, he’s been meaning to do this for you for a long time. 

He’s been dying to thank you for putting up with his incessant live shows and never-ending computer gameplay. For living with him in his rental house even though he could probably (definitely) afford something far more luxurious. And you deserved luxurious. You should be decked out in diamonds and fancy cashmere, lounging on a sofa atop some rooftop garden oasis that overlooks the entirety of Tokyo, and dancing the night away at clubs and galas.

But you chose him. 

Simple Kozume. 

A smaller-framed boy with a knack for video-games, patterns, and strategy. The one they jokingly called “pudding head” in high school. That kid who used to hide behind his own hair because the world around him was far more daunting than he thought he could handle.

Kenma would rather stay in and binge a series on netflix than spend a night out on the town. He invests himself in playing an overly-competitive tournament of Mario Kart with you over flying out for a highstakes game of poker in Vegas. He prefers nights surrounded in fairy lights when you collaborate on videos with him, throw popcorn at his long hair, and drink a bit too much just because you both compliment each other more when you’re a little tipsy.

You love all of this about him and you’ve reminded him time after time that you wouldn’t trade him for the world… yet Kenma is still determined to at least have this apple pie done by the time you get home.

But as luck would have it, you’re early.

The lock to the door clicks and twists as you slide it open with a few squeaks.

Your senses are instantly delighted by the blooming fragrance of cinnamon and nutmeg. An ambrosial wafting of warm apples and pastry dough permeates the airspace while the added ginger and lemon cut through the sweet scent.

As if the room had just handed over a fluffy blanket and set you in front of a crackly, wood-burning fire, you’re filled with that much needed comfort. 

You’re home. And it smells so damn good.

If heaven had a scent, this was it. And you might as well be wearing a halo and angel wings.

“Kozume…?” You call out, wondering if it was really your boyfriend in the kitchen creating that mouth-watering aroma. 

“...yes, y/n?” He replies slowly, trying to clean up the countertops, a little frustrated that the pie wasn’t finished in time for your arrival.

“Is that you? Or did Gordon Ramsey break into my house and take over my kitchen?” You giggle, waltzing into the kitchen, the stress of the day being alleviated immediately upon seeing those speculative, gold-speckled eyes.

His hands are in his hoodie pockets, but when your form turns corner into the kitchen and makes its way toward him, Kenma draws them out and sneaks his hands up to your cheeks, cupping them gently.

He leans in, his expression a tad quizzical and somewhat mysterious, and whispers…

“You’re an idiot sandwich.”

A laugh bubbles up and out, shaking your whole body as you wrap your arms around his frame. You’d seen him just this morning, but wow you’d missed him and his extensive knowledge of meme culture. Now Kenma has his arms draped around your waist, hands squeezing at your hips a little. Your flustered but smiley expression spurs on a soft chuckle, a gentle yet deep rumbling in his throat.

“I thought you’d be back a little bit later, but I’m glad you’re here.” He murmurs out, voice tired but so soothing to your ears.

“Mmm, I’m glad to be back… now are you gonna tell me what that magnificent smell is? Or should I open up the oven and check?” The cheeky tinge to your voice causes him to pull away from you for a moment to look you in the eye.

“If you want it to turn out well, I’d keep your pretty little hands away from the oven for the next few minutes.” Kenma quips.

You playfully stick out your tongue but then proceed to place a teasing peck between his eyes, making him crinkle his nose cutely.

“So, when you sent me those texts earlier, I might have accidentally made an apple pie.” Kenma admits, looking away.

“Accidentally?” A grin slowly spreads across your face, eyes glinting with humor.

“Yep. Accidentally.” He shrugs, “I found some ingredients and a pie dish and I just accidentally threw it all together. So yeah, how convenient is that?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. 

He’s really something else. And to think your day had previously been wrought with misery and disappointment.

“Mmm I don’t know, Kozume… it doesn’t sound like an accident to me. I think you did it because you wanted to be sweet.” You whisper softly into his ear.

Leaning back to brush away a strand of his hair from his face to get a full visual of his cat-like gaze.

“And why would I do that?” He teases gently.

“Oh, I don’t know… maybe because you love me?” You poke at his shoulder.

“Huh? Love?” He gives you a goofy look, raising both eyebrows in mock confusion. “...Is that some kind of sauce?”

He tries to keep a straight face, but the quirk of his lip gives him away.

You just stare at him before giving in to another fit of rolling giggles. The hearty, unrestrained laughter overtakes the both of you, causing you to double over and clutch your middle in an attempt to hold yourself up. Kenma has his back up against the counter-top, holding the edges of it with both palms to keep himself steady and from falling to the floor. 

As you both recover from aching lungs and that cloudy, euphoric feeling, you can’t help but let a smile plaster itself on your face.

Kenma has done many things today.

He gave you a reason to come home with hope in your heart. He’d drawn you into a heartfelt, soul-refreshing hug. He had made you laugh like nobody ever could. He’d even baked you an apple pie.

But best of all, he‘d held you together.

Like he always did.

Every single day, without a doubt in your mind, you could celebrate and smile. Because you would always have this cinnamon-covered cutie to smile and crack up with. He would always brighten the most mundane of weekdays and find the loveliest of ways to match your moods.

You two are like apple pie and vanilla bean ice cream.

And speaking of ice cream…

“Hey, Kozume?” You bring him into one more bear-like hug.

“Yeah, babe?”

“Did you get ice cream to go with the apple pie?” You ask, your face preciously tucked into the crook of his neck.

No reply. Had he heard you?

“Kozume? Did-”

Cue a huge sigh from Kenma.

“...Where are my car keys? I need to go to the store immediately.”

---

tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @miss-rin, @shou-kunn, @senkuwu-chan, @super-noya, @stcrryskies, @holaaaf, @sugacookiies, @vintgicals, @moonlightaangel

(comment, dm, or send an ask to be added to my general tag list)

[penaltbox]

the one with shay (bc i cant be asked to think of a title sorry)

Damn you, Ryder, you think to yourself. You have no clue where he disappeared to and now your friend has texted you that she’s leaving with some guy she knows from class. Figures. Now you’re stuck here at a party where you don’t know anyone and your drink is empty. Deciding you couldn’t get through this without a drink, you make your way to the kitchen, grateful no one else is in there.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t last long. “Hey.” You turn to the voice and see a guy walking over.

“Hi.” Your response is short, slightly annoyed with your friends and definitely not in the mood to be talking with him.

“Aw don’t be like that. I thought we could have some fun.” He makes his way next to you and you start panicking. You look out into the crowd, praying you’ll see someone you know.

“I’m good. I’m here with my friends.”

He makes a show of looking around. “I don’t see any friends here.” He steps closer, his hip nudging yours. You thank your lucky stars that you see Shay talking to some guys that you know are on the hockey team.

You’re kind of scared to go over there, you’re friends with Ryder, but you’ve never met any of the guys on the team. You’ve met Shay a few times, but really only in passing. You don’t want to go over there, but you really want to get away from the dude who’s hand is now on your arm, pulling you towards him. “I was thinking we get out of here.” He’s leaned in closer and you can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Sorry, I gotta go. I see my friends,” you tell him as you yank your arm away.

You make your way to the group and stand near Shay, who’s enthusiastically telling a story, but stops when he sees you awkwardly standing there.

“Hey Shay,” you start, feeling your cheeks already heating up with how awkward you feel. “Sorry to bother you guys. But my friend who I was here with left and Ryder disappeared and there was this weird guy in the kitchen who wouldn’t leave me alone and the only person I recognize here is, uh, you.” You’re rambling and they’re all looking at you and you feel so uncomfortable, until Shay looks at you with kind eyes and gives you a warm smile.

“You can chill with us, no worries.” He moves to make space in their little circle and he quickly introduces you to the boys standing with him as Dylan, Owen, Mike, and Dom. You don’t think you’ll remember their names, but you give them a small wave and a grateful smile.

They pick up on their conversation and you’re just trying to follow along. That is, until Shay throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. Your heart rate picks up when he leans down to speak so you can hear him over the music. “Are you okay?”

You nod back at him, tilting your head up to respond. “Yeah, thank you for saving me back there. If I interrupted your night though, I can just go.”

Shay shakes his head at you. “The more the merrier,” he smiles. “Besides,” he says louder this time, “I need a new pong partner, Mike sucks.”

Mike hears that one and shouts a small ‘hey’. Shay sticks his tongue out at him and you can’t help but laugh at the playfulness between the group. As the night continues, they make you feel comfortable and even include you in conversations.

“I can’t believe Ryder has a fun friend and he didn’t even introduce you to us,” Mike says, making everyone laugh.

Eventually, you all end up playing beer pong. You and Shay are partners and you’re winning by a few cups. You’re having fun, playful banter between you and the boys keeping things interesting and attracting a crowd. You look over and see the guy from the kitchen earlier, his eyes trained on you. Before you take your shot, you place a hand on Shay’s bicep, getting his attention. “That guy from earlier is over here.”

You feel Shay’s bicep tense and you try to ignore that heat that spreads through you at the feeling of his muscle. “Want me to beat him up?” he asks.

The question makes you giggle and you shake your head, no. “I just want him to leave me alone.”

“Well, I have an idea.”

For the rest of the game, Shay keeps an arm either around your shoulders or around your waist and you try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. You see him send a few glares towards the guy and the protective act makes you flush, although you blame the alcohol. You guys have one more cup left and you let Shay go first. He’s standing behind you, one arm across your middle holding you to him, the other preparing to throw the ball. His shot just barely misses which means you’re up next.

“No promises that we win, I suck at getting the last one,” you say.

“I missed too,” Shay shrugs. “But you got this and you’re doing better than Mike.” You laugh before finally throwing the ball.

You watch it sink into the last cup, winning the game. The guys start hollering and Shay picks you up, spinning you around in a hug. “There you go, sweetheart,” he says as he sets you down. The nickname and the deepness of his voice as he says it has your heart racing. It’s nothing compared to the way you think your heart is going to beat out of your chest when he places a kiss on your temple. “Knew you could do it,” he says, his lips brushing against your skin. You blush, nudging him with your shoulder. “It was a team effort.”

You guys are up again as the winners, and you take the time to glance around. The guy from earlier has left and you didn’t even notice. You tug on the sleeve of Shay’s shirt, catching his attention. He leans down making it easier for you to speak. “He’s gone. Thank you, Shay.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that, sweetheart.”

You guys win the next game too before calling it quits. You don’t necessarily want the night to end, you were having a great time with the guys, Shay especially, but you’re getting tired and know you should be heading home soon. You say your goodbyes and the guys tell you they hope you come around more often. “I can walk you home. Wouldn’t want you walking alone at this time,” Shay offers.

You take him up on it, thankful you don’t have to make the trek alone in the dark. The walk is full of laughs, you at Shay’s goofiness and him at your teasing. Without the music and the crowd, it’s easier to talk and you find yourself intrigued by the blonde.

When you finally make it home, you thank him for walking you and for everything he did for you tonight. “Of course, anytime. I’d say sorry my idiot brother left you alone, but it seems like he did me a favor.” Shay’s voice is light and teasing and you can’t help but match the smile he’s giving you.

“Kind of seems like something a good brother would do,” you tease and it makes Shay laugh. You bite your lip, not really wanting to say goodbye, instead choosing to say, “have a safe walk home, Shay.” He smiles at that, bidding you a good night before heading home.

The next morning, you wake up to a text from Ryder, apologizing for leaving you at the party and asking you to brunch to make up for it. You agree, not one to pass up brunch, especially when you’re not paying. You decide on meeting Ryder at his place, but when you get there it’s Shay that lets you in. “Hey, my new pong partner!” Shay greets you enthusiastically and you giggle.

Ryder hears the interaction as he walks down the hall, and takes a pause at your laugh. His mind slowly connecting dots while you and Shay talk. First, Ryder thinks, you never giggle like that. Except for that one time the two of you went to your dorm because you forgot your wallet and some guy on your floor was flirting with you. Second, from where he’s standing, he can see the way Shay is looking at you, a huge smile on his face that only seems to grow when he makes you laugh. Finally, Ryder’s thoughts flashback to earlier in the morning. Shay had asked about you and followed you on Instagram, while telling Ryder to apologize for leaving you at the party.

“Has Ryder invited you to the party this Friday?” Shay questions, “I need my beer pong partner there.”

At that question, it finally clicks in Ryder’s head—Shay totally has a crush on you. And he thinks you might just feel the same way about his older brother.

“I was going to invite her while we were at brunch, Shay,” Ryder speaks up, greeting you as he puts on his shoes. Shay holds his hands up in response, saying sorry and bidding you two a goodbye.

When you and Ryder get to brunch and finally get your food, you decide to speak up on how unusually quiet Ryder’s been. “Hey,” you start cautiously, “I’m sorry if it bothers you that I was talking with Shay and some of the guys last night.”

Ryder is quick to cut you off. “No, don’t be. I should have introduced you to them a while ago anyway. Plus, Shay told me what happened. He said the guys enjoyed having you around.” You smile, thinking about Shay talking about you and it doesn’t go unnoticed by the boy in front of you. “Did you have fun at least?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah. The guys are really funny. Plus, Shay and I were pong partners and we won twice in a row,” you gush. “Oh, and Shay and a few other guys followed me on Insta, in case you wanted to know.”

Ryder smirks at you, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes a bite of his omelette. You take a sip of your juice and give him a questioning look over the rim of your glass. 
“So,” he taunts, “my brother, eh?”

You almost choke on your orange juice. After a moment of coughing and trying to catch your breath while Ryder looks on amusedly, you speak up. “What about him?”

“You totally like him.”

“Do not.”

Ryder throws his head back, laughing. “What are we, five?” he asks. “I’m not blind, I saw the way you looked at him this morning. And the giggle, that’s your I’m-into-you giggle.”

“Ryder,” you warn.

“Did you hear yourself just now?” he asks, holding back a laugh. “Oh yeah, Ryder I had so much fun at the party with Shay. Oh, me and Shay were beer pong partners and Shay followed me on Insta. He is just so great and dreamy,” he sings in a high-pitched voice that you think sounds nothing like yours.

You groan, holding your head in your hands and trying to hide your blush. “Ryder,” you whine, “stop.”

“Only if you admit it.”

“Fine, okay. He’s cute. And really funny. Are you happy now?” you sigh. “Just don’t tell him, please.”

“Oh, come on. What’s the fun in that? Besides, Shay totally likes you back.” Ryder says it with such confidence, you almost believe him.

“Yeah right, Donovan.”

“I know my brother, okay? Don’t tell him I told you, but he asked me about you this morning. Besides the way he was talking to you this morning? That’s classic Shay flirting.”

“He was just being nice, Ryder,” you sigh.

“Come to the party Friday. Dress cute and I promise you, Shay will die,” Ryder laughs. “I mean, I’m a little surprised you went for my brother of all people, but I’m here for it. I’ll be your, wingman.”

You roll your eyes, but you do agree to go to the party on Friday.

You spend the rest of the week thinking about Friday. What do you wear? How do you do your make-up? What about your hair? Friday rolls around and you still have none of your questions answered.

After your classes are done for the day, you finally get yourself ready for the party, having no choice but to answer your own questions. You’re just finishing up mascara when you see your phone light up, indicating that you got a text.

You look and see it’s from Ryder. ‘Shay asked if you were coming 😏’

You blush as you read it. ‘Sure he did. I’m heading over soon btw’

Your nerves build the whole time it takes you to get to the address Ryder texted you. When you get there, your eyes immediately search for the two Donovan brothers.

Shay sees you before you spot either of them, not that he had been glancing at the door ever since Ryder announced you were on your way. His eyes widen at the site of you and he chokes on his drink.

“You good?” Ryder asks, clapping him on the back. Shay nods in response, still clearing his throat when Ryder sees you. “Oh, I see now,” Ryder says, his tone smug. He notices you took his advice and dressed cute and, clearly, his brother noticed too.

Ryder steps away from the group, who are already chirping Shay for his reaction, and makes his way towards you. “Oh, hey!” you exclaim when you notice Ryder walking towards you.

He pulls you in for a quick hug before exclaiming, “Shay literally almost died when he saw you.” He’s smirking and it makes you blush.

“Shut up, Ryder. No he didn’t.”

Ryder just rolls his eyes at your stubbornness and walks you to the group. You get introduced to a few more guys who are just as rambunctious as the ones you met last time and you find yourself enjoying your time with the group. Eventually, there’s a few small conversations and you find yourself in one with Shay.

His one arm is slung over your shoulders and he’s waving the other around as he animatedly explains this time when him and Ryder were skating on a pond and Ryder totally wiped out. You’re laughing at how dramatic his story telling is and at the picture in your head of Ryder sprawled out on the ice. You guys are enjoying yourselves so much, you don’t even notice that Ryder has shooed everyone away to leave you two alone.

You’re in the middle of your own story when your favorite song comes on. “Wait,” you gasp. “I love this song.”

“Well let’s dance then,” Shay says, grabbing your hand and leading you to the dance floor.

The two of you dance and Shay laughs as you sing along to all the words and the instrumentals too. He’s having fun, enjoying that you can be just as silly and carefree as he is. It’s at a time when Shay is holding your hand and spinning you around as you both laugh that Ryder happens to look over. He can see the happiness on both of your faces and he smiles to himself, satisfied with his matchmaking abilities.

Later in the night, the younger Donovan looks over and sees you two getting quite cozy. You’re dancing with your bodies pressed together, your one hand reaching back to play with Shay’s hair while Shay’s hands are wandering across your hips. Ryder makes eye contact with his brother and fake gags. Somehow with you noticing, Shay flips him off and Ryder laughs as he goes off to do his own thing.

It’s 1 a.m. when you decide you’re partied out. “I’m hungry,” you announce, moving to rest your head on Shay’s shoulder, “fries sound so good right now.”

“Is this your way of asking me to go get fries?” Shay teases.

You blush and nod your head. “I’m partied out. You can stay if you want though.”

“I could go for some fries,” he shrugs. At that, you guys end up leaving, deciding that McDonald’s fries were a good option.

The two of you end up walking around and talking while enjoying fries and the fresh air. “My nights seem to be more fun when you’re involved,” you speak quietly, knowing he’ll hear you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “I’m not sure I want the night to end yet.” It’s a bold statement and you’re not sure why you’re speaking with such candor, but something about Shay makes you feel comfortable.

“I know I don’t want it to end,” Shay says, his face flushing, “I like spending time with you.”

Speaking the truth has always been easier in the early morning hours, when the sky was dark and the world seemed to be at its quietest. You and Shay walk in silence after the profession, both of you unsure what the confessions mean.

It’s Shay who breaks first. “If you wanted, you could come over? We could just chill, watch a movie?”

“I’d love that,” you agree, smiling up at him.

You make it to his place, where you’ve been a handful of times with Ryder. This time, though, it feels different.

“Make yourself at home.” Shay gestures to his bed and you sit down at the edge, feeling nervous. Shay laughs when he sees you and jumps on the bed, landing next to you. “Come here,” he murmurs as he wraps his arms around you, forcing you to lay back with him.

You laugh as you shift, getting comfortable in his side. He presses play on the movie you choose and it’s not long before he looks down to see you fast asleep, head on his chest. He smiles softly to himself at how peaceful you look. It’s not long before Shay falls into a deep sleep too. That’s exactly how Ryder finds you guys when he comes home and it’s so cute, it almost makes him sick.

The next morning, Ryder pretends to sleep while Shay asks you on a breakfast date. You leave the room, going to change out of your clothes from last night.

“Wow,” Shay whispers when you come back, in a pair of his sweats and one of his sweatshirts.

“What?” you ask, feeling shy.

“Nothing. You just look really cute right now,” Shay says nonchalantly and Ryder makes a mental note to tease him about it later.

Your breakfast date with Shay goes so well and you can tell your feelings are growing. He was sweet and made you laugh throughout your meal, and you felt yourself melt when you talked about his family. It goes so well, in fact, that Shay asks you to hang out sometime later in the week and you agree.

You guys text throughout the week and you can’t help the smile each time your phone lights up with a notification from Shay. One day, in the middle of your text conversation with Shay, you get a message from Ryder.

‘stop texting my brother.’

The text makes you laugh. ‘how do you know he’s texting me?’

‘he keeps pausing the video game and smiling at his phone. it has to be you’

You feel your face get hot. The fact that he’s taking the time to respond makes your heart flutter and you know you’re in deep. Deciding to let your friend have this one, you text Shay.

‘go play video games with Ryder before he throws a fit’

Shay laughs at your text and does as you say, knowing he’ll call you tonight before you go to bed anyway. He’s in too deep, and by the smirk on the boys’ faces, it’s obvious to everyone else too.

“Just ask her out already,” Owen says, laughing at the way the older boy’s face goes red.

“Yeah, Shay, grow a pair. If you don’t, I will,” Roman jokes.

“Shut up, Roman,” Ryder scolds while Shay just glares.

“I get it, okay?” Shay groans, “I’m just really trying not to mess this one up.”

The sincerity of Shay’s response makes the boys drop it. His feelings for you are obvious, but the honesty of him not wanting to mess things up further shows just how serious he is.

After that night, Shay knows he has to ask you to be his. He spends a week thinking about how to do it. He comes up with a few ideas, but none of them feel like you two. That is, until one morning as he’s walking in to practice, the idea hits him.

It’s a Thursday when Shay asks if he can stop by. You know you won’t be able to see him much over the weekend as it’s the first home game so you agree. It’s not long before your phone starts vibrating, a call from Shay asking you to come open the door.

“Hi.” You smile at him as you open the door.

“Grab your shoes, let’s go,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you out the door as you grab a pair of shoes you had by the door.

“Shay,” you giggle, putting on your shoes as you try to keep up with him, “where are we going? I’m cold.”

“On a walk, sweetheart. To get fries,” he shrugs and you laugh, used to the spontaneity you get with Shay.

“You couldn’t have warned me? I would’ve grabbed a sweatshirt,” you pout.

Shay smirks, glad his plan is working. He quickly takes off his sweatshirt, his Wisconsin hockey one adorned with his number, and hands it to you. “Here, you can wear this one.”

The gesture makes you blush and you pull on the hoodie, now engulfed in Shay’s cologne and the warmth his body heat left behind. “Thanks,” you say, looking at him with a soft smile.

He bites his lip, taking a breath before responding. “You should wear it tomorrow too, at the game. It’d be nice to have my girlfriend supporting me.”

His words make you stop dead in your tracks, right in the middle of the sidewalk. “Your what?”

Shay would be worried that you stopped, but the blush on your cheeks and the bright smile on your face tells him all he needs to know. “As my girlfriend,” he starts, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you closer, “you know, if you want to be?”

You beam up at him, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, I’d like that.” 


At your response, Shay pulls you in for a kiss. It’s short and sweet, considering you’re still out on the sidewalk, but it’s enough to keep you wanting more. Your lips tingle and you can feel the energy coursing through your whole body, no longer feeling cold.

It’s another second before you finally feel like you can speak. “Come on, McDonald’s is right there and my boyfriend promised me some fries.”

You and Shay get your fries, just like the night when the two of you first confessed to enjoying each other’s company. He walks you home, both of you knowing he has to be up early for game day preparations the next day. However, he does leave you with a kiss at your front door that makes your toes curl and your heart pound. When he finally leaves you can’t help but trace your lips, the feeling of his lips on yours permanently etched in your brain.

You go to bed that night a smile on your face and a mental note to thank Ryder for leaving you at that party.

[offtopicoverload]

Just in Case

Sometimes you have to spend all night outside someone’s door, or all morning sitting at their desk, just in case they need some pizza. Or you, they might also need you.

hey, whaddaya know, i actually wrote something lmao. ive literally wanted to fix this plotline since i read it like six months ago or something, so i thought i finally would instead of doing something more responsible. and fair warning, it’s been ages since i played tfs and i have a shit memory, so if their characters are off, here’s my excuse

T Rating (just college kids being a bit dumb, so no warnings or anything)

Kaitlyn x MC (Maya)

~2k (a true random little ficlet lol)

Maya knocks on the door lightly, the raps hesitant as she turns her voice as sweet as she can possibly manage, “Hey, Kait? Do you wanna talk? Do you need anything? Do you want a hug? Or I could order pizza?” she rambles, shifting nervously. Her hands clasp and unclasp before her, palms clammy as her stomach rolls in waves of anxiety, a slow-building hurricane.

And it’s not helped by the answer she receives from the blank wood before her, “I want to be left alone.” It’s harsh and upset and frustrated as it leaks through the cracks between the frame and the door.

“You sure?” She fights against every instinct to throw the door open, fingers twitching at the desire to turn the knob just below her palm.

“Yes,” that same severe, irritated voice answers once more, “Go away.”

She sighs, head drooping, “You know I can’t do that, Kait. So I’ll just, um…” she drops to the floor, turning so her back rests against the door, her head turned upwards as she speaks, “If you need anything, I’m right here. Offer for pizza still stands.”

Another heavy sigh slips past her lips as she receives no response from the other side of the door. She digs in her jacket pocket for her phone, pulling it out and tapping until she finds Zack’s contact.

Hey

heya Meya

Can we talk?

always

I think Kait’s mad at me

why do you think that

She slammed the door in my face and told me to go away

yeah, i’d say she’s mad

did you leave her alone

I stopped talking

and you also went away

No I’m outside her room

just give her space

What if she needs pizza?

she can get herself pizza My

I don’t want her to be alone

she wants to be alone tho

I need her to know I’m always here

she doesn’t need you right now

i think you should give her space

What if something happens again?

like what

Like her birthday

There’s a long pause with no response, not even grey bubbles bouncing in the corner.

you stopped talking

Yeah. Promise

how long are you gonna stay there

As long as she’s in her room

that’ll be all night

That’s okay. Her door’s pretty comfy

Maya

I have to be here if she needs pizza

Maya can almost hear the sigh that accompanies the next message,

fine

night My

Night Zack

Her head falls back against the door, a soft thump sounding with it as her eyes flutter shut. Her hands knit in her lap, phone resting between them. A few sounds echo through the suite as the other roommates go about their evenings, but it’s quiet in Kaitlyn’s room.

It’s quiet and peaceful, and the day’s events are starting to wear on Maya as she patiently awaits a call from Kaitlyn. She sits there, the silence behind her beginning to settle along her shoulders like a weighted blanket, starting to gently pull her from consciousness.

Maya’s body careens backwards and her head crashes into the hardwood beneath her, a groan echoing as her eyes blink open. Kaitlyn’s standing above her, hovering with a clenched jaw and furious glare as morning light plays off her skin, her hair, her eyes, her everything in a halo.

The door’s been jerked open, Maya falling with it until she’s flat on her back with a dull ache in the back of her skull. She attempts to blink away the haze that’s clouding her mind of any thoughts but the girl standing above her, and all too soon memories of yesterday flood her senses.

A blush burns her cheeks, heating her face warmer than the sun still alighting Kaitlyn in an ethereal glow, “Hi,” she offers meekly, a small wave momentarily drawing Kaitlyn’s gaze.

But a second later she’s stepping over the crumpled form of Maya without a single word or backwards glance, striding in the direction of the suite’s kitchen. And Maya watches her go, watches her disappear around the corner, watches the corridor turn empty and lifeless as she exhales what feels like the last of her tether to Earth.

---

“Hey Kaitlyn,” Zack greets through a mouthful of poptarts, as chipper as usual. He swallows thickly, “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” she grumbles, sidestepping him to pull the fridge door open, staring blankly into it and silently hoping something good will appear if she stares long enough.

Zack appears behind her, carefully nudging the fridge door closed, “You doing okay?”

She eyes him up suspiciously, “Yeah. Why?”

He responds with an awkward shrug, averting his gaze nervously, “You normally steal my poptart,” he mutters.

“Rookie mistake,” she grins, snatching the remaining half from his hand and taking a bite.

“So you’re okay?”

Kaitlyn stills, the poptart frozen away from her face, “Maya told you, didn’t she?”

“Well…” Zack glances away, shrugging under the weight of Kaitlyn’s judgemental gaze, “She told me you were mad at her, but not why.”

“My parents know,” she murmurs, eyes trained on the poptart held in her palm.

“That you’re gay?!”

Her eyes snap up to find a scandalized Zack staring back, “No, that my favorite color’s green. Yeah, that I’m gay!”

“That’s not good.”

“Nope,” she pops the ‘p’ before taking another bite.

“So why are you mad at Maya?”

“‘Cause it’s her fault.”

Zack’s eyes go wide, “Did she tell them?!”

Dark hair flies around Kaitlyn’s shoulders as she shakes her head, “No. No,” she corrects, “But they saw us kissing.”

“Oh, so it was an accident.”

“Yeah.”

“Then why are you mad at Maya?”

“‘Cause she started this whole thing by coming along, and then followed me outside, and then she wouldn’t leave me alone on the train or on the way home,” she huffs.

“She just wants to be there for you,” Zack reaches out, squeezing her shoulder in an attempt at some sort of comfort. 

And Kaitlyn just shrugs him off, “I don’t need her.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“No, I don’t,” she shoots him an unimpressed look, taking the last bite of the poptart and dusting her hands off.

“Kait, we all need her. Like, literally, I think this dorm would fall apart without her.”

“Well, I don’t need her.”

“What if she needs you?”

“She’s an adult.”

“She’s your girlfriend.”

“Who’s an adult.”

Zack just stares at her with his jaw clenched, looking more irritated than Kaitlyn’s ever seen him.  “What?” she explodes defensively, squirming under his gaze.

He sighs, digging out his phone from his pocket and tapping for a few seconds before presenting a text thread to her. She cautiously takes the device, scanning over the messages dated as last night. “I don’t know what was going on with the pizza thing,” he mutters under his breath.

“It’s - it doesn’t matter,” she sighs, just as her eyes land on one message in particular. She huffs, shoving Zack’s phone back into his hands as she storms out of the kitchen and down the hall, frustrated once more.

She pauses outside Maya’s door at the mouth of the hallway, just two down from her own, which has since been abandoned. She steps closer, pressing her ear to the door in search of some excuse to not disrupt. But it’s quiet on the other end, the only noises coming from the rest of the suite surrounding them.

Kaitlyn gently nudges the door open, the hinges creaking painfully loudly as Maya’s bedroom slowly comes into view, a familiar and welcoming sight. Dark eyes scan the room, taking in the closed curtains and the cluttered desk before landing on the bed, where a lump rests beneath the sheets.

Maya’s back is to the door as she lays curled in on herself, her profile rising a fraction with every delicate breath, with her braids splayed in a mess on her pillow. Light from the kitchen spills inside, yellow splashing in sharp lines along her comforter and along the wall, Kaitlyn’s shadow further obscuring the room.

She slips further inside, closing the door just as carefully as she opened it and takes a few cautious steps towards the bed. Maya doesn’t stir an inch, her breathing the only sound in the room as Kaitlyn crosses to the desk tucked against the wall.

She sinks into the chair before it, her leg bouncing anxiously as she simply watches the form across the room from her. Her fingers twitch and tap as she replays the past few months, from that first night, to the football games, to the sorority drama, to her birthday, and all the mess that came with it.

Though, maybe some good came with it too. Like movie nights and coffee dates and afternoons spent studying on the rooftop. Like wide smiles and unrestrained laughs and crinkled, bright eyes. Like eager kisses and tight hugs and lazy morning cuddles.

The form stirs, rolling onto her other side until a stray ray of sunlight is streaked across her cheek. Her eyes flutter open before she’s fumbling onto her elbows, “Kait?” she whispers, her voice heavy with sleep.

“Yeah,” Kaitlyn mumbles, her head dipping awkwardly.

“What are you doing?”

“Thought I’d stick around in case you needed anything.”

Maya softens, a gentle quiet filling the room before her hands find their way out from under the covers, grasping in Kaitlyn’s direction, “Come here,” she urges with a wave.

Kaitlyn obliges, standing and shuffling to the edge of the bed, where Maya takes her hand and tugs her onto the mattress. Kaitlyn slips beneath the comforter, her arms curling around Maya as she cuddles close, burying her face in Kaitlyn’s shoulder.

“Are you gonna be okay?” she whispers into Kaitlyn’s shirt, her breath hot where it seeps through the fabric to warm Kaitlyn’s skin.

Kaitlyn draws her closer, their legs tangling beneath the sheets as she tucks her chin over Maya’s head, absentmindedly twirling a braid around one finger, “Yeah, I think I just needed some time to think, you know? And my parents probably need space, so it’ll be awhile before I talk to them anyway.

“Maybe I can sort something out or write a letter, I don’t know. I don’t think I know what to say, but I’m working on it and trying to figure out how to move forward. I was up most of the night thinking about how I could fix things, or what I should do, and stressing about if I should even be bothered, and my mom ended up texting me and we spoke for a bit. It was nice that she wasn’t upset, but my dad’s another story.” She finally stops for air, looking down to find Maya’s eyes closed and her breathing back to that soft and gentle rhythm.

“Are you still awake?” she whispers, eyes tracing the way the few rays of sunlight slipping through the curtain dance along her skin, illuminate her features.

Maya hums in the back of her throat, “Mmhmm.”

A small grin quirks Kaitlyn’s lips, “So you know what I was talking about?”

“Mmhmm.”

“So you have no problem with me, say, tossing you out of bed?” Kaitlyn teases, her smile growing as Maya’s features stay peaceful and sleep-laden.

“Mmhmm.”

Kaitlyn chuckles softly, the exhale stirring a few strands of her hair as it lay on the pillow as she murmurs, “Sweet dreams. I’m here just in case,” and plants a small kiss on Maya’s forehead.

[jobean12-blog]

Hey honey!! I hope you're having a wonderful day!! I have a request based on what we talked about the other day hehehe!! Where beefy!Bucky buys boxers a size smaller and teases reader by walking around in them in their room and when they're in the common room with the team he sits opposite her and is wearing a size smaller in jeans too so it shows his glorious bulge and her eyes almost drop out of her head and he's just sat there being all cocky (haha) and stuff?

A Tight Argument 

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word Count: 1,152

Summary: Bucky gets himself some new pairs of boxers because he knows how much you like them. 

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for this fun request my love! I so hope you enjoy it! I love writing Bucky as a tease and we both know how much we love him in anything tight to accentuate all his parts (because they are all so good) love you! ❤❤❤

Warnings: teasing, fluff, Bucky’s thighs and bulge (haha), light implied smut 

Folding laundry was not on your list of favorite things to do, but you had help from Bucky so that always made things better. “We are almost done, babe!” you sing, doing a little dance in happiness. Bucky’s eyes light up at the sight, tickling your side and saying, “thank god, I’m starving!”

“You’re always hungry, babe,” you tease, poking him back. Reaching into the bottom of the hamper you find the last pile of clothes, all of Bucky’s underwear. Pulling them out to fold you notice there are some new ones, “hey Buck, did you buy new boxer briefs, I don’t remember these?” you ask, holding up two pairs.

“I did. Some of the old ones got stretched out and I know how much you enjoy me in my tight boxers,” he replies, wiggling his eyebrows. “Ugh, I knew I should have never said anything to you!” you say lightly. “You didn’t have to say anything, y/n, you were practically drooling.”

Huffing, you throw the last pair at his face and stomp out of the bedroom, determined to find some food. Bucky emerges a few minutes later with a lop-sided grin, “whatcha eatin’?” he asks as he wraps his arms around your middle.

You scoop another bite of ice cream and turn around in his arms, feeding it to him, “something almost as yummy as you.” His smile is wicked, “it is pretty tasty,” he murmurs against your lips before kissing you with a strawberry ice cream flavored tongue.

After an afternoon of training followed by a team meeting with Steve you and Bucky head off to clean up and relax for the day. Shuffling around the kitchen trying to figure out what to do for dinner you don’t hear Bucky enter the room until he asks, “need some help, doll?”

You spin around, nearly dropping the eggs and milk. “Jeez Bucky, warn a girl will ya!” He chuckles, coming around the counter to grab the ingredients from you, “what were you thinking of making with eggs and milk?” he counters.

You don’t answer him, staring at his clothes, or lack thereof. “What are those?” you ask, voice merely a whisper as you point to his crotch area. “Oh, my new boxers!” he says far too cheerfully and you’re already onto his little game.

“I see,” you deadpan, turning around and bending to retrieve some veggies from the fridge. You’re sure to spend some extra time with your ass in the air, the boy shorts you’re wearing doing little cover it. “I thought we could have breakfast for dinner! Omelets, pancakes and some bacon, how does that sound?”

Bucky’s gaze is heated as he replies, “delicious, baby.” You saunter past him, “great, let’s get to cookin’! But you might want to throw on some clothes, that bacon grease gets hot!” You stare him down with a blank look, refusing to give in yet.

“I’ll be fine, it’s hot in here anyway.” He moves behind you, reaching up to grab some plates and as he leans against your back you can feel the hardness of his body. Sticking your ass into his crotch you feel the throb of his cock easily through the thin fabric of his boxers.

“I’m starving,” you say as you turn to scoot under this arm. Moving across the kitchen you start to chop vegetables for the omelets.  “Me too, I’ll set the table then start the bacon,” Bucky says as he gathers plates and utensils.

You find it hard to tear your eyes away from his body as he moves back and forth carrying various things to the table. The tight boxers do little to hide the thick muscles of his thighs and his bulge is on full display. You inwardly groan, wanting to just give up and let him have his way with you, but you tighten your resolve and focus on the vegetables.

Bucky prepares the pan and starts cooking the bacon, dinner on the table in a short time. Everything is delish, including Bucky, shirtless at the table. He offers to wash the dishes, standing at the sink with his ass in perfect view.

“Fuck it” you mutter under your breath, walking over and hugging him from behind. You finders smooth over his chiseled abs, dancing their way down to the waistband of his boxers. He sucks in a breath as your hand dips below and gently strokes his smooth skin.

Shutting the water, Bucky turns in your arms, grabbing your ass in a firm squeeze just as Friday alerts the whole tower that Tony wants to see everyone in the common room stat. You both let out a loud groan of frustration, “what the fuck,” Bucky blurts out, gritting his teeth.

“Let’s hurry and get in there so we can get this over with,” you say, going to grab some pants. Bucky follows you and puts on jeans and a tee shirt. It isn’t until you’re walking out the door that you notice it’s the pair of jeans that fits extra snug. So snug, his ass and thighs can barely be contained.

Upon entering the common room, you see that most of the team had the same idea and seats are sparse. “Grab us a seat, I’m gonna get some water,” you whisper to Bucky before heading into the kitchen. He finds the only free spot, sitting next to Clint with his legs spread wide and a shit eating grin on his face.

“What’s up with you, Buck?” Clint asks, eyeing Bucky curiously. “Nothing really,” he replies, eyes fixed on your form in the kitchen. Clint follows his eyeline, “ugh, forget I asked,” he mumbles. Bucky chuckles, watching as you make your way toward him.

Your eyes roam over his body, landing on the obvious bulge in his tight jeans. Your eyes widen, Bucky loving your reaction as he keeps his gaze on you. Stopping at the couch across from him you sit on the edge, clearly lost in your own dirty thoughts as Tony starts talking.

The two of you stare at each other for what feels like hours, your skin feeling hot and the room suddenly too quiet. “Hey, y/l/n, Earth to y/n!” Tony’s voice rips you from your daydream, nearly sending you careening to the floor, “what?” Everyone in the room chuckles, your cheeks turning bright red as you duck your head. “Don’t worry, I’ll make this quick so you can get back to wherever you were in that head of yours,” Tony teases.

Bucky pulls his plush bottom lip between his teeth, spreading his legs just a bit further apart as he raises his eyebrows in your direction, blowing you a kiss. You give him your best dirty look, squeezing your legs together as you feel the wetness collect between them. He gives you a knowing look, his large hands gripping his thighs tighter as he licks his lips.

@book-dragon-13 @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @itsunclebucky @jewelofwinter @jewels2876 @jhangelface0523 @loricameback @lollypop-lam @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @mushyjellybeans @marvelgirl7 @nerdypinupcrystal @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @softpeachbarnes @sebastiansloserclub

[jensengirl83]

I Didn’t Want To Need You

Dean x reader

Word count-1955

Warnings- Angst, language, fluff, friends to lovers

Summary-Dean and Y/n have a friends with benefits arrangement that is working for them. What happens when feelings start to surface.

Dean woke up with a start, forgetting where he was. His eyes scan the room to realize he is in Y/n’s room. He normally does not fall asleep in here, the previous nights activities having him exhausted. Y/n had been living with the Winchesters for 3 years, having been friends for longer. She and Dean were best friends, always together, each other’s wing man. They had made an agreement a few weeks ago to be friends with benefits. Dean had come up with the idea after a bad encounter with a crazy woman he picked up at the bar. It was safer this way, both getting what they needed from someone they trusted.

Dean relaxes back against the pillow, his panic faded. He looks over to see her still sleeping soundly. Her hair spread out across her pillow, lips slightly parted, her breath fanning his face. A smile forms on his face. She looks so peaceful when she sleeps. No worries about what monster hunt was lurking around the corner, safe in the bunker, wrapped in his arms. Where she should be. Dean’s eyes go wide at the though that had just crossed his mind. Where she should be. They were just friends, no romantic feelings for each other. He looks back to her and feels an unfamiliar feeling in his chest. He will admit, she is absolutely beautiful. Any man would be lucky to have her. That idea making jealousy course through him. Oh no! He is falling for his best friend.

Dean slides out of the bed careful not to wake her. He picks his clothes up from the floor getting dressed and sneaks out of her room. He makes it back to his room and collapses on the bed. His mind racing, knowing that sleep was going to elude him now. How did this happen? When did it happen? Dean runs his hands through his hair, tugging at his locks in frustration. He did not want this to happen. He didn’t want to need her. You don’t always get what you want.

Y/n rolls to her back, stretching her sore muscles. She was going to feel the effects of last night for sure. She reaches across the bed to feel it empty. She could have sworn Dean fell asleep in here last night. Her heart sinking a little at the thought he was not there this morning. Y/n has had feelings for Dean for over a year now. She only agreed to this arrangement because she could no longer stand to watch him with woman after woman. Pretending not to care and being his “wing man” as he called it. She knew it was not a good idea with the feelings she is harboring, but better her than them. She would keep her feelings close to her chest if it meant that he was only sleeping with her.

Y/n makes her way to the kitchen for her morning cup of coffee. Sam is sitting at the table in front of his laptop. Dean nursing a cup of coffee.

“Morning boys!” She says as cheerful as she can, trying to hide her heartache from waking up alone this morning.

“Morning Y/n. Sleep well?” Sam asks never looking up from whatever had his attention.

“Slept great. How about you Dean? How did you sleep?” Y/n could not help but to throw that jab at him. She may keep her feelings to herself, but it still hurts. She can see Dean’s shoulders tense at her question.

“I slept ok.” He will not look up at her. He is afraid she will see his revelation this morning all over his face. Y/n, on the other hand, takes it as him not feeling anything about last night. He usually doesn’t, but this morning is different, like he is trying to avoid her.

“Found a hunt guys.” Sam’s voice breaking the tense silence.

“What do you got?” Dean instantly perks up. A hunt just what he needs to get this off his mind, if only for a little while.

“Looks like a simple salt and burn in Wichita. Should be back home tomorrow.” Sam says standing to go pack up.

“Y’all take this one. I am going to stick around here.” Y/n tells them putting her mug in the sink. “I could use a day to rest.”

“Everything ok? You never skip out on a hunt Y/n.” Dean is looking at her with worry on his face. The creases in his forehead giving it away. She is not telling him the truth, so she comes up with the first excuse she can think of.

“Girl stuff Dean.” Dean scrunches his face up at her words. That is enough for him, not wanting to hear more.

“Get some rest Y/n/n. We should be back tomorrow afternoon.” Sam squeezes her shoulder as he leaves the kitchen. Dean and Y/n are standing in the kitchen in silence. Dean rubs the back of his neck, a tell he is nervous.

“Uh, hope you feel better Y/n.” He walks out as fast as he can without it being obvious. Y/n left standing in the kitchen, her heart shattered on the cold concrete floor.

She rushes to her room and locks herself in. Her tears turning traitor and she does not want Dean to see. Throwing her body to the bed, she pushes her face to the pillow and sobs. She never wanted it to end like this. Dean was her best friend and now he could not even look at her. She did not know what changed from last night to now but is was killing her. She did not know what to do, stay here and watch the man she loves distance himself, or leave and try to put the pieces of her broken heart back together.

Sam and Dean arrived in Wichita. The hunt being just a simple salt and burn with no complications for once. It was still a tiring hunt and they decide to stay in a hotel. They had told Y/n they would not be back until tomorrow anyway. Sam and Dean say their good nights and turn in. Sam is asleep in no time, Dean not so much. He cannot get his mind off Y/n. The way her y/e/c eyes shine in the sun, her y/h/c hair so soft in his hands. He can smell her scent from memory. A mix of her shampoo, her vanilla body spray and something uniquely Y/n. Sleep does not find him, thinking of her all through the night. His eyes cannot wait to see her, his arms to hold her body to his. Dean has fallen in love with his best friend.

Y/n is sitting at the table in the library when they come through the bunker door the next day. A whiskey in her hand, anything to try and numb the pain. She has decided to leave, not an easy decision, but one she thinks is best. She watches as they make their way down the stairs, not looking forward to the conversation they need to have. Her eyes lock with Dean’s as he comes into view, a lump forming in her throat as she sees her best friend, the man she loves, knowing she is getting ready to leave him behind.

“Hey Y/n. Feeling better?” Sam asks her, throwing his duffle on the table.

“A little I guess.” She does not look up from her whiskey, not wanting to break down right now. Sam looks at Dean and shrugs his shoulders. He knows she will talk to Dean. He and Y/n get along great, but she has always been closer to Dean.

“I am going to go take a shower.” Sam pats Dean on the shoulder as he leaves for the showers.

“Y/n…” Dean lays his hand on her back between her shoulder blades. He feels her body stiffen and is going to ask what is wrong, but she is on her feet and walking away from him.

“I cannot look at you right now Dean. I am sorry.” She is in the hallway on her way to her room before he can speak. Dean feels like his whole world has crashed at his feet. She has always been able to talk to him. The thought that she does not want to be in the same room with him takes the wind out of him. Almost bringing him to his knees. He has to fix this, not wanting to lose her before he could tell her how he feels. What other choice does he have? He knows he cannot be without her now.

Y/n is on her bed, face in her pillow, sobs wracking her body. She knows she must tell him she is leaving, but why does it have to be so damn hard? Why did fall in love with her best friend and ruin everything? She is letting every emotion, every want, every need for him out in her tears. She will never get over him, but she cannot be here watching him pull away either. During her break down she feels the bed dip beside her, looking up to see Dean lying beside her.

“Dean please, not now.” She tries to roll away from him, but he is stronger and pulls her to his chest.

“Talk to me sweetheart. What happened while I was gone? Why do you not want to be around me?” His voice cracked with the emotions he is trying to hold at bay. His heart breaking even further seeing her this way.

“Dean I messed up ok! I agreed to this stupid deal and it fucked everything up!” Dean puts his finger under her chin lifting her face so he can look in her eyes.

“You did not mess anything up Y/n. I did. I didn’t want to need you.” He holds his breath scared of what she will have to say.

“What are you talking about Dean?” She is trying to read his face, but there is a look she has never seen before.

“I never gave my heart to anyone Y/n. I used to think that love was a game, used to make it just for fun. When we spent those nights together, I did not think it would mean that much, but now I just cannot live without you. I did not want to want you like I do sweetheart, to fall in love with you. I did not want to care at all, but I need you now. I have always been free to leave when I wanted to leave, but it is not up to me anymore Y/n. You have my heart now and I do not want it back.” Dean’s eyes are bristling with unshed tears. Y/n is speechless, he loves her too.

“Dean, I was going to tell you I was leaving…” Her words cut off as Dean begins to panic.

“No sweetheart, please, if this isn’t what you want just tell me. I will back off just please don’t leave me.” Y/n cups his face in her hands looking him in his eyes.

“Let me finish Winchester.” She smiles, continuing what she needed to say. “I was going to leave because I am love with you Dean. I thought I screwed everything up.” Dean’s heart swells with her confession. The most beautiful woman he has ever seen, his best friend, loves him.

“Baby, why didn’t you tell me?” Dean places his forehead against hers, softly pecking her lips.

“I was scared. I didn’t think you felt the same.”

“Sweetheart, you are mine. No, I didn’t want to need you, but now I need you to survive.” Y/n smiles as she leans to kiss him.

 Tags: @flamencodiva​​ @sorenmarie87​​ @foxyjwls007​​ @waywardbeanie​​ @emoryhemsworth​​ @voltage-my2dlove​​ @hardcoresupernatural​​ @marvelouslysherlockedhunter​ @lyarr24​

[pennamesmith]

Skeletor Takes a Holiday

Catra thinks on the past. Adora gives out presents. Glimmer looks to the future. Entrapta drives a tank. Hordak and Bow do their best. A She-Ra Day Special. 

More “Skeletor” stories here! 

*

“Blast you, you miserable cat! Let me go!” Skeletor squawked. 

“Reel it in, bonehead,” Catra replied coolly. She was leading Entrapta’s rebellious reprogrammed robot by what amounted to an ear, his arms full of stolen sugar plums. 

“Please, let me explain!” Skeletor protested. “I must save the children!”

“Tell it to the queen,” Catra shrugged back. “If you really wanted to get away with it, you wouldn’t have let me catch you. And anyway, Wrong Hordak says we need more help at the snack tables.”

“You overgrown fur coat,” Skeletor grumbled. “How dare you embarrass me in front of everyone?”

They were walking down a hallway of Bright Moon palace, making their way toward one of the large common rooms. On most weeks, Wrong Hordak used the space to hold a support group for clones and other former members of the Horde, who met to talk about their lives and their feelings. Together, they healed, held on, and let go. And, with great bravery and reluctance, they tried new ways to be themselves. 

Today, they were hosting a wellness afternoon. 

Catra pushed open a pair of double doors and was greeted by the sight of a warm, bustling room. The therapy group regulars were there, but so were various palace staff and citizens of Bright Moon, as well as former Horde soldiers cautiously following the flyers distributed by an enthusiastic flock of clones. Mixed together, they mingled, tentatively. 

Stations were set up in this and the adjoining rooms, each providing sample servings of various simple self-care options. In one area, Netossa and Spinnerella taught comics and cartooning to a circle of curious clones. In another, Swift Wind pranced at the head of an aerobics group. Glimmer had set up a portable kitchen by the window and was showing some palace guards how to make vegetable dumplings. Just about everyone looked like they were having a good time. 

Catra waded through all of this and found Wrong Hordak teaching an improv comedy workshop — alongside the regular support group’s newest member, who was currently hanging off the cheerful clone’s shoulder like a feathered boa constrictor. 

“Yes, and?” Double Trouble prompted the group, raising an emphatic hand. “Tell me what comes next! Show me passion! Show me imagination!”

“Start the performance! I demand to be amused!” interrupted Skeletor. 

Everyone fell silent and turned to look at Catra. “I got Skeletor back,” she said simply, showing off her perturbed prisoner.

“Wonderful work!” Wrong Hordak exclaimed. He pulled a small instruction manual bearing the seal of Dryl out of his pocket and flipped through the handwritten pages. “Skeletor, please perform…” He squinted at the messy longhand. “...Relationship-building subroutine eighteen. Ah, I think I see what the problem was.”

Skeletor abruptly saluted, dropping most of his plums in the process. “I hate to leave this touching scene, but I see my plan has failed! I’ll be back another time, my friend,” he said, marching off to greet new arrivals and attend to the snack tables. 

Catra turned to go, but found her way blocked when Double Trouble materialized in front of her. 

“It’s good to see you back, kitten,” the lizard smirked. “We almost thought you’d abandoned us! And speaking of, look who I found while you were away.” They pointed. “Some old friends of yours!”

Following the gesture, Catra looked around and felt her insides do a flip-flop as she recognized Kyle, Lonnie, and Rogelio among the group. Double Trouble seemed about to say more, but was instantly distracted when Wrong Hordak winked and called them over for help with an armload of props and costumes. 

...Which left Catra alone to face her three erstwhile friends. Who had already made eye contact and started walking towards her. The former force captain wished furiously for an alien abduction, or to be struck down by lightning, but she had no such luck. 

“Hi Catra!” Kyle squeaked. Rogelio rumbled something in a friendly tone. 

“Catra,” Lonnie greeted simply, wearing an unreadable expression. 

“Oh wow,” Catra stammered. “It’s, uh, it’s been a while guys. Haven’t seen you since…” 

“Since you went off the deep end and we deserted the Horde?” Lonnie finished for her. 

Catra shrank a little. “Yeah. Since that. I’m… really sorry about all that, by the way. Have you all been okay?” 

“We stick together. We have a good life. And we heard that you and Adora got married, so now I guess I owe Rogelio money.” Lonnie laughed. “No invitations for us, huh?” 

“It was really small,” Catra muttered, feeling worse by the second. She touched her ring. “Just a few guests in the park. Nothing major.” 

Lonnie held up her hands. “Hey, it’s cool, none taken. I just hope you treat her better now than you did when we were in the Horde.” 

Catra felt her hackles rise and did everything she could to squash them back down again. “We’re fine,” she managed, eventually. “You haven’t seen her around anywhere, have you?” 

“Yeah. Over by the board games with the science princess and, you know...” Lonnie mimed a tall, fanged figure with a squinting scowl. “Though I still don’t know how I feel about those two.” 

Kyle and Rogelio looked at each other.

“Thanks,” Catra muttered, and slunk away. 

Catra found herself stuck in her own thoughts as she wandered in the direction Lonnie had pointed, barely able to muster a friendly wave as she passed Scorpia in Perfuma’s yoga group or Bow at the jigsaw puzzle table. She kept replaying the conversation in her head, thinking about things she could or would or should have said. 

In the pit of her chest, she could feel the faint fear of a voice that said she hadn’t changed at all. Unbidden, the image of her own hand on the portal lever came to her. Stupid, stupid, she thought at herself, until the self-loathing drove away the shame. 

Catra sighed. She was working on it. 

Fortunately, she didn’t have long to perseverate. Sure enough, Adora was in the board games area, seated around a table with Entrapta, Hordak, Emily, and Imp. All five of them were thoroughly engrossed in a heated round of Betrayal at Horror Hall. 

“I’ve rolled a three,” Hordak declared as Catra approached. “Is that good?” 

“No, it means you’re still trapped in the Dark Dimension,” Entrapta explained evenly. “My turn! I move into the throne room and attack the ghost!” 

“Attack! Attack!” Imp echoed in her voice. 

Emily beeped. 

“Hey Adora,” Catra sighed with relief as she joined them. “How’s it going?” 

“Emily betrayed us all, the Dark One has escaped, and I’m dead!” Adora wailed. “In the game, I mean,” she clarified, gesturing to her battle figurine, which was tipped on its side. Catra smiled and settled in, already feeling more assured of herself. 

“Oh, and you have got to try Hordak’s new coffee,” Adora continued, proffering a steaming paper cup. “He called it a… peppered mint mo-cah?” She looked at Catra with immeasurable eyes and giggled. “I think I can hear space.”

Catra had a thought. She glanced at Entrapta. 

“That reminds me,” Catra started cautiously. “You know that charity stunt or whatever you goons have planned for the night before Adora’s birthday?”

“You mean She-Ra Day Eve?” Adora asked, a huge grin plastered on her face.

“Yeah, that one. I changed my mind about staying home. I want in.” 

“Oh, yay!” Adora nearly fell out of her seat leaning over to hug her wife. “We’re gonna have so much fun!”

“It will be a significant benefit to have extra helpers,” Hordak added with approval as he looked up from the game board. “Entrapta has engineered quite an undertaking for this event.” 

“She has? Uh, how elaborate are we talking, exactly?” Catra asked, already beginning to regret her decision. 

Entrapta leaned across the table. “Oh, it’s gonna be big,” she boasted, grinning. Then she sat back in her hair and laughed madly, swinging her feet with delight. 

Catra gulped. Somewhere, she could hear a bell ring. 

*

They were standing outside in the starry night. 

It did not snow in Bright Moon, but the air was chilly, and everyone assembled was wearing heavy winter coats. Catra, sinking into hers like a turtle, leaned against Adora’s arm and groaned. 

“I’m gonna be so bad at this,” she complained. 

“You’re gonna do fine,” Adora cajoled. “You’ll get to throw stuff at people! You love doing that.”

“It wouldn’t be the same without the whole Best Friends Squad anyway!” Bow added, as Glimmer nodded beside him. 

“It’s better with you here,” the queen said, smiling. 

Catra felt her stomach twist and looked away. But that only faced her toward the group’s tallest member, looming lazily on her other side. 

“You seem stressed, Catra.”

Catra glared back up at Hordak. “Easy for you to say! Your wife’s birthday isn’t a national holiday!”

Hordak huffed. “Perhaps not where you come from.”

“I can’t take much more of this,” moaned Skeletor. 

Catra threw up her hands. “Okay, and why is Skeletor here?” she asked helplessly. 

“Silence, you furry fool!” Skeletor retorted. “You ought to know me better than that by now!” He crossed his arms and sulked. 

“We require a full crew for this endeavor,” Hordak explained, more calmly. “Entrapta insisted upon using one of the larger models.” 

“Models of what?” Catra demanded. 

As if on cue, a loud rumbling sound filled the air. The ground began to shake, and an enormous Horde tank rounded the corner, trundled down the road, and came to a juddering halt in front of the gathered friends. It was covered in tinsel and had been repainted with jolly, festive colors. 

“Speak of the gremlin,” Catra mumbled, staring. 

The tank’s front hatch popped open and Entrapta emerged astride Emily, hefting a huge burlap bag. Imp was sitting on her shoulder, wearing a new pair of booties with curled and pointed toes. 

“Merry She-Ra, one and all!” Entrapta crowed. “Welcome aboard the Wrapper Tank!” As they filed past her up the ramp, she rummaged in her bag and passed out what appeared to be accessorized figurines resembling each member of the group. 

Skeletor stared long and hard at his. “Only one is really me! Which one is it?” he mused. 

Glimmer was delighted with hers and immediately set about making it hold hands with Bow’s. Catra held hers uncertainly while Adora toyed with the miniature She-Ra’s sword arm action. 

“Look, it’s a tiny Hordak!” Entrapta squealed with glee as she presented her partner with his own likeness. “Isn’t he cute?”

Hordak smiled as he accepted the gift. “Your craftsmanship is remarkable, as always.” 

Inside the tank was a command bridge the size of a throne room. Several more bags stuffed with small toy princesses rested in the center of the floor. On every surrounding wall there were blinking control panels and swiveling gunners’ chairs. Skeletor sat down in one and spun giddily. 

“I made tiny versions of all the heroes of Etheria!” Entrapta exclaimed, sweeping her hands over everything. “Bow helped with the designs. And then I used my fabrication lab to mass-produce them!” She held her sides and cackled wildly. 

“We’re going to give them out to all the homes in Bright Moon,” Adora added, settling into another chair. “Something for the kids, you know?” Catra, already brightening at the sight of weaponry, grinned and joined her. 

Entrapta tossed herself back into the pilot’s seat. “If this experiment goes well, we’ll be able to expand the operation to other kingdoms next year! Maybe even the whole planet!” 

“Okay, but how are we going to be able to deliver presents to every house if we only have one night?” Bow asked. 

“That’s easy!” Entrapta bragged. “Behold, the power of the Wrapper Tank!” 

With a flourish, she dropped one of the trinkets into a large funnel near the control panel. In seconds, automated arms had bound it in wrapping paper and a purple bow, and fired it out the front cannon at high velocity. 

“This baby can do thirty of these things a minute!” Entrapta shouted proudly as she continued shoveling toys into the machine. 

“Is everyone comfortable?” Skeletor asked. He didn’t wait for an answer before pushing as many buttons as his bony arms could reach. 

With a roar, the engines came to life, and then they were rolling down the road, strafing the kingdom with presents that mostly landed where they were supposed to go. The inside of the tank became a bustle of activity as the crewmates passed gifts to one another and sent them shooting off into the night. Distantly, they could hear people cheering, as well as the occasional sound of something breaking. 

“Is this what we’re doing all night?” Catra asked. She flipped a switch and raised her eyebrows as a Frosta doll hurtled through someone’s window. “You were right, it is kinda fun.” 

“This is the main event, yeah,” Adora replied, launching a volley of Sea Hawks down the block. “We’ve got a few more personal stops to make on the way, though. The first one’s in the Whispering Woods!” 

Catra froze for a moment, imagining the ghosts that were waiting for her in those dark and shifting trees. She shook her head and ignored the thought. 

“What idiot started this whole thing anyway?” Skeletor griped. 

*

The tank made its first stop at a tiny cottage, so small and low that it would have been easy to mistake for nothing at all. 

“Madame Razz?” Adora called as she ducked through the doorway. The others followed behind her in a curious huddle. 

“I brought you some cookies and sweets and stuff,” Adora said, setting the goodies on the table. Bow and Glimmer gazed with interest at the many mystical odds and ends decorating the walls. Entrapta struck up a conversation with the broom. Hordak, who was taller than the ceiling, crouched in as dignified a manner as he could manage.

“Who knows what evil lurks behind these doors?” Skeletor hissed in a hushed whisper.

At the far side of the cottage, Razz sat in a rocking chair and tipped slowly back and forth, staring at nothing. Catra felt her hair stand on end. 

Adora looked worried. “Razz? You there?” 

Madame Razz blinked and snapped out of her trance. “Yes, yes, deary! Come in! I remembered this was going to happen.” Leaping to her feet, she held out a stuffed doll with pointed ears, blue hair, and soulless eyes. “Look here! I have a gift for you also.” 

Adora took it gingerly. “How… nice. What is it?” She turned the doll over in her hands. It wore a rainbow jumper and a plastic smirk. 

“It’s a Loo-Kee on a Ledge!” Razz explained cheerfully. “You put it in your home. Move it every night. Tell the children it can see them. Makes the young ones more obedient!” 

“Thanks, that’s terrifying.” Adora passed the doll to Catra, who seemed far more interested in its potential applications. “I bet it’ll make a nice game.”

“Game?” Razz turned and stared through her glasses in confusion. “We are not here for games, we are here for fruit cake!” 

Before Adora could stop her, the old woman had rushed to her little cottage oven. She made a show of reaching inside with protective mitts and extracted a cold stone brick, which had been placed in a pan with some wild nuts sprinkled on top. 

“You want a slice now?” 

“Oh, absolutely!” Entrapta pushed her way to the front of the group, producing a small buzz saw and a sample jar. “I’ve been reading up on geological gastronomy!” 

”Uh, hey, Entrapta!” Adora intervened. “Did I ever tell you that Madame Razz knew some of the First Ones? Like, personally?” 

“What? Really?” Entrapta turned toward Adora in surprise, and then back to the old woman with renewed interest. She peered through a pair of multi-lensed goggles and raised her eyebrows. “Though that would explain all the tachyons in here. Quick, how many temporal causalities am I holding up?” 

“Ah! You’re a sharp one, deary!” Razz laughed. 

Entrapta shook her hands and pulled a recorder from her pocket. “Aah! You — you’re a walking quantum event! Tell me everything!” 

And in her own way, Razz did. As they chattered back and forth, Adora looked between the old witch and the scientist and wondered why she hadn’t introduced the two of them sooner. 

“That’s a handsome, strapping lad you’ve got there!” Razz whispered conspiratorially to Entrapta. “Does he have a brother?” 

Entrapta smirked. 

“You have a brain that could warm my heart,” Skeletor said. “If I had a heart!” 

*

Much to Catra’s consternation, their next stop did not take them out of the Whispering Woods. While Entrapta and Skeletor tuned up the tank, George and Lance cheerfully embarrassed their youngest son in front of his friends. 

“We’re delighted by your presents!” George punned as his husband passed out mugs of hot cocoa. Hordak took two and carefully decanted the extra into several tiny thermoses. 

Bow handed his fathers a huge stack of neatly handwritten pages. “We brought these for you — Adora’s been helping me translate some of the First Ones records you found at the ruins!” 

“It’s… not very exciting,” Adora admitted. “There’s a lot of complaining about this one guy who just sold really terrible etherium.” 

Despite this, George and Lance seized upon the pages and flipped through them eagerly, talking over each other in excitement. While they sat and chatted energetically with Adora about what the writings contained, Glimmer dragged Catra away to show off her increasing knowledge of the expansive library. 

This left Bow standing alone with Hordak for the first time in the night. The archer and the ex-lord looked at one another, the former desperately searching for something to say while the latter gently nursed his cocoa. They both seemed to sense that some sort of social interaction would be appropriate, but were entirely unsure of what that ought to be.

“Excuses, excuses! I’m tired of all your excuses!” Skeletor yelled from outside. “Fix the problem and go!”

Hordak cleared his throat. “Entrapta tells me you are the one who gave my brother his rather... derivative name,” he tried after a moment. 

Bow made a noise. 

“He thanks you for it,” Hordak said sincerely. 

“I’m sorry! I mean, what?” Bow cautiously opened his eyes. 

“He considers it an essential part of his journey to freedom from Prime’s grasp.” Hordak studied his claws with a careful expression. “Many have encouraged him to take on a more singular moniker. I am among them. Perhaps someday he will. But for now, it is as beloved to him as that theatrical lizard seems to be.” 

“You’re… welcome?” Bow ventured. 

“You are a highly competent engineer,” Hordak stated. “I once mistook your work for Entrapta’s. When we were still enemies, that is.” He hesitated. “I… am pleased that we are not enemies any longer.” 

“Thank you?”

Hordak bowed.

Skeletor popped his head around the door.

“Get a move on, you slugs!” he called. “Hurry! Faster, faster!”

*

Eventually, the Wrapper Tank rolled to a stop at the front gates of Bright Moon palace, precisely where it had begun. There was only one visit left to make. 

“Micah! It’s so good to see you!” Entrapta chirped. “How have things been since we both lived at the mercy of techno-organic island monstrosities?” 

“Quieter,” Micah remarked. “And my food doesn’t get stolen nearly as often.” He smiled. “It’s good to see you, too.”

“I made you She-Ra Day crackers!” Entrapta exulted, holding out a pile of shiny paper cylinders. “They’re an old Dryl tradition, ever since last year. When you pull the ends, tiny snacks come out! And I’ve improved these ones with twenty percent more explosives!” 

“It should be quite a blast!” Skeletor chuckled. “Enjoy the fireworks!”

Gingerly taking the armload of gifts and setting them down as carefully as she possibly could, Castaspella welcomed everyone into a warm and cozy den. She and Micah had lit a roaring fire in the fireplace and were decorating a fir tree with glowing light-charms. A small table held a large platter of cookies, which Adora immediately set about devouring. 

Skeletor paused at the door. “Tell me a riddle!” he demanded. 

Castaspella looked confused. “Excuse me?” 

“He thinks it’s what sorceresses do,” Entrapta told her. “You gotta humor him!” 

“Oh.” Castaspella tapped her chin. “Well, in that case, um… why did the twigget cross the road?” 

Skeletor considered this for a great deal of time before surrendering. “Oh, I’m horrible at riddles,” he groused. “Who’s good at riddles here?”

However, everyone else had already settled in around the fire, tired from a long night of bauble bombardment.

“What do you think of our She-Ra Day decorations?” Castaspella asked proddingly. “Micah wanted a fake tree, but I set him straight on that. Honestly, I don’t know how my brother survived on Beast Island without me.”

“You certainly would have helped scare the monsters away,” said Micah. 

“Y’know, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a sibling,” Adora thought out loud. “Could you imagine me with, like, a long-lost First Ones twin? We’d kick so much butt!”

Hordak, Bow, Micah, and Castaspella all shared a look that spoke to something universal. 

“It’s a mixed bag. Casta used to trick me into stealing food for her,” Micah complained. “Pretended it was a game and I got more points if our parents didn’t see me sneak into the kitchen.”

“He hit me with a tree branch once, you know,” Castaspella responded.

“I did no such thing!” Micah argued. “All I did was lead your horse under a tree. It’s not my fault it had remarkably low hanging branches. Or that you didn’t duck in time.”

“Anyway,” Bow cut in, “I think what Micah and Castaspella are trying to say is that despite their differences they get along now and they’re glad to still have each other after all this time.” He glanced at Hordak. “...Even if they used to be enemies.” 

Micah nodded sagely. “That is precisely what I meant,” he lied. 

While they continued with their conversation, Glimmer noticed that Catra was standing alone at the far side of the room, her back to the others, staring at a small portrait of Angella hung above the door. 

“Fascinating,” Skeletor said. “That little insect is feeling sorry for itself!”

Glimmer whispered something to her father and stood up to approach the fretting feline. “Hey, everything okay?” she asked. “You’ve seemed off a lot tonight. You didn’t even laugh when I showed you that book of dirty First Ones jokes in George and Lance’s library.” 

“Huh?” Catra looked up, surprised to have company. “I guess so. Maybe. I don’t know. I mean… are you really sure I should be here?” 

“Well, it’s all Adora has been talking about for the past week, so yeah, pretty sure.” 

Catra shook her head. “No, I mean here at all. Being happy, instead of rotting in a dungeon somewhere.” She scowled. “I know we’ve talked about it, but I just… I did so much bad stuff, back in the Horde. I hurt people. I was awful to Adora. I’m even the reason your mom…”

Catra trailed off. A deep gulf of silence stretched between her and Glimmer. The queen appeared pensive. 

“I’ve done some really bad things too,” Glimmer said eventually. “So I guess maybe I’m the wrong person to ask?” She gave a lopsided smile. 

“But what do you do when people hate you? And you deserve it?”

Glimmer looked concerned. “I don’t think anyone here hates you. Not currently, anyway. Where’s all this coming from?”

“I’d hate me if I were you,” Catra quietly admitted. 

“Maybe. But I’m not you, and you’re not me.” Glimmer turned away and hugged herself. “I’m always going to miss my mom. And it’s always going to hurt. But… I don’t think it’s much use to make that hurt worse by hating you.” She looked back up. “I think anyone can make up for a mistake, as long as they really know it was a mistake. I hope so, anyway.”

Catra scratched her head. “So, what, feeling bad means that I’m good?” 

“Something like that,” Glimmer giggled. “Seriously though, there’s responsibility in this. We never stop working on it.”

“Was that a royal ‘we’?” Catra quipped. 

“No, it goes for both of us. All of us. I mean it.” Glimmer gazed around the room. “Mistakes… never really get completely fixed, you know. It took me a long time to get that. But we can grow something better and stronger with the lessons we learn from them.”

The queen smiled again. “Besides, I’m happier being friends. Look at us all!” 

Catra did. 

Everyone, in one form or another, was relaxing around the glow of the fireplace. Entrapta and Imp knelt by the hearth, doing something with chestnuts and an acetylene torch. Hordak and Micah sat on the couch, swapping horror stories about Shadow Weaver. Bow watched closely as Castaspella instructed him in a new knitting pattern. And Adora appeared to be trading pleasantries with Skeletor as though they were age-old friends. 

“Here, She-Ra! A gift!” Skeletor said. He held out a freshly-baked doomberry pie.

Catra laughed. Suddenly feeling lighter, she went to join them. Glimmer followed. And the great world spun on. 

*

Entrapta clapped her hair. “Thanks for coming, Catra! This was loads of fun!” 

It was early morning and they were all going their separate ways again. Glimmer had already dragged a dozing Bow back to the palace, while Catra and Adora disembarked in front of the small home they shared together. 

“The mission was a great success,” Hordak agreed as Entrapta leaned into his side. “You showed exemplary courage in the field.” 

“Thank you,” Catra said, and meant it. 

Adora, gazing at the sky in contemplation next to her, suddenly realized that the stars weren’t the only things twinkling. 

“Entrapta?” she asked. “You know the space tree?” 

“The large plant growth that overtook Horde Prime’s flagship when She-Ra defeated him and which remains in low Etheria orbit as a constant reminder of the power of love and healing? Yes, I’m familiar with it.”

“Did you put lights on it?”

Entrapta beamed. “Yeah, little blinky ones! Or at least they look little from here. They actually have a diameter of about one Darla each. Alternating current, naturally. Aren’t they great?” 

“You know,” Adora smiled, “I really think they are.” Catra concurred.

They turned and went home together, which left Entrapta and Hordak to return to the Wrapper Tank hand in hand, relaxing into each other’s arms as they sat and shared a tiny thermos of hot cocoa. Under Emily’s supervision, Skeletor and Imp drove the tank back to Entrapta’s Bright Moon lab, and only argued over the steering wheel once along the way. 

As soon as they returned, Hordak sought out their bed and fell gratefully into the soft sheets. Entrapta made to follow him, but before she did so she pulled Skeletor aside with one ponytail, hands hiding something behind her back. 

“And what do you think you’re doing?” Skeletor questioned. 

“Skeletor, you’ve been a big help over the past year,” Entrapta said to the spindly robot. “And I wanted to say thank you. So, I made you another present. You deserve to have a helper too!” 

She pulled her hands from behind her back and revealed a lop-eared robot puppy with wide and innocent eyes. It sat up in her arms and fixed Skeletor with a curious gaze. 

“His name is Relay! What do you think?”

Skeletor gasped in surprise, reaching out to take the robotic canine. “Even Hordak doesn’t have anything like this!” he gushed in a joyous tone. 

The puppy wagged its tail and let out a tiny synthesized bark. It licked Skeletor’s face. 

Skeletor hummed happily. “This is perfect!”

Above them, the stars and the lights shone brightly. And even Skeletor, despite his better instincts, was merry. The world was at peace. 

“A season of love? Caring? Joy? Ugh! Very clever, you muscle-bound moron,” Skeletor conceded. He patted Relay on the head. “Another time, She-Ra! Another time!”