3amsoda

[siriusblackloml]

just for me - george weasley x reader smut (PART 3)

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: george weasley x fem!reader

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 11.7k

𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩: “i was wondering if you could maybe write anything abt virgin killer!george weasley?? like im sorry hes the finest mf around ik he gets MAD hoes so when he finally acknowledges this preppy, nice and innocent mc he jus knows he has to ruin her"

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: he fucked up. quite horribly, too. george swooped in, made his move, and tried to get on his life like he always does after he's finished with a random hookup. now you were avoiding him and pretty much making him live in agony as a result of his shitty actions. george will soon come to realize you had a much larger impact on his life than he would ever imagine.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: swearing, a LOT of angst

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: i’m still not done with this series but instead of keeping it three parts, i decided to add a fourth :) i hope you all enjoy this and please forgive me for the very long wait. i’ve had so much going on irl. part four is coming soon!

part one ┊ part two ┊part three ┊pt. 4 coming soon!

George had a funny little hop in his step as he walked through the grass. Not that it was truly intentional. He was just…very, very happy. There was too much adrenaline fogging his brain to really comprehend anything in this moment of time. He was acting as though he hadn’t just fucked you senseless in the field of grass outside the school. 

He felt proud of himself. He thought that this moment was worth all the celebrating in the world. All of his hard work had built up towards this moment and it paid off so much. You were absolutely amazing. Actually, he wondered to himself, was it possible to say that you were perfect? If he had to be honest with himself, you were everything he wanted in a girl. 

Physically, of course. It’s not like he was looking to start a relationship or anything. Sure, he just told you that he would see you around, but he had to use that more as a lie to try and leave the precious moment between you two on a positive note. False hope, deception, bullshit, call it anything you want, George didn’t regret it. He knew that if he just walked away he probably would have left you crying right there on the spot. He’s not sure he would ever be able to forgive himself if he did that. 

At the end of the day, George knew better than to actually see you again. That’s why from here on out, it would be nothing more than talking in class. If he even brought himself to do that. 

George couldn’t shake the smile from his face as he walked into the Gryffindor common room. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, contrasting the chilly breeze outside. Not that he was cold; the boy was still quite feverish from how hard he had just fucked you. Students were chatting amongst one another about their day and what was to come for the rest of the night. George noticed some students who were admirably trying to complete homework in the midst of the constant chatter. He thought of you for a split second. Remembering all the time you spend studying for homework and exams. He literally interrupted you studying earlier, but you didn’t seem to mind. 

Those thoughts of you were immediately discarded once he noticed a familiar duo in the corner of the room arguing with one another. It was George’s younger brother, Ron, and his friend Hermoine. What the two of them were arguing about was unbeknownst to him, but George caught the eye of someone sitting in a chair eating candy, watching the scene unfold like it was a drama. It was Fred, his fiery-red haired twin, who was popping the sweet treats into his mouth like he was eating popcorn at the movie theater. It must have been very entertaining watching Ron and Hermoine argue, as Fred couldn’t seem to pry his eyes off the show in front of him. 

George walks up to Fred and snaps his fingers. He immediately catches the attention of Fred, who boggles at him as if to ask, what the hell do you want? George motions for the boy to follow him. Fred gets up from his seat and follows George up the flight of stairs towards the empty dormitories. George seemingly couldn’t break the smile on his face so Fred immediately knew what was going on.

As soon as they were out of earshot of other people, Fred asked George, “So? Did it finally happen?”

George nods his head excitedly and eagerly answers, “Yes! It did!”

The twin embraces his brother with a cheeky clap of hand that morphed into a side hug. He was obviously very proud of George for his achievement. It’s not every day you take your classmate's virginity in the middle of a grassy field. Not that Fred really needed to know that last small detail. 

“I can’t believe you popped her cherry. I didn’t think she was ever going to budge.” Fred shakes his head in disbelief. The brother was referring to the fact he knew of your innocence. George remembers back to the day his twin told him about how you were positively a virgin. He could have sworn he melted on the spot from the newfound information. It was at that moment he knew he needed to be the one to ruin your innocence. 

And innocent you were. Well, for the most part, anyway. Your mouth depicted otherwise given all the profanity you were throwing at George. He couldn’t get over how mouthy you were during the entire session. The pathetic begging, the whining, the swearing. It was like heaven to his ears. It only made him want to drill his cock inside your pretty pussy even harder. Which he did, of course, and he loved watching the way your face would contort into pleasure at every thrust. 

Fred clapped his brother’s shoulder, pulling George from his daydreaming. He said in a cheerful tone, “Good for you, mate. So when are you seeing her again?” 

Fred’s brother immediately scoffs at the question. George thinks to himself, as if that’s happening. He had a very set rule for himself which was so straightforward it would take an absolute idiot to not understand. This easy rule was simple to follow; he didn’t give any of his hookups a second chance. They were a one and one time only situation. George was afraid that if he were to consistently see the same girl, he would give the impression that he wanted things to develop into something more. Of course he did like the girls, but it was more so for their physical appearance over their personality. Not that yours was bad, he actually quite enjoyed talking to you. 

Maybe even a little more than any other girl. You did leave his heart fluttering every now and then, which was strange for George to understand because it had never happened before. The boy shakes his head. He can’t keep thinking about you. No girl had ever left him so flustered before and he was not about to let that ruin his night of celebration. Celebrating you, of course. Or more so, the dirty act you two shared. 

To avoid giving you any kind of false hope, George plans to keep to himself from here on out. George tells his brother, “No, I don’t want her to think I’m, like, into her, know what I mean?” 

Fred shrugs out of confusion and raises an eyebrow, immediately striking back with, “Well, I kinda figured that’s what you wanted.” 

George’s heart stops beating for just a split second. As if something shocked his entire body. What was Fred implying? Why would he assume that of his brother knowing his reputation? Hell, Fred has encouraged George in the past to avoid being with a girl more than one time to avoid the start of a relationship. Fred must know deep down that you weren’t any different from the rest of the girls George had been with…right? 

George narrows his eyes at Fred and asks, “What do you mean?” 

“Don’t you like her? I thought…well, I guess I was wrong.” Fred trails off as he notices George seemed very tense. 

He was tense, and for good reason. George was nearly offended that his brother would ever assume that of him. He never broke the cycle in the past to see a girl more than once, why would he do it now? 

But then again, why would Fred figure that in the first place? Was George doing something specific that would have implied that idea? Other than frequently talking to Y/N in class, calling her cute, and….no, any guy can do that and it doesn’t mean he wants to drop everything and date the girl right that second. Plus, George only hung out with you to get closer…obviously. Nothing more than just that. Fred was just jumping to conclusions. Conclusions he had no business assuming in the first place.

George stays silent and avoids the lingering gaze of his twin. He turns away from Fred as an indication that he no longer wanted to talk, to which his brother complied almost immediately. Fred left the room without much of anything else to say. Once George heard the door shut close, he walked across the bedroom towards a long floor length mirror to look at his disheveled appearance. 

His clothes were untidy from the aftermath that was you. George rather liked this sight of his unkempt appearance knowing it was because of your bloody sex. He smirked to himself as he adjusted his clothes, tucking his shirt into his trousers and fixing his tie. Just looking at his clothes reminded him of everything with you. 

The sweetness of your moans, the tightness of your wet cunt, the way your face looked underneath his power. In the midst of him reminiscing, he thought back to the first time he ever saw you in class. That pretty girl was so far gone now. The girl he first met was completely different from the girl he just saw in the field. Her innocence was gone, stolen from her, in a way that was rough and possibly even catastrophic. 

The girl George knew first was too sweet for her own good. He almost…missed it. The way you blushed so easily from any of his flirty comments, or the little gasps that escaped your mouth from every tiny brush of his hand. 

These memories started to flash across the boy’s mind before he could even process them all. The countless times he would flirt with you behind Snape’s back, your sneaky giggles to avoid catching attention from the professor, all the times you would have to help him with his homework because he was absolutely clueless. The way he would glance at your hair because you always styled them in the cutest clips…or the way he would stare at your face because you were absolutely beautiful.

Then again, George loved staring at your face when you were underneath him, writhing in pleasure from the force of his cock. He needed to remind himself that whatever innocent girl he first met was far gone now. He destroyed her, deflowered her, anything he could think of, he did it. And shouldn’t he be proud of himself for that? 

At this moment, George heard his stomach start to grumble. He realized that he had not eaten anything since earlier this morning and was quite hungry. George finishes fixing his clothes and grabs his robe, trying to ignore the thoughts flooding his mind of how he tied a robe to a fucking tree just an hour earlier. 

Within minutes, he found himself going downstairs into the common room and finding a group of his friends and brothers already planning to march towards the Great Hall for dinner. George immediately tags along, jumping into conversation as if he had been there the whole time. As the group of boys wandered down hallways and waltzed around cold corridors, they would joke about anything and everything possible. George loves these nights with his friends where nothing else matters but how much fun they’re having. His mind had barely any focus on you anymore.

However, that did not last very long. Once George arrived at the Great Hall, he couldn’t help but steal a glance towards the table you would typically sit for meals. Your seat was vacant, though. Completely empty while the remainder of your friends sat in their own respective spots, chatting as if nothing was wrong. Clearly there was something wrong; you weren’t here for dinner. 

George thought of this as strange. He assumed that enough time had passed that you would have already come back to the school, gotten cleaned up, and would be coming downstairs for your meal. Maybe you were running late, he thought to himself. 

He shrugs his shoulders and turns back towards his friends, cracking joke after joke that erupted the entire group of boys into massive fits of laughter. Even though George was having a good time, his mind couldn’t stay focused on his friends for long. 

Every few minutes he’d get the urge to see if you were walking in the room. He’d frequently look towards the grand doors, walking students flood in and out, but never would he spot your cute hairclips amongst the crowd of people. He would even look back at your spot at the table. Ten minutes had passed, then it was twenty, now it was nearing thirty, George still couldn’t find you. 

Was it possible that you just stayed in the field after George left? He wondered this to himself, biting his lip in frustration because all he wanted to know was that you were okay. Why? He didn’t have the answer for that. But as long as he was able to see you, that’s all that mattered to George. Where on earth had you gone? There were multiple questions scattered across the boy’s mind and he hated not knowing anything. 

Sitting in the Great Hall trying to chase for an answer in his mind was giving George enough frustration to leave the group of friends early. He complained of being tired, to which his friends all chuckled deeply knowing why he would have been so exhausted (Fred’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor when he realized his brother had sex in a field). 

The boy left his group of friends to wander the hallways of Hogwarts. He flew up a flight of stairs to get to the second floor, maneuvering his way through a crowd of people to try and find a very particular window. It was one that overlooked the territory surrounding Hogwarts. It was an important window to him as it was pointed in the direction of the same tree you would have been sitting under. George secretly hoped he would be able to see a tiny, black dot under this tree, indicating that you had never left your spot after all.

Upon arrival at this windowsill that George had been desperately trying to look for, he peered outside only to see nothing. There was not one black speck amongst the green grass that would have implied you were still studying your materials. This meant you left the tree long ago, that you were probably wandering the school now doing Godric knows what. 

Why did this leave George feeling…uneasy? His heart dropped when he realized that you were no longer outside. He hated this feeling because it was completely new to him. It also brought on an array of questions, the most common one that crossed his mind being, why on earth does he care so much about a girl he hooked up with? Why was he so worried? Why did he hope to find you so desperately? It wasn’t like he was planning on talking to you, or anything more than that really.

George went to sleep that night with you on his mind. It was hard to fall asleep in the first place, however. He was tossing and turning for an hour straight trying not to worry about your current whereabouts. Unfortunately, George didn’t sleep long either. 

He’d wake up just a few hours into the night from a nightmare. It was a dream in which he lost you forever. 

»——•——«

The next day…

»——•——«

George felt a massive shift in the atmosphere the moment he woke up. He had a weird gut feeling about today, mostly because he was worried about where you’d gone last night. However, his worries would only worsen upon his first period class. 

You didn’t show up. To be more specific, you didn’t show up to Professor Snape’s class, which is a huge no-no in not only the professor’s book, but your own as well. You’d never missed class before as far as George was aware. Having to miss any kind of class nearly disgusted you, and you were for sure always present in Snape’s class given the consequences that would likely follow. The professor was keen on giving detention just for missing one class period. Not that you would probably earn one since you were his star student.

What on earth would have caused you to miss class? George wondered if there was a sort of emergency that you had to attend to, but his gut told him otherwise. His stomach felt like there was a knot in it the moment he walked into the room and didn’t see you. He had already felt uneasy just during the walk to the classroom. 

George didn’t see you in the hallway like he usually would in the mornings. He silently hoped and wished it was only because you had already arrived to class early, or maybe it was because you happened to be running late. Even if that was the case, he still felt weird about it because you were always to arrive at class at a very particular time. 

The boy started catching on that you would try and time your walk in the hallway so that the two of you would arrive at the doorway nearly at the exact same time. George never made a comment about this to you; he secretly thought it was adorable that you were so head over heels for him that you would go to such lengths to be sure you both arrived at the same time. 

And here he was, reminiscing those memories. They all felt lightyears away now. He took advantage of those days. The ones where he could admire you walking down the hallway in your cute skirt and hairclips, then he got to wink at you during class at random intervals. A million questions raced through his mind. So much so, that he couldn’t focus on a single word that came out of Snape’s mouth. Not that he usually paid much attention anyway. He would always be too distracted by your beauty. 

Amongst the million questions that ran through his head, one question continued to linger on George’s mind while he sat in class; had he ruined things between you two?

He never asked himself this kind of question before because it has never been an issue in the past. He moved on easily every single time he had been with a girl, why couldn’t he let you go? 

What caused this to start? His infatuation with you, that is. Was it just because you guys talked frequently during class? Well that couldn’t be all, there had been times George hooked up with girls he knew for years and never felt this way before. Was it only because he knew you were a virgin? While that factor going into sex with you was very exciting, it wouldn’t be enough for him to be this obsessed with your unknown whereabouts. 

George tried finding something that would have sparked his sudden interest in you, when his heart dropped in the middle of a thought. The realization hits him like a brick and his breath is immediately knocked out of his lungs. The past day has been spent worrying not only about where you were, but just you in general. Absolutely nothing else mattered in the world but you. 

While George wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box, he didn’t need a genius to tell him that he was falling for you. That realization alone was enough to shake him to his core. It was as though everything in his brain had shut off completely, all except that circuit that left his mind running on loop thinking about you and you only. And maybe it wasn’t exactly love that he was feeling, but it was definitely…something. It was the sort of “something” that made George want to drop everything he was doing just to be with you. Because even if it wasn’t love that he was experiencing, the boy knew he was feeling something intense for you and needed to share that with you as soon as possible. 

Given he was in quite possibly the most boring classroom of all, George didn’t even give his plan a second thought. He collected his belongings and shoved them into his bag, got up from his desk, and exited the room without a word. The only thing on his mind was finding you. 

With a rapidly beating heart and sweaty palms, George started to pace the hallways in hopes he would randomly catch sight of you around a corridor. When that plan failed, he stood still for a few minutes to try and pinpoint exactly where you could have been. While it was possible that you were simply hiding in your house dormitory from the rest of the world, George played with the idea that you were possibly hiding in the library. The only reason he could think of such a place was not only because he knew how studious you were, it was the only other location that you two shared. 

It was really only that, the classroom, and that damn field. Having to think about the field burned a massive hole in George’s heart. He knew now, after some reflection, that what he did was awfully wrong. How he didn’t realize it before was beyond him. He was too caught up with his ego and so used to dropping a girl as quick as he saw her, he assumed everything would be the same when it came to you. 

You were different though. George knew that now. And having to think back to the way he used you in that field yesterday made him gulp hard. He wondered, why did he put you through that? He felt like complete shit now. 

All he could think about was you. How you must have felt about all this. Surely enough, you must have felt used. You didn’t deserve that. George stormed down the hallway, ears ringing with anticipation to find you as soon as possible. 

»——•——«

You had been sitting in the library by yourself. Well, obviously you had been. Everyone else was in their respective classes at the time. Not you, though. It was just too much to bear right now with how fresh yesterday’s situation was. 

The fact that you were skipping class made you feel so beyond guilty. For a second, you thought you must have been insane to even consider the idea in the first place. You’d never skipped class before, so going through with the last minute plan was enough to make you bite your nails out of anxiety. However, nothing could compare to the feeling that would have hit you if you had to sit through class next to George Weasley.

Just that thought alone made you sick to your stomach. It would have been a million times worse than what you were feeling now. You knew that you couldn’t skip the next class period with him, however even if you got a chance to skip today, you’d take it. You couldn’t bear looking at his face…as if nothing ever happened between you two. 

Was this what you were made for? To be used by men? That’s all you felt right now; used.

If you had the chance, you would have gone back in time and changed the narrative entirely. You would have stolen that freaking time-turner from Professor McGonagall just to stop yourself from getting hypnotized by his charm. George Weasley was reckless and it affected you too much. 

You were careful before you met the boy. Very cautious, you kept to yourself. Never once did you ever consider lusting after a boy the way you did for George, dreaming up a fantasy where the two of you were happily ever after. And now everything in your life is crashing down all around you. As if you’ve lost complete control. 

You were as reckless as he was. 

He sucked you into this kind of void and it left you unable to breathe, unable to move, unable to think straight. That’s why you were hiding in the library. If the thought of George was making you feel this uneasy, you couldn’t even fathom what would have happened today if you walked into class and sat right next to him.

As if nothing had happened. 

You wondered if you would have been able to contain yourself if you did end up going to class anyway. You’re not sure if you would have cried, screamed at him, or just stayed silent. You were not one to really stand up for yourself, but then again, so much has changed about yourself in the last few weeks you weren’t sure if that was so true anymore. 

The library was dead silent besides your occasional turn of the pages in your book. You busied yourself by catching up on some reading you were meant to read yesterday. While you did your best to read the book last night in bed, it was quite difficult to focus with the amount of tears that welled up in your eyes. Thankfully, you were a bit more composed today and felt confident enough to tackle a couple chapters during this quiet time. 

As you sat silently, taking in the information about an aging potion, you could hear a door open in the distance of the library. The noise was followed by footsteps that increased in volume, indicating that someone was definitely walking in your direction. You can’t help but look up at the noise, half expecting to see either one of your girlfriends or even Snape himself wondering why you weren’t in class.

However, nothing could have prepared you for the boy who was walking towards you. It was George, of course. Because who else would it be at this time of day?

Immediately your eyes widen as your stomach sinks. It felt like the entire world was falling apart around you in an instant. You could have sworn that your heart skipped multiple beats in a row. Just the sight of George was nearly giving you a heart attack. What on earth did he have to say? Better yet, what were you going to say? Was he even worth the talk?

Gulping silently, you just watch as he approaches you in the dead silent room. He seemed to slow down his pace the moment you two made eye contact. As much as you wished it would have been enough to stop him dead in his tracks, he kept walking towards you. He adjusts his tie and clears his throat as casually as possible.

Without asking for permission, George pulls out the chair to your right and seats himself. He jumps right into a sort of interrogation, asking you, “Why weren’t you in class?”

You have to tell yourself to act like you don’t care that he’s here. Obviously he didn’t care about you enough yesterday to stay with you in that field, or even talk to you in general about what you two were. You were just a toy for him to fuck and get over in a matter of minutes. Keeping this in mind, and partially taking notice of the anger that was clearly bubbling inside you, you sneer at George and mutter under your breath, “I didn’t feel like it.”

Not your strongest moment, but it was blunt and rude. You figured it would get the point across that you weren’t very happy with him. So much for not letting it seem like it bothered you. You realized it was a bit harder to hold back your emotion than you originally thought. That doesn’t mean you’re going to beat yourself up over this, though. You would much rather seem angry in front of George than sad or depressed. The last thing you want to do is bawl in front of him.

Did he really deserve to even know that you were angry with him though? You started to regret even talking to him in the first place. Too many questions were swirling around your mind for you to find focus. It made your head pound with pain.

“I need to ask you something.” George tells you while awkwardly biting his lip and shifting uncomfortably in his chair. He starts to pull hair away from his face and run his fingers through his hair. It takes a lot of power to try not to notice how attractive he looked whenever he played with his hair like that.

Your back straightens and you instinctively lean in towards him, eager to hear what he has to say. You respond in a dry tone, “What is it?”

Suddenly, George is leaning forward and grabbing you by the chin with his fingers, forcing your eyes to take in his weary face. You gasp quietly, heart feeling like it was being stabbed, it was throbbing so hard.

He asks you in a frantic voice, “Things feel different for you, too, don’t they?”

You raise an eyebrow, confused. Things? Between the two of you? Well…of course they were different. Before yesterday, you two were just classmates that would flirt. Now, you didn’t even know whatever “this” was. It was disgusting, that’s what you thought to yourself. It left you feeling used.

So what the hell was he implying? You let him hold your chin a while longer and ask softly, “What do you mean?”

George blinks once, twice, three times before he gulps hard.

“I-Well-…I don’t know…” He starts to sputter out anything that comes to mind. He can’t seem to explain himself fast enough, or find the words in general.

You pull away from his grasp, narrowing your eyes as you pick apart his act. This was all fake, wasn’t it? Just another fucking plan to woo you? He would act all pitiful and sad to express how much he didn’t mean it, all just to see you naked again. That’s exactly what this was.

“You’re just trying to get in my pants again, aren’t you?” You snap at George with a nasty tone. You stand up from your chair dramatically, hearing the scrape of wood against stone echo throughout the empty library.

George stands up nearly as quick as you do the moment the words are leaving your mouth. He tries to extend his arms out to grasp you, but misses as you take a step back. Throwing everything in your backpack as fast as you possibly can, you notice George in the corner of your eye starting to inch closer to you again with a nervous voice, “W-What?! No! Y/N, I swear-”

You throw all your books in your bag and slam the chair into the desk, snapping at George with a newfound fury you hadn’t realized was inside you all this time. You tell him, “Do me a favor George; leave me the FUCK alone.”

It was obvious that the sentence alone was enough of a threat to the boy. The anger laced in your tongue hits George like a million knives, putting him in his place immediately. He falls silent immediately, watching you walk away from the scene without another word.

However, what he didn’t see was the tears building up along your lash line. As much as you hated his guts, you were still falling madly in love with the idiot. You hated yourself as much as you hated him.

»——•——«

Two days later…

»——•——«

George knew you couldn’t avoid him forever, but he didn’t realize just how damn sneaky you could really be. After the horrific interaction in the library just days before, the boy wouldn’t see you again until the next session in Professor Snape’s potion class. He no longer saw you in the hallways or the Great Hall. You obviously made a substantial deal to be sure that there would be little to no chance of ever seeing you outside of class again.

Not seeing you for days straight made George feel even worse. He wasn’t sure if he should have looked forward to potions or not, assuming that you would be there of course. Sure enough, you were present in class, but it did not make the situation any better. When George walked into the room, he immediately spotted you at the front of the classroom speaking to Professor Snape in hushed whispers. Whatever was being discussed, Snape looked very concerned.

Such an indication did not stop George from calling out your name. In a loud voice, he said across the room, “Hey, Y/N!”

He wasn’t even quite sure why he said your name, if he had to be honest with himself. It kind of slipped out before he had time to process it all. Maybe his gut thought that trying to talk to you in class was going to go better than how the discussion went down in the library a couple days prior. Perhaps the crowd surrounding you two would force you to act a bit nicer; allow him to get his words out and express his feelings about everything.

Both you and Snape turn to look at George, who is awkwardly waving and sheepishly smiling. But in an instant you shoot him a glare. Even Professor Snape was scowling at him. While this was a normal occurrence for George in front of just about any teacher, it seemed that Snape was going out of his way to make his scowl even deeper and nastier than usual.

Right away, you had seated yourself in a chair closest to the professor’s desk. Keeping your back to George, he was forced to position his gaze back on his professor. Snape’s dirty look did not go away as he gave out instructions. “George, you’ll be sitting in this seat for the rest of the year.”

The teacher walked George to his new spot, which was the furthest point from your new seat at the front of the classroom. He was all the way in the back. This kind of seating chart is a great opportunity for a prankster like George to unleash his full potential on the entire class, but he couldn’t even relish in this once in a lifetime lucky chance he’d been granted. The boy felt everything opposite of that expected feeling.

George’s stomach felt like it had dropped to the floor. He realized very quickly that you had purposely asked for this separation from him. Whatever you told Snape, it was to avoid having any further conversation with George during class.

He was convinced he was going to lose his mind over you. He had to get a hold of you, and soon.

»——•——«

Many weeks later...

»——•——«

You thought you were going to lose your mind having to avoid the boy like this, day in and out. At this point, it was becoming a routine. One that you had to follow religiously in order to avoid any kind of possible conflict with George.

Of course, deep down you want to listen to what he has to say. You know it might be valuable in a sense…but at the same time, he deceived you once, he could easily do it again. How were you supposed to know he wasn’t trying to apologize just to appeal to your sensitive side, only to try and slide into your pants once again? Something like this was too difficult to decipher. Therefore, you were much more comfortable just glancing at George from a far distance. He didn’t deserve to talk to you…as much as you wanted to talk to him.

One night, as you are exiting the Great Hall after eating a delicious meal, you begin to make your way to the dormitories. Your mind is too preoccupied on the immense amount of homework you have later tonight to hear the sound of footsteps following close behind you. It’s not until the fiery-red haired boy is in your peripheral vision that you realize someone was near you.

In a matter of seconds, your heart drops into your stomach without even having to look George directly in the face. He had your full attention now without even having to try, let alone look at him.

While your heart was pounding out of your chest, you tried your best to focus more on how annoying it was becoming that George wasn’t going to let you go so easily. Why did he want to talk to you so badly anyway? Just to have sex again? With an eye roll, you pick up the pace and start to walk faster down the hallway. You had hoped that the silent treatment would work enough to scare him away.

George attaches himself to your side immediately and says, “Y/N, stop, please. I want to talk to you.”

Keeping your head forward, he is only met with silence. Obviously angered by your immature attitude, he scoffs under his breath and reveals a nasty look on his face; as if that was meant to make you feel bad for him.

It was amusing to see him get his knickers in a twist just from not speaking. It was almost hard to hold back from smirking in front of the boy. However, deep down you were still just as scared of talking to George as you were most days since everything occurred. He just had this kind of effect on you where it felt like no matter how angry you acted around him, your heart was still soft for his stupid antics.

You didn’t dare reveal that to him; you were still recovering from the massive damage he had done to your emotional state. You shuffle past George as fast as possible, still refusing to make any sort of eye contact with him.

Eventually, he jumps right in front of you, preventing you from moving anymore. You jump from the action and immediately snap, “What on earth do you want with me, George?”

He takes a step forward to close the gap, his eyes staring deeply into your own. He starts to stumble over his words, “G-Godric, Y/N, I didn’t think you’d ever…I just wanted to…bloody hell, I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

“Then don’t bother, okay?” You tell him, moving around his figure to get away from the conversation. It’s hard to believe he has anything worthwhile to tell you in the first place. However, there’s still a small sliver of hope that resides in your being, and it’s just enough to tell George, “I’ll see you around.”

You’re not sure what you mean when you say this. You figure that maybe it’s enough to keep you two on good terms. He didn’t really deserve more than that though. He was an ass and literally used you. But your heart ached for him nonetheless. You were always going to miss him, so why bother keeping up this anger front for the rest of the school year? It was killing you just to do it right now.

The boy doesn’t take long to get the hint. He stands still and merely watches you walk away. You can practically feel his eyes bearing a hole through the back of your skull from how hard he was staring.

Later that night, while you are lying in bed struggling to sleep thanks to all that was on your mind, you thought back to earlier. What was it he wanted to say to you? Why was it so urgent?

Curiosity would eventually kill the cat.

»——•——«

It's been months since that day in the field. You would still go out of your way to avoid George, and he has slowly stopped trying to make conversation with you entirely. Your heart ached for him each and every day, though. You missed having those silly conversations in class, waving to him in the Great Hall, and so much more. Part of you was even missing all those times he would desperately try to get your attention only for you to ignore it. You thought of it for the better, but looking back on it all, had that really been the best choice?

You can hear his little friend group whisper among themselves whenever you and George are ever in the same room with one another. There was no doubt they knew about everything that happened. Which only made you feel more like shit; how dare they know you lost your virginity to a classmate you had fallen so deeply for. Not once had you ever felt so humiliated before. This was not how you expected your last year at Hogwarts to go. You anticipated much more out of this year. Laughing, studying, maybe some crying here and there, but not over a boy who used you for sex. That was the last thing you ever considered to happen to you.

In a weird sort of way, George felt much like the yin to your yang. The way the two of you could come together and have so much fun despite your differing personalities always blew you away. He completed the missing pieces within you. It was an act that you didn’t think was possible, especially knowing it was someone you met so recently. That being said, you can’t help but miss those moments of bliss with one another.

Just the thought of him makes you shudder. Not out of disgust, but due to the ache in your heart that desired more from him. If anything, it was likely to be from the immense guilt and shame that clouded your every being since the day everything happened with George. Why on earth would you miss someone like him when he was so mean?

It is winter break now. A large majority of students had left to go home, but you were staying at Hogwarts. The last few days were spent reading books you meant to catch up on ages ago. You had to occasionally flit around the hallways in order to avoid the Weasleys. It was so convenient that they happened to be here during the holidays at the same time as you. But at this point in the year, you had started to grow used to it all. It’s all you could do in order to “cope” with the sadness that hung heavy in your heart.

You were in the library again, turning page after page in your book. You were slowly catching yourself starting to space out. Rightly so, as it had been a couple hours of sitting here and you were slowly growing hungry. You could barely focus when your stomach continuously growls.

As you start to put away your book in your bag, alongside anything else you had pulled out, you could hear footsteps walking past you. You didn’t think much of it until you heard a familiar voice.

“Hello, Y/N.” George says.

A chill runs up your spin, hair standing up on the back of your neck. Goosebumps trail up and down your arms as your throat runs dry. If it wasn’t obvious you were nervous before, it was now. Your eyes shot up towards the boy, watching him stand near you with a soft smile and blushed cheeks. This hadn’t been how you anticipated the night to go at all, but you couldn’t bear to embarrass yourself any longer.

You muster up enough courage to respond back. “Hey, George.”

“How are you doing?” He replies, watching you closely as you continue to put away your belongings into your bag at a slow pace. Your hands were shaking slightly from the anxiety coursing through your veins. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d wager that George was in the exact same boat as you were.

He was clutching a couple books tight to his chest, finger tapping anxiously along the spines. He kept swaying back and forth, biting his lip and avoiding eye contact on occasion.

It had been so long since the two of you last spoke. You knew deep down you had been wanting this for ages, missing these small conversations. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to be civil, at least this once, you wondered to yourself. You had never held a grudge for so long before, and you weren’t about to let it continue. Maybe this was your chance to let bygones be bygones and let George know that you’ve moved on (that’s a big lie, but what he doesn’t have to know won’t hurt him).

So, you decide to interact with him some more. You tell him, “I’ve been doing fine.”

George cracks that gorgeous smile of his and nods his head. He chimes in, “Good, good, I’m happy to hear that.”

You decide not to comment on that. However, there is no denying that little explosion of butterflies in your stomach. Well, that and the loud rumble that follows.

Your stomach growls out of hunger once again, clearly indicating between both parties that you were getting hungrier by the second. Cheeks red from embarrassment, you try to save yourself by saying, “I’m heading to the Great Hall. Just wanted to get in some light reading before supper.”

“Can I walk with you?” George asks as soon as you’re finished speaking.

His voice was soft despite the request filling you with fear in an instant. You did want to walk with him, but what were his intentions? The prospect of having to venture anywhere with George at your side was slightly concerning since you hadn’t done so since…well, before everything.

You shoot him a slight glare, immediately questionable about why he wanted to. He picked up on this, placing his hands in a defensive position and exclaiming, “I’m going there already! I was just about to leave for supper myself. I figured if you were going, maybe we could walk together. That’s all I wanted.”

Maybe it’s the innocence of his request, or those stupid puppy dog eyes, but you’re not entirely opposed to the idea. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea to walk with him if that’s all that would come out of it in the end. Nothing more, nothing less. You knew eventually this would likely happen anyway. You couldn’t avoid him forever.

Simultaneously, you found yourself wondering if you were being foolish to even entertain the possibility of this. Only an idiot would want to walk with the same man who used her for sex; but here you were, being as foolish as ever. Due to his undeniable appeal and practically begging to walk with you, you’re giving him permission to be in your company. While your eyes were darting around anywhere in the room but George, you tell him, “That’s fine, you can join me.”

Walking out of the library with George next to your side feels strange. At the same time, you feel even weirder for thinking that. At some point during the school year, this felt so completely normal to you. Now it was all just an out of body experience. As if the two of you were strangers all over again. Your heart was beating so rapidly out of your chest you thought you were going to have a heart attack.

The hallways leading to the Great Hall were completely empty. It was likely that whatever remaining students that were on campus were eating at the moment. The echo of your and George’s footsteps, alongside the dim lighting, made the situation all the more stressful for you. It was like you were stuck in place despite moving closer and closer to your destination.

After a minute of walking and absolutely no words spoken, George breaks the silence. He asks, “Can I speak to you for just a moment?”

“Is it about all that happened between us?” You wonder, your throat constricts the more you talk. You’re sure you are on the verge of tears just from the thought of it all. However, maybe this was the closure that you needed. Maybe this is what you needed to move forward and get on with your life without worrying about some red-haired boy running amuck in the school hallways and classrooms.

He clears his throat, “Yeah, it’s about that. I have something really important I want to tell you, Y/N.”

You internally go back and forth about whether or not you want to hear it, wondering if what he has to say will truly have any meaning at all. George dislikes the long pause it takes for you to say anything. He steps in front of you and blocks your path. He places his hands on your shoulders to prevent you from being able to walk away.

You huff and puff out of annoyance, sneering at him to say, “Let go of me, George.”

“Y/N, please, I just-” He tightens his grip on your shoulders. This causes you to shake from his hold, just barely escaping and nearly dropping your bag in the process. You’re growing more and more irritated by the way he was acting. Why was he being so handsy with you?

You snap at him out of annoyance, “Why the fuck do you need to touch me to tell me something? Just get on with it already-”

George stomps his foot on the ground, the loud sound echoing the walls of the empty hallway. He yells, “Listen to me!”

For the first time in a while, you finally stare into his eyes. Genuinely taking in his appearance and the emotion that has struck his face. It was at this moment you realized just how…damaged he was. He was on the verge of tears and his frail body was shaking from fighting back the floodgates in his eyes. Your heart feels like it’s breaking in two just from the sight. As much as he frustrates you, seeing this side of him makes your stomach sink.

George frustratingly runs his fingers through his hair as if to try and get a better grip on the reality that was taking place before him. He frowns deeply and tries to find his words. He stumbles over his words multiple times, “I-I just felt like…I didn’t think…you-you have to believe me, Y/N, I-I would never-”

You take this as an opportunity to reverse the roles, softly placing a hand on his shoulder as if to silently offer his support. Obviously his words and frustrations were weighing him down, and if there was anything you could do to encourage him to get his worries off his chest, maybe this was it. Just a small act of kindness. He was so desperately trying to hold you in place before this, he must have not realized he was really the one who needed to be weighed down in the first place. Otherwise his mind was going to run a million miles an hour and he would get nowhere with his speech.

You want him to know you’re willing to listen now, to give him a chance. All he wants is to be heard. In your own way, you wanted that too.

You wished you had been able to go back in time to just take things slower with George, to have been able to say no to his lust and just try to take things slower with him…if that was even possible. You wondered if George would have stopped talking to you if he realized you weren’t so easy to crack. Then again, you always felt that there was a spark between the two of you. Maybe at the time, if you had given yourself a moment to really speak your mind, he would have respected your wishes and things would have remained the same between you two. There is no way of knowing now. All you can do to make up for the horrible experience is to hear what he has to say.

The act gives George a chance to catch his breath. You watch his chest rise and fall multiple times, listening to the way he calms himself with a simple breathing exercise. He sighs and drops his shoulders, and you mimic his actions to try and ease your own anxieties. This was not going to be an easy conversation by any means, but it was about time it happened.

Seeing him slowly grow more comfortable seemed to ease the tension. George found himself breathing properly again and nodding his head, as if slowly trying to get back to the point he was originally trying to make in the first place.

You’re growing anxious to hear what he has to say. You pull your hand away from his shoulder and cross your arms, watching the way he shifts his body weight back and forth on the balls of his feet.

After what feels like a million years, he finally confesses. “I am so, so sorry for the way I treated you earlier this year. You didn’t deserve that at all. I have no excuse for my behavior. I don’t know why, but for such a long time now I have gone through girl after girl and never felt anything quite nearly the same as I do for you. You had such an impact on me…Godric, I sound so cringey saying that, but it’s the truth. I really do like you, Y/N. Everything about you and not just your body. I am so sorry for all that I did.”

The moment he finishes with his speech, your ears start to ring. You feel as though his words have stunned you. He liked you…for you? Then why did he do the things that he did?

You raise an eyebrow and look him up and down, as if you were a predator sizing up your meal. You ask him, “Then why did you do it? You always knew I was a virgin, isn’t that why you started talking to me in the first place?”

The question made your stomach drop. Having to talk to George about this makes you feel extremely queasy. George’s tears start to well even larger than before. He bites his bottom lip and looks down at his feet. He tells you, “At first, I saw you as just another girl. I thought you would be the same as the rest of the girls I have been with. Obviously I came to develop feelings for you, but I thought that if I just went about things like I usually do, the feelings would go away and I’d be on my way. But I realized afterwards that wasn’t the case with you. You were so different from the rest.”

Your heart sank hearing him admit to it all. You knew deep down this had always been his plan, you knew that he literally only saw you as an object from the start. However, there was an odd sense of relief that washed over you when he finally admitted to it all. Even though these were all your suspicions, hearing George confirm it all felt like you were finally coming to terms with everything. If anything, you actually had more respect for him.

You appreciate that he told you all of this. Looking back on the last couple months, you wished that you had allowed him to talk previously. This entire time he had tried desperately to tell you all of this and you just shot him down.

Not that you really regret it, though. At the time, you were very unstable with your emotions and you’re not too sure how the conversation would have gone down if he spoke with you weeks prior to today. Not only are you appreciative of the fact he was so honest, but hearing him say that he liked you back…it was like a dream come true. Never did you think he would ever like you the same way you did him.

You stayed silent, and apparently it was too long. George spoke again out of fear that he had scared you, frantically saying, “Please say something. I know you’re not happy with me, but I just need to hear-”

“I forgive you.” You blurt out.

It’s George's turn to fall silent now. Neither of you spoke for a period of time; how long exactly was unclear to you, but it felt too long. Assuming it’s your chance to try and save the conversation, you continue, “I know I’m probably crazy for this, but I forgive you. It takes a lot of courage to go up to a girl and admit that you screwed her over. I like that you were upfront with me about it all.”

Without missing a beat, George smiles harder and harder hearing you admit to your forgiveness. He takes a step forward with his arms open for a hug, but you immediately shoot him down. Placing a hand on his chest, you halt all movement. His entire face is struck with worry, and his mouth opens to apologize. You cut him off and say, “Just because I forgive, doesn’t mean I forget. You hurt me George. It absolutely crushed my soul when the person I thought was becoming my best friend used me and stole my virginity without a second glance. It sucked. That’s why I couldn’t even stand to look at you in the hallways or the classroom, let alone talk to you.”

Tears are welling in your eyes now. Your throat contracts the more you speak, and you have to stop because you know if you go any further it would just develop in a crying session. George nods his head and chokes back more tears, unable to prevent the shakiness in his voice.

“I-I feel like shit, Y/N. Every single day since I realized I fucked up, all I’ve wanted to do was talk to you about this. Like I said before, you deserve so much better. Thank you for forgiving me, though. I feel…better, now that I’ve talked to you about this.”

You smile and shove George’s shoulder in a playful manner, trying to ignore the burning in your eyes from all the tears. “No problem. Can we go eat now? I’m starving.”

George eyes you carefully as if he couldn’t believe what you had just said to him. If you had to be honest with yourself, you couldn’t either. However, now that the niceties were done and over with, you figured maybe starting over wouldn’t be such a bad idea with George. You can tell he’s genuinely sorry for all that he has done, and that he’s clearly changed drastically as a person (which you thought impossible for both Weasley twins).

Maybe dinner wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. You definitely weren’t going to do anything else with George. It would be too soon for that. Maybe a quick bite to eat while catching up on one another's lives would be enough for you tonight. Enough closure after this mess of a conversation. After this, you can go back to just being yourself and not have to worry about him anymore.

“W-We? You want to have dinner with me?” George asks you carefully.

You shrug your shoulders and start to slowly walk towards the Great Hall, George trailing behind you like a lost puppy. You tell him, “I don’t think it would hurt. Just for tonight, though. I figure we have a little catching up to do.”

George can’t stop smiling like an idiot, and you can’t either. Your heart was beating rapidly again, but this time it wasn’t out of fear. It was out of happiness. You’re beyond excited that the two of you were talking again. Not that you planned on staying best of friends, but a mutual likeness should be enough to get you through the remainder of the school year. However, that is quite the opposite of what happens.

The rest of the winter, you and George started to say hi to one another in the hallway again. That transitioned into sitting with one another in the Great Hall, maybe only once or twice a week but it happened nonetheless. Eventually, you and George were talking on a daily basis. Your relationship was slowly reversing back to its old ways, except there was minimal flirting and absolutely no touching. You made sure to lay some ground rules with him once you realized you and George were getting close again.

He promised to respect your wishes, and he has listened graciously so far. Your boundaries were quite simple to follow, but given George’s track record, it was surprising to see him listen so well. All that you asked was to keep everything between the two of your friends only and nothing more. You felt that after all that had happened, it would be best for the both of you to strictly keep things “professional” and not try to rush into anything so soon.

There was no denying you still had feelings for him, and knowing that George liked you back made it hard to not flirt with him in any way. But deep down, you knew that this was for the better. You’d rushed into something with him once before and it had a horrible ending, therefore you couldn’t risk that again. However, things were definitely changing to say the least.

It was obvious in the way your conversations started to last longer than just a minute or so. When you and George graduated from the casual “hello” while in passing and began to have full length conversations again, you quickly realized he was just as whimsical as you had known him from the beginning of the year.

You could never lose a sense of wonder while in his presence. He always had something to tell you, or a funny story that kept you on the edge of your seat. It first occurred to you that you were definitely falling for him once again in the midst of watching George play a prank on Professor Snape during class (the poor guy did not expect his pants to catch on fire. For a split second he almost convinced himself it was the doing of Peeves once again, but realized by the smirk on George’s face that it was no other than the evil twin himself).

That prank could have gone so horribly wrong if Professor Snape hadn’t noticed the flame among his dress pants. And even with the understanding that George’s actions were devastatingly brutal and just downright mean, your stomach felt as though it might explode with laughter (that died very quickly thanks to the glare Snape shot at you).

Even when he used magic in wrongful ways, had a track record with girls a mile long, and had even used you for sex, there was something too forgiving in your nature to just let George go entirely. You realized that you wanted him in your life, either as a best friend or something more. There was something about him that brought you to life. The spark that was lit in your heart was only alive when he was around. You never wanted it to go out, and so you soon realized you never wanted to let him go again.

In your eyes, even with all the mistakes he has made, George enclosed you in a space that left you wanting more. It wasn’t like you were trapped; you weren’t drowning in insufferable conversations or anything of the sort, you absolutely loved his company. You didn’t realize just how much you actually missed it until he started coming around again.

On top of all this realization, there was the fact he had changed considerably as a dear friend. He was much more careful in the way he spoke or acted around you. He wanted to respect your boundaries and never put your relationship at risk again. This is what made you appreciate him so much.

However, there was an obvious change in the atmosphere amongst you two during the springtime.

Winter had come and gone, your conversations were still lively as ever though. Just a couple weeks prior, he had begun walking you to your next class after potions together. It was during one particular day that sparked a sudden change in both your demeanors.

After class, you and George were walking down the corridors together just talking about the upcoming assignments and what you thought would be the best strategy for studying (George needed the advice given his history of failing horribly). While walking, a group of first-years were running amuck in the hallways, nearly trampling over you in the process of it all. Loud yells and feet clamoring against the stone floors filled your ears, your eyes barely having time to process how to avoid all the commotion.

George, however, had thought far ahead of you and made sure to wrap his arm around your shoulder and shield you from the upcoming blows of young, immature eleven-year-olds. He pulled your body in towards his own, protecting you for that brief moment of chaos.

Your body felt like it was exploding from his touch, immediately sobering you up and pulling you from your crazy thoughts. You looked up at George as soon as all the commotion had died down, and he looked down at you. Your mouth felt like it was going slack as you stood there completely frozen under his arm. George bores holes in your eyes, staring at you as if silently asking if this kind of action was allowed within your boundaries.

Without having to hear him say anything, you say, “It’s fine.”

The two of you continued walking down the hallway, talking as though nothing had happened. However, something did happen. It was the start of something new.

For the remainder of that walk to your next period, George kept his arm wrapped around your body as though you were his girl. It struck you as an extraordinary situation that left you dumbfounded for days on end.

First, you couldn’t get over the fact that he did it in the first place. Second, you couldn’t get over the fact that you let it happen. Now would not be a great time to fall back into old habits. You weren’t ready for anything explicit with George just yet. However, at the same time, you liked how protective he was being. You enjoyed having his arm around you. In a weird way, you felt safer. You craved…more.

That strange shift in the air between you two never really left. It only lingered, and continued to emphasize the more the two of you hung out. After that fateful day in the beginning of March, the day that really started to change your relationship with George once again, each week there was a designated day where the two of you just spent time with one another.

While you didn’t know for sure if this meant your relationship with George was developing outside of a friendship, you knew in your heart that it was probably a good sign of something heading towards that direction. If you were able to tolerate his conversations in the hallways from time to time, you had enough courage to be with him in a more secluded setting. This is what began the scheduled meetings once every week where the two of you would simply do homework or sit around and read books.

That same feeling of rapid heartbeats and butterflies in your stomach always came back in full swing the moment you two were together. It gave you flashbacks to that day out in the meadow where he swept you off your feet in an instant. While that memory used to leave you frustrated beyond belief, you could now thankfully say that you don’t fully regret doing what you did with George. You could now tell yourself that it was all just a lesson you had to come and learn the hard way.

The lesson in question? Don’t rush.

George’s arm always found its way around you while the two of you hung out, but it never furthered past that. It would happen at any given point. If there was an opportunity that arose, he would do anything to make sure he could place his arm around you in a protective manner. And it would stay there the remainder of the time you two hung out.

No one ever commented on the matter, not even you, which led George to believe that it was okay to continue doing so. It definitely was, in your book.

It’s late April now, months since you and George finally reconnected again and were practically best of friends. The two of you were sitting on a bench in a random hallway somewhere in Hogwarts. Being in different houses meant you could not be in one another’s common rooms. This was the best you could get, but it was comfortable enough.

You sat next to George while his arm was wrapped around your shoulders. You leaned into his touch, reading from your book about fantastic beasts and where to find them. George had just finished making a joke about the appearance of this one animal in the book, and it had you giggling beyond belief. You look up at George, eyes full of happiness and excitement. He looks back down at you, smiling hard.

George enjoys taking you by surprise. He leaves you wanting more from him and fills your chest with warmth. You weren't sure precisely what it was that you wanted more of, but you were certain that you didn't want this moment to stop. The expression caught in his eyes was pure protectiveness. You felt protected not just by his arm enveloping you, but also by the expression on his face as he gazed back at you. You felt comfortable and secure with him because of the way he looked at you. It was as if he was silently telling you that he genuinely wanted you for you.

Suddenly, while taking a glance at your lips, he's asking you, “Can I take you out on a date, Y/N? Like, a proper one. I feel like I owe that to you after all I’ve done.”

In an instant, you’re blushing like mad. Your heart is beating so fast, you’re smiling before you even realize it. You just nod your head, telling him, “Yes, I’d really like that, George. Thank you.”

He doesn’t respond with words, merely gives you a quick squeeze and looks back at the book you were reading, silently encouraging you to finish the chapter you started earlier.

~

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[sweetfire01]

hi! i have a story suggestion, the ideas been so interesting! i know you have daddy howl and stuff, maybe this could be a new idea? im not too sure on any merman characters, but you could find some and adapt if youd like! or perhaps make an oc? anyway:

the merman was caught and trapped as a result of a circus attraction. user felt pity and decided to help him escape, though that resulted in user being shot. user was bleeding out and told the merman to leave, but he couldnt! so he took user down, blowing an airbubble for user to breathe. he took user to a healer, who gave user the ability to breathe underwater, and heal user.

merfolk are actually much larger than humans and he was around 7foot, maybe more with his tail. so user is actually tiny, and roughly the size of a merbaby. at first, the merman treats user like a normal person, but the merman realises how helpless user is. user cant swim, and water is heavy for user to walk in. so user looks like a baby learning to walk. user relies on the merman alot for support, and lets the merman carry user since it helps her get places. the merman also has to carry user when they go out, since user cant tread water or swim and will sink.

the merman holds a small feast of all the underwater foods for user to try. but user has an allergic reaction to one of the foods and cant speak anymore. user can only make babyish sounds. when they go out for treatment and shopping, the merman stumbles across a friend. the friend thinks user is a baby and this sparks something in the merman. he realises he enjoys having user helpless.

the merman actually includes the food that has caused user to not talk in each of users meal. to make sure the temporary effect lasts longer.

its a bit long T^T but this idea seems so cool! its so adaptable and theres so many things that could affect user since its an entirely new environment. if you dont want to write a story abt this pls give feedback! id love to adapt a short story about this, but either way would love to see you write on this!

not sure if it’s taken but,

🥯 anon ^w^

Oh, (bagel? donut?) anon. You don't know how much I loved and thought on this idea. 👀

Come al solito, è più breve di quanto inizialmente previsto, ma volevo darvi qualcosa da leggere.

(Tell me if there is any mistake, I'm sleepy and didn't pay attention while rereading)

PT. 1 of this new fic for which I don't have a title yet

News of the merman sighting had spread for almost a week among the fishermen and residents of the harbor, but you didn't believe it was true, much less that your boss would catch it. "First the shark and now this. The hunts are going really well and that one will make us a big profit!" He had exclaimed that evening on his return to the circus while his henchmen behind him were dragging a net with the merman inside. You all crowded around to get a good look at him, as much as you could see him under the layer of cords and cords in which he was wrapped. He must have put up a good fight against the sailors and it didn't surprise you: he was big, even if you couldn't see his full figure since his tail was tied to his torso, you could swear he was at least 2 meters , probably even more. And yet… he was no longer threatening. At least for the moment. She was breathing heavily, her head turned to the side and from under her long black hair you could see a large dark red, almost brown stain - blood, you guessed it.

"Okay, okay, stop just watching or I'll make you pay for the ticket. It's time to work." The boss called your attention "Use the tank where we had that winged woman. Check that the shackles are well fixed to the ground, then tie him up and fill him with water. Come on, go!" And with that, the two of you split up and you and someone else headed off to prepare the water. The circus consisted of a huge tent overlooking the port. At the bottom, on the side facing the sea, there was a small round tank dug into the ground and protruding just under a meter from the ground, perfect for spectators to observe everything that was inside. In this case, the shark that had been caught just a few weeks ago, a poor creature that kept swimming in circles in a space too small for it. You and your colleague climbed over the barriers while two other workers approached carrying a large, long pipe. The tub had two valves, on one side one connected to an underground pump which allowed the recirculation of water directly from the sea, and another, where you were, more external. You connected the hose to the latter just as the capturing team brought the tank in.

It had thick plates of extremely resistant glass - despite all the kicking and punching from the creatures locked inside, there wasn't even a scratch - held together by a metal structure. The base was also made of metal, with shackles for limbs firmly attached. Honestly, you didn't know why such a thing existed, nor what it could possibly be used for (besides holding your creatures) but it had been provided to you courtesy of the mayor of the city, along with the tent and the warehouse where you kept the stuff. The boss was very happy about it. And speaking of the boss… Once everything was in place and some other worker opened the side door and emptied the sandbags into the bottom of the tank, you saw him and a couple of goons approach with the merman still tied up. He must have regained consciousness considering the way he was struggling, but still he had no way to free himself.

"You're not going to escape from here that easily. Especially not after I put these on you." The boss took one of the handcuffs with a sneer. He then opened the net and knelt down, holding the creature's head still as he closed the collar around its neck, effectively fasten him to the bottom. "Oh, don't worry, it's just so you don't cause any trouble while we take the ropes off. We'll just keep you tied up by the arms, all right?" He only received a growl-like noise in response. With that, he stood up and glared at the two men who were with him. "We should be safe with him like this, but if he escapes I'll make you become food for the shark, understood? Take the two handcuffs and as soon as I free him, be quick to put them on him." So, once they were ready, he took out a knife and started cutting the ropes around his torso.

Immediately, the rest of you who were observing the scene outside the tank, saw a muscular arm flail and free itself from the bonds. One of the two men promptly grabbed him and together with the boss held him with difficulty while trying to put the handcuff on his wrist. The merman continued to flail and managed to free his other arm as well. The second man wasn't so quick to stop him and the creature threw a punch at the boss, hitting him in the face. But the throttle was now closed and soon both limbs were trapped. The boss was a sturdier man than he looked and even with drops of blood dripping from his nose he didn't give up. He took a key out of his pocket and bent down to free the prisoner's neck, while the other two ran out. He then pulled his hair, looking into his eyes. "You throw some good punches, I give you that. But I've faced creatures much bigger and more ferocious than you, don't think you can defeat me so easily. Well, at this point, not that you can really do much." He chuckled. A slick of saliva hit his forehead, mixing with blood from his nose as it fell. The boss simply assumed an amused expression, tightening his grip on his hair even more. "I like your temper. It'll be fun to see how long it takes you to give up." He let him go, allowing him to move into a more seated position as he removed the rest of the net and ropes, and quickly jumped out of the tank just a second before a long, powerful black tail wrapped and tightened where his head was.

"I told you, I know how to deal with you stupid creatures." He closed the door satisfied, leaving the prisoner to try punching and banging the glass with his tail, although the chains ensured he didn't have much room to move. "Now servants, it's your turn to work. Fill this thing with water and clean up all that sand on the floor. Night night." The boss headed towards the exit followed by the rest of his capturing team. There were only you left, a small group of a handful of people, those who carried out the most humble tasks, under the furious gaze of a merman.

[pandorasbugs]

tens of posts about lilia clubwear VERSUS 1 beetle dude saving for halloween WHO will win ??? the answer will not surprise you at all

[disco-tea]

hey not to be annoying but im autistic and confused, what was the slant and the things the writer was trying to say about spike? i dont know if its just me whos not picking up on it

Okie. I don’t particularly like posting stuff like this but also once a thought enters my head I can’t keep my mouth shut so imma talk about it anyway and the ultimate point of this is gonna be a little crude, because that’s what I feel the point of this stuff was. And also a lot of the lines in this particular episode make me uncomfortable. I was gonna put it under the cut but it’s late and I’m tired, and its very difficult to do that because I’m on mobile. There’s a little more ranting in this than I intended because in searching for context for this ask I found some other stuff that makes the angle of this episode worse and kinda pissed me off tbh. Dear anon, I just want you to know any negative vibes you might get from this reply are in no way directed at you.

Warning for mentions of rape and incest.

Ok so, basically William was really close to his mom, etc etc, which in itself is fine, it’s really sweet how he took care of his SICK MOTHER and loved her. And also it appeared she was the only family he had, it’s a GREAT AND WONDERFUL PLOT THAT IS TRULY SO GOOD, I’D KEEP IT BECAUSE LOVING YOUR KIND/SUPPORTIVE SICK MOM IS A BEAUTIFUL THING BUT THE PROBLEM WAS IT WAS CO-WRITTEN BY AN ASSHOLE. (Ok ok I’m cool I’m cool I’m fine) But, anyway, it’s the lines in LMPTM that are the problem and go out of their way to make it weird.

And like, yeah, the whole point (or it should be anyway) of everything his mom says after she is turned is that it’s awful and traumatizing and not true…except there’s other stuff in there that goes “eh well maybe it is true and maybe that sets the standard for his other romantic relationships” because they have Drusilla say this

And then there’s literally the fact his mother’s name is Anne and it’s been established for seasons Buffy’s middle name is Anne, and also I remember reading trivia one time that said the reason they chose the actress for his mom was because she looked like SMG. (And also keep in mind, this episode was co-written by Fury but it was also directed by him, so he had a sizable sway in it)

So basically, my issue with this episode is that, to me, it feels like it’s basically trying to imply “William secretly wants to sleep with his mom. Also that’s why he likes Buffy. because there’s a semblance of his mom”

And the thing is…I REALLY don’t think it was done accidentally or with good intentions. I don’t think it was done out of any *interesting* psychology he was trying to build other than to make a really shitty point that I’ll get to at the end. I think it was done as another middle finger to the audience/shippers, and in a gross way to be honest.

And again, I think it goes back to Fury’s immature way of handling subjects like this and making them into kinda messed up jokes (about rape, suicide, and more) even though he swears up and down he’s got this ‘complex moral concern’ about fans of Spike. I mean there’s literally a scene in Go Fish, which he co-wrote, where Buffy is threatened with monster gang rape and the almost joking response to that is “This is just what my rep needs. That I did it with the entire swim team.”

But, moving on, ultimately, there’s really no actual reason to put that stuff up there in this episode…it doesn’t play any larger or significant role. It doesn’t come into play later on and nobody else but Spike and the audience sees it. It’s contained to the flashbacks. The only sequence of events you really need to make the trigger plot/the parallel with Robin work is: William turns his mother into a vampire —> she comes back awful and turns on him and tries to kill him —> he has to kill her —> it’s very traumatizing. There’s no reason to add all this other stuff or try and make these metaphors…unless you were trying to make a point or a slant of some kind. Like, if you were, say…trying to drive the point home that Spike is just completely screwed up and that his well establish positive trait of his ability to love….also Spuffy…is fundamentally founded in a complex because it couldn’t possibly be out of genuine love

Which I wouldn’t put past Fury at all, especially after reading this *lovely* quote I found that was directed at Spike fans and shippers:

“To those who feel my conviction that Spike can never be redeemed and cannot someday end up with our heroine, shows a lack of imagination of my part, I say you're right. It is beyond my limited imagination to see a strong, independent, female character end up falling for a murderer who would be killing innocent people were he not suffering from chip affliction...I regret I don't have the creative mind that, say, Thomas Harris has when he saw fit to sell out the character of Clarice Starling by having her become lovers with a cannibalistic psychopath, charming and brilliant as he may be...For those of you who fault my thinking, I can only say I'll try to be more open minded in the future. In the meanwhile, S/B shippers, you can go back to writing your penpals, Richard Ramirez and the Hillside Strangler, and I hope they finally accept your marriage proposals.”

For context the names at the end were names of serial killers. Oh yeah, also it’s commonly said that serial killers have mom issues. Which was probably the whole point of adding all the gross stuff in.

In conclusion: reading all this additional context for this reply actually just made me even angrier and I’d like to light some of Fury’s scripts on fire. As a treat. What an asshole. I’m sorry, anon. I hope this helps and makes coherent sense. I’m sincerely sorry if it’s upsetting. I’m going to sleep now lol

[gb-patch]

Ask Answers: August 8th

Well, doing big posts all together worked for a while but lately I’ve been putting it off because it takes a long time to get them done. I think I’m gonna try switching back to answering asks whenever I can fit it in and posting them one at a time instead of waiting until I’ve filled out one of these major collections.

But for now, here’s more ask answers! Thank you for the questions and for all the kind words along with them ^^.

Hello!! I'm here to ask if its possible to get  the game and its dlcs on steam and play it on android?

I’m afraid not. Steam doesn’t have Android builds on their own site and Steam is not cool with keys for other sites being given out for Steam purchases, so you don’t get the Itch version from buying on Steam.

Hello! Sorry to bother you but, I had a question, if we buy the Game on itchio do we get steam keys or would we need to purchase it twice? 

You would have to buy it twice if you want it in both places, I’m sorry. To repeat myself a little, Steam doesn’t like the key trading thing. Itch may support giving keys for another site, but the reverse isn’t doable with Steam and Steam doesn’t even really want you to get a Steam key for buying somewhere else either. So we just don’t mess around with that.

hey, sorry if this is frequently asked, but is step 4 free dlc or paid for? some of your sources are contradicting each other. 

It’s free! There’s a paid wedding DLC, but Step 4 itself is entirely unpaid.

Hello! I just had a quick question, for the Baxter and Derek DLC's will we be able to confess our feelings to them or let them confess to MC? or will it only be one way? (they confess to MC)

Both type of options will be available!

Hey there! I wanted to ask whether or not the Derek DLC is still on track to be released in August since on the steam discussion board it says it will be released mid 2021. I totally understand if it isn't, I'm just really looking forward to it! If you answer then ty! And keep up the amazing work :D 

It’s not, aha. Unfortunately, 2021 wasn’t easier than 2020 as we hoped so things are still slower than planned. It’ll come out late 2021 or early 2022.

Hi! Firstly I just want to say that I LOVE Our Life. I have played a bit of similar games but this one instantly wins for the best one! Everything about it is amazing! I just wanted to ask if Derek would ever lose feelings for MC, like if they make the deal and then MC gets with Cove would he move on? and even if you don't, after "losing contact" would his feeling fade or would he still like MC? 

If you don’t really keep in touch with him and clearly move on with your life, Derek will too and he’ll be over it. But if you are still close as best as you can be, he’ll still think the MC is special. Though, he’ll always support your relationship with someone else if that’s what’ll make you happy.

Hello! Sorry if you've answered this before but: 'How's Lee related to us? Though which momma? And does she share our player-chosen last names? Also, do you know if Noelani took Pam's last name or did it happen the other way round? 

She’s related to Pamela and Pamela’s last name is the one they use, so the MC has the same last name as Lee.

Will we be able to choose which (they or he) we tend to call Qiu by more often, or will it randomly change depending on the moment? 

Qiu knows which pronoun they’re comfortable with at a time and you’ll call them what they’re happy with. And it doesn’t change between lines, it takes multiple scenes or even full Steps for it to switch. So for extended periods Qiu will be totally a guy or fully agender.

Will Step 4 of OL2 have moments?

It’ll be an epilogue like it is in OL1, so it won’t have a bunch of different Moments.

Hello! Just a quick question, is Sunset bird from OL1 based on a real location? If so what's it called? I wanna visit it +_+

ps i love your games so much <3

It isn’t based on one specific town you can go to, but there are a lot of little coastal towns in Cali that have a similar vibe!

Heyaaa ( I hope you're all well ), umm… it might seem kinda stupid to ask but did Patreon members can have a key for the dlc's ( all the steps-released dlc ) even if they became a member this month or later ? (me? saying this cuz it's my case? maybe ;-;), and once again thanks for absolutely all the amazing works on all the games ! u-u 

You wouldn’t get the DLCs for backing there. The Patreon is for extra bonus content/early access, rather than being a storefront to purchase the normal DLCs. Rarely we give them out as a side gift, but it hardly happens and if what you want is the DLCs it’s best to ignore the Patreon and  buy keys for those directly from Itch or Steam. I’m sorry for the confusion.

Hey y'all, love what youre doing w/Terry. Trans rep outside of player customization is so rare and important to see more of so thank you so much. I do have a question and its that does he have a canon sexuality? I know Miranda was said to be straight ace but I dont believe anything was stated for Terry probably because he wasnt revealed to be a guy which changes things. Im also curious if well get answers on how long hes liked Miranda since he may have liked her in step 3 before she liked him 

Terry likes women and Randy likes men! And he did like Miranda back in Step 3.

Will the Wedding Dlc release at the same time as Step 4? 

They’ll come out separately with Step 4 releasing first.

I really love Our Life so much! I've spent over 20hours playing it even though I only got it a week ago! I was wondering if I could make a fangame for Our Life with a different love interest but same plot. Next-door neighbors romance, multiple steps, etc? I'll probably make it on Google Slides though- 

Sure! I hope you have fun with it and I’m glad you love the game.

How does Cove feel about poly relationships? 

He’s got nothing against them for the people they work for, but he’s 100% monogamous and would only be comfortable with a partner who was willing to be monogamous with him.

Idk if this has been answered before but will Step 4 include the option to advance your feelings towards Cove? 

Yep, you’ll be able to determine your feelings and what your relationship is.

In step 4 will there be a chosen to say we live with Cove even as just friends? 

Yeah, you can choose to live with Cove and that can be done when you’re friends.

I just played the game with the MC and Cove being best friends and omg it’s still so damn cute like the wholesomeness of it all is too much for my heart I swear ^.^  Now with that all said I was wondering can we still marry Cove? if we only love him as a friend like let’s say we’ve made deal with him similar to the one we can make with Derek because let’s real no one could compete with what the MC and Cove have even if they aren’t in love. 

It’s great to hear you enjoyed the friendship story! You can live with Cove, but you can’t marry him platonically. Cove has familial affection for the MC if they’re best-est friends. He wouldn’t think to marry someone he loves like family and even grew up with as though they truly were siblings.

Are you still going to be making a DLC for XOBD? :] 

Yes! We’re slowing adding voiced lines and fixing errors.

It makes me laugh that Shiloh's last name is Fields because that's what I put as my last name! So in Our Life when he talked about "Ms. Fields" picking him up I was extremely confused, lol. That dude mimics personalities so much that he stole my surname!

Oh, wow, that’s a very funny coincidence, haha.

hi !! i cant seem to be able to get the scene where mc is able to propose to cove despite being at the 'love' stage and telling him i'd want to get married, are there any other details that im missing out on? the options just dont appear at the end... 

Maybe you missed telling Cove you were in love with him even if you mentioned wanting to get married or you might’ve accidentally said earlier in the game that you don’t want to progress your relationship further with Cove. We haven’t removed them, so you can get the scene again. It’s just kind of easy to miss since there’s multiple requirements. You can read a little guide in the FAQ.

wait what di you need to do to be able to propose to cove? I've been trying but haven't had much luck 

You can check out the FAQ linked above!

does cove only develop a crush on the mc if the mc is also at crush/in love with him? 

Technically, yes. We treat the non-romantic relationship options as truly non-romantic since we don’t want to bait and switch people. But there’s nothing wrong with headcanoning that Cove does have feelings developing for the MC even before the MC has.

Is there a way to make/allow Lee and Baxter to date?

No, they just don’t have enough time together.

We also got a group of asks related to Tamarack in OL2, but I’m afraid the way they talked about people with larger bodies made me not want to post their words, even if the person didn’t say they’re trying to be hurtful. I will separate out the core question and answer it though, so people can know that info.

Does Tamarack lose weight in later Steps?

No, she doesn’t. As for the other questions included, to be honest, I don’t have to explain/defend having romance options of different sizes. I’m sorry if you’re dealing with unhappiness that’s connected to body image, if that’s where the negative emotions are coming from, but even so I can’t meet you on that level and pretend it’s a problem that needs an answer. A girl who simply isn’t thin being a main love interest is just not an unreasonable concept. Also, Tamarack isn’t a lesbian. Yes, she can date a female MC, but that doesn’t undo her actual sexuality, so I’m not sure where that one part at the end was coming from.

I wonder... can we "fight" with Qiu over leader status? 👀

Not really, haha. No matter how cool your MC is, they’re never gonna replace Qiu for the other kids around. So you can either partner up with him, follow him too, or not be a part of all that group politics stuff.

So when I play the game, sometimes I mentally call Cove “Covie/Covey” and that made me wonder, how does Cove feel about being nicknamed? Not like Romeo/Space Cadet/etc. but like pet names relating to his actual name

It’d depend on his age, personality, and your relationship with him! When he’s younger he’d probably be embarrassed, when he was grown he’d probably be more casual or happy about it.

will you be able to date baxter in step 3 while at crush with cove (but not dating him ofc) sorry if this has been asked already. i really love baxters step 4 design btw!! 

Yeah, you can be crushing on Cove and date Baxter if you weren’t already dating Cove. You just can’t be truly in love with Cove and then switch to Baxter.

I just got my friend into our life, and they adore shiloh and derek sooo will there be more of them in the second game? 

I’m afraid not. But you can see plenty more of Shiloh in XOXO Droplets/XOXO Blood Droplets, haha.

I see you haven't gotten any xoxo droplets asks recently but I'm still obsessed with these boys!! I was just wondering if Nate would curse under any circumstance? 

Yeah, Nate does use certain swear words (damn, hell, bastard) on very rare occasions.

Hi there! I have a question about the wedding dlc. Will we be able to plan a honeymoon during the planning stages of it or would it be something that Cove and the mc would rather plan later on? Thank you! Absolutly love the game by the way, definitely one of my favorite games! 

The focus will be on the wedding day itself. The topic of the honeymoon might come up a bit, but there won’t be any choosing of the exact location and such.

Hi! I have two questions and it's completely understandable if you only answer one/neither and I'm sorry if you've already answered either before! First, is there a set year in which OL:B&A takes place (ex: Step 1 being set in 2010 & Step 2 being set in 2016, etc.) or is it simply up to interpretation? Second, have you guys thought about doing a coming-of-age game where the MC has a tough home life or upbringing? (like one of their parents is an addict, a parent being transphobic whilst the player has the option to be trans, or having friends that are influencing them to do drugs, etc.) That's all! Thanks for making beautiful games. <3 

There is a set timeline!

Step 1: 2006 Step 2: 2011 Step 3: 2016 Step 4: 2021 

And we don’t currently plan on making a game like that. The Our Life series exists to be a safer environment for people to play around in and if we did do a brand new series that was harsher edged it’d be something more fantastical and/or plot-driven instead of a different type of modern day slice-of-life growing up story. I’m sorry.

i don’t know if you’ve already answered this, but do you have a guess on when phase 4 will come out? as well as ol2? i’m so excited for both of them, the inclusivity in this game is amazing, you guys should be really proud of it! 

Step 4 will be coming out very soon! OL2 is gonna take until 2023 to be anywhere near completion. But we might episodically release the Steps one at a time as they get done instead of waiting for three to be finished before launch like we did with the first game.

Hello, I was curious if there was an official or unofficial discord server for the game? 

We do have a discord! You can join by clicking this link HERE.

how long do you plan to keep ol's patreon running? 

Hopefully for at least a few more years.

Are you considering ever making merch? 

Yeah, but I don’t know when it’ll happen or what exactly we’ll make, aha. It’s something we want do, just nothing is set.

hi! i just found out about your game a couple of days ago on tiktok (so sorry if you’ve already answered this question) and i was wondering if y’all are ever planning to release it on iOS? 

I have no idea. It’s hard for a small group to get Apple approval and I honestly can’t say if it’ll ever happen or not. Maybe someday, though!

Hi, I love the art style of Our life and I would like to know if the artist has a Twitter? Also, could it be possible to fund more CGs for the game from him/her? So many times, I wish there was one like when the cutscene of the sunshower. 

That’s nice of you to offer. He doesn’t have a Twitter, at least not one that’s public enough to be shared with me. And I’m afraid not. The issue is that the CGs take huge amounts of time rather than there not being a budget for it. He’s gotta make CGs for Step 4, the DLCs, and new character sprites, too. There isn’t space in the schedule for even more. Sorry for that.

Hi, how are you?!

Are you planning on accepting new writers or is it always the same people who write your stories??

Thanks!!

Our Life: Beginnings & Always won’t be getting new writers, but we will be hiring a new team of writers for Our Life: Now & Forever eventually!

perhaps this counts as nsfw and I'm sure it has been answered before but what does Cove prefer, chests/boobs or butts? or perhaps both :3c thank you for this wonderful game (and the patreon bonus moment, it was worth all the waiting and more ♥) 

He’s a “chests of all shapes and sizes” kind of guy, haha.

i was wondering- did any of the writers actually grow up by the beach? as someone who's lived in a beach town all their life it really did feel nostalgic to play through our life 1 

I was born and raised in Cali! Though, not right by the beach. We still had to make trips out, but the setting is based on my own childhood memories of small beach towns we went through.

In Derek’s upcoming DLC, will we be able to reference the pact we made as teens? (love olba and xod/xobd so much btw you’re literally amazing) 

Yep, you will be able to talk about that!

Oh, sorry about the Cole being secretly L ask, then!

If you wanted context: Death Note is about this one guy who finds a notebook that kills anyone who you write the name of in there. The guy eventually develops a God Complex and starts mass killing criminals and stuff. L is the one trying to find out who is killing all these people.

Me and my sister first joked about it because I couldn't remember how to translate a word about the way Cove was sitting, so I just did the pose, and it looked a lot like how L himself sits! Then we just snowballed from there, with more and more nonsense connections.

That’s okay! Thanks for explaining. I’m sorry I didn’t know what you meant.

[littlemisslipbalm]

“your turn”

Harry Styles was a romantic. He hated weddings. Rori Williams was practical. She hated weddings, too. How could she deny a man who had just drunkenly confessed his love for her at a wedding? Even if it was completely and totally untrue.

A story of two semi-strangers to lovers with weddings, drunken confessions, and girls with two names.

gif has nothing to do with it but he looks fancy and i like it :) tpwk

Hi! this is for @meetmeinfleetwood to lovers fic challenge! and it’s a little cruel of me to post it today after those wedding pics came out but i have been working on this for awhile and tomorrow’s the deadline so if it’s too soon im sorry and if its just what you need enjoy! I used prompts 12 and 15! It’s my first ofc story which is a little strange for me but i wanted to use a name for this, but besides her hair and eye color and a name she’s pretty generic,,, idk thank you all for always reading and all of that. lmk what you think and reblogs are always really appreciated

Word Count: 9.3k | Warnings: drinking, swearing, implied? smut (couldn’t bring my heart to write any my apologies), harry being a silly drunk, mentions of being afraid of someone taking advantage of someone under the influence but ofc no! actual any misconduct -- a SITCH wedding!!! so cute ::))

Harry Styles was a romantic.

He loved love songs that professed their undying love for their significant other. He loved romance movies, rom coms especially, because they were happy and in love and he got to cry and laugh all in one. He loved writing his own songs about love and he loved spreading the idea of loving and treating others with kindness. He loved first dates and the relationships that sometimes sprouted out of them. He loved reading books about love and how to make it last. He loved poetry that waxed eloquent about love. He loved love.

He hated weddings.

Well, he hadn’t always hated weddings. In the beginning, they were like every other aspect of love, he loved them. But slowly, as he kept receiving announcements of engagement and wedding invitations and he kept not sending out letters of his own, his aversion grew.

Sure, he still loved going. He still wept for the happy couples when they committed themselves to each other. He still clapped profusely and danced to the dj or live band. He still tried to enjoy it. But with weddings he had a nagging sense in the back of his head reminding him that he still hadn’t found it yet. Each of his relationships had fallen short in some way as to not lead him to this destination. So when he sat at his assigned table at these various gatherings, he held a bit of apprehension, a bit of envy, about everything going on. He knew that his smiles were all a little forced and his laugh not quite genuine. His thoughts always managed to be controlled by his green-eyed monster that he always attempted to keep locked away. But at weddings, especially when the alcohol started flowing, he had a harder time controlling it.

Seeing all his friends getting together, getting married, and having children wore on him. Wore him thin more than he ever let on to anyone but his therapist. And his therapist couldn’t seem to give him a better answer than to be patient and not give up hope.

By 2021, Harry had decided that maybe he was just meant to be alone. Love was something he could admire, but it wasn’t meant for him. He could chase it, but it would never let him have it. He was unlucky in love and by Sarah and Mitch’s wedding in the Spring, he had come to terms with it.

He had even been optimistic for it, being Mitch’s Best Man and all had gotten his hopelessly romantic heart all aflutter. He was introduced to Sarah’s Maid of Honor, Renee Williams and she had been lovely. She was 31, a little older than Harry - but age wasn’t something that deterred him, and she had worked with Sarah in Los Angeles before Harry recruited Sarah for the band. They were best of friends and Sarah had known for a long time that Renee would be her Maid of Honor.

When Harry met Renee, he was sure that she was meant to be his person. She was beautiful and hilarious, her beauty mark at the side of her lip was so utterly unique he called her a “right Marilyn”. She insisted she was not a Marilyn Monroe type at all and had laughed. Harry had charmed her with his expert flirting and claimed that just because she was a brunette didn’t mean she was a Marilyn. She had smiled and bantered through the rehearsal dinner with him at her side. He was entranced, it had to be Renee, he had been so sure of it.

When Renee had walked down the aisle just before Sarah, Harry had been sure of it. When Renee had smiled at Harry as Mitch slipped on Sarah’s wedding band, Harry had been sure of it. When he had hooked his arm around hers as they walked down the aisle and into a foyer, Harry had been sure of it. When she laughed at his jokes while they waited for their wedding party photos to be taken, Harry had been sure of it.

When Renee walked up to Harry at the reception with another man wrapped around her, Harry wasn’t so sure of it anymore.

“Harry, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Corey,” Renee smiles giddily between the two men.

Harry’s eyes widen slightly at the word ‘boyfriend’ and he swallows harshly before blinking and putting on a sweet smile. He thrusts his right hand out for Corey to shake.

“Hullo, mate,” Harry says happily.

Corey greets Harry, extending his hand to meet Harry’s with a warm smile and a “how are you”. Harry laughs boisterously and takes a sip of his champagne flute. They shake hands with a firm up and down motion.

“Planning on getting really drunk,” Harry says in response to Corey’s question. “Have a great night, you two,” he finishes and stalks off for a refill.

Renee watches him go with a little bit of a confused look on her face. She sees him tilt his head back and finish his drink before turning to face her boyfriend and peck his cheek. She mumbles to him, “He’s a really nice guy, wouldn’t stop chatting my ear off the past few days. All these people must make him antsy.”

He nods back to her, “They must.”

Harry sidles up to the open bar, discarding his empty flute and exchanging it for a much stronger drink.

“Tequila. Neat...Please.” He sighs and runs a hand through his curls that are slowly becoming less and less coiffed. His fingers slide to the collar of his shirt and tug, attempting to loosen it a little.

“Rough night already?” Someone asks from beside him.

His face turns to them and sees a smiling brunette. Her eyes are big, larger than most eyes he’s come across. They’re brown with tinges of gold and green, likely making them hazel by her standard since most people prefer saying hazel eyes to brown. Her smile is bright and clean and if Harry hadn’t already heard her speak he would assume she was American from that smile. It was perfect, too perfect - the teeth both straight and blindingly white.

He raises his eyebrows at her and thinks about his response. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, leaving them parted, but he remains silent when the bartender hands him his tequila. Harry wraps a specifically less ringed hand tonight, he had forgone his ‘H’ and ‘S’ rings as well as the rest of them actually on his left hand. His right hand still had two: the large flashing lavender gemstone encrusted in a gold casing from Stevie Nicks on his middle finger and then a clean gold signet ring with little crosses on the sides on the adjacent ring finger. Every other finger was noticeably empty. So when he picks up the glass there is no familiar clink which draws the attention of himself.

The woman doesn’t pay any attention to his hand, she’s still waiting for him to respond to her question, as well as waiting for her other drink to be made. She was taking advantage of the two drink system and getting two for herself right now, so she didn’t have to come back until much later.

“You have no idea,” is how Harry decides to respond and then turns to leave. He forgets about the woman and sits at his assigned table for his entire drink, talking casually with the people who come to speak with him.

When he's finished, he goes back to the bar to order a second tequila. He thinks about the girl who had stared at him with her big brown eyes. How she had seen him and thought to ask how his night was when it seemed to be going to shit. And how he had blown her off with barely a glance. God, he could be such a prick. After he receives his drink, he forgets yet again and continues to drown his sorrows in the golden liquid that helps him numb the pain that he had once again missed out on his fairytale love story.

The girl Harry had run into sat in the corner of the ballroom for the majority of the night. She settled on just having that first round of drinks for herself and one glass of obligatory champagne during the toasts. Other than that, she had promised herself she wouldn’t get drunk and go off with a random stranger. This was not a wedding for that. This wedding couldn’t be for that. She just needed to keep her head low and try to have a semi-pleasant time.

When she was nursing her champagne through the toasts, the man at the bar caught her eye again. She knew who he was. He was the Best Man after all. Sarah talked about him a lot, even Renee after the past few days, but seeing him at the bar had been the first time she’d ever seen him up that close. It was strange, he was so human. So tangible in that moment. His shoulders shook with each breath he took. His fingers tapped as they waited for his drink. His green eyes blinked and darted around as he took in his surroundings and even looked at her. He simply was and it had startled her to see him in a slightly bewildered state at the bar, but again, she wasn’t one to judge.

Get through the wedding. Try to have a semi-pleasant time.

It was time for the Best Man’s speech. Renee had just given the Maid of Honor’s and now Harry was up. He stood up and wavered a little as he tried to stand up straight. The neat tequila likely makes his stance a little harder to maintain. Mitch looks up at Harry at his side and smiles fondly.

Harry raises one hand in an awkward wave while the other is planted firmly on the table.

“Hullo,” he starts, “I’m Harry and I’m the Best Man, but I’m sure you knew that already.”

The entire group of guests laugh wholeheartedly, taken by the talented young man.

“To start,” he stutters, his words slurring slightly from the alcohol he’s had, and his smile slithers into a smirk. “Let’s hear it for the bride and groom, the lovely Sarah and Mitch Jones!”

Queue the laughter again. Harry laughs too when Mitch slaps his arm playfully, he turns to look at him with a mock ‘what did I do wrong’ expression.

“I had a speech written out, took a week to write, made it nice and poetic for these two lovebirds, but it seems I’ve misplaced it,” he pats at his pockets and sighs before rubbing his forefinger at his bottom lip. “I hate weddings.”

Everyone laughs again, thinking he’s joking. Harry grimaces but it passes as a smile even though she can tell it doesn’t meet his eyes.

He rambles on for a few minutes about love and commitment, how this is just the beginning for Sarah and Mitch and everyone laughs at the appropriate times and just when he’s wrapping up, successfully stumbling through his messy mind, everyone begins to clap.

“To the happy couple…” queue applause, but she sees him say something else, it’s drowned out by the crowd cheering and clinking glasses again.

He sits back down, downing his champagne glass that’s been refilled twice already during the speeches. Mitch leans over and whispers something in Harry’s ear as he twists a hand through his hair. Harry shifts away from Mitch and gives him a look, telling Mitch that he’s fine.

The party goes on, a few more speeches, a few more glasses of champagne for Harry, a few more sighs from the girl in the back of the room.

She watches the first dance of Mitch and Sarah but once that part is over she slinks off. She’s got half a drink left and all she wants is to be alone. Tired of the party, tired of the people, tired of having to try to have a good time. The Rowland-Jones Party had rented the entire place out, so she wanders out of the main room and down a hallway until the music is a faint buzz in her ear. The air grows colder as the amount of people dwindles from over a hundred to one.

There’s a door to her right that has an intricate golden handle that she pulls down on. It opens quietly onto a similar ballroom that is slightly smaller than the one the party was going on in. It’s quiet and spacious, her steps echo as she enters on heeled feet. The clicking of her satin stilettos resonate against the linoleum. She walks to the center of the room and turns around herself, lifting her head to the light in the room. An ornate chandelier is still above her, it’s the same gold as the handle that let her in. Her eyes travel to the walls that contain swirls of gold as well, everything was encrusted in gold and splotchy vintage mirrors. It was beautiful and she saw herself in the reflection of one of those splotchy vintage mirrors and actually felt beautiful in that moment.

No one else saw her but herself and she thought she was beautiful, a fleeting thought as she watched her body move. No one to watch as her reflection swayed with her. Her lavender dress swished back and forth, the end of it brushing around her ankles. The tulle fabric climbed her torso, cinching at her waist and draping over her breasts. The sleeves fluttered over her shoulders and ended midway down her upper arm. The somewhat sheer material made her tan skin look all the more carmely in the golden light of the chandelier. Her pendant necklace was silver and glinted in the light as it sat evenly over her exposed clavicle and decolletage.

In the corner opposite of the door there was a single table with three chairs. It seemed whoever was meant to put things away had grown tired and left these out. She wasn’t complaining as she crossed the floor to take a seat. It was the perfect escape. It was quiet and not too cold in the room, which was especially nice since she had left her jacket in the coat room. What wasn’t so nice is that her phone had died and she had nothing to do in the room. It wasn’t horrible though, she had wanted to be alone with her thoughts. She just feared what would happen if she sat alone too long with no escape of the internet to drown those thoughts.

That contemplation was squashed with an unwitting solution not ten minutes later. She had been sitting at the table, sipping her drink occasionally and staring at the chandelier. Sighing with content that it was finally silent beside the clink of her melting ice cubes. The house mixed drink was strong, but with each passing second it grew more and more diluted. She considered herself completely sober.

She only questioned that when she noticed a second person in the room. She hadn’t heard them open the door, but she heard their loud footsteps shortly after.

He all but stumbled in and was entranced by the chandelier like she had been. He walks to the center in a similar fashion and twists around, only this time his balance isn’t as good as hers. He ends up on his ass, legs splayed in front of him and hands behind him only cushioning his fall a little. He lets out a huff, “Fuck.” He runs a hand over his face before bringing it down to look around the room again. His eyes are foggy with alcohol, everything hazy and slightly blurry. It feels like he’s moving with superspeed but as she watches him with a tilted head she wonders why he’s moving so slowly.  

He squints while looking around after a moment, running a hand through his thoroughly tousled hair. His tongue comes to wet his lips, but this time it's for a touch too long like he’s genuinely tasting the liquor on them. She raises her brows, observing him, her presence seemingly unknown.

“Oi, you!” He slurs the words and points lazily at her reclined in her chair. “Are you real?”

She half smiles and replies with a simple ‘yes’.

“I like your dress,” he says merely like he was stating a fact rather than giving a compliment. His hair falling into his eyes again despite him just pushing it back.

“Thanks.”

He makes his way to standing, his process rather ungraceful. He twists onto his hands and knees and begins to push himself up. He slips once before making it to full standing, he sways slightly and looks around again like he’s forgotten why he stood up. His eyes land on her again and he decides to make his way over to the table.

“You should probably sit,” she says, watching him splay his arms around him to keep his balance. She had seen him an hour and a half ago and he seemed fine, but now he seemed absolutely and utterly pissed.

“Thanks, mum,” he says as he thunks into the seat beside her, his hand waving off her suggestion.

Her brows raise at the slightly rude comment, but she leans back in her seat still observing him.

“Why do you hate weddings?” She asks once he’s settled and has his head propped up with one of his hands. She takes a sip of her drink as she watches him scan her face again, trying to see if he recognizes her.

His mind must come up empty, a vague memory of the bar slipping away without a second thought.

“It was a joke,” he shrugs.

“No it wasn’t,” she replies easily.

His eyes narrow and he leans forward a little shakily, “Who are you?”

“Aurora.” She licks at her own lips, a stray bit of liquid lingering on her lips.

“That’s a Disney princess name,” he says, unconvinced, how most drunk people were when you told them the truth.

“And my great-grandmother’s and mine,” she responds, a grin playing on her lips as she watches him think it over. “It’s wild how multiple people can have the same name. Did you know people can share a last name as well?”

He leans back in his chair now, unhappy with her snarky response.

“Isn’t that why we’re here, two people joining together and sharing the same last name now?” He threads his fingers as he speaks, mimicking something coming together.

“Yep,” She perks at the question he poses. “You still didn’t answer my question.” Her brows raise once playfully.

“What?” Harry seemed to have lost the plot, his fuzzy drunken brain choosing to forget the first thing she asked him while in this private ballroom of theirs.

“Why do you hate weddings?” She repeats, louder and with emphasis, the words echoing this time.

“Oh,” he looks up to the ceiling and blows air past his lips harshly, “S’ a long story.”

“We got all night,” she offers, and raises her glass to her lips once again.

“A night wouldn’t even cover half of it,” he ponders seriously, his mind reeling. “I’d rather talk about you.”

“Why me?”  She laughs like she’s just received the most delightful surprise.

“Because,” He starts and then sits quiet for a moment before leaning forward, elbows on the table as he peers at her, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“You only just met me,” she responds. “Not to mention, you’re drunk as fuck, Best Man. Just minutes ago I watched you stumble in here and truly fall on your ass.”

“Then tell me about yourself and I’ll explain my hatred for weddings.”

“You’re awfully good at bargaining for being this inebriated.”

“I never lose my charm, no matter how pissed I may be,” he smirks and gives a sloppy wink, hair falling in his face yet again.

She scoffs, but she is rather amused and intrigued by the man beside her. His tie now completely loosened, hair falling every which way, and his green eyes set on her. The shiny shoes he wore slipped around on the ground as he shuffled his feet below him like a child wanting to go play. She figured it was just his drunk brain trying to amuse himself or something. How could she deny a man who had just drunkenly confessed his love for her at a wedding? Even if it was completely and totally untrue. She at least had to entertain the foolish notion that maybe he actually was interested in getting to know her. If anything, it would help pass the time until she could go home.

“I’ll bite,” she relents.

The smirk doesn’t leave his face, it only widens, “Only if I can, too.”

“I wasn’t saying-”

“Shush, sh-sh-shush. I know that,” he holds a hand up at her, trying to get her to be quiet. He sways again, even in his seat he looks as if he could fall over at any moment. She wondered if he might not remember this tomorrow. “I was bein’...” he licks his lips in a pause, “suggestive.”

She laughs again, knowing his sober brain probably would have chosen a more articulate and suave word since ‘suggestive’ was rather tactless and more straight to the point. If she learned anything from all the conversations she overhead about him, Harry was definitely one for tact.

“You were something, that’s for sure,” she wraps a hand around Harry’s wrist, she draws the hand down from its hovering state and lays it against the table again. She withdraws her own hand back to her glass, her drink almost completely gone now.

He smiles, pleased with himself, but unaware that his charms had worn off with his exorbitant amount of alcohol consumed. At least on this girl they weren’t working. She had never been attracted to people who were too drunk to help themselves and she always hoped that’s how others felt too. She was thankful he had stumbled in on her rather than someone who didn’t feel the same way. It made her sick to think of what someone with evil intentions might do if they came across a babbling drunken version of Harry. Pushing those thoughts away since that wasn’t the case, she decided to pat his hand once just in reassurance to herself and him that this was really happening.

“I’m twenty-five.” She states.

Harry nods, a small smile on his lips now rather than a smirk as he watches her again. He liked how smoothly she moved rather than the rest of the world in his drunken eyes, everything else was choppy and fast. She was elegant and fluid, calming even.

“I love love,” Harry says, eyes remaining on hers, no trace of a joke in his tone, “And it hates me.”

“That can’t be true,” she squints at him, a frown gracing her face for a moment at the sadness she sees in his watery eyes. Not crying watery, just watery from his drunken state.

He says nothing, waiting for her to offer more information about herself before he says anything else. This was the deal after all. She quickly realizes why he isn’t responding and sighs, conversation with drunks was tedious already, but Harry seemed determined to make it even harder.

“I’m from California.”

“They always are,” Harry mutters to himself. He ignores her hum of a question, asking what he just said with a simple sound. “All my friends, they’re either getting married or they’re already married and got kids on the way or whatever. They all found love and I’m just here with fuck all.”

She sincerely doubts what the drunken man is telling her right now, but she knows how to play the game now to get more information. “I hate my job,” she states.

“Sometimes I feel like I'm cursed, like I fucked up one too many times and now I’m doomed to never find love.”

Her eyes widen at this, he sounds so damn sad and she wishes she could take his pain away. She knew what a good guy and she couldn’t imagine why he would deserve to feel this way. No one deserved to feel like they weren’t worthy of love. His sad state truly almost brought her to tears. She’s there in a stunned silence and Harry is confused why she hasn’t said anything more about herself. It was her turn.

“What’s something else about you?” He asks, his hand fiddling with itself on the table. She notices once again that there aren’t as many rings on his fingers as what she thought was usual.

She licks her lips and reaches her hand forward. She grasps Harry’s fiddling hand and stops his movement. “I feel sorry that you feel this way, no one deserves the kind of pain you’re inflicting on yourself. I’m very very sorry for you, Harry.”

“That’s not really…” He trails off, losing his focus on her face and instead looking at their hands touching. The feeling is so intense in his buzzing body. Her touch was so calming compared to the electric feeling in his body. It felt nice.

“Can I ask you a different question and then I’ll tell you something no one knows about me?”

He nods eagerly.

“And you can’t dodge the question, you really have to answer it, okay?”

“Okay.”

“What did you say at the end of your speech? It got drowned out by applause, but I saw you say something.”

“You noticed?” He asks kind of surprised, then scratches at his eyebrow. He sees her slight glare and knows to get to his answer. “Asked when it’d be my turn…like to fall in love, y’know.”

She sighs, saddened yet again by his words. “Okay, well, here’s my secret... I hate weddings, too.”

Harry’s eyes light up, maybe he really was in love. She purses her lips and pulls back from him.

“I think you’re my soulmate,” he breathes out, again making a false confession. His drunken brain wants it to be true. He’s desperate for his search to be over, for her to be his person.

She smiles that same sad smile that she keeps getting when he says these sad things to her.

“I assure you, I am not, Best Man.”

He looks at her confusedly. She was beautiful, she was clarity to him. Her brown hair was straight with a little wave in it, like it was straightened for the occasion but never truly that way otherwise. It flowed around her head and shoulders, but she had it tucked behind both ears. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone, she just simply was beautiful. Her sun tanned skin looked soft under the golden glow and Harry was sure she was an angel or something.

“Why not?” He insists, leaning forward.

She stands up from her seat. He follows clumsily behind her, standing as well. He was still taller than her even in her high heels. He smiled like a lovesick child down at her, his eyes as big as the moon. She bites at her lip as she sees him look at her so lovingly, so misguidedly. Then she leans up towards his face, up on her tiptoes and past his lips. Her hands hold him straight with them curled in his suit’s lapels. She presses a sweet and gentle kiss to his cheek, closer to his jaw than anything.

“Good night, Harry,” she whispers against his skin before pulling away.

His eyes flutter open, his looks at her confusedly, slightly unaware that he had closed his eyes at all.

“Good night…” He had already forgotten her name, something with an A...or was it an O? He’d have to ask Sarah and Mitch about the girl who had talked to him in the empty golden ballroom, the girl he had fallen in love with. He was certain. She was the one - if only he could find out her name. If he remembered this at all or if he just thought it was a dream.

She leaves the room before him and as she leaves she wonders if she maybe should have made sure he was alright, but she figured their talk was sobering enough. The night was ending and she had a sneaking suspicion that there were plenty of people here tonight looking out for him.

-

Harry forgot about the girl in the ballroom. Or at least he wasn’t sure if it was a dream or reality. He had woken up at Tom’s place where he had said he would stay after the wedding reception so he hadn’t gone home with a girl. He couldn’t remember her name so he couldn’t really ask anyone about her and he didn’t exactly have a lot of people he could ask. He wanted to ask Sarah and Mitch, but they were already off on their honeymoon and he was one of those people who would never bother a couple on their honeymoon. He was too embarrassed to ask Renee and anyone else for that matter.

So, instead, he forgot. Harry forgot about her for three weeks until Sarah and Mitch returned. He had called them for a hike and lunch the moment their plane had landed. He had missed some of his best friends. It was a lull in the year, where he wasn’t touring or in the studio, just living and writing when he felt like it. So maybe he was in need of some inspiration.

“Ah! The Jones’!” He exclaims as he walks up to their parked car at the head of the trail.

Sarah laughs and Mitch rolls his eyes, half-heartedly since he’s just as happy to see Harry as Harry is to see him.

“I missed you,” Mitch says as he brings Harry in for a hug.

“Don’t let the missus hear that,” Harry tuts while he sends a wink over Mitch’s shoulder to Sarah.

“It’s all he could talk about for the past few weeks,” Sarah jokes as she goes in for a hug with Harry. “How do you think Harry is? Hope he’s eating? I miss Harry.” She mimics Mitch’s voice.

Mitch shakes his head shyly, a smile spreading on his face after a moment. “That. Is not true at all,” he assures Harry, “But you do look a little thinner. What have you been eating?”

Harry elbows him with a grin, “I’m fine. Been bored so I’ve just been filling the time with working out.”

They start their ascent up the hill and into the canyon. Mitch nods, his worry for his friend subsiding momentarily before he says something strange.

“I’ve been wanting to ask, but you’ve been gone, about a girl at the wedding.”

“Oh?” Sarah gives Mitch a knowing look.

“Yeah, well the thing is, I’m not sure if she was real or not. I think she was real, but I was so drunk, there’s so many bits missing in my memory.”

Sarah and Mitch both laugh. “You were very drunk, H,” Mitch confirms.

Harry ignores him, “I even asked her if she was real and she said yes, but y’know people can lie in dreams. All I remember is she was amazing and she had a princess name, I think.”

Sarah thinks about the guest list. “No princess names that I can think of. What did she look like?”

Harry squints ahead of them, his sunglasses pushing his curls back on the top of his head. “She had straight brown hair, not long or short. She said she was, uh, twenty-five. She was in lavender, I think.”

“You think a lot,” Mitch interjects which earns him a glare from Harry.

Harry thinks about this part that he remembered vividly, how she had been so confident that he wasn’t. He adds, “...And I told her I was in love with her.”

“Oh god, Harry,” Sarah sighs.

Mitch gives Harry an apologetic smile.

“She didn’t buy it, but she didn’t run off either. We talked for awhile.”

“Maybe it was a dream,” Sarah says.

“Okay, let’s see,” Mitch grows to be the leader of the investigation, wanting everything for his best friend to find the love he knew he deserved. “Twenty-five year old brunettes at our wedding who are single. C’mon there weren't that many people there.”

Sarah thinks about it again. “Renee’s sister is twenty-five. I don’t remember what she was wearing, I hardly saw her all night,” she pauses, “Which is strange since she wasn’t on the job for once.”

“What do you mean ‘on the job’?” Harry asks curiously, remembering his girl saying she hated her job.”

“She’s a wedding planner,” Sarah says, glancing at him because she was almost sure that Renee’s sister was not who Harry was talking about. “But she had referred me to someone else for the wedding, she consulted sometimes and got us a discount, but said she didn’t like working with people she knew personally.”

Harry nodded, how could Renee’s sister be his girl? How could a wedding planner hate weddings? And wouldn’t it be all the more awkward if the girl was Renee’s sister? Renee’s little sister, could it be? He had no clue.

“I don’t think it’s her, though,” Sarah gives a half-smile, “She’s not super...uh, how do I say this?”

As Sarah says “touchy-feely,” Mitch interjects.

“She’s pretty cold-hearted. She’s relatively nice, but what makes her such a good wedding planner is she doesn’t get caught up in the sentimentality of it, she just understands other people’s emotions and knows how to make them feel amazing.”

“That’s a little harsh,” Sarah looks at Mitch with a strong glare. After all, he was talking about her best friend’s little sister.

“Well, what’s her name?” Harry insists, semi-off put, but knowing her secret made him think it was possible for Renee’s sister and his ballroom girl to be the very same.

“Rori Williams, think it’s short for something else, but I don’t know, as long as I’ve known her she goes by Rori.” Sarah gives Harry a sad smile and it reminds him of his mystery girl.

“Do you think I could meet her or something? I just want to know if it’s her.” Harry says as they reach the first peak on their hike. He looks out at the view from there, Los Angeles was green for once, but he knew it would quickly fade to brown and tan as the spring plants died off again from the summer heat.

“Pretty sure she’s off working on some destination wedding right now. She doesn’t like being bothered when she’s working,” Sarah gives Harry a look for two reasons as she says that. One, because she knows his next question would be to contact her anyway. And two, she’s saying how he is exactly the same, hates being contacted when he’s busy with work. “I can text Renee to see what’s up.”

Harry nods, “Please…” He begins to imagine Rori as his ballroom girl and mutters to himself, “A June Wedding…” getting lost in a silly little daydream.

-

“Harry Styles is asking after you,” Renee snickers over the cellphone line.

“What is this? The 1800s?” Rori sighs, as she holds the phone to her ear with her shoulder. She tries to brush her hair from her face with a flick of her head, which makes for a rather silly sight as her head and shoulder move awkwardly. “People don’t ‘ask after’ anyone anymore.”

She was in Hawaii, Maui specifically, steaming a sneaky last crinkle out of the latest bride’s wedding veil.

“Well, he still is doing it. You know how he is.”

“I actually don’t,” Rori responds, easily, ignoring the memories of her two encounters with him. “What does he want?”

“Wants to meet you or something,” Renee says easily. “Thinks he met you at Sarah’s wedding, obviously impossible since I know you scampered off half way through the reception and he was falling down drunk at the half way marker as well…” she trails off.

Rori knows her sister well and expects the next thing to come out of Renee’s mouth.

“Oh my god! Did you hook up with him?!”

Expecting this, Rori responds quickly and calmly, “No, we did not hook up, I would never... I did watch him fall on his ass, though.”

“So it was you!”

“What was me?” Rori squints her eyes at her sister over the phone and finally straightens from her steaming task. She feels like she’s only half paying attention to the conversation, especially since she had no intention of meeting up with Harry. He had been so sweet and sad, and she truly wished him the best, but she knew she wasn’t the answer to his problem.

“You!” Renee all but yells into the phone, “Are his dream girl! He’s been wondering if you were even real for weeks.”

“I’m real,” Rori sighs and crosses the room she’s in to sit at the desk she was using as a work space. She flicks through the planner she was using for the Hearst wedding, set to take place tomorrow. “But I’m certainly not his dream girl...I told him that when he said he was in love with me.”

“He what?!” Renee exclaims and hears her sister sigh once again, she knows Rori is growing tired of the conversation and is ready to offer an excuse to hang up any moment now. “Nevermind that, I’m going to tell Sarah to give him your number and the date you get back to Los Angeles. Keep next weekend clear.”

Before Rori can open her strawberry pink lips to reply, Renee is squealing a goodbye and hanging up. She felt her shoulders sag with the empty line, she reclined into the nicely plush swivel chair. This is why she stayed out of love and relationships when they didn’t relate to work, they were exhausting. Too much ‘he said, she said’ going on at all times. Color palettes, seating arrangements and menus were simple, they made sense, they could be arranged and put into place. Relationships were messy, the actual event of a wedding could even be messy, but when she planned them out, for a single moment everything was orderly and simple. She was in control. She knew she couldn’t be Harry’s dream girl because she knew she couldn’t control that situation.

-

Upon arriving back in the continental United States, at the end of June, Rori ubered immediately to her apartment in Silverlake. Well, it was a converted garage behind a house of a friend of Renee’s. Like most apartments in Los Angeles, it was funky, but it was Rori’s until she decided where she wanted to move. She never wanted to buy in LA and she never wanted to upgrade from the place she had called home for the past four years.

Almost immediately after dropping her pink work tote bag and worn backpack on the floor next to her medium sized navy suitcase, her phone rang through the ‘Do Not Disturb’ setting with an unknown number. A New York number. Possibly a new client, she picks up quickly and shuts the window-paned door behind her. The days were long, the longest day of the year had almost arrived, yet the sun was still beginning to set in the sky and turn the light blue into a painting of oranges pinks and purples.

“Hello?”

“Is Rori Williams there?” A British voice asks, almost timidly.

“Who’s asking?”

“...Harry.”

“I was told you’d be calling or something along those lines,” she smiles to herself.

Harry sat in his room, chewing at his lip, still unsure if the voice on the other side of the phone call was the woman he had talked to previously.

“Can we go for a drink sometime? How’s tomorrow?”

“Someone is quite enthusiastic.”

“It’s just...I’m trying to figure something out.”

“So I’ve heard,” she chuckles slightly.

“So you won’t tell me whether you’re the girl I talked to at Sarah and Mitch’s wedding will you?”

“What would be the fun in that?”

“So it’s a right Cinderella, if the shoe fits situation,” he mumbles, slightly to himself, but she hears him clearly.

She laughs.

“I don’t really care for Cinderella, I’m not really one for Disney princesses at all, actually.”

His breath catches, a foggy memory of something having to do with princesses tries to break into his mind. He couldn’t remember still and he vowed time and time again that he would never get that drunk again. Too much time lost.

“Alright, Harry. I’ve just gotten home from a work trip so I’m planning on a bath, some wine, and some terribly raunchy TV to get my mind off of my life. How about you pick a time and a place for drinks and hopefully I will show up? Great! Goodnight.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, just clicks the red button that hangs up the phone and goes on with her professed plans. Harry sits in stunned silence for a few moments, whatever he had gotten himself into was going to be a ride of a lifetime.

-

At a quarter past six, Harry sits anxiously at the bar top of a semi casual, semi fancy, totally cool bar he loved. It was private so he wouldn’t be bombarded with people, but it was still lively enough that it wouldn’t be dead silent if conversation lulled between him and Rori. That is, if she showed up.

His foot begins to tap, ever so persistently against the silver footrest at the bottom of the bar. His eyes shift from right to left, not wanting to order a drink before she arrives, but also not wanting to wait much longer and not order a drink. He’d waived off the bartender twice already.

She walks in, right on time, Harry had just arrived early. Her lips part into a happy smile at his anxious stance at the bar, he mirrors her expression at the sight of her.

She’s wearing a billowy white button down, the sleeves cinching perfectly at her petite wrists, cinched beneath a brown corset-like tank top. Her breasts showed their true size today in this outfit. She had the collar pulled out and the corset made it so that her cleavage was perfectly sculpted just beneath the crisp white cloth. Her pants were sleek and black, understated to draw more of a focus to her top as well as the lavender jewel inlaid pendant hanging just above the swells of her breast. Harry’s eyes dipped to that level for a moment, but quickly recovered to focus on her face. The night of the wedding had been blurry, but he was sure Rori’s face was the one of his mystery girl.

He’s shy tonight and a little more reserved than last time. He’s out of his comfortable bubble, what could anyone expect from a man so constantly watched. He fidgets with the top most button of his shirt that was buttoned and thinks about unbuttoning it to reveal a little more of his chest, but he refrains. At a friend’s wedding he feels safe, but in public he’s always watching, always aware of the possible prying eye. But like he had said drunkenly to Rori, he always maintained his charm, no matter the circumstances.

“Lavender was gorgeous on you, but this…” he gives a graceful sweep of his hand to gesture at her outfit tonight, “is extremely enchanting.”

“So you remember me in lavender? I thought you couldn’t remember me at all.” She grins as she stands directly beside him, similar to the first time they had chatted at a bartop.

Harry clears his throat at her tease, “I knew once I laid eyes on you, I would know. So now I know.”

She smirks at his reasoning and orders a vodka cranberry, both not wanting to get off her ass or look any certain way. Vodka cranberries were acceptable mature drinks, but not overly pretentious in any way. Harry tells the bartender to make it two. She looks at him with a discerning eye.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” She asks as she slides into the bar seat that seems to be trying to look vintage but was likely made no less than five years ago.

Harry sits too, more easily since his legs are longer than hers. “We met in the ballroom for the first time, did we not?”

“No...we met at the bar in the reception room.” Her hand splays to feel the stone of this counter, cold unlike the wood of the previous one. “We were about this close after you’d rudely stepped ahead of me and ordered before I could...not that you noticed. I asked if you were having a rough night and you pretty much dismissed me.” She bites her lip as she tells him the story, her eyes widen as she watches the distress roll over his features at what she says.

“Oh god,” One of his hands reaches to grab her hand to emphasize his apology, “I’m so sorry, that’s so rude. I was having quite a rough night as you would eventually see.”

He stares at her face, trying to meet her eyes, but she’s glued to the sight of their hands intertwined. He was so smooth and it was making her melt, making the walls she had purposefully put up for this date weak. She had rules, especially for guys like Harry - not that there was anyone that compared to him in her life, but she had them and she knew she couldn’t just be swept off her feet by his sweet voice and gorgeous face that has the most puppy-dog look on it.

She knows she shouldn’t but the extra ice she had added to her personality melts away, her eyes going slightly moony as she watches him visibly relax again. “No worries, I enjoyed your company upon the second meeting, even if you didn’t even remember my name after it.”

“Well,” he finally catches her eye, “That’s where I have a bit of a bone to pick.”

“Oh?”

“You didn’t tell me your real name...gave me some fake name I can’t even remember, but it certainly wasn’t…” His eyes shift to her pendant again and he looks back at her brassy eyes in the bar’s lighting. “If your name is Rori Williams, why is your pendant an ‘A’?” He says slowly, another foggy memory trying to break the surface of his knowledge but still failing.

She finally feels in control of the situation, calm and assured of herself, which was maybe unfair since it seemed Harry really had a hard time remembering that night and she could really fuck with him if she wanted to, but she wouldn’t - couldn’t - with those earnest eyes looking at her.

“I told you my real name the first time we talked, Harry. It’s Aurora,” she retracts her hand from beneath his grasp and touches at the necklace, “I go by Rori both socially and professionally, but officially it’s Aurora and this had been my great-grandmother’s. I don’t go anywhere without it.”

“Almost as beautiful as its wearer,” he smirks, his gaze stuck on her face, attempting to convey something specific. She thinks she knows what he’s saying with his look.

“You’re quite the flirt,” she rolls her eyes playfully before specifically choosing to take a sip of her drink through the little straw the bartender had put in it. It draws Harry’s attention to her lips, and after a moment they were wet with a bit of excess vodka cranberry and Harry felt himself grow a little hot at the tips of his ears when her eyes meet with his. She had caught him staring, but he recovers easily.

“I remember telling you I never lose my charm, it’s true is it not?” Harry inquires, head leaning closer to her as he takes a sip of his own drink, making a show to lick his lips after removing them from the edge of the lowball glass.

Her laughter is loud but not overbearing, Harry thinks it’s the best laugh he’s ever heard even if she’s laughing at him. She’s true in that laugh, she’s not trying to make him fall for her with that laugh, it’s just her enjoying herself.

She responds with something sweet and the two begin the back and forth of a successful date. They both drink around three drinks as the night persists, but it’s enough for her to feel the burning pull inside the pit of her belly for Harry. His hands stay relatively to himself besides a few subtle touches at her hair and hands every so often, his feet are the ones to blame. At one point in the night, he hooks his loafer covered foot around her ankle and she is quick to lean into it, reciprocating the footsie with ease. Each brush of his leg against hers is electrifying, every nerve in her body was beginning to go crazy. She was buzzing in a way that she hadn’t when she had first encountered Harry. Tonight he was more suave, but with a tinge of timidness that made him irresistible.

Harry made sure he wouldn’t get drunk tonight, ordering only as much as Rori. He didn’t want to be the fool who couldn’t remember their time together, again. Plus, he didn’t want to forget any of their time together, he wanted to remember it all. Everything about her was amazing, the feeling he had about her, the nagging desire to meet her was for a reason, he was sure of it. If her voice was a melody, then she was the most beautiful love song he had ever heard.

At 11:30, he leans in close to Rori, his nose brushing at the hair tucked at her ear and asks her if she wants to leave. She looks at him confused, the warm feeling in her stomach falls because she thinks he wants to end the night.

“Oh,” she says dejected, she swore it was going well. “Right..That’s it.”

Harry’s brows crinkle at her sad face.

“No, love, I was saying,” he raises his brows, “Y’know.”

“Oh! Right! You just sounded so...I don’t know, serious.” She sinks in her seat, realizing her presumptions had been wrong.

“I was trying to be,” he twists his lips trying to find the word, as blush rises on his cheeks. “Seductive.”

The two of them are quickly realizing they can’t pretend with each other. Rori can’t keep up the harsh facade against love with him, he sees right through it. Harry can’t play his old tricks with her, she sees right through them.

She laughs again, “Well, it just sounded like you were bored. Sometimes your moves fall really flat.” She offers a sweet wink in consolation for his failed attempt at trying to really get her weak in the knees.

They were a lovesick mess together as they clambered off their bar seats and exit the bar that had gotten increasingly loud.

“So what’s next?” She asks on the warm summer night.

He steps closer and takes the liberty of fiddling with the strap of the corset she has on. His head is tilted down as he towers over her. “You know me Rori, I’m a hopeless romantic so I desperately want to take you out for dinner sometime and slow dance with you until the sun comes up, but,” his breath fans over her face now as he shifts impossibly closer, “I also want to grip your hair as I watch you writhing underneath me. Just tell me what you’d prefer and it’s all yours.”

Her breathing has become a slight pant as his words wash over her. His nose brushes over the ridge of hers and she takes the moment to put her hands on his shoulders and pull him onto her. They were in the alleyway beside the bar, away from prying eyes except a few people too drunk to recognize Harry's face that is all but hidden in Rori.

“Harry,” she breathes, her eyes fluttering shut as she makes the decision to cross them into the point of no return. She wants this too much. She hadn’t thought this would be how her night would go, thought she would brush him off and never see him again, but god, she needed his warm body everywhere. Needed him to touch every part of her.

“Rori,” he responds.

“I want the second one first,” she whispers, feeling a little too eager, but feeling Harry press excitedly against her reassures her.

His lips press a searing kiss to her and she makes a sound of happiness at the contact. Her hands fist at the fabric of his shirt as she presses her lips feverishly back onto his. Harry’s quick to grip at the back of her neck and the small of her back, keeping her tight to him as he licks into her mouth.

“Can still taste that last vodka cran,” he notes before kissing her again.

Their tongues rub against each other, sloppily but with a tenderness hidden there as well. She snorts at his words which makes him smile and they’re kissing is becoming more silly as they try to contain their laughter. He pulls away, finally giving up trying to maintain the kiss while they both laughed.

“Would you like to come back to mine?” Harry asks as he leans his forehead against hers.

Rori’s eyes flicker open and stare into his, the focus only on his eyes and the sprinkle of light freckles and beauty marks below them. She nods her head, making his move with it. They both smile, trying to contain their laughter once more.

She presses her lips against his once more for a small peck and then lowers her head into the crook of his neck. The skin warm and smooth against hers as she whispers happily to him.

“It’s your turn now, Harry,” Rori says blissfully.

She had been the answer to all his questions.

-

[captainlevisteacup]

www i come back with another request *jumps jumps* what about the brothers + undateables with a m!mc who's an idol-? how would they react to mc's wearing his stage outfits around just because-?

Oooooooh I like this! Sorry this took a while, I was working on 5 other requests at the same time lol and THEN I broke my wrist by punching a door so I couldn't type hahaha im a genius, I know.

Here goes, and thank you for the request!!

The Demon Brothers + The Newly Dateables Reactions to a M! Idol MC Who Wears their Stage Outfits Casually

Lucifer

Goes to every single performance of MC'S if his schedule allows it

Somehow always has seats in the front row

Never fails to get distracted by how MC moves his hips while dancing and still singing perfectly

Loves to go to his rehearsals sometimes

Always has a bouquet waiting for MC after his performance

The first time MC wore one of his stage outfits around the house for fun, he was mildly confused and amused

It was *slightly* distracting

Considering MC's immaculate body

It doesn't help that he goes to the gym religiously because he has an image to uphold

Always gets slightly flustered when MC wears his stage outfits bc

He's just so pretty, dammit

Mammon

Eh?

Why does MC get to wear flashy stage outfits all the time, yet HE gets shit about his jacket

Not fair

Swears that's the only reason its upsetting

Totally not at all because he doesn't like how many people stare and flirt with MC

Not at all.

On the plus side, always goes through MC's choreography with him

Its often the highlight of Mammon's day, since dance is one of his gifts

Begrudgingly allows MC to style his hair sometimes

On occasion, Mammon will be a backup dancer at MC'S shows

Mc always smiles the brightest when this happens

Satan

Equally amused and annoyed

Amused because OF COURSE MC would do that

It just makes sense for MC to be dramatic enough to casually wear stage costumes around the house

It annoys him because he KNOWS it draws attention to MC

And, well, he doesn't like that

Mc never knows his, of course

Though he does start to question why his fans are all so afraid of Satan

Oh well

Satan, surprisingly, is even more helpful with songwriting than anyone else

He has a natural knack for poetry and rhythm

Most of MC's songs have been helped along by Satan

Levi

Biggest. Fanboy. Ever.

Probably the president of any and every fanclub for MC

Is delighted when he *somehow* always lucks out and gets the first ticket to the shows online

MC secretly sets aside a ticket for him and just sends the price of the ticket back into Levi's bank account

Levi is actually a really big social media promoter for MC

Runs his official Devilgram page

When MC starts wearing his stage outfits around the house....

Heart attack. Panic attack. Asthma attack. All of them.

His heart can't take it

Tries his best to avoid looking at him so he doesn't stare

Needless to say, this fails miserably

Asmo

Please.

He's the one who DESIGNED the stage outfits

MC BETTER be wearing them proudly

His heart swells with joy when he sees MC absolutely *owning* the outfits while making a sandwich

Unlike his brothers, Asmo loves when people stare at MC

Because, come on, with the makeup Asmo taught him to do and the stunning outfits? Damn right MC is stare worthy

Not as much as him, of course, but thats a different story

Doesn't really like being in the crowd of MC'S shows, much prefers the luxury of backstage

Literally has his own chaise lounge to recline on

Its even nicer than MC'S chair

Mc secretly bought it for him so

Of course it is

Beel

Doesn't like it, but for a different reason

What if MC trips and hurts himself?🥺

Aren't they hard to move around in?

They look too tight for MC to eat in😰

It takes MC going through his choreography many, MANY times to prove he won't get hurt wearing them

Beel always goes to the gym with MC

MC has to keep up a certain image, so Beel is more than willing to help him out and even coach him if he needs it

Tries to do the dances with MC, but dancing isn't exactly his Forte

He loves to watch, though

Goes to most of his shows when he can

Belphie

Doesn't care

When he decides to care, its only because those outfits just CAN'T be comfortable

Gives Asmo a ridiculously long list of comfortable and breathable fabrics to use in MC'S costumes from then on

Rarely goes to MC'S shows, but is literally always watching the livestream from his bed

Constantly hounds MC about his self care

"Go sleep. You've been practicing for the entire day. If you don't go by choice, ill just hold you hostage in my bed until you fall asleep"

Aggressively caring murder bean

Diavolo

This man is endlessly amused

Insists on getting matching costumes with him

To MC'S delight, Asmo immediately makes much larger copies of all of his stage outfits for Diavolo

Lucifer hates it.

So much. Diavolo is a prince. Not an idol

Mc thinks its sweet

MC even dyed his hair to match the prince's red locks at one point

The red hair was, of course, a fan favorite

Barbatos

Admires the beauty of MC in his stage clothes

Has an abundance of tips on how to keep then clean and immaculate

Insists that he's too busy to attend the shows, and that he could just watch the recording later

Diavolo catches wind of this and is conveniently elsewhere on the days MC performs

Barbatos knows Diavolo is full of shit, but he appreciates it regardless

Solomon

Not phased whatsoever

He's been exposed to any and every type of human fashion before

Although...he has to admit seeing MC in those costumes makes him feel some kinda way

Enchants MC'S stage outfits to glow or shimmer at certain times during the performance

Is, of course, there for every single one

Helps the brothers adjust to human world concerts

Simeon

Blushblushblushblushstutterstutterstutter

Thinks some not so holy things about the idol in front of him

Wow

○ \ \ \ ○

Simeon has seen some very beautiful clothes in the celestial realm, but this?

It hits different

Maybe its because it's HIS MC wearing them

Quickly dismisses this thought and insists they're just really pretty clothes

Listens to MC practice and provides feedback about their singing technique

Luke (Platonic)

In complete AWE

Shyly asks if he can try on one of MC'S dramatic jackets

It's 10 sizes too big for him but that just makes it more endearing

Luke absolutely loves to go see MC in concert

Always has a baked good waiting for MC after he performs

Is surprisingly the loudest cheerer out of all of them

[honeypirate]

Can I have a request where the reader is Daichi ex and they moved to Date tech high.

And a year after they moved schools Daichi sees them one day while at a tournament with Aone and the team and see them genuinely smiling. And holding hands with our sweet polar bear Aone 🥺✨

Hey! Thank you for the request!! I love Daichi and Aone and I’m not very good at angst so I made the break up nice and not bad haha I hope you like it.

Aone x reader who is daichi’s ex

The breakup was a long time coming, the move was just the last straw. You loved Daichi, he was an amazing boyfriend and an amazing guy, you just couldn’t make each other as happy as you both deserved. You ended things the day you learned your family was moving away, he agreed that your relationship just isn't working and knew it would be harder to work on it with the distance. He knew he’d always have love for you in his heart, which made the breakup harder, the fact that you never stopped loving each other.

And so you started your second year at Date Tech, new school, new uniform, and now new you. Your goal was to grow and move on. But now that you weren’t dating the captain you found that you missed volleyball. You decided to see if you could be the manager of your new team and you were unsurprisingly added to the team, becoming fast friends with the current manager and the team.

When winter break comes around you find yourself being dragged around by the team to do different winter activities, you tried to come up with an excuse for most but you were actually excited to try your hand at snowboarding.

Excitement turned to nerves as you waited for the seat to come around so you could be carried to the top of the bunny hill, smiling nervously up at Aone who waits beside you. Yelping in surprise when the chair hits your butt, gripping the handles hard under your gloved hand. “Are you okay?” Aone asks and you laugh nervously “I’m okay. Just nervous. I’ve ever done this before” he nods and moves carefully so he can be ready to catch you if you fall. “Have you? done this before I mean” he nods again “are you good at it?” He blushes “I guess”

The bunny hill looked much larger from the top, kids younger than you were laughing as they easily went down, Aone looked like a polar bear in his white coat and black beanie, he stood next to you waiting for you to head down the hill, watching to make sure you’ll be okay.

You take a deep breath and then look up at him, his worried eyes made you relax a little “is it possible you can hold my hand?” You reach out to him and he grabs your hand, firmly holding your gloved hand in his and he smiles warmly at you, nodding encouragingly. You nod back and then lean forward together, tipping your board to carry you down the (not even steep) hill.

You spent the entire Saturday basically falling on your ass every thirty seconds, but it was one of your favorite days because you spent it with Aone the whole time. Even tho he was good at snowboarding he still stayed with you, making sure you were having fun. Holding your hand the whole time he basically made every fall with you and picked you back up every time, even kept you from falling like ten times. He tried to teach you some tricks which was helpful but not until you figured it out almost at the end.

At the end of the day you walked back to the bus hand in hand, and when he walked you back to your house, you asked if you could kiss him and he about died and went to heaven. From that day on you were inseparable, it was easy and comfortable and you understood each other, he sometimes knew you so well you could swear he was reading your mind.

He was a shy and timid guy, but you made him feel so comfortable, gave him space to be whoever he wanted and you always knew how to make him smile. He surprised you by how goofy he was and how funny he could be. You made him laugh once at school, making an inside joke with him that brought an easy laugh and made his eyes shine, which made the team think you were a witch. now they call you Glinda because you’re a good witch, just like the wizard of oz.

Of course you knew they were coming to the tournament, you’ve seen the game lineup, and to be honest you were so excited to see them. They were and are still important friends to you, but you didn’t expect to round the corner and see your teams squaring off.

You saw Aone do his lock on and you chuckle before running down the hall, squeezing past the other guys and standing on your tiptoes, whispering quietly just to Aone as you gently pull his hand down “you’re so cute” his ears turn pink but that’s the only change in his appearance. you smile and say to the rest of the boys “go do your stretches guys. Warm up” they all walk around except for Aone who looks down at you with furrowed brows “go on big guy. I’ll be fine” you squeeze his hand and he nods, leaning down to kiss the side of your head before heading around everyone. You chuckle when he turns back after a few steps to wait for you and you make eye contact with him and wink before looking back to the boys in front of you.

“Don’t mind him. He likes to single out the Ace” you look over the Karasuno team with a smile “it’s good to see you y/n” Suga says and he hugs you “it’s been a long time! I’m so happy to see you guys” you say as you part. Asahi turns to Suga “you knew they’d be here?” He shrugs “what? We talk on the phone every Sunday. They are the manager” “wow Asahi, seems like you’re not happy to see me” you stand with your hands on your hips and he laughs “Im sorry y/n. I missed you and I’m extremely happy” he says and hugs you with a laugh.

Your gaze finally meets his, “hey Daichi” you say with a warm smile “hey y/n” he says “you look good” you smile “thank you! So do you! I’m excited to see you guys play” a small bouncing tangerine haired boy catches your attention “you’re Daichi’s ex and the manager for Date Tech?!” You laugh “I guess so! Y/n. Nice to meet you” he beams “I’m Hinata!” “Glinda! We need your magic abilities!” Futakuchi yells from the gym and you laugh “he means me. I’ll see you later okay?” You run off towards the gym, the third years watching as you whisper something to Aone that makes him smile as you lace your fingers together and walk into the gym to see what Futakuchi needs.

“They look happy. No offense Daichi, but, I’ve never seen them that happy before” Suga says and Daichi laughs “no offense taken. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them that happy before either. I’m proud of them” he sighs, he still has love for you and is proud of how much you’ve grown in the last year. He shakes his head and sighs, his heart finally getting the closure he needed, he smiles and says “come on team. Let’s go break through the iron wall!” The rest of the boys, who this whole time have been whispering to each other about their confusion in the background, cheer and start to get back into the zone.

Back in the gym you pull Aone aside and smile up at him “you know I love you and I’ll be proud of you no matter what, just do your best, aaaaand for good luck” you press your lips to his quickly and when you pull back he has a smile and a determined look in his eyes “thank you kittten” he says and then heads out to his position. You watch them win the game, and a part of you feels bad for how loud you cheer and how Aone picks you up and spins, but not so much you stopped cheering for them, they were your team.

You send a look towards Suga and he shakes his head and mouths ‘don’t worry, call you Sunday!’ You nod to him and mouth back ‘love you guys!’ Before Aone gets your attention by throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you out to the hallway with him, making you giggle the whole time.

“Hey handsome, come here often?” You whisper when you’re finally alone and he sets you down. he shakes his head “first time actually, maybe you could show me around?” He says and you laugh, leaning into him and standing on your tiptoes, your hands wrapping around his neck “well there isn’t much to gawk at, other than me, but I can show you what you get for winning” his cheeks flush as he wraps his arms around your lower back, leaning down closer “what do I get?” He whispers, his lips almost brush yours before you pull back and look up into his confused eyes “I don’t want you to think that my love is conditional on you winning. You’d get as many kiss and hugs even if you lost. I love you okay? Like I don’t want you to— “ he laughs and kisses your nose, cutting you off “I know kitten. I love you. Can I kiss you now?” You laugh “okay. I was just making sure. I love you. You’re such an amazing player. Yes please can we kiss now?” He nods and your lips finally meet, hundreds of kisses over the last year and it still feels like the first time, your heart fluttering and your stomach flips with butterflies. You feel electricity go down your spine from your head to your toes. Sure, you’ll always care for Daichi, but it was nothing compared to how happy you feel with Aone or how much you love him.

[andysbubba]

𝕦𝕣𝕤 - 𝕊𝕥𝕖𝕧𝕖 ℝ𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕤

Based on urs by NIKI. It’s literally my favourite song of all time so can’t really resist writing this one.

Lyrics prompt: _“You’re bad for my health” / “But fuck sake, I’m already yours”

im playing around with writing styles so tell me if you like this one!!!

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

-

Now it's all guessing games, I'm guessing every gaze, like

Do you, don't you, would you even stay if you did?

All I know is suddenly without you the bed feels too big

You wake up in the morning and he’s gone. Really, you weren’t surprised. He came and went as he pleased. You’ve learnt to read him, his mind and his body language. 

If he keeps his phone under the pillow and slept beside you, you know you’ll be waking up to a half empty bed. If he leaves it somewhere other than under the pillow, you’d have breakfast with him in the morning and then he’d leave.

Tryna find where your head is

But I'm losing myself in the process

You're bad for my health

All the good nights

Are they hidden goodbyes in disguise?

I never know

You’d wait for him to fall asleep. That’s how it usually is. And then you’d fall asleep watching him. That’s how ruined for him you are. For Steve Rogers. Even if he will never feel the same.

He’d always say good night before he fell asleep. You’d never know if it’s the last time he’ll ever say it to you. 

He ruined other men for you. He didn’t really do anything much. Just stole half of your heart and brought it with him everywhere he went. 

And really, you’d follow him everywhere. Not really physically, just in your mind, he’s the owner and you’re the dog on the leash just following him blindly. 

Steve Rogers ruined you for other men.

You come see me only when I ask first

When you kiss me, do you wish it were her?

God.

But fucks sake, Steve Rogers wasn’t yours. And he’ll never be. 

Maybe he fucks you like you belong to him and him only, but god, no, he doesn’t claim you. Maybe he shouts your name like a chant when he cums in you, but he will never, ever be yours. Maybe he chokes you and whisper ‘mine’ in your ear when he fucks you from behind, but you know that it wasn’t you that he’s claiming as his.

God. 

He always goes back to her. You have his dick, but his heart was with her. And he’d take your heart with him because god, you are crazy for that man.

You make him cum, sure. But she made him cry. She’s the one he’s thinking of when he jerks himself off in the shower.

The best at being the worst

But fuck sake, I'm already yours, mmm

Sad to say, I'm already yours, oh

But, fuck. You were ruined for him.

You belong to Steve Rogers. Even if he doesn’t want you.

He knows you’re hopelessly in love with him.

And god, you know he’s using you because he couldn’t get her, but fuck. Yes, he breaks your heart. And he can do it again, and again till he decides to stop.

That’s how bad for your health he is.

-

“Let’s end this.”

You were surprised he stayed for breakfast. And he wasn’t rushing through it either. But those three words had been running through your head the past few days and you had to let it out.

“What?” He looks at you in slight shock. He visibly swallowed what was in his mouth and droped the cutleries he was holding.

“I said let’s end this.” Your voice was smooth and calm. You had no idea how you kept it that way.

He asks in confusion. “Like me spending the night over and staying for breakfast?”

Fuck. He’s adorable.

You pretended like you weren’t the slightest bit disturbed by the topic. You swallowed the bacon in your mouth and shrug. “Like you calling to come over and fuck me. And this whole sleeping over thing too.”

He ran his hand through his soft blonde hair. You knew cause you’ve pulled on it like a mad woman just the night before. And his stupid ocean blue eyes stared back at you. “But, why?”

It actually sounded like he was sad about it. You almost laughed.

Your resolve broke and you sighed.

“Because you’re breaking me, Steve.”

“Am I being too rough on you? Shit, did I break any bones?”

You laughed humourlessly. You felt tears welling up in your eyes and quicly blinked it away. You stepped down from the bar stool and walked towards the fridge.

“This is over, Steve.” You called out as you opened the fridge door, pulling out one of those canned drinks that you really shouldn’t be drinking at 10 am.

He strides towards you just as you closed the fridge door. “Y/N, what did I do?”

“You’re hurting me, Steve. You’re breaking my heart. You’re making me cry at night after you leave. You’re making me wish I never met you.” You chugged half of the drink in the can and looked at him straight in the eye. “That’s what you did, Steve.”

“We promised that there were no strings attached.” He points out.

You laughed in his face. Sounding cold and distant. “You knew I was in love with you. You knew that since before we even started this thing.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Y/N.” He towered over you when he pulled you in for a hug.

You pushed him away. Teary eyes staring back at his soft blue ones. One hand reached up to cradle his jaw and your thumb brushed softly against his cheek.

“Don’t you get it, Steve?” You asked. Your lips trembled the slightest bit. “Even if you break me and treat me like dirt, I will never stop loving you. You go back to Peggy even when she pushes you away. You‘re lying next to her even though your cum was still drying on my skin. I can try to hate you, Steve. But I know I never will.”

“I’m sorry.” His eyes were soft and teary. Did he actually feel bad for you?

You dropped your hand from his face as if it was on fire and wiped away your stubborn tears. “Delete my number, Steve. And let’s not talk anymore.”

He looks at you in alarm. “What do you mean? We still need to talk on missions.”

“I requested a transfer and it’s approved by Fury. You won’t be seeing me anymore, Steve.” You forced out a tiny smile.

“Y/N, you can’t be serious. You’re leaving everything behind because of me?” His hand gripped at your wrists in disbelief.

“I’m just leaving you behind. I’ll still talk to everyone else. But you, Steve, I can’t talk to you and pretend that I’m not in love with you.” You struggled to pry his hand from your wrists.

You were moving somewhere far away from this place. From him. The rest of the Avengers knew where you were going. But you made them swear on their lives that they wouldn’t tell him.

“Don’t do this, Y/N.” He pleaded.

A tiny part of you wanted to listen to him. A way larger part of you wanted to be rational. You chose rationality.

-

update! : kinda decided that this is the one and only part, because i honestly don’t know what i wanna do with steve, so many possibilities and yet, none of them seem right ://

[llilychen]

thoughts of chain of iron

my favorite scenes in the book were jordelia’s wedding and the townsend’s party (chapter five and six were so fun to read)

i really liked the beginning the book but i found the middle to be boring, the book picks up speed towards the end.

when i finished chog i hadn’t made up my mind about grace yet but now that i am done with coi i have decided that i don’t care too much about her? i’ve seen people say that they adore her and i don’t understand that sentiment. i could see why people would find her an interesting character though

there were too many descriptions in this book, the weather was mentioned almost every single page and it got old pretty quickly

i feel like nothing happened for the majority of the book? i dont like fight scenes that much but throughout the book there weren’t almost any? i was 400 pages into the book and so far there had only been one very boring fight scene against that demon that was in the factory

why was filomena hyped up so much? i swear cc made such a big deal about filomena and she didn’t even want to reveal her name and i thought she was going to be an important character, but she only was there for like 1.5 scenes and it was so disappointing

alastair was my favorite character in this book, i think that he grew a lot and i loved that he was held accountable for everything he did and i think that is what makes him an enjoyable character (when characters do dumb stuff and don’t face the consequences it is boring)

reading cordelia’s pov was so funny (and frustrating) because it was obvious that james was in love with her and she still made the most far fetched unreasonable excuses to convince herself otherwise

i am really sad that there wasn’t more thomastair in this book and i think it was very noble of alastair to not want thomas to have to choose between his friends and him, i am pretty sure that they will probably be together in by the end of cot unless something horrible happens, which i hope is not the case

i was really disappointing with matthew’s character. that scene in which he showed up to cordelia’s house, spied on alastair and cordelia after their dad died, insulted alastair in front of cordelia, and then just started talking about his own problems rubbed on me the wrong way and i hate how his alcoholism is being handled, but im also glad that he called james out on his bullshit? it obviously wasn’t james’ fault but it was nice to see him stand up for cordelia

i hated the love triangle, when i finished chog i didn’t really care who cordelia ended up with, and now that im done with coi i still don’t care too much about who she ends up with but i think that her ending up with james would make more sense and that is probably what will happen which means that the love triangle was a complete waste of time

i really wish that cordelia and matthew’s relationship had remained completely platonic especially because i don’t think cc has ever put focus on a relationship between a man and a woman that isn’t strictly romantic and it would have been nice to show that men and women can be only friends (and by this i mean that there was never any romantic drama between them, so clary and simon don’t count)

anna and ariadne will probably end up together despite the fact that ariadne deserves so much better than anna

anna’s behavior in this book was immature and it got old pretty quickly, the way ariadne was treated throughout the entirety of their relationship was horrible, and i don’t understand if we were meant to root for them? also the way anna treated ariadne reminded me of some of the things anna said in chog and i just want to say that calling the women you have slept with your conquests and writing their names in a list is gross, and disrespectful towards women. coi made me dislike anna unfortunately

matthew insulting alastair every time cordelia was around got old and rubbed one me the wrong way because matthew is supposedly in love with cordelia and he knows that cordelia adores alastair and the least he could is just shut up?? about alastair?? just for cordelia’s sake

i think effie was the best part of the book

i thought that jesse’s resurrection would be take up more page time because i’m pretty sure that cc hinted that jesse would play a larger role in coi than in chog (and in a way she wasn’t lying)

i think that lucie’s marks will probably be stripped or she will become an iron sister (i don’t see why cc would have included that iron sister comment if it won’t be relevant later)

im really disappointed with lucie and cordelia’s friendship, the barely talked, the had like two scenes together in a 650 page book, they just seem like people who sometimes talk to each other, their friendship is so dry

matthew telling alastair that if he didn’t talk to charles it meant that he was a bad person was manipulative and cruel. alastair, unlike matthew, is trying to become a better person and literally everybody saw it except him. i can’t believe cordelia didn’t say anything to him

the whole misunderstanding thing between james and cordelia is so dumb and i KNOW that it will take like 400/500 pages of cot for them to get together and it will be so annoying

that scene in which james confronted grace was very satisfying

cc needs to quit it with the incest, it’s disgusting and unnecessary, it looks like it will not actually go to that in cot (thank god) and therefore she just put it there because she’s gross

i KNEW jesse would come back to life by the end of the book and im so glad i was right because i am tired necromancy and we don’t have to spend another book talking about it!!

i dont know if this is an unpopular opinion but i hope lucie’s character takes a dark turn? i think she has so much potential and i think that maybe she was starting to become a darker character in coi but i couldn’t really tell because she didn’t have that much page time

i really want more christopher scenes, i know that he’s not exactly a main character but he was barely in the book and that made me sad :/

matthew saying that he would not drink in paris so that cordelia would come with him rubbed on me the wrong way because that’s not how it works, and i hope that cc doesn’t portray alcoholism as something that goes away because you’re in love with someone

i knew jesse and lucie would run away at some point, i just thought that it would be by the end of cot (pretty sure they will be found and then there will be trouble and maybe they’ll escape again or there will be more trouble)

my favorite scene in the entire book was when effie found james tied to the bed and requested a raise

when cordelia comes back there is going to be so much guilt because of lucie being missing and i am not here for it

3/5 stars

[deja-you]

times new roman | episode eight

t. jefferson x reader

summary: Y/n needs a date. Thomas would be more than happy to oblige. 

word count: 1.8k

masterlist | previous | next

“You’ve kissed me twice now.”

It was a plain, straight-forward statement. There was no expectation or insinuation behind his words, merely a fact. Even though Thomas held no malevolence, Y/n couldn’t help but be defensive. 

“Well, you kissed me back.”

“I’m not going to apologize for that.”

She cocked her head to the side and stared at him. “Then I don’t know what you want me to do about it.”

Thomas sighed and shrugged his jacket over his shoulders. “Look, angel, all I’m saying is that you can’t keep kissing me and then pretending like I don’t exist. Either you need to stop kissing me or we need to talk this out.” 

“Talk this out?”

“Yeah. We could go get lunch and talk about it.”

“Sounds kind of like a date.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Is this you saying no?”

She weighed her options and shrugged. “It’s not.”

“Are you...” Thomas was doing his best not to get his hopes up. “Are you saying yes?”

“Yes, Thomas.”

A full-on smile spread across his face at this. He bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Great! I know this fantastic pla-- damn.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I completely forgot,” Thomas sucked his bottom lip under his teeth, his brows furrowing in frustration, “I promised my second cousin I’d meet with him to discuss a case.”

“It’s okay, I understand. We can just have this conversation over text,” she suggested. 

He fervently shook his head. “No, no. I want to take you out on a proper date. I want to do this right.”

“It’s not a big deal,” she laughed, “since when have you cared, anyway?”

“Since it’s been you.” Thomas’s eyes softened.

“Oh.”

Y/n stared at him like she was seeing him for the first time. Thomas really cared about her, didn’t he? She should’ve noticed a long time ago that he was more than just the flirtatious, big-shot lawyer who had responded to her tweet weeks ago. Maybe Y/n would’ve noticed if she hadn’t been so focused on falling in love with him, a task that she was currently failing. 

Thomas checked his watch and grimaced. “Okay, how about this. I’ll run down to meet with John, and then when I get back I’ll take you out to lunch. It will take 45 minutes, an hour tops.”

“Okay.” When he looked at her with those pleading eyes, there was no way Y/n could’ve said no. 

“You’re welcome to use anything in the apartment. The shower, the coffee machine, whatever you need,” he smiled softly, grabbing his briefcase and heading to the door. Before Thomas could close the door behind him, he paused. 

“Don’t leave. Please don’t leave, angel.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Thomas offered her one last smile before leaving his apartment and sprinting down the hallway to minimize the amount of time he would be gone. When he was gone, Y/n finally had a moment to think. That’s when she remembered what she was wearing. 

“Shit,” she muttered. She couldn’t exactly wear an oversized t-shirt and underwear to lunch, and Y/n wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of wearing an evening gown, either. Finding her phone on the bedside table, she quickly began to craft a message to Peggy. 

“I don’t like him. I’ve just kissed him a few times and now I’m going on a date with him,” Y/n said fifteen minutes later when Peggy showed up with a change of clothes. 

“You’re in denial.”

“No, I’m in the Upper East Side, currently. Why would I be in a river in Egypt?”

“DENIAL. Not the nile. You know exactly what I meant, don’t play dumb with me.” Peggy crossed her arms, and took a moment to appreciate the dark wood in Thomas’s kitchen. “Now I knew Jefferson was rich, but I didn’t know he was this rich.”

Y/n shrugged. “He comes from old money, and then he has the money he makes as a corporate lawyer on top of that.”

“Is he like, your sugar daddy, then?” Peggy raised an eyebrow. 

“I swear,” Y/n grumbled under her breath. “We both know I don’t need a sugar daddy.”

Peggy shrugged. “You could do a lot worse than Jefferson. That man is fine. I still don’t believe that nothing happened between you two last night.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to have to do to convince you that nothing happened,” Y/n sighed. “I promise you nothing happened.”

“Are you... are you disappointed?” Peggy asked.

“Stop projecting your thoughts onto me,” Y/n snapped, but a part of her had to wonder if she actually was disappointed. She shook her head. “Okay, enough from you. You need to go before Thomas gets back. I’ll catch you up on everything later.”

“You’re calling him Thomas now? I’m sure he’d prefer da--”

“Get out,” Y/n hissed, shoving her friend out the door.

Y/n was in a rush to get dressed and ready before Thomas got back. She finished getting ready in record time, and then found that she was left with nothing to do. After absent-mindedly scrolling through her phone for a few minutes, Y/n grew bored and decided to go on a self-guided tour of Thomas Jefferson’s apartment. 

The first stop was the bathroom. Immaculately clean counter, a large mirror with lights behind it, and a fucking rain shower. Who even owned a rain shower in New York City? Still, Y/n was wishing she had taken Thomas up on that previous offer to use his shower. How good would that rain shower feel? And if she was imagining Thomas’s hands on her in the shower, nobody would have to know. 

After briefly fixing up her appearance in the mirror, Y/n ventured into the kitchen which was connected to a living room with a grand piano, shelves full of books, and an incredible view of New York. Thomas owned nearly every classic book, from To Kill a Mockingbird to A Tale of Two Cities. There were stacks of books on the coffee table because there wasn’t enough room on one of his many shelves, and Y/n was reminded that she had seen even more books in his work office.

“Someone get this man a Kindle,” she muttered to herself as she weaved her way.

Y/n tensed when she heard keys in the door and the handle begin to jiggle. Logically, it would make sense that it was just Thomas returning. But this was still New York City. Y/n grabbed a larger book off the table, something by Tolstoy, and raised it up just in case an intruder walked through the door. 

Finally, the door swung open, and Thomas entered his apartment. He froze when he saw Y/n staring at him, book raised in the air in preparation for attack. Thomas blinked a few times and adjusted his glasses -- he hadn’t been wearing them this morning, had he? How did he look so good in them?

“Angel, were you about to assault me with my own library?” He asked curiously. 

Y/n cringed inwardly and lowered the book. “I just wanted to be prepared in case it wasn’t you and someone was breaking in.”

Thomas laughed and shook his head. “What was your plan exactly? To subdue your attacker with tales from Napoleonic era Russia?”

“I don’t know, I hadn’t really thought that through. Maybe I’d throw it at them and make my escape,” she shrugged.

He set down his briefcase on the kitchen counter and made his way over to Y/n. Thomas stopped when they were standing nearly chest to chest and leaned forward to take the book out of her hand, his grin never faltering. 

“I’d ‘preciate it if you didn’t throw my books, angel. This is a collector’s edition.” Thomas placed the book safely back on the coffee table. “So how about that lunch?”

Y/n allowed a small smile. “Yes. Lunch. I’m starving.”

“Great! Well, not great that you’re starving-- I just mean, well. I want to take you to this place I know that has the best French cuisine in America.” His eyes lit up the way they always did when he started talking about something he was passionate about. The same way they lit up when he looked at her. “The head chef and I go way back.”

Y/n wouldn’t outwardly show how happy it made her to see Thomas this excited, but she felt all warm and cozy on the inside. Together, Thomas and Y/n left his apartment and they began walking a few blocks down to the restaurant that Thomas was so excited about.

As they walked, Thomas hummed softly, an ever-present grin on his face. Y/n felt herself staring at him while they walked, and quickly looked away when she saw him glance at her. She bit her lip gently, still trying to comprehend that she was actually going on a date with Thomas Jefferson. She must have been thinking hard, because eventually Y/n realized neither of them had spoken in a while.

“So how was coffee with your cousin?” She asked nervously, trying to fill the silence. 

“Not my cousin,” Thomas reminded her, “my second cousin.”

“And that matters because?” Y/n raised an eyebrow at Thomas’s defensiveness.

“Because he’s just so... liberal.” Thomas glanced at her and gave a sheepish smile. “No offense, of course.”

“None taken?” 

“Just can’t stand ‘im sometimes,” he shrugged. “Gets on my nerves.”

“Then why did you ditch me to get coffee with him?” She shoved her hands in her pockets and absently focused on matching her stride with Thomas’s.

“He’s family, I’d hear it from Ma if I didn’t treat him with that Southern hospitality. My second cousin, John Marshall’s just starting off in law and my aunt thought I could give him some tips,” he said. Thomas glanced at Y/n, “sorry, angel, am I boring you with this?”

“No, no,” Y/n insisted. “I’m fascinated. Is he working on an interesting case?”

Thomas grinned. “Actually, yeah. He’s working on this criminal case where a defendant had been coerced into a confession. Somehow John’s roped me into being his co-counsel.”

Y/n’s eyebrows shot up into her hair line. “You’re working on a criminal justice case?”

He glanced at you, his grin widening at the look on your face. “I know you like to think I’m just a corporate sellout, but I do my fair share of pro bono cases.”

“Didn’t realize you had any expertise in that area of law,” she said with a shrug.

“First job out of law school, I spent some time working at the D.A.’s office. Got a lot of experience around prosecutors and defense attorneys. Thought I’d go into criminal law for a while,” he mused.

Y/n studied his features carefully. “What made you change your mind?”

“Well, angel, when the George Washington comes knocking on your door and specifically asks for you, you don’t turn him down,” Thomas laughed.

“Ah, I see. Do you ever wish you hadn’t switched to corporate law?” She asked.

They had arrived at the restaurant Thomas had picked out, and they paused on the sidewalk as he considered the question.

“Sometimes I think about it,” he admitted. Thomas looked over at Y/n, smiled, and pulled the door open for her. “But I think I made the right decision.”

tags:

@dovesgrangers @lovelymrvl  @wiffle-snuffles @thisistrashperson @comingupwithacoolnameishard @wordvomit-foryourmind @newtonslawoffuck @isharemydeathdaywithfeanor @i-know-i-can @imperial-martian @fangirling-central @dannighost @ateliefloresdaprimavera @justahappylilblog @fanfic-addict-98 @a-hopeless-fan @and-claudia @nicolemelton @youtxbemusic @reidcult @eirenism @fantasy-of-fiction @iamsuperconfusedallthetime-dead @a-midwinter-night-dream-86 @rycbar-221b @bethanymccauley @fanworrior @gggamingz @nemesis729 @ibeaesthethicc  @yodas-padawan @sabbrriiinnaa @micaiahmoonheart @beautifulfound @moondustmemories @ct-salad @teenwaywardasgardian @bj-is-a-graduateof-julliard @ruebx @katierpblogg @speedypartyducksuitcase @fangirling-central @idkkbaleighh @ballerinafairyprincess @spn-pogues @gryffin-claw @elegantbutedgy @1elysium @sierraisnotreal @ssanjuniperoo @collectivefandom @lilbabyhoneypot @lunariasilver @justcallmemama @atleastidontdotiktoks @mistrose23 @checkurwindow @fluffydmonkey @pettyjayy @rosesinmars @cubedtriangle @itsjube @zeelmol @ems-alexandra @yavin4andor @daveeds-whore @someinsanefangirl @theatrenerd86 @poetnstuff @ohsoverykeri-blog @im-sidney @omgyouburtmyeggos @astralaffairs @nyxie75 @mydearestlaurens @janessawonderwall @the-middle-oldest-child @emtinuviel

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

[mrsalwayswrite]

This Night (40s!Bucky Barnes x Hispanic!OFC)

Summary: When she saved a scrawny blond in a back alley, she would never have anticipated the ripple effects it would have. Nor how meeting someone with a pair of baby blue eyes and cocky smirk would draw her in, encouraging her that for one night, to taste revelry like she never had before.

This is my submission for @allaboardthereadingrailroad​ Marvel Diversity Challenge! My prompt was “a little danger never hurt”. 

I am going to admit, I’m super nervous to post this. I’ve never written a person of color before and would be horrified to accidently offend someone. That being said, I also had so much fun writing this piece. I adore 40s Bucky and Steve, so I was excited to finally have the inspiration to write them. 

Few notes:

-All translations are via google and what I can remember from university (if any of my Spanish is wrong, please please please someone tell me and i’ll correct it!)

-I threw in some 40s slang for fun, so that will be in italics.

-In the little research I did (again, someone please correct me if I am wrong), in the 40s there were not many Hispanic or Latino people living in NYC yet. So for my OFC and her family, they would very much stand out. 

Warnings: a few swear words, some angst, sexual tension, topic of racial discrimination and inequality 

Words: 8k (the story kept growing, i’m so sorry)

<gif is from Pinterest>

She clutched the parcel to her chest, trying to avoid the muddy puddles on the sidewalk. Mr. Hendricks would be furious with her if she got any mud on the packaging of the parcel. He always said it reflected his reputation.  

 Weaving through those walking down the busy Brooklyn sidewalk, she could feel the few glares and inaudible comments following in her wake. She tried to ignore it, knowing was not the first nor last time others judged her for her different skin tone. Though she doubted she would ever get used to it. One of her older brothers would try and cheer her up saying the white folks were jealous since they burned when in the sun too long while Spaniards became more beautiful. Without fail, she would smack him but end up laughing along. 

 Peeking at the address scrawled in precise handwriting, she surveyed the street names around. A sinking feeling in her gut confirmed her fear- she had somehow gotten lost. 

“Mierda.” She hissed, turning around in a circle. Not just to try and relocate her whereabouts but on the off chance her mother happened to be behind her to whack her over the head for swearing. 

 Not wanting to be run over by a fellow pedestrian, she stepped off the sidewalk into an alley nearby while she tried to get her bearings. She brushed down the front of her workwear, dark blue, princess style dress with its Peter Pan collar, double pockets and pleated skirt. A glance at her tights showed a couple spots of mud she somehow managed to still get on her even though her kitten heels were still mostly clean. A miracle really. 

 It was only mid-afternoon but Mr. Hendricks hated when she returned late from delivering parcels. He was the best tailor in Brooklyn and practically thrived off that title. He employed her to help keep things organized, the shop looking nice and delivering parcels to their patrons. It was mindless work but that did not bother her. It was a job...and she was lucky to have one. Being from one of the few Hispanic families in the area was not a perk when trying to find work. She knew the only reason she even got this job was she willingly took half the pay he would have given to anyone else, she could sew well, and she was pretty. 

 A crash at the end of the alley drew her attention behind her. There was some hushed talking followed by another sound of something hitting the ground. Hard. 

 Logically, she knew she should walk away. She was already lost. Her mother frequently reminded her to not involve herself in other people's business, it would only get her in trouble. The problem was her curiosity was a near palpable thing, driving her forward, along with her independent streak the size of the Upper Bay. So when she heard what sounded like a smack and another crash, her feet started moving without a second thought. 

 She darted around a half brick wall to find herself at an "L" intersection. And at the end of both alleys, stood a tall man with a face like a bulldog and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, fists at his side. Below him lay a much smaller, blond man who was sprawled out on the dirty ground. The smaller man groaned, rubbing a hand on his jaw. He rolled onto his side, then slowly and painfully rose back onto his feet, his own fists in front of him in a poor imitation of a boxer. 

 "You think you somethin' special, huh?" The larger man jeered, a nasty smirk on his face. He leaned on his back foot, preparing to throw another punch. 

 The smaller man raised his fists but made no other move, prepared to take the hit and most likely go back down. 

 So, she decided to do something stupid. 

 "BILL!!" She cried out, her voice echoing off the brick walls of the alleys. 

 Both men froze, turning to look at her. 

 Tucking the parcel under her arm, she jogged over to the smaller man, uncaring now of the muddy puddles. "There you are, Bill. I've been so worried. You promised to show me where Mrs. Wilcox lives. I tried to find her myself but I got so lost." Ignoring the quizzical look from the blond man, she stood between the two men, meeting the eyes of the larger one. She twirled a strand of her long, black hair around her finger, nerves getting to her but she pressed on. "I'm so sorry for whatever trouble he has caused you. He won't bother you again. We have to go now; our boss will dock our wages if we aren't back soon."

 The man trailed his eyes over her as if looking for a lie tattooed on her skin or dress. Finding nothing of interest, he stared hard at his victim for a long moment. She found herself holding her breath, silently praying her ruse worked. 

 Finally, he rolled his shoulders and unclenched his fists, his thick jowls still tense. "Keep ‘im away from me or next time his ass will end up in the hospital."

 Slowly, she released her breath as she watched the bulldog of a man turn on his heel and stomp away, back down the alley and onto the main sidewalk. 

 "Are you hurt?" She asked, looking over the smaller man. As he dusted off his brown trousers and tan jacket, she was surprised to realize he stood about her height, and probably about her age, in the young twenties. If her guessing was any good. 

 He rubbed his jaw again and winced where an impressive bruise was already growing. "I've had worse." 

 She could not help but smile at his nonchalance. His bright blue eyes met her own honey brown. A timid smile echoed hers, his face so open and expressive. Something about the man she found endearing already. Maybe defending him was not such a stupid action.  

 "All that stuff you said, about lookin' for me and gettin' lost…"

 She huffed a laugh. "I am actually lost. I'm trying to find this address here." She showed him the scrap of paper with the address scribbled on it.

 It took only a glance before he handed the paper back with a smile. "You're not too far. Only three streets away….I... I can take you there if you like."

 "Oh, I'd hate to impose on you."

 "No, it's really fine. Seems you saved me from...well…" He shrugged, sticking his hands in the pockets of his tan jacket. 

 "And... you...don't mind, you know, being seen with me?"

 "No, why?" Eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed slightly, he stared at her like that was the strangest question. 

 It was in that moment she knew, whoever this scrawny man was- he was a good man. The difference in their ethnicity made no difference to him. He was a rarity in her experience with most New Yorkers. 

 Even though it was 1940 and this was supposed to be a land of equal opportunity. 

 It was not. 

 With a shrug and momentarily, awkward silence as they both thought about their own answers to his question, they fell into step with one another as they headed back out of the alley.

 "So, what's your name? Or is it actually Bill?" She spoke up once they hit the sidewalk. 

 "Do I look like a Bill?"

 She squinted her eyes then shook her head giggling. "No, you don't."

 "It's Steve…. Steve Rogers."

 "It's nice to meet you, Steve."

 He directed them down another street. Their shoulders brushed occasionally as they walked, due more to their need to maneuver around puddles and other pedestrians than any sense of intimacy. "You gonna tell me your name or do I have to make one up for you?"

 "Oh! Sorry. It's Elana Morales-Díaz. So, what caused the fight?"

 The tips of his ears and cheeks turned pink as he ducked his head. "He, um, we...we had a disagreement."

 "Obviously. I would hate to know you're friends and beat each other up for fun."

 "My best friend is a boxer. He's tryin’ to teach me some moves…. does that count as beating each other up?"

 She pretended to think about it. "I may let that one slide but it sounds like you might need some new friends."

 "Yeah," he chuckled and peeked over at her. "Know of any openings?"

 "I just might."

 They stood at an intersection waiting to cross the street when they heard a shout from further down the road. Neither paid much attention initially until the shout repeated itself. 

 "STEVE!"

 The blond looked down the road, a smile on his lips. He waved and tugged on Elana to move away from the curb. She followed along, surprised since he told her they needed to cross. 

 A man glided through the pedestrians easily, a few lingering looks thrown his way by some of the women. When he noticed her standing next to Steve, his eyes widened for a brief moment before a lazy smirk appeared on his face and his strut became more pronounced. With boxing gloves dangling over his shoulder, his white shirt and black trousers, he looked like he just walked out of a gym. Especially with the way his dark brown hair ruffled in the breeze, a few strands sticking up like he had run his hands through it a few times. 

 "I leave you for one afternoon and I come back to find you with the prettiest gal in all of New York." 

 Steve rolled his eyes. "You're always at the gym now."

 The man put Steve in a teasing headlock. Only after a flirtatious wink at her, he released the smaller man. "So, you gonna introduce me to this wolfess, Steve?"

 "Ah, right. Elana, this is my best friend, Bucky Barnes. Buck, this is Elana."

 "Nice to meet you." She said, a small smile at their interactions. It reminded her of her brothers.

 The man -Bucky- reached over and took her hand but instead of shaking it, pressed a kiss to her knuckles, maintaining eye contact the whole time. "Pleasure is mine."

 Oh, he was a charmer. The kind her mother warned her about. Then again, her father had the same devilish charisma and Elana liked to remind her mother of that. To which her mother would laugh and say that's why she warned her daughter of those men, she knew from experience. With just a wink and kiss, she would fall madly in love, leave her home and give him five babies before she even knew it. It was always after this statement often said loudly and with feigned annoyance that Elana's father would wrap his arms around his wife, lovingly kiss her temple and remind her how long he had to chase her before she even agreed to go on a date with him. 

 "So how do you guys know each other?" Bucky asked, those blue eyes bouncing between the two of them. 

 Steve coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. It was then Bucky finally seemed to notice the slowly darkening bruise on Steve's jaw. 

 "Steve!" He grabbed his friend's face and glanced over him, concern etched in his movements and expression. "What happened this time, punk?"

 "Nothin'...just a disagreement. I had 'im on the ropes."

 He dropped his hand, running it through his brunet hair. "You gotta stop pickin’ fights, one of these days…" The implications hung heavily in the air. 

 "Ah, Steve…" When he looked over at her, she nodded toward the parcel still in her arms.

 "Oh right! Sorry. Buck, I gotta take her to drop somethin' off."

 Bucky shrugged. "Lead the way, punk."

 "Jerk."

 The three of them quickly crossed the street. Steve, and soon Bucky when he understood what was going on, pointed out markers for her in case she got lost again. In a short time, they arrived at the house, one of the nicer ones in Brooklyn. The boys waited on the sidewalk as Elana walked up to the front door and handed the parcel over with the man's tailored suit. 

 "Where you off to now, doll?" Bucky asked when she approached them. 

 "Oh, I need to get back to the shop. Mr. Hendricks will most likely be upset with how late I am anyway."

 "The tailorin’ shop near Prospect Park?"

 "Yeah." She played with a strand of her hair, trying to hide her nerves.

 "What a coincidence. We were headed that way ourselves, right, Steve?"

 "What?" Steve looked at Bucky, head tilted in confusion. Bucky cuffed him in the back of the head. "Oh, yeah. Yeah. Um, gonna take a nice walk in the park."

 Elana could not help but giggle at the two. With Bucky looking skyward like he was silently praying for patience to deal with his best friend; meanwhile Steve rubbed the back of his head and glared at his best friend. Although she just met them and hardly knew them, she found herself enjoying their presence. Friends were not something she had in great supply...or any supply really. 

 Plus, if she was being honest with herself, she found her gaze drifting to the tall, charming brunet more times than she cared to admit. The butterflies in her stomach did not help the situation. She knew it was foolish. He was attractive and knew it. But when he turned those baby blues on her and winked, she could not help but be drawn to him, like a moth to the flame. 

 "How come we ain't seen you round before? I know I'd remember a dame as beautiful as you round Brooklyn." Bucky said on her left side while Steve walked on her right. Neither one crowded her space. Sometimes one would touch a hand to her back to direct her steps or hold her elbow when she jumped a puddle. It was sweet instead of condescending. 

 She shrugged. "I recently got the job at the tailor shop and I live in Queens."

 They both winced making her laugh. She would never understand this animosity the boroughs had with each other. 

 "Well that explains a lot." Steve muttered. 

 "Hey!" She nudged the blond with her shoulder as she muttered. "Me gusta Queens. Ustedes dos están celosos."

 "What language is that?" Steve asked, curiosity evident. 

 "Spanish."

 "Is that why you have an accent?"

 She nodded, unable to meet their gazes as she answered. "My family moved here from Spain when I was six." Although she had grown up here in New York City, gone to school just like the other kids, she still maintained a slight accent to her words, different from the stereotypical New Yorker's accent. 

 "Say somethin’ else." Bucky smiled down at her. 

 She laughed. "Like what?"

 "I don't know. Anythin’."

 "El cielo es azul. Me duelen los pies con estos tacones. Me he reído más con ustedes dos que en semanas".

 Bucky had almost a dazed look on his face. "That's beautiful."

 "You have no idea what I said."

 "Doesn't matter." The brunet stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Steve can talk in Irish." 

 "Buck…"

 "What?" 

 "I mean, a little." He rubbed the back of his neck. "My ma came from Ireland." 

 Bucky snorted. "You wrote a poem for a girl in the second grade in Irish and read it to her on the playground. I'd say that's more than a little."

 Steve's face was red and jaw dropped as he stared at his friend. "How...how...how do you know that?" He sputtered. "We weren't even friends yet."

 Bucky winked at Elana as he answered. "Gotta be friends with the right people."

 The three of them walked back, talking and laughing. Well it was mostly the boys talking and teasing one another but she enjoyed just listening to their banter. Occasionally they would direct a question to her or she would throw out a remark that had them laughing. 

 She guided them to the back alley of the street front shops. Mr. Hendricks disliked her walking through the front unless she had her work apron on and clean shoes. 

 "Well thank you for helping me and walking me back."

 "It's not a big deal." Steve said. 

 "We'll see you round, yeah? I'd hate to just meet a gorgeous dame like you then never see her again." Bucky threw a wink at her, adjusting the boxing gloves still over his shoulder. 

 She opened her mouth to tease them then stopped. She truly hoped this was not the last time she saw these two. In a spur of the moment decision, she stepped closer to say goodbye. She pressed her cheeks to Steve's first, giving the traditional cheek kiss. She did the same to Bucky, though she had to rise on her toes to reach his face, and she suspected he bent over slightly. 

 "Hasta luego, mis amigos."

 "What was that, doll?"

 She looked from Bucky's smirk to Steve's red face and back. "A traditional goodbye."

 "Mmm…I could get used to that." The boxer teased, nudging his friend who refused to meet her eyes now. 

 She smiled and started to open the back door when Bucky's hand grabbed her forearm, stalling her movements. 

 "Hey, wait." Those baby blue eyes met her honey brown ones. "It's Friday night.  We usually go to the Stork Club for drinks and dancin’. Come with us."

 "Oh, I don't know…"

 "Come on. It'll be great. If it helps, we'll pick you up from your house."

 She could not help the laugh that slipped out at the thought.  "You'd come to Queens... to get me?"

 "It might break my heart to leave my beloved Brooklyn but I'd do it for you, doll."

 "Honestly it'd be dangerous for you to come to my house." 

 "A little danger never hurt." He brushed some of her hair behind her ear, sending shivers down her spine. 

 He was trouble, complete trouble for her...and she knew it. But the longer he stared at her with those pleading eyes and hand now at the nape of her neck, she could feel her resolve crumbling. "I have three brothers and a protective father."

 "They can't be that bad… Come on, please? Steve, help me out!"

 Steve just laughed, raising his hands in surrender. 

 She bit the inside of her cheek thinking about it. Her brother Mateo owed her for when she covered for him when he almost got caught smoking cigarettes behind the apartment building. Tonight, her parents were supposed to visit her eldest brother and his new wife in the Bronx. 

 "Ok…" She whispered. 

 "Yeah?" A beaming grin spread over his face.

 "Ok...I'll meet you there though."

 "Yes!" Bucky bent over and kissed her cheek loudly. "You won't regret it! Nine o'clock!"

 "Nueve. Estaré allí."

 "I still don't know what you said, doll, but I love it."

 She laughed, pushing him away from her. "Go! Before I'm even more late."

 Before they were three steps away, she ducked inside the back of the shop. Hopefully she was able to slip in unnoticed. The shop should be closing soon so Mr. Hendricks would be in his little office room. 

 She leaned against the back door, hands pressed against her cheeks to will away the warmth in them. Thankfully with her brown skin, the blush would be harder to notice. As she stood there, the realization of what she just agreed to finally hit her. An icy fist landed in her gut, drowning the blush away. She had never been to a club before. She had no idea what to wear...or how to act. How was she even going to get there? 

 Underneath the fear though was a determination to go. Why couldn't she have fun for one night, like other young women she regularly saw and envied. Both of those Brooklyn boys seemed nice. Thinking about them brought the flush back to her skin, especially when she thought of the kiss on the cheek from Bucky. He was trouble and fun and charming and devilish and… and she wanted to spend more time with him. And Steve, the sweet, kind, funny guy that he was. She liked them both. But when thinking about those baby blue eyes, insufferable smirk and broad shoulders...her heartbeat sped up and butterflies erupted in her belly. 

 "Oh Dios, ¿qué voy a hacer?" She whispered to herself. 

 *****

 Just after nine o'clock, Elana climbed out of the taxi. She stared up at the sign that brightly screamed ‘Stork Club’. So many people milled about, either walking into the club or chatting, waiting for others in their group. A couple people already looked like they had been hitting the bottles for some time, if the rambunctious yelling and obnoxious laughter said anything. The atmosphere was loud and vibrant with an air of debauchery...and she had not even stepped foot in the door. 

 "Oh Dios, ¿por qué estoy aquí? Estúpido. Tan estúpido. Debería irme. Ni siquiera se darán cuenta." She murmured to herself, her hands wringing the strap on her clutch. Actually, it was not even hers. She "borrowed" it from her mother's closet and prayed that she could return it before her mother noticed.

 "Elana!" 

 At the call of her name, she turned around to see Bucky and Steve crossing the street, dodging a car that decided they were taking too long. 

 "You made it!" Bucky exclaimed, bubbling with excitement. He scanned her over, giving a low whistle. "Damn, doll, you look beautiful."

 "Gracias." She smoothed down her floral-patterned tea dress that reached mid-calf, her kitten heels still on from earlier. Her raven hair hung loosely down her back, unstyled in the typical curls that most women wore. There had been no time to try one of those hair styles and not bring attention to herself before she snuck out. Just to make her even more self-conscious, the cherry red lipstick she wore felt heavy on her lips. Something she only wore on rare occasions. "You fellas clean up nicely."

 Checking over them, they each wore nice suits. Though Steve's looked a size or two too large and the prominent bruise on his cheek ruined the look a bit. Bucky was practically sinful in his suit, showing off his broad shoulders and strong legs, his hair slicked back. Improper thoughts flooded her mind and a heat warmed her cheeks. She had a feeling she would need to go to confession tomorrow. That was tomorrow’s worry though, tonight was about fun.

 "Ready to have the time of your life?" Bucky asked, excitement practically bubbled under his skin. 

 "That's a high standard."

 "Guess I better not disappoint. C'mon!" He grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the crowded, open door. In her sudden fear, she reached back and snagged Steve's hand, dragging him along. She would never admit it but having both of them on either side of her made her feel better. 

 There were several different calls for Bucky, vying for his attention. He just waved or yelled something back but kept her hand in his, pulling them through. She noticed more than one disappointed female face when Bucky passed them. It churned something in her stomach which she tried to ignore. 

 When they finally entered the dance hall, she froze. It was nothing like she imagined and so much better. At the far end was a stage with a large band playing an upbeat song that made her bounce on her toes without realizing it. A large bar area was set up, packed with people already looking for something to wet their throats. Booths and tables lined the walls. Already the hardwood, dance floor looked packed with couples jiving. Mirrors and photographs hung on the walls making the place feel bigger even when it was so crowded. The air smelled of alcohol, sweat and a youthful zeal she had never experienced. 

 It was intoxicating and nerve-wracking. She could not wait to join in. 

 The next thing she noticed when she glanced at all the people...she was the only non-white person there. 

 "Let's get a table." Bucky tugged them along towards an open booth on the right side of the dance floor. 

 She slid in on one side while Steve scooted in on the other. Bucky stood at the end, grinning ear to ear as he seemed to quickly survey the place. 

 "Right." He tossed his suit jacket on the seat next to her then clapped his hands, the sound muffled by the volume from the band nearby. "What kinda drink would you like?"

 "Ah, vino?"

 He nodded and waltzed towards the bar, throwing an arm around the shoulder of one of the men standing there waiting. 

 She turned back to the blond. "You're not drinking?"

 "Nah, too many health issues to make it worth it." 

 She hummed and took note of Steve's fidgeting. "Is this your first time too?"

 He chuckled. "No. I just don't...well, this isn't where I'd prefer to be on a Friday night...but don't tell Bucky... though he probably knows."

 "What would you rather be doing?"

 "Drawin’ or paintin’, maybe playin’ cards but I'm terrible at them."

 "You're an artist?" The realization warmed her heart. This scrawny man with a heart too big for his body and kindness an invisible cloak around him. It made sense somehow. He could look past the ugly and see beauty and somehow capture it. 

 "I don't know if I'd say that...I just enjoy it. It's usually what I end up doin’ when I come here. Doodlin’ on a napkin while Buck dances with every girl he can."

 Her stomach dropped while hearing that, which was stupid. So stupid. She swallowed thickly, hoping Steve did not notice, before she spoke again to distract herself. "Well if you doodle something tonight, can I see it after?"

 "If you like."

 Bucky appeared a minute later with a foamy glass of beer and a glass of red wine. Carefully, he placed them both on the table. "Ready to cut a rug?" He asked, looking at her expectedly. 

 "Um, I don't...I've never danced like this before." She hesitantly admitted. Steve gave her a sympathetic smile like he understood. 

 "Don't matter. I bet you're a swell dancer." He held out his hand for her. When she did not immediately accept his hand, he wiggled his fingers. "C'mon, ain't that hard. I'll teach you."

 With a sigh, she took his hand, his smile beaming as he tugged her out of the booth. She could not help but smile back at his sheer enthusiasm. It was contagious. 

 He led her off to the side of the dance floor. Putting one hand on her lower back and taking the other in his hand, he began demonstrating the steps. Her eyes stayed glued to his feet while he moved, willing her brain to understand and not make a fool of her. 

 "You got this, doll. Told you, you're a natural. Just follow my movement, let me lead."

 So she did and before she knew it, they were flying around the dance floor. 

 Bucky was an amazing dancer and it showed in how he effortlessly led her. A couple times she stumbled or stepped on his toes but he would just grin and encourage her to keep going. The faces of those around them blurred. The music seemed to sink into her blood and with every beat of the drum or clap of the hands from the band, her heartbeat echoed it. It was intoxicating and she had not even had a sip of alcohol. Now she understood why people flocked to these dance halls. There was something freeing in them, losing yourself to the music and movements. For a short time, you could ignore the outside world and all its trials. Here, you could be free. 

 Eventually she begged a break, practically panting from the several songs they danced through. The brightness in her eyes and smile though showed how much fun she was having. Still holding hands, they weaved through the crowd back to their booth where Steve sat with a napkin in front of him, pencil in hand and eyes focused downward. She slid into the booth first, Bucky right behind her. 

 "Have fun?" Steve asked, eyes bouncing between the two before him. 

 "I can't breathe." She giggled out, hand pressed to her chest. Her lungs struggled to fill up properly but instead of installing fear into her, it only made her laugh. 

 Bucky took a long sip of his beer and slung his arm behind Elana, on the back of the booth. "Told you, you'd have fun. You're a great dancer."

 "Only cause I had a great teacher." Taking a sip of her wine, she focused on the quiet artist.  "Did you draw something, Steve?"  

 "Yeah, just a little sketch."

 "Can I see it?"

 He slid the napkin over to her, nerves obvious. Giving him a small, reassuring smile, she flipped the napkin over and felt her heart stop and jaw drop. The pencil sketch was of Bucky and her dancing. His mouth was next to her ear, whispering instructions or flirtatious comments, his hand on her lower back. Her gaze was on his chest but the brilliant smile on her lips gave her away. The sketch was so realistic, it was astounding. It completely captured Bucky's confidence and her nervousness but somehow the opposite emotions only added to the image, bringing a sense of balance and trust between the two dancing partners. 

 "Steve, esto es…. hermoso…. increíble." She breathed out, never taking her eyes off the napkin. When she finally looked up to see him blushing and fiddling with the pencil, she smiled. 

 Bucky had been leaning against her so he could see the sketch also. "That might be your best one yet, pal."

 "Thanks, guys. S'nothing."

 "May I keep it?" She softly asked, eyes tracing the delicate lines and shading.

 The embarrassed blond flapped a hand at her. "Course. It was for you if you wanted it anyway."

 Silently, she reached across and squeezed Steve's hand, unable to convey all the emotions she was feeling. "There's one thing you got wrong."

 "What's that?"

 "I'm not that pretty."

 Both Steve and Bucky chuckled.  

 "Elana," Bucky started, gazing down at her. "He drew you like-"

 "Bucky!" A silky voice interrupted. A young woman stood at the end of their booth. Her blonde hair in perfect curls, bright red lipstick matched the equally bright red dress she wore. Her eyes zeroed in on the handsome brunet at the table, ignoring the other two patrons like they were just wallpaper. "Wanna dance?" 

 The sun-kissed woman could feel Bucky's hesitation. Nudging him gently in the ribs, she nodded towards the interloper. "Go. Have fun. I still need to catch my breath."

 With a nod, he slipped out of the booth and followed the beautiful woman onto the dance floor. The two easily fell into step like they had done this a million times, each movement flawless and smiles on both of their faces. 

 She turned back to Steve, ignoring the churning in her gut. "What's your favorite thing to draw?"

 They talked for a few minutes about art classes he had taken and the few commissioned pieces he had done for local businesses. The passion he spoke with about art, hands flapping and eyes alight, it was impossible not to join in his enthusiasm. 

 The presence of someone standing at the end of the table drew their attention away from the quick sketch of a monkey Steve had drawn on another napkin. This young woman had a haughty expression on her otherwise pretty face, glaring down her nose at Elana. 

 "You shouldn't be here." She stated, venom lacing every word. Hands on her curvy hips, the gold stitching in her emerald dress catching the light from above. 

 "Ruby, we-"

 "No one is talkin’ to you, Steve." She barked then continued glaring at Elana. "I bet you're a real floozy, comin’ in here lookin’ like that. Well news flash, no one wants you or your kind here."

 Tears stung in Elana’s eyes, threatening to fall. She knew this would happen. It always happened. There was always someone to remind her she was not one of them, even if her own eyes could see it. She had hoped tonight would be different. That for once, she could fit in. 

 "I want her here. She's my date."

 The lady -Ruby- spun on her heel so quick, her dress flared out. "Bucky," she crooned, her voice sugary-sweet, so different than a moment ago. "You're lookin' like a real Fred Astaire out there tonight. Let's go-"

 Bucky did not even look her way as he slid back onto the bench, eyes focused on Elana. "You alright there, doll?"

 She nodded numbly, staring at the table. Twirling a strand of hair absent-mindedly around her finger, she tried to force the tears from falling. It was not even the worst insult she had heard hurled at her, but it still cut her to the quick. Every time. 

 "Why don't we head out, yeah? Steve there looks like he's gettin' a little warm and the music ain't so good tonight." Bucky said gently. 

 She nodded again, not trusting herself to speak. 

 "Bucky, stay…" Ruby tried one last time but he leveled a glare at her that made her take a step back. 

 "Take a powder, Ruby, I ain't interested."

 Bucky wrapped his hand around Elana's, entwining their fingers as he slid out of the booth with her right behind him. Without even a backwards glance, he led the three of them out of the dance hall. Elana kept her head down the whole time, unable to meet anyone's eyes for fear of what she would see. 

 The night air was blissfully cool after the heat of the dance hall. It kissed her skin as if trying to help calm her down. At this point, the street was not as busy, everyone mostly inside now. Only a few pedestrians and cars interrupted the quiet scene. 

 "Elana, I'm so sorry."

 "Debería irme. No debería haber venido. Soy tan estúpida." She muttered to herself, not even hearing Bucky's statement. It was a foolish idea to come out. For so long she had tried to fit in, especially as a child. Her mother always told her to be herself and embrace her difference. That was easier said than done. Tonight felt like a taste of it when she was on the dance floor. What things could have been like if everyone was accepted. If where she was from did not matter. She had been so happy dancing with Bucky, this handsome devil who treated her like she was special, holding her hand in front of everyone. Sure, Steve said he danced with a lot of girls but for tonight, she was someone while on his arm. She was someone special. 

 And oh, did she love the feeling of his hand wrapped around hers. Him holding her close as they danced, his warm breath hitting her neck just right. He was trouble, through and through. Her mother would call him a Casanova and tell her to run the other way. Yet she did not want to. He drew something out of her. An almost recklessness. A desire for more. More in life. To experience life with a passion. Both this new feeling and Bucky’s presence were addicting...and she found herself unable to turn away. At least not for tonight. She wanted to revel in it tonight. 

 It was not until a hand cupped her cheek and tilted her head up to meet a pair of worried baby blue eyes that she was jolted from her internal spiral. 

 "Hey, hey. I have no idea what you're sayin' but it don't sound good. Why don't we walk for a bit, mmm? The night's still young."

 Wordlessly, she followed. It was then she noticed Bucky was still holding her hand, palms flat against one another's. That realization drew a small smile on her lips. On her other side walked Steve, hands in his pockets but a genuine smile on his face when he caught her eye. Even after all this, these two Brooklyn boys wanted to be with her. With that in mind, she shoved her despair and pain away. Let tomorrow bring what worries that came with it. Tonight she wanted to be reckless without fear of the consequences. Tonight was supposed to be fun.  

 "Can't believe Ruby would say that. Always thought she was a nice dame." The brunet mused, slipping his suit jacket back on before taking Elana's hand once again.

 "She only showed what she wanted you to see, Buck."

 "Dance with a girl a couple times and she thinks you owe her or somethin'."

 The blond quirked an eyebrow at his friend.  "Was it only dancin'?"

 "What you gettin' at, Rogers?"

 "You ditched some other girl for her once before."

 His head swiveled to stare at the smaller man in shock. "I did?"

 Elana spoke up. "Sounds like you have quite the selection of dance partners to choose from."

 Steve snorted. "Guy has been doll-dizzy since he was twelve."

 "What can I say? I appreciate fine art." Bucky said with a self-satisfied grin.

 "Don't usually lock lips with paintings or statues…"

 "You know what, Rogers!"

 Elana laughed as Bucky let go of her hand to race around her and put Steve in a headlock. The two pretended to box for a couple minutes, grins on both their faces. When finished, the champion boxer slid up to her, a rakish smile teasing his lips as he claimed her hand back.

 "Well if those gals are fine art, you sweetheart, are a masterpiece." He twirled her around once, making her dress flare out around her legs. "Have I told you yet how beautiful you look tonight?"

 "Yes, Bucky."

 "Good, I'd hate for you to forget." He winked and the trio started walking again. 

 "Oh, here." Steve suddenly said, fishing something out of his pocket. He held out his hand almost shyly.  

 She took the offered item to see it was the napkin with the sketch on it. "Oh, Steve. Muchas gracias." She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving a red stain behind. "Oops."

 "Here." Bucky tossed over a handkerchief to Steve. 

 She glanced at the napkin one more time before reverently placing it in her clutch. She already knew where she was going to put this in her room so she would always remember this night.

 "Oh drat." Steve said after glancing at his watch. "It's almost eleven. I have class early tomorrow."

 "Go on, punk. I'll look after her."

 Elana hugged Steve and was thrilled when he squeezed her back just as tightly. "I'm so happy to have met you."

 "This isn't goodbye, right?"

 "I hope not. You have more artwork to show me."

 He blushed yet nodded before giving Bucky a quick hug. 

 "Night, Steve."

 "Night, jerk."

 Together, they watched Steve walk down the sidewalk, wave back at them then disappear down the next street. 

 "Wanna keep walkin'?"

 She nodded. She knew she should go home. It was getting late and she still had to get back to Queens. Yet walking side by side with this man whom she had only met several hours ago, she found the idea abhorrent. Glancing up at the night sky, only a couple of the stars were visible through the smoke, clouds and street lamps. They were lovely though, a reminder that there were greater things out there, one just had to look for them. At least, that is what her father always said. 

 "Hey," Bucky's voice pulled her attention back, "I never got to say it earlier but thanks...for havin’ Steve's back earlier today. Punk doesn't know when to quit."

 "I'm glad he got in that fight...is that odd? If he didn't, I wouldn’t have met either one of you."

 "Alright, this ONE time I'm glad he got in a fight. Though, we probably would have ran into each other eventually."

 They walked in comfortable silence for a couple minutes. Two cars passed them separately and only a handful of people walked their way. Otherwise it almost felt like they were alone. It was peaceful, still holding hands and wandering the streets of Brooklyn.  

 "Y'know, I was kinda hopin' we'd get at least one slow song at the dance hall."

 "Me too." She confessed. 

 "Well, we should!" An idea sparked in his eyes. "Wait here." He moved over to one of the parked cars near them. He tried to open it but it was locked so he moved to the next one. This one opened without hesitation and he slid in. The whole time Elana switched between watching Bucky and scanning the streets for someone to yell at them. What was he thinking? Suddenly music came on, drifting from the radio through the open passenger door. 

 Bucky stood there, leaning against the car with the biggest grin on his smug face. "Who needs a dance hall?"

 She laughed, understanding what he had done. "We’re going to get in trouble."

 "No, we ain't. C'mon."

 "Oh, Dios mío, yes we are!" 

 "Dance with me." He cooed, standing before her looking like an Adonis. 

 With that lazy smirk and enthralling blue eyes staring down at her, refusal was not an option. The words died on her tongue as she stared up at him. The music was slow, a singer crooning about his love. The moment felt like something from a fairytale story her mother would tell her as a little girl. She knew she should go home. Stop this heat that seared through her when she found herself caught in his eyes. Stop the butterflies in her stomach when around him. Stop the way she melted under his touch, his hands always so gentle. 

 But she wanted this. Right now. To pretend this was her reality. To dance with her prince under the stars. That love did not care about the differences in their skin tones. For when the sun rose and this dream faded, reality would seep back in. Plus, he was a charmer. Doll-dizzy. She would not keep his attention past this night. 

 For now though, she could pretend. Enjoy the night in a way she never had before. 

 He placed her hands behind his neck and his on her hips. Standing there under the streetlight and distant starlight, they danced, swaying back and forth. Her head landed on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath it. So steady and soothing. The world faded away around them, the only things that mattered was their dancing and the music. It wrapped around them like a warm, thick blanket. Enveloping them in a sense of security and vitality. One of his hands slowly traced her spine leaving a trail of fire behind. His cheek pressed against the top of her head. She felt safe...and wanted. A heady feeling that she could sense herself beginning to crave even more. Her hand tangled in the hair, her fingers lightly scraping the back of his neck. 

 "Say something in Spanish." He whispered, his lips against her scalp. 

 "Gracias por esto ... todo esto. Ha sido la mejor noche de mi vida".

 She looked back up at him, hoping to convey without words what she said. As she lifted her head up, their eyes locked. Tension filled the empty space around them, pulling them closer. For a split second, his eyes drifted to her lips and back up. Her heartbeat began racing anew. Slowly, as if waiting for her to turn away, his head tilted towards hers, his hands gripping her just a little tighter. His breath fanned across her face, warming her inside and out. She swore her heart was going to beat out of her chest. His nose brushed hers, an almost timid action that drew a smile from her. He chuckled silently then somehow pulled her even closer. She closed her eyes, a gasp escaping her when she felt the faintest touch of his lips on the corner of her mouth. 

 "Hey! Hey, you kids! What ya doin’ with my car?!" 

 All the tension evaporated like rain drops under the scorching sun. 

 "Shit...c'mon!" He grabbed her hand and started running away. Holding on tight, she ran next to him, as well as she could while wearing heels. The yells of the car's owner soon a distant sound behind them. 

 Finally, they stopped two streets later. He let go of her hand, running his hands through his hair and pacing. She leaned against the brick wall, hand over her mouth, giggles spilling forth between gasps of air. Never in her life had she done anything like this. She closed her eyes as the giggles turned into full-body laughter. One hand covered her mouth and the other wrapped around her own waist to try and contain the sound. This night was nothing like she expected but it only seemed to get better and better. This newfound revelry of youthful zeal, this silly recklessness...she wanted more and more of it. 

 When the laughter dissolved into small chuckles, she wiped her eyes as she opened them, hoping her make-up had not smudged too much. Not that she particularly cared in the moment.

 What she saw standing before her killed the laughter on her tongue. 

 Bucky stood just at arm's length, staring at her like she was the stars in the heavens. 

 In a single step, he crowded her against the brick wall. "Elana…" he growled, voice low, and it might have been the most exhilarating sound she had ever heard. One of his hands cupped the back of her head, as he lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was gentle, their lips just pressed together. A soft pressure that made her melt into his arms. 

 He leaned back to press his forehead against hers. His breath just as shaky as hers, both still breathing hard from their run. 

 "That was my first kiss." She blurted out, immediately regretting the words once they escaped. 

 He leaned back to look her in the eye. "Really?"

 She shrugged nervously. "Not many fellas lining up to kiss a girl like me."

 "Their loss, doll face." He smirked, running a thumb over her bottom lip. "May I have the honor of your second kiss ever?"

 She giggled and nodded. 

 This time when their lips touched, it felt like more. The first was like licking the spoon used after mixing cookie dough. A taste of what was to come. The second kiss was eating warm cookies right out of the oven and practically ascending to heaven. 

 His lips slanted over hers perfectly, as if they were formed just for her. Their mouths moved in tandem, picking up speed. No longer were the kisses sweet and gentle. His tongue traced her bottom lip and she willingly opened her mouth to receive it like a present. These kisses were all-consuming and fiery. It was as if his touch seared into her soul, leaving an imprint there for all eternity. 

 She knew right away when she met Bucky Barnes, he was trouble. He was the kind of man her mother warned her about. The kind to sweep her off her feet and make her forget the world around her. He was kind, charming and so full of life. Yet she knew even as she was wrapped in his arms, lips pressed against his, that there was one truth that would haunt her. Even if she ignored it for now. That truth would never leave. So she overlooked it, sinking deeper and deeper into his kisses and embrace. Drowning herself in him. With her back pressed against the wall, her hands tangled in his hair and mouths devouring one another, she had never felt more alive. 

 Tonight, she would choose the fire he poured into her. Tonight, she wanted to enjoy life without fear. Tonight, she wanted to pretend that this night would never end. To thrive in this feeling of passion and life, that nothing could go wrong. 

 For the truth was one day, he was bound to break her heart.

[newtedison]

my thoughts on the crank palace

i touched about this a bit on twitter (@newtedison_) but i figured i would Try and touch on my points more here (spoilers obv) again, its sort of lengthy

1. im gonna start with talking about the ending because i need to get it out of the way. either i havent read the books in a while and i forgot some canon (which could very well be true, i literally forgot that Bliss was a thing) or this ending makes no sense and is (somehow) setting up for a tdc sequel? so first off, newt was shot in the Head with a Bullet and somehow didnt immediately die? i know that that can happen in real life but it just seems so unlikely that not only would he not die, but he would survive long enough for someone from WCKD to transport him back to their labs and try to revive him. and who the fuck was he talking to? did thomas get newt’s journal at some point and i just dont remember? like i said, either im forgetting stuff or this ending doesnt make sense and is setting up a sequel which...i’ll get to later

2. why was this written? like, what was the point? i understand that this wasnt going to be all sunshine and rainbows but i feel like i was reading torture porn. like, literally all that happens is newt gets tortured (which is described in detail) by WCKD soldiers, has bouts of insane-fueled rage where he KILLS MULTIPLE PEOPLE, and then he dies. ??? what did this contribute to the canon? what was this trying to accomplish? truthfully, i never really wanted a newt-POV...well, anything except for maybe those little nuggets he wrote some time ago. but even if i HAD wanted a newt-POV novella, this is not what i would have wanted. he KNOWS that newt is almost universally the most loved character in this franchise. you can tell because he constantly uses him as a way to get fans in his good graces again. so why on earth would he take that character that so many people love and write a novella where its torture porn and a descent into madness before death? i am not interested in that At All. i’ve read fics (and even written a drabble) where newt is a Crank, and those were more respectful and easier to read than tcp. the parts where newt is having bouts of the Flare were literally exhausting to read; it was described in such vivid and torturous detail that it made me sick reading it. and it didnt help that newt is a character i care a lot about. i didn’t need to know what becoming a Crank felt like. the way it was described in the other books (and even the movies) told me everything i needed to know. the way thomas and everyone found newt at the crank palace in tdc and hes described as obviously not well, but not knowing what exactly happened to him...thats good enough on its own. the mystery of what exactly newt had to endure is part of what gives his journey more emotional depth. not everything needs to be written out and explained. not every gap needs to be filled in. 

3. me saying “the characterization felt off” is going to make some people roll their eyes because ‘duh, sami, the characterization will be off because he’s going insane’ to which i say...exactly. we weren’t really reading a newt-POV novella, were we? even if he isn’t past the Gone in the beginning, hes clearly not the same person we knew him as. the whole novella felt like an uncanny valley situation; i knew i was supposed to be reading about newt, but it felt like i was reading about someone else who looked like him. and that is part of what made this such a disconnect and made me lose interest at parts. not only that, but the world building and lore is inconsistent. newt makes a comment about how it used to rain in the glade, and apparently (as ive been told) that is simply not true. keisha having somehow working cell phone that magically connects her to her family also doesnt make sense. how would they have each others’ numbers? what are the odds that they BOTH found working cell phones in an apocalypse? i get that its a novella but you cant just throw something that crazy in there as a plot convenience. actually work on your plot and world building in a cohesive way, please. and another thing that doesnt make sense...

4. ...is newt finding out that sonya is his sister. if there was anything i would have wanted from a newt-pov novella, it would have been this. him finding out that not only is sonya his sister, but he already knows her post-WCKD. something that would have made this novella actually captivating, contributing something worthwhile to the canon that i would actually want to read, is if newt found out while in the crank palace that sonya was his sister; the Flare would remove that part of the Slice in his brain, and he would realize it was her. then, knowing that he couldnt go past the Gone before seeing her, he would try to find a way to get back to her. he could learn this after thomas and everyone originally see him, so it could match up with the canon. and then, by the time 250 comes along, hes lost all hope of that actually happening, and lashes out to thomas in a fit of rage. the journey of him trying to find his ACTUAL sister would have meant more to me than the story of keisha and dante. trust me, i love a found family trope as much as the next girl. but this series is FULL of the found family trope. it pretty much is the backbone of the franchise. so to see a blood family dynamic would have been a refreshing change of pace that i actually would have been interested in reading. also, the way that newt DOES find out about sonya is...underwhelming. he just randomly says “you remind me of my sister, sonya” to keisha in the WCKD truck. first of all, sonya is not the name you would actually know her by. you would know her by her birth name (which is lizzy? elizabeth?). second, why does he act like he didnt already meet her in the series? when the WCKD doctor tells him sonya is his sister and is alive, hes so surprised. wouldn’t he have known that already? why is there not more emphasis on the fact he already met her? that would have been a really interesting dynamic to explore, and im sad they didnt

5. the pacing and dialogue of tcp is so dragged out. i remember specifically there was a section where newt goes to talk to keisha after she starts abandoning dante, and i swear to god there was a page and a half of text before anything ACTUALLY happened or anyone ACTUALLY said anything. dashner described a launcher at one point as “the energy dependent electric firing projectile device.” that’s SIX words to describe a stun gun. a fucking stun gun! we know what it is! why did you have to use six words??? it just felt like everything was dragged and stretched to the longest it could possibly be and it added to the exhaustion i felt while reading it

6. okay i cant end it without talking about newtmas. its very obvious by now that newtmas is a VERY large part of this fanbase. its clearly the most popular ship and what keeps a lot of people interested in this series. even the marketing team for the MOVIES used newtmas as a advertising tactic (i.e.; using thomas and newt standing face to face as a thumbnail for the trailer, emphasizing newtmas based questions in interviews, even making a fucking facebook memories video for them. yes that last one is real). not only does dashner use newt as a way to lure fans in; he also uses newtmas. the parts that were sprinkled into this were so obvious that it didnt feel authentic. i cant speak for the original trilogy; i dont know the culture around ships back then, and i dont know how much it influenced his writing at the time. but the scenes in those books felt more genuine than tcp. by genuine i mean; he wrote scenes without a relationship in mind, but the chemistry had noticeable subtext that, while unintentional, was largely agreed upon by the larger audience. the parts of newtmas he added into tcp felt artificial and forced, likely as a way for people to take snippets of and use as a free marketing tool for him. one example you might have already seen; “he had already gotten used to his post-thomas, post-WCKD life.” the fact that dashner SPECIFICALLY used the phrase “post-thomas” rather than “post-his friends” or something similar shows that he is using newtmas as a hook on purpose. not only that, but to make newt’s last thoughts as he died “tommy. tommy will understand...” is...wow. first of all, i never wanted to know what newt’s dying thoughts were, but thanks, i guess? and second, when we all initially thought newt died underneath thomas with a gun to his head, i was pretty much inferred that newts last thoughts would probably be about thomas; they would sort of have to be, given the circumstances. so adding that in gives me the same feeling that “i’m coming for you, newt” at the end of the fever code gave me. not as offensive, but written very much on purpose. and the ending is implying that there will somehow be a sequel where thomas gets newt’s journal from...someone. at this point, i can only think that this sequel will retroactively make newtmas canon somehow. now that newt has been confirmed as gay, it could happen. which brings me to my last point...

7. hearing dashner confirm newt is gay was already mind-boggling before. now that i’ve read the crank palace...im angry. im very angry. i think its safe to say that newt is the character that suffers the most in this series. you can argue with me but hes definitely high on the list, if not #1. so; you take this character. you give him a horribly sad arc in the original trilogy, then decide to expand upon it and tell us, your largely QUEER fanbase, exactly how painful and torturous his last days were, in detail. and then you tell us he’s gay. something that is never mentioned in the canon, only in an offhanded reply to a tweet of someone calling you out. on a base level, i can understand why people would be happy. representation (i guess), seeing themselves in the character, having their headcanons be confirmed. great. but what i see is you telling your largely queer fanbase “hey, you see the only confirmed gay character? im going to literally write torture porn about him before killing him off and offer it to you like im providing a service to your community.” how fucked up is that? “hey, kids, if youre gay, you WILL be violently tortured and become violent and a danger to the ones you love. then you will die and your love will never be reciprocated.” what a message! and if he DOES end up retroactively making newtmas “canon” in some weird sequel...i will start foaming at the mouth. THIS is an example of how not all queer representation is good or genuine.

i’ve definitely forgotten some points but this is long enough already. let me know if you agree or if theres anything else you want to add! im interested in what you guys think

(8. I JUST REMEMBERED!!! if WCKD needed to study newt so bad bc sonya is his sister and is immune while he isnt, why did they let him run around the crank palace in the first place??? you cant test his vitals or anything you’re literally just watching him. what is the point????)

[hopelikethemoon]

Dinner With Friends (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Dinner With Friends Rating: PG-13 Length: 3500 Warnings: Family Fluff and extremely mild angst.  Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. And release order here. Set in January 1998. Shout to the one and only Tiernan for supplying the twist in this chapter.  Summary: Reader and Javier host the Murphys for dinner.

Taglist:  @grapemama​  @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @hiscyarika @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale  @roxypeanut @just-add-butter @snivellusim @amarvelousmandalorian @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper @awesomefandomsunited​ @ah-callie​ @swhiskeys​ @lady-tano​ @beskar-droids​ @space-floozy @cable-kenobi​ @longitud-de-onda​ @cool-ultra-nerd​ @himbopoes​ @findhimfives​ @pedrosdoll​ @seeking-a-great--perhaps​ @frietiemeloen​ @arrowswithwifi​ @random066​ @uncomicalhumour​ @heather-lynn​ @domino-oh-damn​ @cyarikaaa​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl​  @yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx @punkass-potato @coredrive @pascalesque @theduchessofkirkcaldy @queenquazar (if I forget to tag you, I’m sorry)

“Stevie!” You called out when she started barking loudly — Josie had ensnared her into a game with Olivia and Emily and her patience seemed to be wearing as thin as your own. 

“Did you really have to name her Stevie?”

Steve questioned, shaking his head slowly as he leaned against the kitchen counter and watched you press the button on the top of the lettuce spinner. 

“I love Stevie Nicks.”

He pointed at you, “And that is bullshit.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re just jealous that Sofía isn’t Stevie.” 

Steve glared, “Well if it starts with ‘S’.” 

“I’m sorry, do you have an issue with our daughter being named for Javier’s late mother?” You questioned, folding your arms across your chest briefly, before you emptied out the tossed lettuce into a larger bowl. 

“Not when you put it that way.” Steve huffed, shaking his head as he took a swig of beer. “How are… things going?”

You glanced over your shoulder at him, “The drought was quenched almost five months ago. Thank God.” 

Steve blanched, “I don’t need to know about that.”

“You asked.”

He narrowed his eyes, “About how things are going.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. 

You laughed, shrugging your shoulders. “I’m doing better. There’s still difficult days, but I work through them.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “And Javier is good at helping me.”

“He’s always been more than willing to give you a hand.” Steve said with a slow shake of his head. “The two of you were inseparable.”

You felt a faint blush rise to your cheeks. “I know. And we still are.” You grabbed a handful of freshly washed radishes and started cutting them down into smaller pieces for the salad. “He’s still just as stubborn about everything.”

“Shit. Isn’t he?” Steve snorted, rocking his head to the side.”I don’t know how you put up with that grumpy son-of—“

“Mommy!” Josie called out from the threshold of the kitchen. “Mommmmmy.”

You sat the knife aside and turned back to look at her, hands on your hips. “What’s up?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Dinner is almost ready.” You assured her. “Why don’t you go check on daddy outside?”

“Okay mommy.” Josie beamed at you. “Does daddy have sissy?”

“Aunt Connie does, rugrat.” Steve told her, “She’s out in the backyard with your father.”

“Thank you.” She said politely before leaving through the back door, followed by Emily and Olivia. 

“She gets away with everything doesn’t she?”

“With Javier? Oh, yeah. I’m the strict parent. Always.” You shook your head with a laugh. You didn’t actually mind filling the role of the strict parent, mostly because Javier was a marshmallow of a father.

“I wouldn’t have guessed that.” He remarked as he took a drink of  his beer, “You’ve always been the fun one. Javier? I didn’t know that fun was in his vocabulary.”

You rolled your eyes, “For the record, he was actually very fun in Colombia.”

“Really?” Steve gave you a skeptical look. “I think that might be the rose colored glasses talking.” He gestured to you with the bottle. “You were the positive influence he needed.” 

“Yeah,” You agreed. “He would’ve worked himself to death, if I hadn’t been there.” You scooped up the radishes you’d cut, tossing them into the bowl of lettuce. “Can you get the croutons out of the oven?”

“Look how fancy you are. Making homemade croutons.” Steve teased as he grabbed an oven mitt and pulled the pan out of the oven. 

“Josie will only eat a salad if there’s croutons in it.” You explained to him. “Javier hates the store bought croutons.” You grabbed the carton of cherry tomatoes, flipping the plastic lid up so you could rinse them off under the sink. 

You glanced back towards the backdoor as it slid open, a parade of tiny humans reemerging, followed by Connie and Javier. 

“Hot food, coming through.” Javier warned, clicking his tongue against his teeth to get the girls to move faster. “Come on kiddos.” He shooed them out from under foot as he veered towards the kitchen counter and sat the two plates of grilled burgers down. “Ever try to keep three girls away from a grill?”

You pursed your lips thoughtfully as you turned to face him, tilting your head to the side. “I tried it once, which is why I sent them out to you.” You grinned at him.

“It’s fucking hard.” He chuckled before he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “Thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome.” You used the dish towel and swatted him in the ass with it. He caught you by the belt loop as you stepped past him, pulling you in for another kiss.

“Need any help?” Connie questioned as she cradled Sofía to her chest, looking between the two of you. 

You shook your head, “You brought the potato salad and you’ve kept her occupied so I could get everything else ready.” 

“Do you have ranch?” She questioned as she looked towards the bowl of salad, “It’s the only way we can get Olivia to even humor eating something green.” 

Javier nodded, “Josie likes it on broccoli.” He stepped around you and pulled open the fridge to grab the bottle of ranch, as well as the other salad dressing options. 

“How do you get her to eat raw broccoli?” Connie questioned. “It’s an uphill battle to get anything green into the girls.” 

“Josie likes food.”

You rolled your eyes, “Josie will eat anything Javier asks her to eat.” 

He shrugged, “It’s true.” 

“I wish Steve had that effect on the girls.” Connie laughed softly, “He can get them to eat plenty of candy.”

You snorted. “He loves his Werthers.” 

She widened her eyes dramatically, “I swear to God, every pocket is full of wrappers!” 

Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth, “Should’ve done the patch, rather than going cold turkey.” 

“That would make sense,” Connie made a face. “Oh well.” She bounced Sofía in her arms as she started to wake up, “Did you see California is set to ban smoking inside bars?”

“They’ll just ignore it,” You countered, grabbing a tray and putting the salad and the salad bowls on it. “But it’s progress.” 

The three of you headed into the dining room, where Steve had managed to corral the girls into their chairs. 

“I don’t want a burger, mommy.” Josie complained as Javier sat the plate of burgers down on the table. 

“You’re not eating a burger, babydoll. You’re having a soy one with me.” You promised her, pointing to the second plate that contained two burgers that were considerably thinner than the actual hamburgers. 

“I want chicken.” 

“Princesa, you’re eating what we made for you.” Javier warned her, sitting down beside her, across the table from you. 

“Do we have everything?” 

“French fries?” Olivia questioned.

“Your mother made potato salad,” Steve told her, pointing to the Tupperware tub. 

You sat down beside Connie, taking Sofía from her so you could get her settled into her highchair beside you. You used your fork to grab a potato out of the dish of potato salad, plopping it onto Sofía’s highchair tray. You smashed it up with the fork, “You wanna try a bit of potato?”

Sofía seemed skeptical. She reached down and squished the potato between her fingers. 

You tapped your finger against your lips, “You eat it, sunshine.” 

Sofía gurgled and threw herself back against her seat, smearing the potato all over her face.

“Close enough.” Javier chuckled, shaking his head as he slathered mayonnaise on a bun for Josie. 

“More!” She urged, hanging on his arm. 

“Josie.” You gave her a look across the table. 

Sofía kicked her feet against the highchair as she leaned over and tried to reach the tub of potato salad that was well outside of her reach. “You like that?” You questioned, grabbing another potato and putting it on her tray, smashing it up for her again. 

She dramatically hummed her delight. 

“Look at that, she’s not always a grumpy baby.” Steve remarked with a short laugh. “I worried she was a carbon copy of her father.” 

Javier glared at him, subtly flipping him off so Josie couldn’t catch him.

You worked on fixing your own burger, glancing around the table to make sure everyone had what they needed. You really hated playing host. An ideal situation was a box of pizza thrown in the center of the table for everyone to fend for themselves. But Steve and Connie were such gracious hosts, you felt like you had to do the same. 

Javier had lived on grilled cheese, whiskey, and cigarettes for the majority of his bachelor years. He wasn’t one to complain. He wasn’t actually half bad in the kitchen when he put a little effort into it. 

“How’s things at the hospital?” Javier questioned Connie in between bites of burger. 

Connie grabbed her napkin and wiped her mouth off before answering, “Good. I’m not working as many double shifts as I was there for a while. I’ve actually had days off that felt like days off. No catching up on sleep.” 

“With my transition out of the DEA, it’s been nice to have her around more.” Steve added. “Hun, did you tell her about that lady you’re working with?”

You arched a brow, looking at Connie expectantly. 

“Oh! I totally forgot,” She laughed, taking a sip of water before she continued. “We’ve got a new medical social worker working on the floor that looks so much like you. I did a double take the first time I saw her. Do you have a secret younger sister?”

“Nope.” You shook your head, reaching for your bottle of beer and taking a swig. “Is my doppelgänger nice at least?”

“An absolute sweetheart.” Connie said with a grin, taking another bite of her burger before adding, “She’s actually from Medellín.”

Javier dropped his fork, causing it to clamp against his plate. You shot him a curious look, a brow arching upwards. 

“Colombia?” He questioned, taking a drink of beer to keep from choking on the bite of burger he’d swallowed nearly whole. 

“Is there another one?”

Steve cleared his throat, “You hadn’t mentioned she was from Colombia.” He looked between you and Javier with a knowing look. 

“I believe she came here as a political refugee. I didn’t ask for specifics.” Connie shrugged, “Why?”

The look on Javier’s face made the lightbulb come on. Holy shit. 

You leaned an elbow against the table, turning towards Connie. “Her name wouldn’t happen to be Elena, would it?”

Connie’s brows shot upwards, “Yeah! Wait — do you know her?”

“Some of us better than others.” Steve muttered under his breath, much to Javier’s horror. 

“Yeah.” You nodded your head slowly, “She was great. I’m glad she’s gotten herself out of that situation.” You looked towards Javier then, smiling a little. “I guess that promise of safety had follow through.” 

Javier rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly, “I had no idea she was in Miami.” 

“It’s fine, Javi.” You assured him, “It’s a small world.” You watched him as he nodded his head slowly, staring down at his plate of food. Of all the people that the two of you had known in Colombia ⁠— the sheer irony that Elena had made her way to Miami was… something else. 

“I feel like I’m missing something.” Connie remarked, looking between the three of you curiously. “What am I missing?”

“Not in front of the kids.” Steve stated with a shake of his head. 

“Daddy, you gotta eat your veggies.” Josie said sweetly, pushing the bowl of salad towards Javier. “Don’t you wanna be big and strong like me?”

“Of course I do, princesa.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Javier, it’s fine.” You said firmly, shifting in your seat so you could brush your foot against his leg beneath the table. “Don’t get yourself bent out of shape over this.”

“I’m not getting ‘bent out of shape’.” He shot back, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he stared at you. “I just can’t believe… of all the cities.” 

“What am I missing?” Connie questioned, nudging you in the arm.

You sighed, chewing on the inside of your bottom lip. “Elena was one of Javi’s informants. When was that?” ‘89 to ‘92?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Steve agreed with you, pushing his potato salad around on his plate. 

Javier was so tense you could see the corded muscles of his throat as he stared straight ahead at you. 

“So she was an informant informant?” Connie questioned, brows furrowed as she looked towards you.

“Yeah.” You nodded, “And it’s not nearly as big of a deal as Javier is acting like it is.” 

Javier raked his fingers through his hair, sighing heavily as he sank back in his chair. He scratched at his lightly scruffy jaw, not quite meeting your gaze as he looked across the table at you. “It’s a big deal to me.” 

Connie looked between the two of you, “I really didn’t mean to start something.” 

“You didn’t.” You assured her, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “Hey Javi, did you leave the grill on?” 

He gritted his teeth together before he gave a stiff nod, scooting his chair back and getting up from the table. 

“Daddy, where are you going?” Josie asked with her mouth full of her burger.

“Daddy left the grill on.” Javier offered, meeting your gaze as you got up from the table. 

“Uh-oh!” Josie said with a sing-song voice, entirely oblivious to the situation. 

“We’ll hold the fort down,” Steve promised you as you followed Javier through the kitchen and out the backdoor into the yard. 

He walked a few paces ahead of you, before he stopped with his back to you. You considered staying rooted to the spot where you stood, but instead you moved towards him and curled your arms around his middle, resting your cheek against his back. “Javi,” You started, trying to keep your voice steady. “This is such a non-issue.” 

“For you.” He retorted, resting his hands over yours. “I feel like every time we take one step forward, something happens that sets us back. Every fucking time, baby.” 

“But it’s a non-issue,” You assured him, squeezing him a little tighter. “I liked Elena the handful of times we worked together. I’m thrilled that she’s thriving. Hell, I’m glad she’s here. Miami isn’t so bad.” 

Javier turned in your embrace, his hands settling at your hips. “I didn’t know she was here.” 

“I didn’t think you did.” You reached up and cupped his cheek, brushing your thumb over the rise of his cheekbone as you met his gaze. “Look, I know that’s a period of history you’re not particularly fond of, but… It doesn’t bother me. At all.” You tilted your head to the side, “I thought we were working past this.” You gestured between the two of you. “There’s no other shoe waiting to fall.”

His Adam’s bobbed as he looked down at you, “I just can’t fucking believe she’s in Miami.” He shook his head slowly. “Of all the goddamn places.”

“I think she had a cousin here.” You recalled, “Shit, that was a long time ago.”

Javier nodded his head in agreement, “Yeah.” He ran his hands over your hips slowly, “Last time I saw her was right after you told me…” 

“Did you tell her?” Your brows furrowed. 

“I did, yeah.” He recalled, “I mean she knew about you…”

“I know she did.” You reached you and played with the hair that sat against his forehead. “I thought you didn’t tell anyone.”

He shrugged a shoulder, “It slipped out. I figured it didn’t really matter that she knew. She was happy for us.”

You smiled fondly, “I think we should meet up with her.”

“What?”

“Catch up, see how she is…”

“Baby—“

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” You raised your eyebrows. “Hell, she might not even want to see either of us.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I just think it’s too ironic that she’s working at the same hospital as Connie.” 

“I’m not going.”

“That’s fine, I’ll go then.” You rose up on your toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. “You need to stop worrying so much, Javi.” You brushed your nose against his as you raked your fingers through his hair at his temples. “I trust you.” 

Javier curled his arm around your waist, keeping you close to him. “What’d I do to deserve you, baby?” 

“Still trying to figure that one out.” You teased, kissing the tip of his nose. “Come on. Connie’s going to be stressing that she’s single-handedly destroyed our relationship if we don’t get back inside.”

“She was mortified.” He chuckled.

“Not nearly as much as you were.”

“I was praying for the earth to open up and swallow me whole.” 

You rolled your eyes. “You felt that way in the sex sho—”

Javier cut you off, covering your mouth with his hand. “Don’t.” He warned you. 

You poked him in the stomach and when he didn’t remove his hand, you swept your tongue over the palm of his hand. That worked. He quickly pulled his hand away, wiping his hand off on the front of his jeans.

“If you want to shut me up, you’re going to have to wait until we’re alone.” You told him, putting your hands on your hips, before walking backwards towards the back door. “But until then, we have guests to entertain.” 

“It’s just Steve and Connie.” Javier followed after you, his arms crossed across his chest. 

“Who are guests we’re entertaining.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “And you’re going to finish your food, otherwise Josie is going to believe she can skip dinner too.” 

“Fine.” He huffed quietly, shaking his head as he slid the sliding door shut behind him. “But we’re dropping this conversation. I don’t wanna talk about an informant in front of the girls.” 

You gave a mock salute, “Sure thing.” 

Javier caught you by the belt loop, pulling you towards him. “I mean it.”

“I’m not going to bring it up again.” You promised, curling your fingers around the back of his neck. “As much as I love torturing you I’m not cruel, Javier.” 

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Thank you.” 

You smiled up at him, “No ‘thank yous’ needed, babe.” You took his hand into yours, interlacing your fingers as he headed back for the dining room. Steve and Connie had managed to keep the kids entertained in your absence. 

“She’s had about a full little potato.” Connie told you as she gestured to Sofía, “I think most of it got into her mouth.” 

“She gets really into her food.” You chuckled, releasing Javier’s hand as you both returned to your own seats. 

“Where’d you go daddy?” Josie asked, tilting her head to the side as she licked the dressing off a piece of radish, only to dip it into her salad bowl again. 

“Like I told you,” He reached over and smoothed his hand over the top of her head. “I left the grill on.” 

Connie gave you a wary look as you picked up your burger and took a bite. “So…”

“Everything’s fine.” You assured her, looking towards Steve then, “So have you heard any rumors in the DEA about the article?”

“Oh, I have.” He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek and shook his head. “I hope you don’t plan on looking for a job in the federal government.” 

You feigned offense, “If I ever did, you’d know I had been abducted by aliens.” It was still bizarre to consider that you had spent so much of your early adulthood working towards a role in the very institution you wanted to pull down. 

“Baby, you know I have a class of students that would love to see you teaching.” Javier pointed out, beaming with pride. “End of last semester, I had her come in and give a lecture for the department.” 

You rolled your eyes, “It was a fifteen-minute talk.”

“With a forty-minute question and answer section.” Javier insisted, his eyes meeting yours with an adoration that warmed your heart. 

“I would only disappoint them,” You licked a drop of mayonnaise off your thumb as you sat your soy burger back down. “They already think you’re a tyrant when it comes to papers and grading.” 

Steve laughed, “Isn’t that because you do most of the marking for him.”

“And I go easy on them.” You grinned. “My teachers didn’t take any corners with me and I worked my ass off to get here.” 

“I don’t know if I can picture you as a teacher,” Connie said, giving you a once over. “No, I can’t.”

“Thankfully,” Javier started with a teasing tone. “They’re college students and not children.”

“And what does that mean?” You questioned, looking in between the two of them. “I am a delight.” 

“You certainly lectured us a lot. Back in the day.” Steve joined in. 

“Was I wrong?” 

“Rarely.” He agreed. 

“Well, we can't all be Professor Peña, now can we?” You quipped, nudging Javier’s foot under the table. 

He scratched at his jaw, shaking his head. “No, we can’t.”

“But I’m always interested in dropping in to torment you and Monica.”

“Do the other students know that you’ve all but adopted her?” Steve questioned. 

You started to answer, but Olivia was quick to announce, “I’m adopted!” 

Josie turned towards Javier, “Am I adopted?” 

“No princesa, you weren’t adopted.” Javier assured her as she grabbed at his arm. 

“Was sissy adopted?”

“No. Remember your mommy grew her in her belly?” Javier reminded her, giving Connie a sympathetic smile, before his eyes flickered towards your face. “Out of the mouths of babes.” 

“Seriously.” You laughed as you shook your head, reaching for your beer. “To answer your question, no. They don’t know.”

“Trying to keep things unbiased.” Javier explained as he scooped Josie into his lap, much to her delight. “She actually earned herself a B- on a test this week she should’ve aced.”

“You didn’t tell me that.” You frowned. “Why?”

“Her attentions a little stretched right now.”

“Of course it is.” You rolled your eyes, “Oh to be young and in love.” 

“Old and in love isn’t too bad, is it?” He countered with a wink.

You grinned, “It’s pretty good too.” 

[winchester-fantasies]

What We Want

Summary: After a night of drinking, you find yourself divulging secrets you’ve never told anyone else, leading Dean to take matters into his own hands.

Word Count: 3415

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, fluff, swearing

Pairing: Dean x Plus Size!Reader

A/N: This was written for a request by @rainbowunicorns92 : Hey babe! I hope you had a very merry Christmas and a wonderful new year! I’m so excited for you to come back that I couldn’t hold on to my request any more haha! But I was wondering if you are okay writing a dean x plus size reader where she is super awkward and shy, and at a the bunker one night they get super toasty drunk and he gets her to open up about her desires and it’s to have very hot steamy sex, and they do it? Hot smut? I’m so sorry being weird writing this stuff Im a lot! 💜💜💜 Thanks for your request! I’m so happy to be back and I hope you like it!! ❤❤

Winchester Fantasies’ Masterlist

“No, Dean, I already told you,” you said emphatically, crossing your arms. 

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Dean implored. “Just one drink.” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, his green eyes attempting the puppy dog look his younger brother had perfected.

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep the goofy grin threatening to spread across your lips. Even now you couldn’t help but think he was the handsomest man alive. “Fine,” you huffed in defeat. “But only one!”

Dean's eyes lit up and a wide grin spread across his face. “Awesome! Been saving a bottle of Blanton’s,” he said, leading the way into the kitchen. 

“Too bad Sammy decided to ditch us then, I guess,” you chuckled.

“And for some museum thing,” Dean scoffed, taking a couple of glasses from the shelf. He reached into the cupboard, taking out a bottle of the amber liquid. “I mean who does that?” he asked incredulously.

“Sam, apparently, ” you said, perching on one of the chairs as Dean popped open the lid and poured a bit into each glass.

“Yeah,” Dean huffed. “Well, just means more of the good stuff for us,” he said, lightly shaking each glass as he walked over to where you sat.

He handed you one of them before taking a seat in the chair across from you. You looked at the bourbon sitting in the bottom of your glass almost suspiciously. 

Dean chuckled and you looked up to find him staring at you, a smirk on his lips. “You okay, sweetheart?” he asked, taking a sip of his alcohol.

“Yeah,” you said, glancing back to your glass. “I just…. Well, I...I��ve never had anything stronger than a beer,” you admitted, a blush rising to your cheeks.

“What!” Dean exclaimed, nearly spewing his drink. “You’re kidding, right?”

You shook your head. “It’s true,” you said. “I guess I’m not...adventurous when it comes to alcohol,” you added sheepishly.

“You’ll like this,” he reassured. “Smooth, with a hint of vanilla.”

You cocked an eyebrow at him before looking down at your drink once more. You cautiously lifted the glass to your mouth, tipping it back till the liquid met your lips. You took a hesitant sip; it stung your throat and made your eyes water as it slid down your throat, your stomach burning as it settled. A coughing fit followed your swallow, Dean chuckling at your reaction. “Holy shit!” you wheezed, finally catching your breath.

“Strong enough for ya?” Dean chuckled, taking another sip of his.

You gave him a thin-lipped smile. “A little too strong,” you said, but nevertheless you took another, more careful sip, this one not as intense.

“So,” Dean said, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on the table. “How’s, uh, what’s-his-name?”

“Greg?” you asked.

“Yeah, that’s it. Greg,” Dean said. “Haven’t seen him around in awhile.”

“Well…” you said, watching the bourbon swish around the tumbler as you shifted it absentmindedly in your hand. “We actually broke up,” you said, meeting his gaze.

Dean frowned. “What?” he asked incredulously. “When?”

“About a month ago,” you admitted, your lips forming into a tight-lipped smirk.

“And you didn’t tell me?” Dean asked, sounding almost wounded.

“I...I,” you stuttered, taken aback by Dean’s intense line of questioning. “You and Sam were busy with this whole Lucifer thing, and I...I didn’t want to bother you.” You looked back to your lap, feeling embarrassed and like you’d divulged something you shouldn’t have.

“(Y/N),” Dean said, his voice soft. You looked back up just as Dean sat up, placing his feet on the concrete floor of the kitchen, and leaned forward. He took your hand in his, the warmth of his fingers sending shivers of delight shooting up your arm and through your body. “You could never bother me, sweetheart,” he said, his eyes soulful and reassuring. 

You swallowed hard and nodded, holding back the tears that threatened to spill. Dean withdrew his hand from yours, causing you to ache for his touch once more. But you just sat there, watching as he got comfortable once again. You wanted to make a move, you really did. Maybe if you weren’t so damn shy. Anger coursed through you and without really thinking, you grabbed the bottle of bourbon and took two big gulps. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dean said, reaching for the bottle and taking it from your hand. “Slow down there, sweetheart,” he said, with an almost tentative chuckle. “You haven’t even finished what’s in your glass.” 

You glanced to your tumbler on the table, still half full. Heat rose to your cheeks, but whether from embarrassment or the hard liquor you’d just chugged, you didn’t know. “Sorry,” you said sheepishly. “I just….” You shrugged, leaving the sentence unfinished. 

“Hey, I get,” Dean said. “Breakups are rough. But you can’t just drown yourself in alcohol and hope it’ll all go away.” Dean paused for a moment then huffed our a harsh chuckle. “Not that I’m one to talk. But you get what I’m saying.”

“Yeah,” you said with a nod and small smile. Truth was, you hadn’t taken those gulps to forget Greg. You’d taken them to forget how much you liked Dean and to tamp down any hope at ever being with him. You already knew what kind of girls he liked. You found yourself sucking in your stomach and subconsciously rubbing your hands up and down your ample thighs. You weren’t anything like those girls.

“You wanna talk about it?” Dean asked softly.

You were jerked out of your thoughts at the sound of his voice, and when you looked at him, you realized with chagrin, that you’d completely zoned out. 

“Oh, uh, no, that’s okay,” you chuckled nervously, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You picked up your glass and took another, larger sip. Your mind was starting to get a little fuzzy and you knew you had the start of a buzz going on.

“You know you can tell me anything,” Dean said, his eyes searching your face. He seemed completely unaffected by the bourbon. How could he hold his alcohol so well? Maybe it had to do with the fact you’d already ingested nearly half the bottle on your own and he hadn’t. 

“Yeah, I know,” you said. “It’s just…” you continued, your words slurring slightly at the end. “I never really felt like I could be myself.”

“How so?” Dean asked, throwing back the last of his bourbon before reaching for the bottle and pouring himself another glass, this time nearly halfway full.

“I don’t know,” you said vaguely. “Just...well, in a lot of different areas.”

“What kinds of areas?” Dean asked.

You were about to answer but stopped, your eyes narrowing. “What’s with the game of 20 Questions?” you asked suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Dean chuckled. “Just trying to help a friend get over her breakup.” He took another sip - a gulp really - a smirk on his face.

“I am over it,” you said, fiddling with your glass. 

“Uh-huh,” Dean commented, disbelieving. “Then why are downing this like it’s water?” he asked, gesturing to the bottle.

“It’s just…there’s more than one reason, okay?” you said, feeling vulnerable and not wanting to divulge just how you were feeling about him.

Dean held up his hands. “Hey, easy. I get it, sweetheart,” he said gently. “I won’t press you.”

He went back to drinking and you to staring at the table, an awkward silence falling between the two of you. You glanced up at him, finding him looking at anything but you. Finally you sighed.

“To answer your question,” you said, Dean’s head jerking up to meet your gaze. “Like I said, there were a lot of different areas. I just never felt like I could really tell him what I wanted...what I needed.” You looked to the ground for a moment, your cheeks reddening again. You couldn’t believe what you were about to tell him. Maybe it had to do with the liquid courage coursing through your veins. “Es...especially in...in the, uh, in the bedroom,” you said, your voice tiny.

Dean remained silent and you found yourself berating yourself at how stupid you’d been. Of course Dean didn’t want to hear about your sex life or your sexual frustrations. He was just trying to help you through your breakup. And you’d just overstepped your bounds - big time.

Your cheeks grew redder as you downed the last of your bourbon. “Maybe if I wasn’t so damn shy,” you chuckled awkwardly, trying to make light of the situation. “But enough about all that…” you said, but you were suddenly cut off by Dean who sat forward.

You chanced a glance up into his face, his eyes once again searching yours. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice no more than a whisper. “What you were too afraid to tell Greg…. What was it?”

You swallowed hard, your stomach doing somersaults as you stared at each other. “It...it,” you stuttered. “I...I wanted to have, um, to have hot and...steamy sex,” you said, rushing the last of your words and burying your face in your hands. “I know how stupid it sounds,” you said, shame lacing your words. 

“Hey,” Dean said, scooting back from the table. His hand came to rest on your hand gently. “(Y/N), look at me,” he said, his gruff voice gentle. He pulled your hands away from your face, you finding him crouched down in front of you. “It’s not stupid,” he said.

“Yes, it is,” you said. “You know what? Just...just forget I even said anything. It’s really not a big deal,” you added with a chuckle, getting up from your chair.

You were about to head out the kitchen entrance when Dean grabbed your wrist, spinning you around and pinning you firmly against the wall. 

“It’s not stupid,” he repeated. “In fact, it’s really fucking hot.” 

“R...really?” you asked, your eyes widening in surprise.

“Yeah,” Dean growled. You stared into his normally moss-colored eyes, now wide and blown with lust. Heat emanated off his body and that’s when you realized just how close he was to you. His chest was pressed to yours, his hands on either side of the wall, keeping you from going anywhere else.

“De...Dean. I...I think maybe…” you started but Dean cut you off.

“Hush,” he said. You swallowed hard as his eyes darted to your mouth, a smirk crossing his lips. He leaned down, his mouth mere inches from your own. “Let me take care of you. Give you everything you want…. Everything you deserve....”

Your breath caught in your throat and you couldn’t help but shudder as arousal settled in your core. “Dean…” you breathed.

That was all it took before Dean gripped your face in his hands and kissed you forcefully. You wrapped your arms around his waist, drawing him closer into you as his fingers weaved into your hair. He nipped at your lower lip and you opened up for him, his tongue finding your own.

You moaned as Dean fisted your hair in his large palm, jerking your head back gently and nipping along your jaw and leaving open-mouthed kisses down your neck and along your collarbone. 

Your hands made their way under his shirt, your fingers ghosting along the soft skin of his hips and up over the muscles of his back. “Dean,” you said again, your chest already heaving as your heart beat erratically. 

“Tell me what you want, baby,” Dean panted, burying his face into the side of your neck and sucking a mark into the sensitive skin.

You shivered at the sensation, your fingers digging into the grooves of his shoulder blades. “You,” you said breathily. “I want you, Dean.”

That was all it took for Dean to spin you around and hoist you up, placing you on the edge of the kitchen table, positioning himself between your thighs. He kissed you passionately, his hands sliding under your shirt, and caressing the soft rolls of your stomach. “Oh, god...Dean,” you moaned, your hands wrapping around his neck as his lips once again found precedence on your neck.

“Fuck, baby,” Dean growled, his hands moving higher, sliding under your bra and kneading the soft flesh of your breasts. “You don’t know how fucking hard you make me,” he groaned. He moved himself further into the apex of your thighs. “Feel that, baby?” he asked, grinding himself against your heated core, his erection prominent. “That’s all for you.”

“Dean...please,” you moaned, rocking your hips along with his, a throaty groan escaping his own throat. 

“I got you, baby. I got you,” he said. He removed his hands from under your shirt, moving them down to the globes of your ass and pulling you almost off the table. He continued to rub himself against you, harder this time. “Feels so good,” he grunted. 

The seam of your jeans pressed into your clit as he shifted just right and you gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders. “Dean,” you panted. “R...right there...right there.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Dean murmured in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Give it to me.”

And you did. You came hard, your hearing muffled as your walls clenched around nothing, your legs locking around his hips as he continued to rut against you. “Aaa, (Y/N),” he said with a stuttering moan as he came, the front of his jeans darkened with cum.

You were both panting as you came down from your highs, hearts beating wildly. “That...that,” you said, your mind racing to describe what you were feeling past the blood rushing to your head.

“Fucking amazing,” Dean finished with a smirk. “And so fucking hot. Could watch you come undone all fucking day.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his words, your laughter quickly turning into a moan as he captured your lips again, his hands resting on your hips. You jerked forward as one of them moved lower, fingers slipping past the waistband of your jeans and into your panties. 

“Wh...what are you doing?” you asked, arousal already starting to build again.

“You really thought I was done with you?” Dean asked, an amused grin on his face. “Baby, I’m only getting started.”

Your stomach clenched at his words and you couldn’t help but whimper as his fingers found your swollen and sensitive clit. You spread your thighs further as his hand slid lower, his middle finger slipping into your sopping hole.

“Holy shit, sweetheart,” Dean breathed. “You’re so fucking wet.” He pumped his finger in and out of you rhythmically, squelching sounds filling the air.

“Dean,” you implored, needing...wanting more. 

“I know, baby, I know,” he said. “Just a few more minutes. I wanna taste you first.”

You nearly came again at his implications. He withdrew his finger from you carefully before reaching for the button on your jeans. You hopped off the table as he helped you undress, his clothes coming off shortly after and joining the pile by the kitchen entrance. 

“Sit,” he commanded, jerking his head towards the chair you had vacated earlier. You hurried over, slick running down the insides of your thighs. You sat on the edge, the wood cold against your ass and backs of your legs.

Anticipation coursed through your veins as Dean slowly stalked towards you, his bare and sweaty skin glistening in the light. “Spread your thighs,” Dean instructed. “Let me see that pretty, little pussy.”

You immediately did as asked, spreading your legs, the cold air hitting your heated skin. “Mmm,” Dean hummed, his eyes glued to your wet folds. He dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands resting on your own knees. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire before he stooped down, his lips making contact with your clit.

You grunted and shot back in your chair as pleasure washed over you. Before you could even register what was happening, his tongue was rolling over the swollen bud. Your hands found his head, your fingers weaving into his hair and gripping tight as he continued to lap at your juices.

“Dean…. Oh, god, Dean,” you cried out as he switched up his tactics, his mouth latching onto your clit. 

He paused for just a moment to raise his head, his mouth and chin dripping with slick. “You taste so fucking good,” he praised. “So sweet.”

Your hand ran across his sweaty brow before he dipped back down, attacking your tender pussy once more. It wasn’t long before you felt your lower abdomen tightening and the pressure of your next orgasm approaching. 

Dean must have sensed it, too, because he abruptly thrust his finger into your core, crooking his fingertip into your sweet spot while his tongue licked furiously against your nearly oversensitive bundle of nerves. 

You came with a cry of his name on your lips, your muscles contracting as your walls fluttered with aftershocks. “Wow,” you breathed. “Just...just wow.” Dean smirked as he rose up to kiss you, the taste of your juices still on his tongue.

“My turn,” you said, reaching down to grasp his erection in your hand.

Dean jerked forward at your touch, a groan emanating from his chest. “N...not this time, baby,” Dean said, his voice strained. “I’m not gonna last.”

“Next time then?” you asked hopefully.

“Next time,” Dean reassured with a wink. “But right now, I wanna be inside you,” he said lowly.

You bit your lip at his words as he helped you scoot off the chair and onto the floor below. He laid you down gently before settling between your thighs, his erection nudging your folds. “You okay?” he asked, his eyes filled with concern.

“More than okay,” you whispered, leaning up to kiss him.

He smiled before pushing himself in. You gasped at the sensation, your pussy taking him completely and without resistance. “Holy hell,” Dean choked out. “Y...you’re so tight, babygirl.”

“Dean, please,” you begged, raising your legs and wrapping them around his waist. 

Dean took your hint, pulling almost all the way out before plunging back in, setting a brutally fast pace. He wrapped his arms around you, burying his face into your neck.

You held onto his shoulders tightly, anchoring his body to yours as he thrust into you, almost desperately. The sounds of skin on skin and the wetness of your pussy filled the room, adding to the passion hanging thick in the air. 

You felt him twitch inside of you as your walls began to flutter around him and you knew he was close. “Baby,” Dean grunted. “I...I wanted to last longer, but...I...I don’t think….”

“It’s okay, Dean,” you said. “I’m not either.”

Dean rocked into you three more times, his thrusts becoming sloppy before he came with a low groan of your name, his cum painting your walls. He continued to move, determined to make you cum a third time. And just like that you did, your walls clamping down so hard Dean grunted. 

You laid on the floor, chests heaving, sweat dripping onto the cold concrete below as you tried to catch your breaths and come back down to reality. Finally, Dean slid out of you gingerly before picking you up and carrying you to his bedroom. He laid you on the bed before exiting the room and coming back with a damp washcloth.

He carefully cleaned you up before tossing the cloth into the corner and joining you, pulling the covers over your exhausted bodies. You snuggled into his side, his arm coming around you. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for so damn long time,” Dean suddenly spoke, breaking the silence that had fallen.

“Really?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Yeah,” Dean said, almost bashfully. “I just...well, I never thought you’d go for a guy like me. And then Greg came along….”

“Dean,” you said, your mind reeling with unbelief. “I’ve wanted you since the day we met.”

It was Dean’s turn to look shocked, his green eyes searching your face for any signs of mockery. Finding none, his face broke out into a wide grin as his arm tightened around you.

“Looks like we both get what we want,” he said, leaning down to press his lips to yours.

“Yeah,” you said contentedly. “Looks like it.”

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

Thank you for reading! If you liked what you read, let me know!! ❤❤

***Please do not share my content on any other platform without my consent.

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

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@weepingwillowphoenix​ @akshi8278​

[nosferatyou]

If I Can Be So Bold: Chapter 5 (Jack White x OC)

Summary: Shes back in Nashville and Ben finally drags Lee out to a Third Man show. To Lee’s surprise, she runs into an old friend...

WC: 3k

Warnings: Cigarettes, maybe cursing (?), and death by Jack White. 

Notes: Damn y’all its my best chapter to date. Honestly im pretty damn proud of this. Also why is jack white so damn hard to write. Is he a hard ass with a heart of gold, or a dad who happens to play guitar. When i figure it out ill let you know. PS. If you find my fic reference (or fic rec for anyone who hasn’t read it) shoutout to you. If youre anything like me you read the whole series in two days and couldn’t think about anything else. You probably also looked up Rosaries for sale.

This was 14 years in the making. We were bound to run into each other again. I was expecting it in a weird way. It always works out that way; you get over old turmoil, and the moment it’s gone, they show up. Your breath is sucked from your lungs, and you’re practically drowning on the spot even though you’re not even near water. Every single emotion in your being is trying to cram through your mouth, and you end up choking on it. Who knew it’d be today I die a death by Jack White. Guess I ran that risk when I entered his stomping grounds. 

“Lee, I swear I didn’t know he’d be here. I wouldn’t have brought you if I’d known. I’m gonna buy you any record in the store, whatever you want. Oh god, how am I going to fix this? Guess I could do emergency distraction plan #6. Though id need a knife-” I subtly flicked the back of his arm to shut him up. His panicked ramblings were only making me more nervous. He was here, actually here. I guess I just thought I'd have a couple more years of peace. 

He was staring so intensely at me, but not in anger or guilt. He was nervous. He was frozen and rigid. He was always so loose and eased into a room. Even when he was anxious, it never showed. As soon as I gained something from the absolute shock of it, all my body went against my brain. I felt my legs start to make their way over to him shakily, and there was no stopping them. Fuck I didn’t will this happen. Panic was bubbling up in my chest again. It didn’t help that he wasn’t reacting other than his eyes growing larger with each step I took. Finally, I reached him, and my arms tightly wrapped around him. This was better than the alternative that I thought would happen, which would end with a shiner and some bruised knuckles. He hadn’t grown length, but as I finally felt it all, I realized he'd grown into a man, out of his boyish figure from all those years ago. I sank into it, warm feelings bubbling up in my chest. I could finally breathe for a moment. He didn’t reciprocate my hug, but I met his eyes when I looked up at him, and all I could see was pure shock. I don’t think he would’ve moved if someone yelled fire. 

He mumbled, “Why don’t we find somewhere a little more private to talk, Rosie.”  I quickly nodded my head, and all that anxiety came back as soon as it was gone. I did not appreciate this little roller coaster I was on. He put his hand on my back to softly guide me to wherever we were going. It was a painfully silent walk as we weaved through Third Man. My brain kept flashing back to all the moments of our short end, mixing with all the good memories it made for a weird emotional cocktail. The more I thought about how little time we’d actually known each other, I got even more panicked. A year. That’s it, and I still acted like we were childhood friends who wronged each other. I shouldn’t be feeling all of this over a man who had such little time in my life. Still, that doesn’t change that he was at the forefront of my mind for all those years after. God, his hand was burning me where it lay. 

I hadn’t realized we’d made it to the spot until his words broke my thoughts. “Welcome to the Third Man roof, my secret spot, if you will.” I looked up to see a couple of lawn chairs and a crate between them, acting as a makeshift table. Cigarette butts strewed around the chair farthest from the edge. Jack was already walking towards what I assumed to be his chair. In tow, I followed, pulling my pack out of my pocket and lighting a cig. If this was going to happen, I was going to need a goddamn cigarette. He grimaced at the sight of Marlboros, pulling out his pack. Red Camels, still the same all these years later. Somethings just don’t change. Guess that’s comforting. 

“I thought you were a camels girl. What happened there?”  He was already reaching for another to hand to me. 

“Oh, just had to settle when on tour for whatever others had. It just stuck, I guess…” A lie. I put mine out on the ground when I sat down and grabbed the nostalgic camel out of his hand, our fingers barely touching. 

We sat in silence, smoking a piece of our past. I sure as hell didn’t know where to start, and I don’t think he did either. My body took over just as it had before and did what I couldn’t manage. I was blurting out words before I knew what was happening. 

I stumbled out, “I bought all your records over the years.” Smooth.

A small smile fell onto his face, and he took another drag. “I did the same thing.” He looked over at me, quickly looked me over, then took a quick drag and put it on on the ground. “Have a favorite?”

I pretended to think like I hadn’t thought of having a favorite. “I guess I’d have to say Consolers of the Lonely, but if we’re talking The Stripes, I’d have to say De Stijl. Though I always feel like I should say your first, since you know, I’m on it.” I sent a small smile his way and started to ease into my seat more. Not sitting up so straight, ready to bolt at any moment. “What about you, Jack? Hm? Have a Rosalie Wright favorite?” 

He answered without hesitation, “Surrender. I really liked that sound you had in 2004, where you got dirty and loud. It was a big change from your old blues tone. Someone told me it was because you moved to New Jersey, which honestly makes sense.” He stopped for a second and looked off. “That band, Leathermouth. When that album dropped, I played it when I was working in the upholstery shop, and Karen walked in. She turned right around after hearing, I think... My love has gone flat? I don’t know, but she asked me if I was doing okay at dinner that night.” He quietly laughed to himself, thinking over the memory.

“Anyone who wasn’t in the band asks me the same thing! They all said, “Hey, your new albums great! How are you doing? You need someone to talk to?” My smile fell. “Too bad all the guys found god. Nothing against that, of course! Just sucks they had to quit the band. Not Frankie, though. He wouldn’t find god even if he came to him on a piece of toast. I’d probably take some freak case of Stigmata for him even to consider it… Why am I still talking?” I blushed, realizing I'd been rambling too long about nothing that probably interested him

 Jack waved his hand in the air to dismiss my worries. “We’ve got years to catch up on, Rosie. Besides, I’ve missed your ramblings.” He lit two more cigs, handing one over to me. His stare lingered on me, and his eyes softened from his stoic face. “I really have missed you, Rosie… All these years and I’m still not quite sure what you’ve been up to. I’ve only heard things here and there from Ben.” He took a long drag. “Where have you been all this time?” 

I took a deep breath in, knowing the answer wouldn’t be the best. I spent a fair amount of drinking myself into oblivion over something he caused, so I kept my answer brief, “Oh, you know, toured, drank, slept in fans and friends basements. You know, a typical musician’s life. Oh! Got put on the FBI watchlist over a Leathermouth song. That was a fun night for Frankie and me.” 

He chuckled, put out his cig, and turned his body towards me. The same warm smile was adorning him. As I said, some things just don’t change. “I mean, I don’t know what you expected when you play a song with that title. It’s one of the only things you legally can’t say.” 

“Punk is punk, Jack. Too bad I was only playing guitar. I would’ve loved to scream that.” I put my cig out and put all my attention towards him. I hadn’t thoroughly looked at him the whole time we were up there. “It was hard not to stay caught up with you, Jack. You were everywhere. I tried not to pry, though. I never trusted the press. Though I heard about the divorce last year… I’m sorry you had to go through that again.” 

His smile faltered, and he stared down at his hands for a second. “It was inevitable. We were too different for it to last. I guess this shit always happens for a reason, huh? We just fell out of love, and that was that. I had a party to commemorate new friendships and everything. At least she can’t hide my Billie Holiday records now…” He trailed off on that last sentence. I could barely hear it, but I caught the small comment. He still thought about me. I didn’t mention it though. I could barely think back to the old memories. Me making him dance with me to Billie Holiday's self titled album. I guess I just wanted to feel like we were really together back then, creating that fantasy. I felt like I had to wave my imaginary hands around in my head to clear out the memories that had risen to the surface. He was making it so hard to have a clear head.

We stayed quiet for a moment. He seemed lost in his thoughts. We were always good at comfortable silences. I think we just liked being in each other’s presence, having that person next to you. It was weird to think that I only had these old images of him to think back to. He looked so different. He was built, his face filled out, his height would make him look skinnier than he was back then. He’s muscular, probably from years of touring with heavy equipment. He looked his age. His eyes hadn’t changed though. His face was almost menacing for how serious it naturally rested. His eyes stayed bright, excited for everything ahead of him. He always hid that, and he probably still does. 

“I’m sorry, Rosie. For everything that happened. It was selfish of me to -” I cut him off. This was for another day. I don’t think I could handle drudging up the past tonight.

“Make it up to me some other time. I just want to enjoy you tonight.” I sent a smile his way and went to stand up. “Better make it good though.” I went to lean against the wall to take in the Nashville skyline I missed so much. 

I heard the gravel crunch underneath his shoes as he made his way next to me. His lighter clicked, and the sweet smell of tobacco filled the air. Moments later, he appeared next to me, cigarette in hand, ready for me to take. He clicked his lighter on and offered it out for me to light. I leaned in close and took a heavy drag. My eyes caught his left hand, cupping around the flame. No ring. It really was done, no lingering feelings. I moved back to lean against the small wall, leaning my head against my hand. I tried not to focus on the emotions that stirred in me when I noticed the absent metal on his finger.

“I really did miss this. Detroit was beautiful, but it never could beat the Nashville skyline. Maybe I was just missing home.” I finally got to take in the scenery around us. September in Nashville has never really been cold. I feel like I should be worried about that, but if I can avoid a sweater, I will. It was a comfortable kind of warm. You could sit out on your porch and not think about a thing. The small breeze was nice, taking away from the constant humidity. Then there was that constant. It never felt like Nashville’s downtown ever changed from far away. It was just stuck in time. The deeper you go, the more you realize the magic of music city is being taken over by honky tonks and drunk bachelorettes. Though the farther you drift away, the more you can feel like you're in the good ole days of classic Nashville. Back when the Ernest Tubb Record Shop didn't have a constant flow of Lynyrd Skynyrd cover bands but had undiscovereds like Loretta. Now you just have to settle for the sights and the small music scene curated by The End. 

“Is it bad I feel the same way? Even if it’s not home home, it still feels like it. I think the skyline reminded me of coming home after long tours. It’s always the first thing you see. It’s a comfort.” 

We weren’t touching technically, but our shoulders were so close I could feel it. I think he was deliberately keeping his space. I should be mad or angry. Something. But the feeling of him next to me was just as calming as the views. That same feeling of home lulling you in. He always felt like that to me. That dumb warm feeling in your chest that makes heavier days just a little lighter. It’s a bit shameful that I feel it all now, just as strong as back then. 

“You know the only reason I came tonight is because Ben told me you wouldn’t be here. Something about your kids,” I took a drag. “Not that I regret coming! I just- Kids. How fucking weird is that? Never pictured you with kids. I always saw you as the same lanky kid from before.” 

He snorted and bumped my shoulder with his own. “You know I found it odd you never had any. I mean, you were always weirdly maternal with Ben back when he was a teenager. You about took my head off when I told you I gave him a couple of beers. Oh, and those times I practically had to rip Jasper out of your arms after we got home from one of our first tours.” 

“He was 16! His brain wasn’t fully formed yet, plus your mom would’ve murdered you.” I gave his arm a small playful hit and took another drag. “And I just haven’t had the time. Or the means to. I mean, I dated like two guys? Both were shit bag roadies who lasted all of two weeks. I kissed Frankie once, but the moment it ended, we about threw up. He’s a different kind of family. His kids call me Auntie Lee if that says anything.” 

The conversation ended at that, and we fell back into our silence. I looked over and saw a small, content smile on his face that I was so used to seeing. Some things just don’t change.

 It feels weird sitting here with him. We both were so happy to see each other. We just wanted to enjoy this time. At least, I think he’s the same way. He seems guarded, it’s subtle, but that wall is there. He used to be like this, but for different reasons. Secret wife reasons. I can only assume that now it’s the fame he’s been showered with. You can't show all your feelings with recognition like that. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him checking his watch. He muttered out shit when seeing the time. 

Exasperatingly he said, “Speaking of kids, I’ve got to get home. I didn’t realize how late it had gotten. I promised Scarlett I'd be home to say goodnight.” 

My smile faltered a little, but my heart grew at the comment about scarlet. He’s always loved so hard. It was only natural that he would be a good father. 

We both put out our cigs and silently made our way out to where his car parked. I just mindlessly followed along, definitely not thinking about him and how wonderful he probably was with his kids. 

When we got there, we just kind of stood there. Neither of us knew how to say goodbye. It was never something we did.

“I’m really glad I got to see you tonight, Rosie. Seriously.”

My body betrayed me, just like it had in the recording room. I quickly moved forward and hugged him tightly, except this time, I could enjoy it a little more. His frame was so warm compared to the chilly September night. He finally wrapped his arms around me and practically threw himself into the embrace. He had no hesitation whatsoever. I nuzzled my face into his chest, a bit too shamelessly, but this was 14 years in the making. 

When we finally (and hesitantly) pulled away, he asked, “ Listen, I don’t think I can just walk around town knowing you’re here and not see you. Can we get coffee or something? I don’t care what we do as long as it’s with you.” 

I felt a giant smile fall onto my face. I was afraid this whole time we would just kind of say goodbye and not talk again. It was dumb to feel so happy over a small gesture, but it was just what I was looking for. He was infectious back then, and he is. Once you fall back into his circle, you never wanted to leave. “I’ll agree to coffee only if,” I gave him a playful poke in the side, “you help me fix my amp. I can usually do it, but I really did a number on her this time.” I held out my hand for him to shake. It’s not a deal if you don’t shake on it.

“It’s a date then.” A small smile appeared on his face, and he grabbed my hand to shake it.

“It’s a date.” We stood their just shaking hands and smiling at each other. We probably looked insane from far away, but who cares. Me and Jack were on the road to reasonable terms.

Tag list: @shamoane @elinyaes