#if you must point and laugh at me then do so and conclude quickly. also ask me things about her maybe

[resowrites]

Always You - oneshot (request).

Summary: When Henry bumps into his childhood best friend on the way home for the holidays, it appears they’ve both been keeping secrets from each other…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x reader

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, language, banter/british humour, mention of relationship difficulties, nondescript OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 2281

A/N: My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

Always You - oneshot (request).

She pulled into the parking lot with a mixture of relief and apprehension. It had been a long drive, and although she was glad to finally be home, she knew this Christmas would be an awkward one, to say the least. The one guest everyone was expecting to be joining her had gone to be with their own family and so she dreaded the questions she knew everyone would have. Then there was Henry. She hadn't seen him in over six months, not since that uncomfortable garden party her brother threw for her last birthday. She said she was fine with people bringing guests but she never expected Henry to bring her. All long legs and billowing hair, to say his fiancee was beautiful would be like calling the sun hot. She was stunning. And incredibly successful too. She went the whole day with a lump in her throat as she watched the two of them swooning at each other. Yet six months on they still hadn't tied the knot. But she didn't dare hope anything had happened between them.

Besides, she'd accepted that nothing was ever going to come of her feelings for Henry. If he liked her back she would have known by now. He wasn't exactly the shy and retiring type and so she'd concluded he just didn't love her the way she loved him. She sighed and slammed the car door shut, sending a flurry of snowflakes into her eyes. And yet her mind was still on him. They hadn't spoken since the garden party but she knew he was coming home for Christmas. Probably with his fiancee in tow. She swallowed and stepped over the threshold of the shop. The smell of roasted coffee beans and the gentle hum of Christmas music instantly calmed her nerves. She kept reminding herself that it was still good to be home, a relief to have a break from work and the usual hustle and bustle of everyday life. But why didn't it actually feel that way? She was so deep in thought that she didn't hear the cashier repeat their request for her order. "She'll have a half-fat cap with an extra shot, make it extra hot too." She quickly turned around, knowing instantly who the voice belonged to.

"Henry… I had no idea you were back already." The tall handsome man behind her smiled warmly though his eyes were somewhat hollow. She also noticed he appeared thinner and his hair looked a shaggy mess.

"I literally just arrived. Thought I'd stop in for a coffee before I headed over to my folks. Do you want to join me?" She nodded in a haze, wondering where his fiancée was. Henry gently pushed past her, placed his own order, then took both their drinks over to a quiet corner of the cafe. She primly sat down, feeling rather thrown by their unexpected meeting. But she supposed she had to see him at some point over the holidays. And at least she wasn't with him. Deep in thought once again, she took a sip of coffee and ended up scolding her lip. Henry grinned and handed her a napkin. "Trust you to burn yourself, you never were patient enough to let your food cool down."

"Me?! You're the one who finishes Christmas dinner before everyone else! I'm surprised there's ever any turkey left for anyone else. I remember the year you took both legs, your mother looked fit to kill you!"

"Well at least I don't eat all the brussel sprouts, you keep everyone awake after a plate full of those!" They both laughed and she felt relieved they'd already fallen back into the easy patter they'd shared since they were children growing up on the same street. Their families often spent Christmas together but that tradition faded once they both grew up and left home. She smiled fondly at the memories. "… What are you thinking about?"

"Oh… nothing. Just remembering the time you got a BMX one Christmas but I was the one who rode it all morning--"

"Yeah, you wouldn't give it back even though it had no training wheels so you kept falling off and scuffing it!"

"No, I didn't! The roads were extra slippery that year, that's why I kept falling down. And I never used training wheels!"

"Rubbish! You were ten years old and still couldn't ride a bike!"

"Well, I'm not surprised with you chasing after me all the time! I needed the bike just to get away from you for five minutes!" But he didn't laugh that time, instead, his eyes seemed to cloud over.

"… Can you believe that was over thirty years ago? Where on earth has the time gone?"

"I know. It seems to go faster and faster every year. Anyway, are you… okay? You seem a little tired?" Henry quickly looked down and she instantly regretted mentioning it. "I mean, it's just that I haven't heard from you in a while. How did filming ago, didn't you just get back from a shoot?" This seemed to relax him slightly and he leaned back in his chair.

"Yeah, six months in the Czech Rebulic…"

"God, no wonder you're exhausted. Did… did Georgina go with you?" She didn't know why she'd blurted out such a question and felt her cheeks grow hot. Henry seemed equally embarrassed.

"Uh… no. She had to work." They both then fell into a long silence, each seemingly unwilling to take that line of inquiry any further.

"Well, it's good to see you back anyhow. It's not like I've heard from you lately." He seemed to shrink further into himself.

"Yeah… I… I'm sorry. A lot's been going on. What with filming, I mean." She nodded sympathetically though she wasn't entirely convinced.

"How long will you be back?" At this, Henry seemed to brighten.

"Six months. I don't start shooting again until next summer." Dread suddenly coursed through her stomach.

"… So you'll be getting married in that time, then?" He blinked at her several times.

"Uh, no. I had no plans too." Her brow furrowed.

"But… you're engaged. Haven't you set a date yet?" Henry shifted in his seat.

"Uh… is it okay if we don't talk about this right now? I had a long drive and I'd rather hear about what you've been getting up to." Once again, a pit opened in her stomach.

"Oh, this and that. Nothing exciting, really." She didn't know why she couldn't share the news. Somehow, it just felt wrong.

"Well, how long are you back? I'm surprised the hospital is happy for you to be away even for a single day." She smiled and rolled her eyes.

"You're accusing me of being a workaholic?! And I just happened to have some holidays stored up so I decided to use them in one go." She confidently took a sip of her drink, hoping that she'd managed to sway him. But Henry just shook his head and smiled.

"Whatever you say. Anyway, what are you doing after this? If you want we can both grab a cab to your parent's house. I'm looking forward to your mum's annual gingerbread cake."

"Oh no, that's fine. I drove here. Actually, I have to get a tree first, you're welcome to come with me though if you want?" Why had she asked him? Surely he had other places to be?

"That'd be great." They beamed at each other and spent the next hour and a half finishing catching up. It was like they'd never spent any time apart and it reminded her of why they'd continued to be such good friends in the first place. She silently prayed it would always be that way.

***

"Wow, I didn't realise it had got so late. It'll be dark in the next hour or so."

"Well don't worry, I'll gladly drive." She playfully shoved Henry away from the driver's side door. "Now, remember to check your mirrors…"

"Oh shut up, I'm a far better driver than you!"

"In your dreams, how many times did it take you to pass your test?"

"How is that relevant?!"

"How many times?!"

"… Four." He roared with laughter. "Look, my instructor was a hard arse alright? I'd have passed on the second go if it wasn't for him."

"Not the first?" She pursed her lips. "I'm surprised he didn't pass you the moment you got in beside him…"

"What does that mean?" The smirk disappeared from Henry's face and their earlier awkwardness returned. Eventually, she couldn't stand it any longer and cleared her throat.

"So… who else is gunna be at your parents this year?"

"Only two of my brothers. But honestly, I prefer it that way, it'll only be weird when--" he clammed up, his eyes darting to the floor in the process. She sighed.

"Henry… has something happened between you and Georgina?" She could see the muscles in his jaw grinding away. "Henry?"

"Oh for God's sake, what do you care anyhow?"

"Hey, don't snap at me! You're my best friend, I care about you…"

"Oh yeah, you care so much you haven't spoken to me in months!"

"Well, I don't like to bother you when you're away, I know you're busy--"

"Don't use that as an excuse, you've been slowly backing off ever since Georgina and I got together. Are you threatened by her or something?" Her eyebrows shot up.

"Are you kidding me?! No! But I mean come on, no girlfriend wants the female best friend of her fiancée always hanging around!"

"So you have been avoiding me?"

"… Henry, it's not like that."

"Oh no? Then how come you didn't even tell me about you and Scott?" She slammed on the brakes, causing them to come to a screeching stop. "Good, you can let me out here and I'll walk the rest of the way to my house."

"Henry, don't be ridiculous! We're still miles out--"

"So what? You've made it clear you don't give a fuck about me or our friendship." And with that, Henry pushed open the car door and climbed out. She hurried after him.

"Henry, wait! For God's sake, don't run off, it'll be dark soon!" Henry spun around to face her.

"Then you better get back. After all, you wouldn't want to worry your fiance!"

"Oh, will you please stop being such a child? I told you the reason I didn't tell you, you were busy--"

"I'm always busy, as are you, so it's no excuse. What's the real reason you didn't tell me?" She stood there temporarily dumbfounded. Slowly, she could feel anger rise in her chest.

"Well, why didn't you tell me whatever's happened between you and Georgina? You're the one keeping secrets!"

"Bullshit, and if you'd stayed in touch with me you would have known…" He trailed off, rubbing his forehead with his hand.

"Did you break up?" Henry chewed his lip but said nothing. "I'm so sorry…"

"Save it. All you care about is yourself--"

"That's not true, if you'd told me I would have been there for you. I'd have dropped everything--"

"Well, it's too late for that now!" They stood staring at each other silently as the wind whipped around them.

"… I'm sorry, okay? You're right, I haven't been a good friend. The reason I didn't tell you about my engagement is… is because…" She faded off, unsure exactly how to explain feelings that were both so natural and yet infernally complex. But to her surprise, he'd taken a few steps forwards and was now looking down at her with an expression she couldn't quite read.

"… What were you going to say?" She looked down either side of the road behind them, noting how eerily quiet it seemed to be.

"It's nothing. I, I dunno… I just didn't want things to get any more awkward between us…" A strange look seemed to cloud Henry's face. Almost like he was disappointed.

"You don't have to hide anything from me…" She scoffed and spun around, pacing backwards and forwards as the words came spewing forth.

"Do you even hear yourself? We are not the same, okay? We don't even live the same life anymore!" Henry stood firm.

"Well, what difference does that make?!"

"Why are you pretending it's that simple? For God's sake you're known over the whole world, you can do anything you want, at any time - with anyone!"

"… I'm still me." She stopped and felt a weight crushing her chest.

"I know. It's just… I don't think things can ever go back to the way they were." He looked up at her forlornly.

"But why?! You're my best friend - you mean everything to me!" She could feel tears prickle her eyes.

"Henry, soon you'll have a wife and family of your own--"

"We split up."

"What?!"

"… She accused me of being in love with someone else."

"Why?! Are you?" Henry glanced sideways and swallowed hard. "Oh my God…"

"I wanted to tell you!" She collapsed against the car in disbelief.

"How long have you felt this way?!"

"… Since we were kids."

"WHAT?! And you never thought to tell me?!"

"Well, I thought I'd grow out of it! And besides, when it became clear you didn't feel the same way I--" but he never got a chance to finish. She'd run into his chest and kissed him hard. "I… I don't believe this! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Because you never made a move! I thought you didn't like me in that way!" They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"… It's always been you. Always."

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@elizabetharegina @fanfictionaddiction99 @luclittlepond @caffeinatedfestivalsheep @summersong69 @ushijimbo

[studiojeon]

use me | jjk

this is part of my troubled outsiders series. i think you can read this by itself though :)

| summary | -   Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you.

warnings: language (?), mentions of hook ups and situationships. mentions of emotional trauma.

contents: a compilation of moments that contributed to the growth of their relationship, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read and sus. oc is kinda whipped and scared af. chaeryeong knows who you are and where you live. jk and oc are scared to let each other in. friends to lovers, idol!jungkook x student!oc.

author’s note: i hate this, but i have to get it off my chest. (the narration is off af but if i keep it in my drafts for longer this will never see the light of the day). p.s. thank u so much for the support on the last drabble <3

playlist: rain by trey songz (feat. swae lee). 

words: 4.75k

“JK?” as his broad back faces you, you call out his name timidly, not missing the way he swiftly turns around as soon as he hears his name come from your lips. Hair wet and darker than usual, a very big sweat stain at the center of his hoodie. He had just gotten out of practice, you assumed. 

“___?” he replied with the initials of your name as well, one of his tired grins plastered on his face, he must have been exhausted. You had caught on to him just as he walked out of the practice room in front of the elevator on your way to your office, right when you needed him, but now you weren’t so sure if it was a good idea to pester him. Even so, you didn’t know anyone else you could ask for help, aside from Linh who was currently in her own office doing other tasks you had assigned to her.

“Are you busy right now?” your eyes stare at him shyly, in hopes that he was willing to help you out, because you wanted to be around him, so maybe he could share a bit of his positive energy with you, the past week had been hellish.  “Could use some help returning all those heavy stacks of paper in my office”.

“Of course! Why didn’t you give me a call earlier though? It’s pretty late” he walked by your side and you enter the elevator, beginning your adventure around the company.

Jungkook was fun. Always bubbly and reciprocative, constantly trying his best to make you laugh and make the absolute best of your situation, even if he could be a bit stubborn at times. You liked the spontaneity he provided though, the way he would switch from one topic to another and how he would make silly faces at you whenever you locked eyes. 

He didn’t know, but in pure ignorance, he had just made your day ten times better. 

In the past week, you had received a lot of counterarguments, one by one, on how useless your management tactics were. Granted, you hadn’t expected for your ideas to be welcomed with open arms, but at least you had hoped they would take them into consideration. You had also been assigned a team, in charge of social media management, who worked monotonously and with little to no insertion in the actual target audience… your logic was: how can you advertise products to an audience you don’t even have the mere interest to know? You had designed a strategy, presented it, and no one paid any mind to you. 

But for the most part, you felt lonely. Had no one to talk to, nor go to whenever you needed your spirits to be lifted up.

Chaeryeong was busy busy with group projects and work. To the extent where she would get up at seven in the morning and come back at 12 pm. It wasn’t always like that, so you didn’t worry too much, but the fear she would wear herself off like usual still crowded your mind.

You close your office door with a sigh. Tired from everything, but somehow, your heart a little fuller, knowing that maybe you could use Jungkook in the future to give you a lift. Both figuratively and literally because he had offered to drive you home, being the gentleman he was.

“Why do you look like a sad puppy?” he asked you once you were sitting by his side in his very expensive and luxurious mercedes. Tinted windows and jet black shiny paint covered the outside of his car, the smell of air refresher and pinecone filling the inside. Mans was getting hotter by the minute.

“It’s friday night after the longest week of work. How can I not?” you put on your seat belt and lean back against the leather cushions. He pouts in response to you, with a concerned look on his face. 

For a second you wonder if he did this with most coworkers… being nice to them and offering them drives after having met them just a few times before. Kinda risky behviour, considering his position and squeaky clean reputation. You figure this would only last a bit before he realized he had more important things to be focusing on.

“Do you ever get chased home?” you ask randomly. 

With one hand on the wheel and the other leaned against his door he meditated on his response. “It happened once… And then I moved out, got a new car and everything. Shit was wild” he chuckles and you think that was the first time you had heard him curse, like ever. Jungkook, friendly and everything, wasn’t too big of a talker, but with you he found himself spilling, without giving it much thought. It felt refreshing to hear his voice and listen to his stories and the way he expressed himself. He was more interesting than he seemed, apparently. “Aren’t you hungry, by the way? We can have something to eat before i drop you off”

Traffic was hellish in Seoul everyday at every hour, and choosing to drive through Itaewon on a friday night wasn’t the smartest decision on Jungkook’s behalf, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him that. Considering the demands of his job, he probably didn’t know his way around the city that well. You conclude taking a detour wouldn’t hurt. “I’m starving actually.”

He ends up taking you to a restaurant near your neighborhood you had mentioned being good and not crowded at all, the latter catching his attention immediately. It was a modest but nice place owned by a very funny and loud ahjussi. The man had lost count of how many times you had come down from your apartment at 11 pm and asked him to make you vegetarian tteokguk, but they were enough so that he could memorize your five orders by heart and the amount of saewoo mandu you could down by yourself in five minutes. You were making him rich at that point so the least he could do was comply when you gently asked him to shut the place down for you. Jungkook hadn’t asked you, but you knew how things could get awkward and dangerous quickly if too many people found out about him being there. “Ahjussi, you don’t have to” the boy protested as he noticed that the man had shut the blinds for him.

“It’s okay, boy. _____ has been single handedly paying the remnants of my mortgage for over a year now, I don't mind doing this for her.” he joked in his usual nature. already writing down your order and patiently waiting for Jungkook in front of you to voice out what he wanted for a meal. “And well, you and your friends are making our country proud, it’s the least i can do to thank you”

“Ah, thank you.” Jungkook bows to the older man. Your heart softened in your chest, seeing how considerate he was towards other people. He must be great with parents, you think. “Do you really not get that many people around here?” he asked worriedly once he sat back down on the wooden chair.

“We do! But she’s the one who comes the most often” he nods toward you and Jungkook smiles once he found your gaze, a glint of playfulness in his eyes. 

“Can you recommend me anything, miss?”

“Of course, sir. Yeol-ah, double up my order. Drinks are on me today.” You yell at the man’s son in the kitchen, who was still a bit older than you, but also close to enough to let you order him around shamelessly. You knew him quite well, actually. He was Chaeryeong’s boyfriend after all.

The tall boy pokes his head out of the kitchen door with a very confused expression plastered on his face. “Aren’t we supposed to close in like, an hour?” Chanyeol asks his dad in front of you.

“Just go cook, I'll explain later”.

The two men go back into the kitchen and Jungkook looks at you with an amused expression on his face. “What was that?” he laughs.

“I’m very popular, you know?” it probably wasn’t a good idea to go there, but you felt a little drunk on his voice that night, and you also knew your friend didn’t mind. “In fact, Chaereyong from ITZY is my best friend, who would have guessed?”

“Yeah and my son is her boyfriend, who cares?” Byung-ho yells back at you from the cashier, pulling a hiss from your lips. 

Jungkook still continued to stare at the both of you with confusion and intrigue, you guess he thought you were both joking.

“Wait, really?” he utters after a few seconds with big doe eyes and a pout on his lips, a combination that appeared when he was either confused or lying, which wasn’t the case then.

“Yes, my guy.” you laugh. “That juicy legged shortie is indeed my wife”

Jungkook loved the food, to say the least. It was all vegetarian and korean as fuck, a combination he never throught was possible, but downed like thristy camel. He was a loud eater, which was fitting of him and his politeness, something else you had noticed that night. You were the opposite, and actually despised the sounds of other people eating, yet, looking at him enjoying his meal so much made you feel full yourself. He made you feel like a kid in some ways too, brought back the times when being around others wasn’t so hard, and you still could have a sense of security around you. Talking to him was rather easy, maybe because of his welcoming nature, or because in fact he actually was interested in whatever stupid shit you were saying, something most people around you didn’t do. He also, amongst other things, seemed very interested in your job and the likes, always asking questions and absorbing information like a five year old. You had explained to him the five key steps of process design and the psychological effects on marketing in society to which he always responded with wide gentle eyes and attentive nods, not once looking bored or… annoyed in any way. 

Was he like that, with every girl? Because you weren’t anything special, there were many other girls who worked with him everyday and even if you hadn’t seen him in his work space, you could guess by the way most women in your company look at him whenever he passes by that either they were just as captivated as you by his beauty or that he had fucked them. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was just trying to get into your pants either, it wouldn’t be the first time it happened to you nonetheless.

“I can walk from here, JK” you mention once you found yourselves walking towards the parking lot. A bit sad about the expense you had just made on food, it was your fault for trying to seem cool and rich, neither of which you were. 

“Oh no, I’m not letting you do that, girlie” he unlocks the door and gets in, not even letting you finish or allowing you to fight back.

“My apartment is literally a block away” you protest in the car anyways. You fear you had been too much of a bother, and deep down, didn’t want him to feel like you were seeking his presence unnecessarily.

“Well, good for you. But, you paid for the food, which was a lot, and i don’t want my sugar mommy walking by herself at 12 pm on a friday night” you first freeze, and then burst a very loud giggle.

“Whatever” you slap his bicep and roll your eyes. “ Next time you can pay if it bothers you so much.”

“So there will be a next time?” wide eyes stare back at you. “Count me in. I´ll pick where we will be going, just lemme know when so i can plan ahead” he rambles, a little too excited about your suggestion. 

He drops you off with a smile on his face and hopefulness in his eyes, promising to see you around the company. You, on the other hand, feel a tad confused as you enter your apartment building. What was going on? 

You had overthought things so much your entire life that it suddenly became too tiring to do. During the past few years you had to learn how to detach yourself and just ride the wave sometimes. Once you had turned eighteen, everything started moving at a very fast pace, the pressure of adulthood fell upon you like a brick and everything was so overwhelming that you started to simply let the course of your existence take you wherever it needed to.

That’s how you ended up going out with Jungkook at least once a week for dinner or a drive around the city for more than two months. Without even noticing, he became so engraved in your everyday life that whenever he’d cancel plans because of work, you’d find yourself with a void in your heart and a rush of boredom filling your senses. Even if you found yourself in your living room with the company of your best friend whom you had seen at most four times in the past two months, you were still wishing you could share that intimate space with him instead, willing to let him a bit more into your life, in hopes that maybe he would do the same. Sue you, you were curious over the most intricate details about his personality, how his personal sanctuary looked and if the smell of his room is just as good as his car’s. You could bet a thousand dollars (maybe a little less, considering the unconventionalism that characterizes him) that he also had a few plants that only remembered to water three out of seven days of the week. 

Hopefully life would draw you closer to more people like him.

"How's your boyfriend doing?" Chaeryeong asks you from the kitchen counter, sweet popcorn cooking in you popcorn-maker. 

You sigh. "What boyfriend?"

She was a lot of things but oblivious, and you weren't either, just when you chose to be. "Cut the bullshit, you know who i'm talking about". The fake red head waits for your response as she pours the snack into a big bowl, and you on the other hand take this as an advange to search around the room for answers.

"He's just a friend" you say. "And he's fine, i guess… He doesn't really talk much about himself" you mention, matter of factly.

Chaeryeong nods beside you, understanding what you meant. Then, proceeds to tell a tale about her experience meeting the dark haired boy. "He's literally so quiet, but like, so incredibly kind. Once he tripped over and fucked up some of the decoration at an award show" she grabs a popcorn and continues her story. "He looked so panicked I thought his eyes were about to jump out their sockets — His eyes are huge, by the way." 

"I know" you smile.

"My point is, he started to help the staff put everything back in order again. I think he's the only idol I've ever seen do something like that… i decided i liked him then" her beautiful features light up with mischief. "I bet he fucks great too."

You slap her leg. Hard.

"I'm only telling you this now so you don't get caught of guard when he actually manages to fuck you," her soft hands run through your messy hair, motherly touches easing the fluster in your body. "You know he's a big whore, right?" She adds after a while. 

You didn't. According to Chaeryeong, who seemed to keep tabs on every single colleague of hers, Jungkook had quite the body count, not that you didn't have your suspicions before. Frankly, she only knew of two girls inside her company who had had some sort of situationship with him, but for the same reason, she also knew he had some history with other girls from different groups. "Yikes" you laugh nervously, in admiration of their ability to remain calm and collected without giving anything away to the public.

Thanks to your friend, you had heard lots of tea about other singers in the korean industry before, most of which were not as sweet or kind as they portrayed themselves to be, some even using their social status to get their way with girls. But for some reason, Jungkook had never made his way to your gossipping sessions, nor any other of his band mates (except for Jimin, who, if you remember correctly, used to have some sort of beef with one of Chaeryeong's company members). You guess it was because of his unproblematic nature that people chose to give him a pass for his sexual endeavors, not that they were of anyone's concern either. 

A knock is heard against your office door. "Miss _____?" A girl with a brown bob cut pokes her head through it, the dim lights of your office shining upon her incredibly healthy locks. "Jungkook asked me to deliver this to you" sliding completely into the room, she places a box with a note on it on your desk.

"Thank you so much" you wave her off as she walks right out. 

The package had a strawberry flavored canned tea and a bento box inside. 

"I remember you telling me you'd never tried tofu pancakes before, so I made some for you last night. Hope you enjoy! - JK

P.S. Text me when you're done, maybe we can hang out tonight."

You felt like crying, in all honesty. The pancakes were heavenly, and he even added some slices of avocado and a few scoops of rice for you, despite not being the biggest fan of the fruit himself. With a warm heart and relief washing over your body because you wouldn't have to waste money on lunch that day, you had had half of your meal before said boy gave you a call.

"Did you like them?" He said almost immediately. "My assistant told me she already delivered them to you" he adds in a rush.

"Jesus boy, calm down." You giggle at his excitement. "Let me eat in peace".

"No, tell me right now." he demands with a fake angry voice. Cutie.

"They're alright".

"Figured… you have no sense of taste anyways" the hangs up. A giggle escapes your lips. Boy was something else.

Later that day, the weekend started it's course. Jungkook had offered to drive you to the Han River, careful to mention the fact he prepared a bunch of snacks for you two just about five times during your call. The place was almost empty, given that the rest of the city was doing something else more fun than staring at the night sky while sitting on itchy grass. Yet, you wouldn't change the setting for anything else. Usually, when you and Jungkook were out, he'd be in silent wary of your surroundings and the people who could be watching you. It broke your heart, knowing that most of the time he couldn't frequent places most regular people had the pleasure of enjoying, like the movies, for example, or a food stand in the middle of the street. Still, in that moment, the handsome man in front of you seemed as relaxed as ever, munching on grapes and strawberries as he sat in silence beside you. 

"This blanket is so soft, isn't it?" he commented all of a sudden, caressing the fabric with his hand. The thing was made out of polar fleece, no shit. You just nodded and grabbed a piece of fruit from his container. "One of my friends gifted it to me on my birthday" he adds.

"I know. It was me".

"Well, maybe you do have a sense of taste after all" he complies as he lays down on the surface, eyes facing the night sky above you.

"Says the one who uses toe socks" you say back, poking his weak spot.

Instead of going back and forth with you as he usually would, he just winks and closes his eyes. He looked so peaceful and serene beneath you, features carefully carved on his face and slightly blushed cheeks from the cold wind. Jungkook was like that, randomly over confident and flirty with you, but just as quickly would refrain from even disagreeing with you in the first place, scared that you would snap at him. He hadn't told you this, but the way you saw thoughts hidden in his eyes whenever you made a statement let you know his true intentions, leaving you to wonder where that came from.

"Are you tired?" You ask after a few minutes. Still with his eyes closed, Jungkook denies.

"I just don't want to look at you right now," he turns to the side, back facing you as an offended expression finds its way to your face.

"Yah" you slap his back playfully, not letting him finish.

"Because you look too pretty." he mumbles the remnants of  his statement.

Your breath catches in your throat as a shiver climbs its way down your spine. Why was he like that? He had no right tugging on your heart strings like that (if he was being serious in the first place because you never knew with him). You sigh, the blush his words provoked stinging your cheeks.

"You're supposed to say I'm pretty too" he turns around with a playful smile, expectant.

"You just go around giving compliments so you can get them back?" you hiss. "Why so insecure?"

"I'm not insecure, at all." He sits up again, ready to fight you and anyone who dares question the grandiosity of the confidence he had worked so hard for. "You can ask Linh about that".

To say you looked horrified was an understatement, hopeful that what you thought he meant was not it. "You fucked Linh?"

"Well, that's not for you to know". 

What a gentleman, you think. And at the same time, ouch. He had just slammed a door on your face.

"That would explain the way she looks at you whenever you come by the office" you realize. Frankly, the girl looked a bit too panicked whenever Jungkook decided to barge into your space, usually bored out of his mind during his english lessons, laptop and notebook in hand, or struggling to get the questions right. 

"Well good afternoon to you too" you ironically greeted once he sat in front of you, frustration written on his face. Linh, who stood by your side, suddenly fidgeting with the papers in her hand.

"Not the time, _____" he slammed both hands on your desk, startling you and your friend beside you. "Why the fuck did you make me enroll into this in the first place?" 

"I did not make you do anything, dude. I just gave you an idea" you excused yourself, eyes back on your computer. You didn't miss the way Jungkook's eyes briefly followed Linh out the room, though. 

His eyes looked back at you, leg bouncing impatiently on the floor as he leaned back with a pissed off expression on his face. You'd never seen him this way, so you took that as a cue to enter under paid therapist mode. "What's wrong?" You questioned gently.

"I feel incredibly incompetent right now." His hands roamed across his face with frustration. A sigh escaped his lips as he held tears back. "School's always been this way for me, always trying my best and constantly underachieving" he explained.

He was obsessed with winning, you’d even go as far to say more than he was with his job (which was a lot). It didn’t root from narcissistic behaviour though, but rather out of external pressure to constantly overachieve and exceed expectations. He was mostly good at doing that, but everyone had an achilles heel, yours was reading for example, his was studying and school.

"Jungkook, you passed most of your classes with more than 90%, what are you talking about?" a fact he had brought up to you randomly when you mentioned absolutely nearly failing most of your literature classes.

"Yeah, except for English." he shook his head in the way he would when he'd feel conflicted or insecure. "I don't know what i'm doing wrong".

"Did you fail something?" you tried to get some more insight into the situation, still unsure of where all his worries came from.

"No, there's just this sentence I can't properly put together" he turned his notebook towards you. "Ah, just look"

There were some words he had to conjugate and properly place in order to form a grammatically correct sentence, more than five attempts written in neat penmanship on the page evidenced the boy's battle with the assignment. He missed one very important aspect of it, though. "There's a fucking word that's missing, dude" you explain, grabbing the pen from his hand and showing him where the mistake was. "It's not your fault, it's the teacher's".

Jungkook's serious expression didn't go away though. "Well, damn".

You had some sort of emotional trauma with having people ask you for help, it made you think that they didn’t actually care for you as a person but rather just your skills. That was the way you’d grown up and what your position in society seemed to be as well, the one you could butter up and taste when you got bored. Heart had been broken many times too, whenever you’d realize what you thought to be a genuine connection was merely pure interest. Those thoughts clouded your head when Jungkook would randomly enter your office with a frustrated expression on his face, yet, that occurred less often than it didn’t. 

Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you most of the time, hence your wish for him to let you in a bit more before you could allow yourself to free fall into whatever was going on between you both.

You reach for the fabric of his hoodie, tugging his sleeve with your fingers just because you really liked the color of it, and maybe because you wanted to feel closer to him. He doesn’t react to your touch, just looks at your hands briefly as they play with the edges of his clothing. “Where did you get this from?”

“An online store, I think.” he replies softly, reaching for your hand on his arm, caressing the surface of your nails. “It’s a unisex brand, i can send you their link afterwards.”

“Is it too expensive?” you inquire, not only to keep the moment afloat, but because you genuinely liked most of his pieces of clothing, especially his hoodies and shoes. Jungkook laughs at your question and looks at you with a smile.

“I don’t think i would know, ____. I’m rich.” he says, playfully. And he was right, what was expensive for you might just be cheap as fuck for him, you wonder if when a lot of money is in your hands you start to become very tuned out from what’s affordable or not anymore.

“True.”

“I can buy you one, though. I don’t mind.” he adds. Soft look in his eyes, a pure and genuine offer that you had to deny.

“I didn’t say i wanted one” you lie, only partially, because although you’d not mentioned it, you did actually want it. “I just think it’s pretty” you finally let go of him.

“Or do you think I look pretty in it?” he pushes, a sucker for compliments.

“Yeah, that might be it.” you admit, because there was no point in denying your irrefutable attraction to the man, as much as you hated to be vulnerable, especially in front of him.

“I think it would look prettier on you”.

Don´t copy or repost please. by studiojeon on tumblr.

[babyboibucky]

Promises, promises

Pairing: AU!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You believed that promises are meant to be broken but Bucky always proved you wrong. Until one day, he proved you right.

Word Count: 6,555 (oops I got carried away lol)

Warnings: Angst, a tiny bit of self-doubt but with a happy ending!!!

A/N: Some tags aren’t working, damn u tumblr! Anyway enjoy the angst and the shitty writing lmfao. Also kinda want to do ficlets for these two??? Like short fics about the happenings in their relationship, their first date, how they dealt with the break up idk, lemme know if anyone’s interested in that xoxo

MAIN MASTERLIST

-

It's been four and a half years since Bucky broke up with you and honestly, you're fine now. Fine, as in you've moved on from him and that you haven't been stalking his Instagram account anymore or have been asking Steve how he's doing since the break up. You're fine now, really.

There was not an ounce of denial left in your body after almost two years of pining and self-blame. But that doesn't mean you've forgotten the pain he caused you when he woke up one day and realized that he didn't need you anymore.

Forgive and forget they often told you and you badly wanted to do so. But it wasn't that easy to do, not when you still feel the pain as if it only happened yesterday.

"What did you say?" your forehead creased as you walked around the kitchen counter, quickly approaching Bucky who had his back to you as he stood in the living room of your shared apartment.

You weren't sure if you heard him right, or if he actually said anything. Perhaps you were just hearing things? Just this morning he woke up and greeted you with his charming smile before pressing a soft peck on your lips. You had cooked breakfast together, laughed together and even talked about what to have for dinner.

Sure, something about his demeanor earlier was a bit off, but you assumed it had something to do about his work and not because he wanted to break up with you.

Right?

"Bucky, what did you say?" you pressed when Bucky remained quiet; he didn't even turn around to face you.

He heaved out a deep sigh, "I said I need space." he murmured.

"What do you mean, Buck?" you asked again, voice small and shaky as you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.

Of course you knew what exactly Bucky meant by that, but you didn't want to believe it. You were hopeful that maybe this was one of those petty fights you used to have, one where Bucky would spend the night over at Steve's. He'll come around the next day, he always does that. You always woke up to him whispering apologies to your ear and you would say your sorry too.

Bucky rubbed his face with his hand before finally turning to you, "I can't do this anymore." he said, shaking his head before averting his gaze to the floor.

He must have seen the look in your eyes when he faced you. As much as you believed that you were pretty good at hiding your emotions, it never worked on Bucky. He was the only person who could always read you; you could never hide from him.

"Bucky, I don't understand." you let out a nervous chuckle as you hugged yourself, biting your lower lip to prevent them from quivering as you held back the urge to cry.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, "I just...you've been too...fuck, I don't know how to say this without hurting you. I really don't want to." he admitted dejectedly, looking up at you.

You scoffed, "Just fucking say it, Bucky. I'm already hurt just by having this conversation." you told him.

"You're too good for me. Way too good."

Bucky’s words echoed in your mind again as you laid your eyes on him, four and a half years after your break-up. And just like that, you were back to square one.

You did your best to avoid him after he left, you felt like Bucky too tried to do the same. It was harder than you thought, given that you belonged to the same circle of friends. There were missed birthday parties, anniversaries and get togethers. If you knew Bucky was going to be there, you’d bail. Thank god you had a bunch of understanding friends who never took your absences against you.

But an engagement party between two of your friends? Now that was something you wouldn’t want to miss out on.

You’ve been really happy for quite a while now, to the point that it never crossed your mind that Bucky would surely be attending as well. He had been out of your system since the day you decided to move past him, which is why you thought that you were finally a-okay.

Tonight proved you wrong because as you watched Bucky smile and greet your friends, you realized that you still wanted to punch him and hurt him and tell him that you were still in lo—

“Hi.”

You were too focused on daydreaming about how you wanted to hurt Bucky that you failed to notice that he made his way to you and was now waiting for you to greet him back.

Bucky was smiling at you the same way he did on the night you first met at a college house party. You and Bucky have been together for that long.

“Hi.”

The music was too loud that you missed out on the stranger’s greeting, if not for his shadow looming over your hunched figure as you sat on the staircase, you would’ve completely ignored him.

The guy was looking down at you with a charming smile that made your cheeks turn pink. He was tall and slightly muscular, something you noticed right off the bat all thanks to the tight red henley he was sporting. The guy had long hair too, but it was tied back into a low man bun that was messy enough to leave tendrils of stray hair to frame his handsome face.

“Hi.” He repeated with a chuckle, a hint of amusement laced in his tone as he bit his lip at the sight of you just staring up at him.

“Hi?” You stammered awkwardly.

He laughed, “Um, can I pass through or is there some sort of password required?”

You realized that you had been blocking his way, everyone’s way actually. Quickly, you apologized and stood up to leave your spot only for the guy to block your way before you could even hop off of the last step of the staircase.

Thinking that you must have confused him and the direction you intended to go, you murmured a soft apology again before sidestepping him but to no avail. You looked up at him with a frown when you noticed that he was intentionally blocking your way.

It didn’t help that he was way taller than you. Despite the one being on the last step of the staircase, the guy still loomed over you.

“Excuse me?” You snapped and tried to move past him but he was way bigger than you and managed to stop you from passing through.

He had a cheeky smile on as he watched your futile attempt to squeeze your way out of his large body. You huffed out when he held onto the rail while his other hand on the wall, completely trapping you on the staircase.

“What’s the password?” He asked, still grinning at you.

You deadpanned, “Are you kidding me?”

He shook his head, “Nope.”

You stared at him blankly before glancing at his hands, observing whether you had a chance at prying them away from where they held on. It was then that you noticed how his left hand was covered in tattoos. The sleeve of his henley rode up quite a bit to reveal that his tattoos reached his wrist, he probably had his entire left arm sleeved with ink.

“Can I please pass?” You huffed out when you concluded that there was no way you would be able to escape him.

“Like I said, I need a password.” He insisted.

“Penis.” You stated, face free from any sort of expression.

The guy choked on his laughter, “Why would you honestly think that?” He asked incredulously.

You shrugged, “I thought you guys liked dick jokes.” You reasoned out.

The guy laughed as he shook his head, “Well, you’re not wrong.”

“It’s not the password?” You asked. “Don’t I get a hint or something, I really don’t have time for games right now. I have to go back to my dorm. I have a test tomorrow.” You told the guy.

“I can’t believe you’re thinking about a test. What’s your major anyway?” He asked.

You groaned, “Like I said, I don’t have time for games or even for a conversation. Come on, just let me pass through!”

The guy hummed as he stared at you, as if he was thinking of something. You wanted to look away but he had beautiful ocean blue eyes that you found yourself slowly getting lost in.

“I’ll give you hints.” He announced. “Two hints actually, because I’m feeling generous.”

“Okay, then. Just spit it out!” You rushed.

The guy grinned.

“The password is made up of your name followed by your number.”

“Hi.”

You blinked when Bucky repeated his greeting. When you regained your senses, you cleared your throat and simply nodded at him as acknowledgment. You saw how Bucky’s smile faltered seconds before you looked away and pretended to look for someone.

“I can’t believe you just brushed me off.” He chuckled, running his fingers through his hair.

Bucky had cut off his hair right after graduation. He sported a clean cut since then but now he had longer locks; not as long as his college hair though. It just looked fluffier, you fought the urge to imagine how it’d feel through your fingers.

“I can’t believe you just expected me to greet you as if nothing happened.” You told him, letting your eyes wander around the place.

Bucky exhaled heavily and shook his head, “I thought we’d be okay by now.” He admitted. “Guess I was wrong.”

You clicked your tongue in irritation, snapping your head into his direction after avoiding his gaze earlier. “I am okay, but that doesn’t mean I am okay with being around you.” You hissed.

“I honestly thought we’d still be friends, you know. Civil at least.”

What has gotten into Bucky’s mind for him to expect a lovely reunion between the both of you? Things didn’t end well, he just left. He was too ambitious to even think that you’d greet him with rainbows and butterflies.

“We’re not friends, Bucky. Not even acquaintances.” You told him.

Bucky opened his mouth to say something until someone tapped on the mic, announcing that the newly engaged couple, Wanda and Vis, had something to say to their guests. By the time he looked back at you, you had already walked away and joined Nat at their table.

It reminded Bucky of the days when he used to watch your back retreat into your dorm whenever he walked you home.

“So, you gonna tell me the password or what?”

You felt all your blood rush to your head and you’ve never been thankful for existence of strobe lights. You were probably red as a tomato. Who wouldn’t be anyway? This handsome dude just asked for your name and number!

“Is this a joke?” You managed to asked and thanked the heavens that you didn’t stutter.

The guy shook his head, “I don’t really joke around.” He shrugged.

“Why do you even want to know my name and number?” you curiously asked.

Bucky shrugged, “Been watching you since you arrived.”

“Creeper.” you accused.

“Hard not to when you’re the only grumpy person in a party. I know your friends dragged you here, I mean you said you have a test tomorrow and you don’t seem the type to party a day before. Besides, you’ve been keeping to yourself the entire time. Figured you might want some company, one with substance.” he boastfully wiggled his eyebrows at you.

His confidence appalled you but you were also surprised at how he seemed to have read your mind. Or personality, in general.

“Hey, Bucky!”

You watched the guy turn his head towards front door where a blonde guy— Steve from the student council, you recognized— entered. You thought it’d give you a chance to slip away but the guy, well Bucky, kept his hands in place.

“Kinda busy right now, pal. I’ll catch up with you later.” He said.

Steve’s gaze moved past Bucky until they landed on you. He chuckled as he shook his head at his friend’s antics. Steve walked away but not without acknowledging you.

“He may not seem like it, but Bucky’s a good guy. You can take my word for it.”

Bucky turned to you and lifted an eyebrow, “I mean, coming from a student council member, that’s a pretty credible source.” He said confidently.

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. You had to admit, Bucky had a way with words and actions. His boyish charm was working on you and you hated how easily you were falling for it. And you just met the guy like ten minutes ago!

“So, what’s the password?” Bucky asked again.

You tapped your foot as you crossed your arms over your chest, “You promise to let me go if I tell you?”

Bucky made a face, “I don’t think that’s the right term because you can expect more of me once you give me the password. But I’ll definitely step aside. That’s a promise.” He reassured.

“Promises are meant to be broken.” You stated.

“Yeah, well watch me prove you wrong. Password? Pretty please?” He asked cutely and fuck, Bucky was really winning you over just like that.

Letting out a defeated sigh, you tell him your name and number. Just as he promised, Bucky stepped aside and quickly fished out his phone to type in your number. You honestly didn’t expect for him to remember it after hearing it once, but you peeked and he actually did. Impressive.

“Like I promised, off you go to study.” He said and motioned his arm towards the front door.

You sighed and offered a small smile before finally walking past him. You were about to open the front door when Bucky beat you to it.

“I told you ‘let go’ is the wrong term ‘cause I’m walking you home tonight.” Bucky said. “And tomorrow night too. And the next night and the next next night. Or afternoon. Morning? Whatever time your classes finish.”

Bucky really proved you wrong that night because he did walk you home the next night and the next next night too. It went on until he no longer had to watch you enter your dorm or apartment because eventually, the two of you ended up going to the same home.

It’s very ironic really, that it was also Bucky who failed to prove you wrong when he broke his promise not to hurt you, ever. You wondered whether it was your fault that you actually believed in him. It was hard not to though, because Bucky’s earned your trust from all the promises he made and kept.

Which is why it was even more painful when one day, he decided to break the one promise you truly held on to.

“I’ll always love you, you know that right?”

Bucky blurted it out randomly that his statement confused the hell out of you. The two of you were just playing a video game when he said it, making you hit pause.

“And where did that come from?” You asked with amusement.

Bucky frowned, “You could’ve reacted differently. I was hoping for a high-pitched ‘awwww!’ and this is what I get?” He teased, taking your chin in between his index finger and thumb to pull you close so he could bite your nose playfully.

“You said it out of the blue!” You told him with a laugh. “But it made me happy though.” You admitted and kissed his cheek.

“Yeah, well it’s true. I mean, this thing we got? It’s forever.” Bucky said and lovingly smiled at you.

You pretended to gag at his words but it was obvious that you felt like you were on cloud nine when Bucky said that. “Cheeseballs!” You teased.

“This cheeseball’s gonna put a ring on that finger one day. That’s a promise!”

A finger snapped right in front of your face, “You good?” Nat asked.

You nodded and tried your hardest not to look at Bucky. He was seated with Steve, Sam and some other guys at the table next to yours. You could feel him staring at you and it was making you anxious.  Nat and Sharon exchanged looks before letting out a sigh in unison.

“Come on, I’m fine. Stop looking at me like that!” You told them with a forced chuckle.

“What did Bucky say?” Sharon asked. She’d seen Bucky approach you upon his arrival, saw the expressions you both had as you talked and knew immediately that it didn’t go well.

Nat hummed before taking a quick sip from her glass of wine, “We’ve been watching and we’re curious.”

“He was expecting for us to be friends.” You simply stated.

Nat and Sharon groaned and rolled their eyes, “What a dick.” Nat said.

“Men really do have the audacity.” Sharon laughed and shook her head.

You joined her laughter and lifted up your own glass of wine, “I’ll drink to that.” You said before finishing your drink in one go.

One glass of wine turned into two and then three and then four. Six drinks later and you were buzzed and unstoppable. You weren’t that drunk, you were good at handling alcohol but you were tipsy for sure. The formalities of the engagement party were finally done and the guests were left to mingle around.

Wanda and Vis immediately went to your table to catch up and after giving them your heartfelt congratulations (and apologies for missing out on plenty of events), you decided to step out of the venue to get some fresh air.

The silence allowed you to process your thoughts, the same thoughts you had repressed for years. You were happy for Wanda and Vis, truly. The two have been the epitome of soulmates and it was only right for them to end up tying the knot. But you also couldn’t help but wonder, would you and Bucky end up in marriage too had he decided to stay and work things out with you?

You lift up your left hand and stared at your bare ring finger. Just a few years ago, you’d been wearing a simple gold band studded with tiny diamonds around it— a promise ring. Bucky had given it as a gift on your 6th anniversary. You’d gotten together when you were just 19 and Bucky 21. People always doubted that your relationship with him wouldn’t last long given that the two of you were so different. Not to mention, Bucky had a reputation. Girls fawned over him; he was tall and handsome, had a rugged appeal to him thanks to his long hair and tattooed left arm. He drove a damn motorcycle that got him into trouble plenty of times.

You were Miss Goody Two Shoes who played it safe and Bucky was the Big Bad Wolf who liked taking risks.

It was a surprise when your relationship with him kept on progressing and the next thing you knew, the both of you have been together for a total of eight long years. It would’ve reached nine but shit happened and Bucky decided that those eight years didn’t matter to him anymore.

“Can we talk?”

If Bucky asked you that a couple of years ago, you would’ve probably punched him in the face and kneed him at the crotch before running away. Well, you still wanted to do so but a part of you wanted to talk things out. Get a proper closure maybe since Bucky failed to give you a detailed explanation that would help you understand why he chose to leave you.

Nat told you once that some things are better left unsaid. You spent years secretly pining for Bucky after the break up, spent nights questioning yourself where you lacked that made him leave you. You’d asked Steve about Bucky whether he met someone knew or how he was dealing with the break up; it did you more damage than good until you finally gave up and decided to actually move on.

But now that Bucky was here and there was no way to avoid him, maybe you deserved this confrontation after all.

“What do you want to talk about?” You asked, keeping your eyes on the pavement right in front of you.

You felt Bucky stand beside you, placing his hands inside the pockets of his jeans before turning to you, “About us.”

You snickered, “Us? What about us? What is there to talk about us?” You asked, turning your head to face him.

Bucky’s eyes have always been your favorite feature of his. They were very expressive and if Bucky could see through you every damn time, it was his eyes that you could always read. They were still blue but they held a certain emotion in them as he gazed at you.

Sadness and...regret?

Before your assumptions could get the best of you, you turned away and waited for Bucky to speak again.

“I can’t keep on avoiding you.” He said. “I’ve been doing so for the past few years and it kills me.” He admitted.

“And you think I want to keep doing this too? I’ve missed out on so many occasions because I just couldn’t be around you. You’re not the only one struggling.” You said.

Bucky shrugged, “Then let’s stop avoiding each other.”

The way he suggested it almost offended you; he was so nonchalant about it as if it was so easy to just let him waltz back into your life. Truth was, you dreamt of the day that he’d come crawling back to you. But you knew better than to let your walls down just because you miss him.

“When Steve told me that you seemed to be doing well, I really thought it meant that we can become friendly with each other, y’now. I mean, eight years. Those years meant so much to me, we’ve been through a lot and—“

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Barnes?!” You bitterly chuckled.

“If those eight years together really meant a lot to you, you would’ve stayed. You would’ve allowed me to work it out with you! But what, you broke up with me because you thought I was too good for you? That you felt suffocated just because I was looking out for you?”

You didn’t mean to snap at Bucky like that, in your mind you thought you would be able to have a calm conversation with him. But with the alcohol running through your body, you couldn’t stop yourself from expressing yourself and and feeling the same way you did on that specific night.

“Too good? How am I too good for you, Buck?” You asked, immediately wiping off the tears that escaped your eyes.

“You have everything planned out! For yourself, for us. And it makes me feel fucking useless! I see you work your way up at your job and I’m still figuring out what the hell I want to do with my life!” He exclaimed.

You shook your head, “I didn’t know you felt that way.” You whispered. “If you told me this then I could’ve done something about it, Buck! Rather than let it get this far, I would’ve fixed it.” You told him and tried to reach out but Bucky took a step back.

“That too! You’re a fixer! You always end up fixing things. This relationship has become an endless cycle of me fucking up things and you picking up the pieces. And every single time you clean my mess, I feel like you’re hoping I’d be like the others. It’s like you’re trying to make me into a person I’m not just so I could fit this, this certain mold you had in mind!” He accused you.

You wiped again your tears and refused to believe him, “That’s not true, Bucky! I’ve always loved you for who you are, I never asked you to change for me!”

“Yes, you do! You never said it but I always felt it...when Steve got promoted and when Sam finally launched his business. You always wanted me to be like them, you never said it out loud but that’s what you made me feel whenever we talk about my job...or lack thereof.” He chuckled bitterly.

Bucky may not be traditional in the sense that he considered himself an artist. He never liked the idea of settling for a nine to five desk job so he took on a job as a tattoo artist. It wasn’t a permanent job and he didn’t have clients demanding for him all the time so it gave him time to work for a motorcycle shop too.

It was never a problem for you but practically speaking, your and Bucky’s joint savings wouldn’t be enough for the future that the both of you have planned out.

“I’ve been supportive of you! I never asked you to give up on those jobs, Bucky.” You defended yourself.

Bucky nodded his head, “You don’t know it but you do. That’s how I felt whenever you suggested that I try something else.”

“It’s because I know you can do so much more! Stay at the tattoo parlor and mechanic shop, then fine! But don’t settle because you have the potential to make it out there, that’s what I want you to know! I don’t understand why you’re limiting yourself, Buck. Why you’re suddenly so afraid.”

You carefully took a step closer to Bucky and thank god he let you this time. You swallowed the lump in your throat and reached out to cup his face in your hand. Bucky was livid, his chest rising heavily with every breath he took.

“You were the one who taught me to be brave, to take risks. I used to be so afraid, remember? Afraid to ride your motorcycle, to try out that job I thought I couldn’t handle. I was so scared to commit,” you chuckled, remembering how much you hesitated to give Bucky a chance when he asked you to be officially his girlfriend.

“...but you’ve always been there for me. And I want to do the same with you. I know that it seems scary to let go of what you believe is your calling. You don’t have to let go of it, Buck. But you gotta try something new too.” You said as you let your thumb caress the skin beneath his eyes.

There was silence between the two of you. Bucky had calmed down and you thought that it was over. Little did you know that it was simply the calm before the storm. Because the words that came out of Bucky’s mouth were the words you didn’t expect to hear.

“Well, this is me trying something new.”

Bucky refused to meet your gaze and simply let your hand move away from his face. You shook your head no as you turned around to compose yourself.

“We were fine this morning, Buck. What happened?” You asked and embraced yourself, seeking comfort you knew you’d only get if Bucky changed his mind.

“I thought we were fine too. But the tattoo parlor is closing in a month and we haven’t been getting plenty of clients at the motorcycle shop. And it just hit me y’now, I dread coming home to you because I know you’d be disappointed and that again, you’d offer to fix my shit and the thing is, I don’t want you to. I don’t want you to fix my shit or tell me how to deal with my problems! I woke up and realized that I just don’t...” Bucky paused when you swiftly turned around with a frown, eyes brimming with a fresh new wave of tears.

“Don’t say it, Bucky. I’ll be better, I promise! I won’t nag you or pressure you into anything. Just please, don’t say it. Please don’t. We can still work this out.” You begged Bucky.

You weren’t sure you could take it, what he wanted to say. You already knew what he was going to tell you, you didn’t want to hear it. Let other people say it but god, it’d break you if you heard it from him.

“I’m sorry but I don’t need you anymore.”

The stabbing pain in your heart felt so familiar, the kind that punched all the air out of your lungs. You thought you were done crying over Bucky, but you were so wrong.

“I fucked up.” Bucky huffed out, bowing his head as if ashamed.

“You realized that just now?” You snickered. “Do you know how long it took for me to get over you? To forget the pain from hearing you tell me that you don’t need me anymore? After eight years together, Buck. You were my first everything and you gave up on us. And you really expected us to be friends, just like that?!” You spat.

“I’m sorry!” Bucky exclaimed, lifting his head to look up at you and you were surprised that his eyes were glazed with tears.

“I was wrong, I was so fucking wrong. Because you were right, I shouldn’t have settled then. But god I was an idiot, an insecure idiot.” He admitted.

“I was so used to being the one who guided you that it fucking hurt my ego when I noticed that you were becoming your own person outside of our relationship. I was supposed to be the one supporting you, pushing you to be better. You ended being the one leading me. I let my ego get the best of me and thought I’d be better off without you. But it was the biggest mistake of my life because when I left, I felt even more lost.” Bucky explained.

You were left speechless, you weren’t sure why Bucky was telling you all this. Did he want you back or was he simply apologizing? You didn’t have words so you remained quiet and waited to see whether Bucky had more to say.

“I’m so sorry, I really am. I hurt you. I should’ve stayed, should’ve worked with you to fix our relationship. I hate what we’ve become, I sincerely wanted us to be civil with each other at least.” He said.

“Bucky, you’ve been saying the same thing over and over again. I’m not sure you understand the situation. I can’t be friends with you. Not after what happened. I thought I was fine but now I realized that I’ve never really moved on from the pain you caused me.” You told him and sniffed, looking back to check whether your friends could see you.

Thankfully, all the guests were still busy mingling with each other. It’s as if the universe meant for this confrontation to happen. But now you weren’t sure what to do after you finally got a clear explanation from Bucky.

“I wanted a fresh start with you.” Bucky said. “Thought that it would make it easier for me to win you over if we were friends again.”

You scoffed in disbelief, “It’s not that easy, Buck. I can’t just let you walk back into my life after your apology. It doesn’t work that way.”

You tried to move past him but he immediately blocked your way, “When I said I’ll always love you, I meant it. I still do. I want to make things right, please. Give me one last chance to fix this.”

Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, maybe it was Bucky’s words and how sincere he sounded that made your head spin. Your heart was racing and your palms turned cold. You wanted him back too, so bad but you weren’t sure if it was a good idea. He broke your heart and your trust, you weren’t sure if you’d survive if he left you again.

“I can’t continue this conversation, Bucky. I have to go.” You told him and made your way towards the door to the venue.

However, Bucky was quick to stand in front of the door. He had a determined look on his face, one that looked extremely familiar. You were still hurt but couldn’t deny the fact that you too, still love him.

Even after everything that had happened, Bucky still owned your heart.

“Bucky, can you please move? I want to go home.” You said and tried to reach for the door knob but Bucky moved and leaned against the door.

“You need a password to get through.”

You rolled your eyes, “We’re way too old for this, Bucky. I’m not playing with you.”

He shook his head, “I’m not playing either. Give me the password or else we’d be here the entire night.”

You huffed out, “This isn’t funny. Let me through.”

Bucky shrugged, “No can do. Like I said, I can do this all night.”

You deadpanned, “What’s the hint?” You asked with a defeated sigh, knowing well enough that there was no way you could walk past him without playing along with his stupid little game.

“Consists of three words.” Bucky said.

“Penis boobs vagina.”

Bucky cackled, “And I thought you said we’re too old for this.”

You groaned, “I’m serious, Bucky. Just let me go.”

“No. I made that mistake once and I’m not doing that again. I love you. And I promise that this time, it’ll be different. I know you still love me too, so again I am asking you to take a risk and say it.”

Bucky said it with conviction and you hated how it made your stomach flip. Up until this day, Bucky had a way to make you fold. And he could still read you.

“I’m not saying it, Bucky. How sure are you that I still feel the same anyway?” you asked.

Bucky tipped his head towards your neck, “Not sure if you just forgot but you’re wearing the promise ring as a necklace.”

Fuck. Of course, you’d forgotten about it. You may not have been wearing it on your finger, but you still continued to wear it. It meant a lot to you even after the break up, so much so that you couldn’t simply throw it away or remove it. You figured that it might be better to keep it around your neck. Out of sight, out of mind but still there. You wanted it to exist, it was a part of you.

“Say it and I promise that you won’t regret it.” Bucky insisted.

“Promises are meant to be broken. You proved that the night you broke up with me.” Your voice quivered when you said that.

“And I want to make it up for it for the rest of my life.” He reassured.

“History repeats itself. I don’t think I can deal with it again if you realized the second time around that you don’t need me. Buck, you really hurt me.” You said, voice cracking before you could even finish your sentence.

Bucky quickly took your face in between his hands and for some reason, it felt right. The warmth of his palm, the love in his eyes as he gazed at you, it felt like home.

“I know and I hate myself for it. So fucking much. But I promise you, it wouldn’t happen again. I fixed my life when you left, realized that you were right. I’m better now. So let me be the fixer this time, let me be the one to fix this mess, to pick up the pieces. Because I’m just as afraid to let you go again. I can’t do that again. I love you and I need you. I always did.”

The kiss he pressed on your forehead caused your walls to crumble down. All of a sudden you were sobbing into his arms and apologizing.

“I didn’t mean to pressure you then, Buck. I didn’t know, I’m sorry too.” You cried.

“Shh, no. Please don’t apologize.” Bucky coaxed as he pulled back to kiss your tears away. “None of this was your fault, baby. It’s all on me. Let me make it up to you, please?”

The term of endearment made your heart flutter and as much as you hated how Bucky easily won you over, again, the love you have for him was quick to outweigh it. You knew you shouldn’t have given in to him just like that, but this was Bucky. He was your greatest love, someone who owned your heart even after he left.

“I miss you, baby. Couldn’t fathom the thought of you being with someone else.” Bucky admitted as he hugged you tightly.

“I was so stupid, so fucking stupid. I hated myself for hurting you. I won’t do it again, I swear.”

His hand rubbed circles against your back, helping you calm down after your breakdown. He swayed you from side to side, pressed kisses on your crown and whispered promises that he was sure he was going to keep and you basked in it. When you finally calmed down, you pressed your face into Bucky’s neck and inhaled his scent.

He smelled the same, like comfort and love and trust. You hugged him tighter and smiled into his skin and mumbled, “I love you.”

Bucky chuckled, “You got the password right but I don’t think I’m letting you go just yet.”

“Nat and Sharon’s gonna kick our asses if they find out.” You chuckled.

He pulled back and stared at you lovingly, “I’ll take the hit for you.” he laughed.

“I’m sorry.” he mumbled again, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“Forgiven.” You told him and stood on your tiptoes until Bucky bent down to meet your lips in a kiss.

You sighed into the kiss. Four and a half years of pain and anger all gone and replaced with the love you always had for Bucky. His lips against yours made you dizzy but in a good way.

It felt right, like this was how things were really supposed to be.

You pulled back and sighed, “As much as I want to stay like this, I’m really tired.”

Bucky let you go but took your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I’m driving you home tonight.” He said.

You smiled.

“And the next night. And the next next night.”

Yet again, Bucky proved himself to be worthy of another chance. Because he drove you home the next night, and the next next night. It went on until he regained your trust back and all was well enough for him to finally reveal the black velvet box that he had been keeping in his pocket since the night of your eventful reunion.

“You need a password to see what’s inside.” Bucky grinned up at you as he bent down on one knee.

You chuckled through your years, “Any hint?”

“One word, three letters.”

You wiped away your tears with a smile followed by a subtle nod.

“Yes.”

Bucky kept his promise all along, he really did put a ring on your finger. Took quite a while with plenty of obstacles that caused its delay, but a promise fulfilled nonetheless.

-

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[vermillionflames]

Wedding Night

Gaara x Female Y/N

Word Count: 2,244

Warnings: arranged marriage, virgin sex, oral sex, unedited smut

I was nervous. My heart had been racing all day thanks to my wedding day anxiety, and the unsolicited advice from literally every single woman attending did not help. Neither did my father’s look of sympathy as he gave me away. My heart, having beat so fast it ran out of fuel, had dropped to the pit of my stomach the second we got into the carriage to take us to our home. This was the first time I was truly alone with my now husband, and it was dead silent. I was convinced he had fallen asleep with his eyes open, bored out of his mind, while my mind was reeling with all the scenarios that could happen.

The Kazekage was many things, but not a charmer. That much I was certain.

The carriage stopped and a guard opened the door. Not acknowledging me, again, Gaara got out first. A second guard presented his hand to help me exit as he continued towards the door. Lovely.

The house was massive, and right in the middle of the village. My face became hot realizing how easy everyone had access to it. Not only did it seem unsafe, the lack of privacy was a waving red flag.

Then I noticed his siblings standing in the door frame. We would have witnesses to our consummation.

I tried not to dwell as I followed Gaara inside.

His siblings vanished from the porch and then the door shut with the wind.

“We have the place to ourselves tonight,” he spoke in a low, monotone voice, “They reside here as well and will be back tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully they don’t bother you the same way they bother me.”

“Was that… a joke,” I tried to crack a smile but I was so anxious it didn’t translate through my face.

For the first time all day he really looked at me. The silence was heavy. My shoulders slouched and my face dropped after a few moments, he was disappointed with his bride.

“Come,” he turned around and started up the flight of stairs, “I’ll show you to our room.”

Not having separate rooms detracted half the advice I had been given early, but I was glad I wouldn’t have to deal with being alone when I went to sleep my first nights in a new home.

Gaara opened a door on the second floor and led me inside. The room was nothing special. A king size bed in the middle of the left wall, wearing deep blue sheets. Across were two armoire closets, made of cherrywood, and a door that seemingly led to a bathroom. It was bare, unlived in.

I turned to look at him by my side.

“I don’t have much skill when it comes to decoration,” Gaara said, meeting my eyes, “You can change everything to suit your liking.”

“O-okay,” I answered.

We stood there in silence, staring at each other, yet again.

My face got red as I realized it was about to happen.

“Um,” I stuttered, “Shouldn’t the sheets be white,” I looked down at my feet, embarrassed.

“If you want white sheets we can have them delivered in the morning,” he replied.

My brows furrowed in confusion, “I mean, like, for the blood.”

“What blood,” he asked, stepping closer he grabbed my hand and lifted my arm, “Are you injured?”

“No,” my heart shot up from my gut to my throat, “For the consummation,” I spoke too loudly for my liking. He placed my arm back down at my side.

“You are…,” he looked at me, “A virgin?”

I wanted to crawl into myself and die.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“That is good to know,” he walked towards the bathroom door, “I was hoping we could wait. I know everyone wants you swollen with my child by tomorrow, but,” he opened the door, “I think it best we get to know each other a little more. Your clothes should have been put in the closet on the right, I’ll be in here until you're changed into your pajamas.”

I was relieved at his idea to wait, though part of me just wanted to rip it off like a bandage. Then I got sick again knowing that I have never owned pajamas in my life… and that I sleep naked. I stalked to the closet, hoping there would be something that resembled sleepwear or that my mother had packed my belongings and threw me a bone. Inside all I found were tiny lace pieces and short satin dresses. Obviously, my ninja gear had been omitted from the move since I was no longer allowed to be in active duty, but nothing besides lingerie was inside the closet.

I threw open the single drawer at the bottom, praying for a miracle. It too had nothing but sexy underwear, and I wanted to faint when I saw leather straps. Who did this?! My shock made me lose my grip on the drawer and it fell onto the ground with a loud crash.

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I answered too quickly and too loud.

What was I going to do? I couldn’t sleep in my wedding robe. I looked at all the dresses, concluding they revealed too much for a sexless night.

“There’s, um, there’s no pajamas in my closet,” I called to him. The door unlatched and opened as Gaara walked to me.

“I’m sure they just hid it from yo…” he trailed off taking in the mess on the floor, “There has to be something here.”

Gaara picked up a black strap off the floor, “What even is this,” he asked, tossing it aside. “Is this supposed to make me horny,” he picked up a tiny, lace thong, “My sister must have gotten your size wrong.”

I spit out an embarrassed laugh.

Eyes narrowed, he shuffled through the mess on the floor. “Why is there nothing but underwear in this whole closet?!”

“Can I just wear something of yours,” I asked.

His face softened, “Of course. What’s mine, is yours.”

His closet was full of clothes and pajamas, so I had plenty of options. He handed me a large black t-shirt and red drawstring pants. I nodded in thanks.

Gaara went back to the bathroom while I changed. I threw the shirt over my bare chest, swimming in its size. Then began the mental debate of panties. The ones I had worn with my wedding robes had meant to suck me in and were too tight for sleep, so I removed them. I picked up the pait Gaara had thrown aside earlier and put them on, not wanting to be bare underneath his pants. His pajamas were too big for me, but they were comfortable and warm.

“I’m done,” I called as I climbed into the bed. Gaara emerged from the bathroom, having also changed into pajamas, which matched mine. He flicked his wrists and the lights went out. I felt him climb into the bed next to me and settle. The quiet lulled me to sleep, where I dreamt of my husband touching my body.

Something in the night startled me awake. I ripped my eyes open, seeing the bare wall. In my sleep I had turned onto my side, my back facing Gaara… only... He had also turned onto his side and had his arms wrapped around me. His hand had wandered up my shirt and was now resting under my breast.

I squirmed to try and move myself, but he only tightened his hold around me. Panicking, I grabbed his arm and pulled it down, forgetting how strong I was. His shoulder popped and I felt him wake up. His hand remained too close to my boob, which he noticed. He flipped himself over mumbling an apology.

“Wait, Gaara,” I turned, poking his shoulder.

“Hmmm,” he grumbled, half asleep.

“I want to,” I blurted out. I blushed at my confession, but honesty was the best policy.

“Want to what,” he asked, turning onto his back.

“I want to consummate our marriage,” I whispered, regretting how I worded it.

Silence was my answer.

“Um, nevermind,” I moved to lay back down but Gaara sat up and grabbed my face, bringing me in for a kiss. His lips were soft and warm, the kiss was nothing like the one we shared during our ceremony. My body tingled in response. I whimpered when he pulled away, wanting more.

“Are you sure,” he asked, holding my face in his hand.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“We’ll go slow,” he promised before kissing me again. His tongue licked my lips asking for entry. I parted, not really knowing what to do. I just knew I wanted him as close to me as possible.

Gaara laid me onto my back, continuing the kiss. He paused to look at me, I fidgeted under his eye. He smiled, genuinely smiled at me, before continuing the kiss. He sucked on my bottom lip, a feeling I won’t soon forget, before trailing kisses down my jaw and neck. His fingers played with the hem of my shirt, his shirt. Tickling my stomach and hips before pushing the fabric upwards.

“I want to keep it on,” I gasped, not ready to be fully naked in front of him, despite the lack of light.

“Okay, Y/N, but anything you keep on, I get to keep on and we can’t make love unless we take off our pants.”

His choice of words shocked me. Make love? We hardly knew each other. Still, I nodded in agreement.

His hands moved to the waistband of the pants I was wearing and slowly pulled them down. He cocked his head to the side, recognizing the thong from earlier.

“I guess Temari did get your size right,” he winked.

I took a deep breath as his fingers looped around that waistband and pulled down. The most private part of me was now bare to him.

“If you want to stop at any point, please tell me. You can shove me to the floor if you want,” he waited for me to acknowledge him before continuing. I didn’t trust my voice so I nodded.

One second he was staring at me, the next his head had fallen to my core. I soon realized what he was doing. His tongue licked up my folds, making my yelp. I had touched myself before, but my fingers never felt like this. I felt him smile with pride as his licks made me squirm and gasp. I kept my hands at my side, gripping the sheets. The pleasure increased when Gaara wrapped his mouth around my clit and lightly sucked, continuing the tongue laps. The bed beneath was soaked from how wet I was.

On instinct, my hands went to his hair and pulled him closer to me as I begged for more. My embarrassment and anxiety from earlier had vanished due to my lack of need for his touch. I didn’t want him to stop, and I told him that too.

I felt one of his fingers enter me, making my volume increase. He pumped his finger before releasing my clit from his mouth.

He looked up at me from his position at my hips, our eyes met and my body came undone.

“Do you still want to,” he stood at the side of the bed when my orgasm stopped rippling through me.

“Yes,” my voice was so heavy with desire I didn’t recognize it.

“Shirts still on?”

I blushed but nodded.

“Okay,” I watched Gaara remove his pants, revealing a long, hard cock. My body hummed in excitement as he climbed back on top of me.

“Y/N,” Gaara grabbed my face with one had, forcing my concentration on his eyes and not his member, “Remember what I said about stopping me?”

“Yes,” I answered too quickly.

He smiled, “Good, now look at me.”

I kept eye contact as he entered me. My face slowly shifted into one of discomfort as more went inside. It wasn’t painful like I had been warned, but it was a new sensation that was extremely uncomfortable.

Gaara groaned when he was fully sheathed. He didn’t move his hips, opting to kiss my cheeks while I got used to his size.

“Please,” I finally asked, “Give me everything.”

Gaara growled in approval before moving his hips backward, slowly he thrust in and out of me. I moaned, moving my hands to grab his back and hold him to me. He took my expression and noises as cues. Once I had gotten louder, and wetter, and quickened his pace, causing me to scratch down his back.

“More,” I begged, and he laughed.

“Tonight, this is as much as you get. I don’t want you to be too sore,” he angled himself to hit a particularly pleasurable spot and I cried out.

We were both sweating, moaning messes when I felt my orgasm approach. Gaara must have felt it too because he quickened his pace enough to meet me. We came together, which is something the old hags told me would not happen. Gaara laid on top of me for some time before flopping over.

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

“Yes,” I was still catching my breath, “That was so much better than what I was told would happen.”

“Oh?” Gaara sat up, massaging circles into my tummy, “Just wait until we become more accustomed to each other’s bodies.”

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime – Six // Wanda Maximoff

chapter five | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter seven

author’s note: i’m glad you all seemed to like the last chapter! i’m all for slow burn but i didn’t want to leave you hanging too long aha. Now onto dating territory!

Since going to Blackpool with Wanda, we hadn't actually gotten another moment to ourselves. Wedding plans were picking up which kept her busy, and if not that, then I'd only see her in passing in which we'd exchange smiles before moving on.

So, I though it would be good to take her out on a date. A proper one, even if it was to be disguised as a simple outing between soon-to-be sister-in-laws. The plan was to 'bump' into her in town, which we did, then I asked her if she wanted to go to the art gallery. She'd been before, but they'd put in a new exhibition which I thought she might like.

We couldn't exactly hold hands when there, but I made the most of her presence and stood a little too close to her than a friend might. Since she'd kissed me at the beach, I wasn't able to think about anything else. And when shot me a knowing smile, I knew she felt the same.

"I like this one," I told her, pointing to a piece hung on the wall, before squinting to read the plaque. "Jedburgh Abbey from the River by Thomas Girtin."

"And why's that?" she asked, watching me with humoured eyes.

I pursed my lips, glancing between her and the painting sheepishly. "I'm not gonna lie, I just like the way the guy painted the clouds in the sky."

She stifled laughter, not wanting to draw attention from passers-by, and nudged me in the shoulder. "You're unbelievable, milaya (darling). We didn't have to come here if you don't like art."

I gave her a knowing look. "Hey, I love art. Especially when it's by a certain Sokovian artist named Wanda Maximoff."

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. I grinned at her bashfulness, wanting to tease her but also very true with my words. Her work was my favourite, biased or not, and I still had that amazing portrait she'd done of me in my room back home. It was tucked into one of my drawers where nobody would find it. I didn't want anyone else to look at it since she'd done it for me and it was private... it was a beautiful reminder of the amazing day we'd had.

"You're poking fun, but in all seriousness, I'd actually love for my work to be up here someday," she said softly, looking at the painting before us with hopeful eyes. 

"They wish they were that lucky to score someone as talented as you," I said without skipping a beat.

She cracked a smile, tilting her head in my direction. It was obvious she was losing her patience with me, but I enjoyed watching her lose it. She didn't know what to say, especially when being complimented, and it was endearing to witness.

We remained civil for the remainder of the 'date', refraining from holding hands or gazing at each other longer than friends would, and I was pretty proud of myself for not thinking about kissing her once when we were done.

As we got into the carriage to go back home, the door closed and I was going to ask her how she found it when she moved towards me in an instant, kissing me without question. I raised my hand, caressing her jaw and closing my eyes as she leaned forward, practically on my lap, not that I cared. She sucked on my bottom lip sensually before she opened her mouth, pushing her tongue into mine. I almost forgot how to breathe as she did, unprepared for such an intense kiss.

"I've been wanting to do that all day," she revealed when she pulled away.

I flushed at the contact, a dazed smile on my lips. "Huh."

She chuckled as she sat back beside me more 'appropriately'. "Thanks for taking me. I loved it."

I nodded lamely, still trying to recover from our kiss. "I'm– I'm glad."

She smirked playfully, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to my lips before sitting back. "You're so cute."

My words still hadn't returned, so all I could do was nod before looking the other way. Her laughter filled the carriage and I wondered how I'd gotten so lucky to be in the presence of someone so perfect.

After exchanging some more kisses and actually being able to hold hands without prying eyes, we reached Wanda's home and she invited me in for some tea. Sadly, that meant we had to let go of one another, but I think she'd given me enough to remember her by as we parted, and she must have thought the same, judging from the smirk she sent my way.

We sat on the patio outside to have some tea and biscuits, enjoying the sunshine and blue skies, a rare occurrence for England. We were chatting mindlessly when her brother decided to make an appearance, helping himself to a seat between Wanda and I.

"How lovely of you to grace us with your presence, Miss Y/L/N," he said playfully, shooting me a charming smile, before reaching to grab a biscuit. Wanda slapped his hand but he stole one anyway, making her roll her eyes.

"Nice to see you, Pietro," I greeted with amusement, always enjoying his presence.

"And you," he returned, before chowing down his biscuit.

Wanda gave me a fed up look over his shoulder which he was oblivious to, and I tried not to laugh as she clearly wasn't a fan of him interrupting our time.

"So, I caught a glimpse of the wedding invitations," Pietro said, making conversation. He glanced between us with a nod of approval. "They're coming along well."

I hummed in agreement, smile becoming less real when he mentioned the wedding. Wanda didn't acknowledge his words as she fiddled with the handle of her teacup.

"Is your brother behaving, Y/N?" Pietro continued jokingly, looking to me. "I know how many admirers he has, but my sister should be his first priority."

"Oh, Piet...," Wanda breathed out with embarrassment, facepalming.

"Of course he is," I assured her brother with a small smile. "He wouldn't dare try hurting Wanda or he'd have a lot of explaining to do."

There was some playfulness in my voice, but an underlying truth to my words.

"It's sweet how close you've gotten," Pietro noticed, looking between us, before settling his gaze on me. "It's about time Wanda made friends with people who aren't me."

Cue another slap. I chuckled at her sheepish expression, amused by Pietro's antics.

"Anyway," he changed the subject for his sister's sake, "mother has been getting on my very nerve about finding a bride because you decided to get married."

Wanda rolled her eyes. "We both know I didn't decide, Piet."

He sighed over-dramatically. "Well, it's because of your engagement that she's now on my back about it."

"Join the club," I joked, knowing exactly what he meant. "My mum was already on my back about finding a husband, but since this engagement, it's ten times more annoying."

Pietro laughed. "Oh, no. Has she lined up suitors? My parents like to point out every pretty woman they see to me in hopes I'll make a move. It's hardly productive."

"I haven't asked her for fear she'll pull out a folder with all of the eligible bachelors in town," I said, half joking and half serious.

Pietro snickered as Wanda rolled her eyes in the background. She should have been happy I was getting along with her brother. He was actually quite entertaining to be around.

"It's funny you say that because you're one of the women my parents pointed out," he admitted.

"Oh, God, so they're saying the same thing to you?" I asked with a groan, and he nodded regretfully. "Isn't it just the worst?"

"You're a lovely girl, Y/N, don't get me wrong," he began gently, "but I don't like you like that."

I raised my hand for a high five. "Me and you both."

Laughing once again, he returned my high five and I was glad we were on the same page. The amount of people that had been hinting at getting to know Wanda Maximoff's very single brother was getting pretty annoying. It was nice to know he was just as irritated at the insinuation as I was.

"Okay, I should leave you both to it," Pietro concluded, slapping his knees and standing up. Looking to me, he said, "Miss Y/L/N, it was as lovely as ever to make your acquaintance."

I smiled as he winked playfully before looking to his disgruntled sister.

"Dear sister, the pleasure is always mine," he continued to tease, and she slapped him once more, making him dodge her and begin to leave. "Love you, too!" he called before heading back inside.

I laughed at his silliness and relaxed in my seat, looking back to Wanda. She didn't seem half as amused as I was as she drummed her fingers on the table and chewed on the inside of her cheek.

"I may be mistaken, love, but it looks like you're jealous," I poked fun at her.

She rolled her eyes and her jaw tensed before she finally looked to me, expression softening. "Can you blame me?" she asked quietly. "You're both single. You're both similar age. Everybody talks."

I shrugged nonchalantly, having a sip of my tea. "True... but I've got my eye on another Maximoff anyway."

She sighed, small smile creeping on her lips. Subtly moving my chair closer to hers, I grabbed her hand under the table and squeezed. My thumb stroked her hand softly as I leaned on the palm of my hand on the table.

"You look really beautiful today," I admitted in a hushed voice. "I should have told you earlier."

She, too, leaned into the palm of her hand as she watched me with an enchanting gaze. "So do you, milaya (darling)."

Unable to resist, I glanced around quickly before kissing her cheek and pulling away. Letting go of her hand, I busied myself with the tea and biscuits again.

"Biscuit?" I offered her, and she began to laugh at my attempt at acting casual.

Playing along, she accepted the biscuit from my hand. But a knowing smile was on her lips as she nodded. "Thank you."

—

Being with Wanda was a luxury in itself, even if we had to keep it private.

To everybody else, we were merely two women about to become family who happened to create a bond that was close. But we both knew what it really was and weren't eager to say it. Because saying it made it true and that meant that what we were doing became realer than it was in our daydreams and hidden moments.

I did find myself wracked with guilt sometimes – particularly the times when Y/B/N would gush about how excited he was to marry her. Wanda was technically cheating on him with me, his sister, but that fact was something that was still blurry to me.

We had no choice but to lie and be secretive. In a world like this, where we would never be able to be together like we wanted to, all we had was secrecy and deception. Did that still make us bad people?

I tried not to think about what would happen when she actually married my brother. The future was something I was adamant on pushing to the back of my mind because I knew what it would hold and I just wanted to enjoy the time I had with her. Convincing myself that what we had wasn't serious, just a heat of the moment relationship maybe, made things easier to accept. But really, I knew that whenever she looked my way with her signature smile and dazzling eyes, it was way more than I envisioned. She was way more.

So, trying not to be dragged down with the weight of reality, I vowed to myself to only focus on the now. Focus on the moments I shared with her whilst we could. Anything beyond that and I'd surely snap.

"Medovyy (honey), the Y/L/Ns are here!" Iryna called behind her, before looking to my family and I as we stood at her front door. "Please, all of you, come in!"

She ushered us into the main hall before closing the door after us. Perfectly timed, the rest of her family left the living room and came to greet us.

Automatically, my eyes found Wanda's and she was already looking my way, her dimple making a show as she attempted to reign in an excited smile. I did the same, trying to ignore the way my heart stirred upon seeing her.

Oleg and Iryna welcomed my parents and then me, kind expressions accompanying genuine greetings. In the corner of my eye, I saw Pietro shaking Y/B/N's hand before Wanda took his place, accepting a kiss on the cheek from Y/B/N. It wasn't jealousy that I felt whenever they were together, at least not entirely – they were to be married, what more could I expect? – but it wasn't anything pleasant either.

"Ah, my favourite Y/L/N," Pietro beamed upon shaking my hand, making my lips twitch upwards. "You excited for dinner? We're having salmon."

"Ecstatic, Pietro," I answered with a playful eye roll. "All I've been thinking all day."

He chuckled at my sarcasm before letting go of my hand and moving over to greet my parents. Wanda was next, her shoulders relaxing when she stepped before me with a soft smile present on her lips.

"It's good to see you," she said, but her eyes said much more than that. "How have you been?"

Exchanging a friendly-looking hug, my body was warm where she pressed against me. Touching her always sent a rush of emotion through me and I looked forward to it every time.

"I've been good," I answered aloud, before whispering into her ear, "Better now."

She squeezed my waist inconspicuously in response before letting go. "That's good. You know, we've got time before dinner and I wanted to show you the painting I've been working on lately. Wanna see?"

I glanced at my parents and hers for permission, knowing they'd heard her question.

"Just try not to take too long since dinner will be on the table soon," Iryna said with a nod. "It's so good to see you girls getting along."

Breathing out slightly, I smiled gratefully before letting Wanda intertwine our fingers and drag me up the staircase. She led me past several doors before we finally reached hers and she tugged me inside.

As soon as the door closed, she was quick to connect our lips in a heated, desperate kiss. I relaxed against her instantly, my hands falling to her side and pulling her closer. Her fingernails gently scratched the sensitive skin behind my neck, giving me goosebumps, and I let out an involuntary gasp at the feeling.

When we pulled away for a breath, her nose brushed against mine and she pressed a final kiss to my lips, slower and more tasteful compared to the first, before smiling at me.

"I missed you," she said, as if reading my mind.

A breathy laugh escaped my lips. "It's only been a week since we last saw each other, love."

She shrugged, arms laced around my neck. "A week too long."

Raising a brow judgementally, I gave her a knowing look. She wasn't embarrassed in the slightest as her half-lidded eyes met mine with a confident smirk.

"Did you just pull me up here to have a quick snog?" I teased her.

"Well, yes," she said, making me laugh again, before adding, "And I wanted to ask you if you'll go to the park with me tomorrow. A picnic. If you want."

She bit her lip anxiously, eyes darting elsewhere as she waited for an answer. I always found it amusing how she could be so confident one second and then so innocently adorable the next.

"Wanda, I'd love to." My thumb rubbed circles on her waist as I kept ahold of her. "I hear it's supposed to be nice weather tomorrow, too."

She pursed her lips. "Even if it rained, I'd still drag you to the park with me."

"Somehow, I feel like that's true," I countered with a ghost of a smile on my lips. She tried to hide her own smile and I continued, "Was there an actual painting you wanted to show me or...?"

Breathing out with amusement, she intertwined our fingers and pulled me to the back of her room where her 'studio' was. Since the last time I'd visited, there were plenty of new additions to her work, all as wonderful as the next.

"This one is from the beach at Blackpool," she said, stopping before a medium-sized canvas depicting the horizon. "When we sat on the bench. Just before I kissed you."

My heart fluttered at the memory and I studied the canvas, recalling it looked similar to her watercolour painting of the same view. She'd done a spectacular replica in oil paints, reminiscent of the trip we took.

"You should already know what I'm going to say," I said, looking to her knowingly. "But just so you can hear it again, I absolutely love this. You're so talented."

She rolled her eyes to distract from the pink spreading across her cheeks. "Thank you... and again, thank you for taking me. Seeing an actual water source upfront really helped me refine my paintings. It feels so much more real now."

I looked back to the painting, noticing what she meant. Either way, I loved both versions of her work, before and after going to the beach.

"You did good, love."

She squeezed my hand gently before sighing quietly with realisation. "We should probably go back down."

"We should," I agreed, glancing at her. "Thanks for showing me these."

She cracked a smile, teeth nibbling on her bottom lip. "Always."

Reluctantly, the two of us returned downstairs and joined the others as they were settling at the dining table. Wanda and I sat side by side, and this time when her fingers brushed mine, I made no move to pull away.

The meal was good, but as usual, I found myself zoning out. The conversation made its rounds, falling to me as the Maximoffs wanted to know how I was doing, then moved on, giving me chance to focus on eating my dinner and getting through the evening. I knew that at one point, everybody was talking about some play that was showing in the theatres.

Bits of the conversation were going in one ear and out the other and I was minding my own business until Wanda's bare foot rubbed against my leg under the table. The sensation of her skin against mine made my knee bounce up and hit the table with surprise, earning everyone's attention.

"Are you okay, dear?" Oleg asked, noticing my discomfort.

I cleared my throat, straightening up and ignoring the stifled smile Wanda had in my peripheral vision.

"I'm good, sorry about that," I apologised awkwardly, shivering when she dragged her foot back down my leg. "You were talking about the play, right?"

That seemed to distract them, as they leapt right back into conversation, giving me a chance to breathe out with relief. I looked to Wanda, watching her lean on her palm and hide a smirk as she stared at me with mischievous eyes.

Glaring and nudging her in the arm subtly, I looked back to my food, but she didn't move her foot, nor her hand. Both brushed my against me, starting a fire on my skin and making me swallow hard. She kept like that for the whole evening, making my head dizzy and leaving me at a loss for words.

And when I looked her way, she was already staring, definitely knowing the effect she had on me.

—

"I just need to find my shoes and we can go," I told Wanda the next morning, before our date at the park.

She'd come to pick me up at my house and was hanging around my room as I finished getting ready. From her place at my desk, she hummed in acknowledgment before distracting herself with my notebooks.

"I see you're making great use of the notebook I picked out for you," she commented, and I glanced towards her mid-search for my shoes, seeing she was flicking through the already-filled book.

"I have a lot of ideas, what can I say?" I joked, before looking under the pile of clothes near my wardrobe.

She chuckled, before falling quiet again. I wasn't really paying attention to what she was doing until she spoke up after a few minutes.

"Y/N, your writing is beautiful," she said, making me look her way to see an amazed smile on her lips. "I didn't know you could write like this. I mean– I should have because you helped write that letter Y/B/N gave to me, but this..."

I shrugged awkwardly, distracting myself with my search again. "It's okay, I guess."

She exhaled mockingly. "Okay? Y/N, this is miles better than okay. Why didn't you show me this sooner?"

I smiled satisfactorily as I finally located my shoes. Grabbing them, I approached Wanda and took a seat on the edge of my bed, opposite her seat at my desk.

"Because it'll never be anything more than what you're looking at?" I said rhetorically. "It'll only ever be words confined to pages that nobody will see?"

She gave me a knowing look. "I think you forget that my brother is a publisher, dorogoy (dear)."

"And I think you forget that he is the publisher to my brother, dear," I retorted playfully.

She sighed, shaking her head and putting the notebook back on my desk. "You know Pietro would love this, right? He'd sign you in a heartbeat."

I snickered at the ludicrous thought. "Wanda, you're a little biased, love."

She rolled her eyes. "Writers write for audiences. I am an audience. I consume literature. And I'm telling you that it's not just me who would read what you have to write."

I tried not to laugh as I pulled my shoes onto my feet.

"Are you really telling me that you'd never want to get published?" she asked with a raised brow.

My heart ached at the thought of such a fantasy. "Of course I would, Wanda." I met her eyes, which were already peering across from me patiently. "I've dreamed of that. But it's just not what's to happen. My family have told me that many times. In another lifetime, maybe."

She pursed her lips, studying me thoughtfully. I offered her a smile and stood up, holding out my hand.

"Forget that," I told her. "I believe you promised me a picnic."

Thankfully, she dropped the subject and accepted my hand, letting me pull her up. The topic wasn't brought up again and I wouldn't have had it any other way.

We went to the park like she wanted and she brought a picnic basket with her, having packed a lovely variety of finger foods and snacks.

As she was unpacking the food onto the blanket, I narrowed my eyes at her. "You know, now that we're finally alone, I can say how unfair it was of you to do what you did last night."

She played dumb, shrugging, focusing on neatening up the sandwiches on a plate. "I don't know what you mean, milaya (darling)."

"Huh. Sure you don't."

Giggles flew from her lips as she glanced at me through her eyelashes. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. I just love seeing you squirm. You get all tense and it's so cute."

I pursed my lips. "I figured. You've been watching me squirm since we met."

She grinned knowingly before straightening up. "Okay, I made sandwiches and there's also some coleslaw, fruit, cheese... I made some Sokovian dishes, too, if you want to try them. Okroshka – it's like a cold soup. Then there's this olivye salad. It's... well, salad."

I smiled at the thought she put into it all and grabbed her hand between us. We'd set the picnic out behind a tree so we wouldn't have curious eyes watching us. It didn't look like we were overtly hiding, but we still got our privacy, too.

"It all looks great, Wanda," I said with appreciation. "I can't wait to try it."

She squeezed my hand in response before letting go to grab some paper plates. After popping a strawberry in her mouth, she asked, "Do you just want a bit of everything?"

I leaned on the back of my hands as I hummed a 'yes'. She began to put me some food in and I watched her, admiring the sight.

Her hair was half-pulled back today, falling in waves down her back and exposing her perfectly sculpted jawline. Everything about her was perfect – the way she moved was elegant and graceful, even when her hair fell over her shoulder and in her way; she simply moved it back with a flick of her hand and resumed what she was doing. The sun caught her immaculately, her hair glowing bright under the light and her eyes magnificently green as they focused.

As always, she took my breath away.

"Here," she said, holding out the plate towards me and pulling me from my reverie.

I accepted the plate and fork, returning her smile, before she watching as she began to make another plate for herself.

"You sure this is fancy enough for you?" I asked jokingly, stabbing my fork into a carrot. "I heard you and my brother went to a very luxurious restaurant the other night."

She met my eyes, holding amusement in her own. "Jealousy doesn't look good on you, milaya (darling)."

I kissed my teeth and rolled my eyes. "I'm not jealous, I just– it's so annoying listening to him talk about how beautiful you are or how funny you are or how kind you are."

"Oh, so you don't think I'm any of those things?" she teased, trying to get a rise out of me.

I titled my head towards her. "Of course I know you're all those things. But it doesn't mean I like hearing him talk about it constantly..."

Clearly amused, she erupted into laughter and I felt my face heating up with embarrassment. I know it sounded like I was whining, but it was true. Sometimes, I wasn't envious of my brother but rather at the fact that he could actually take Wanda out properly. He could be seen with her in public and hold her hand without fear of getting looks or disowned. He had the privilege of being with her and it wasn't fair.

"You may hear him talk about it, but there's one thing I can assure you that you get that he doesn't," she said when recovering from her laughter.

I stared at her with an exasperated sigh. "And what's that?"

She smiled confidently, glancing around quickly, before leaning forward and kissing me softly. As quickly as it came, it disappeared, leaving me desiring more.

Licking my lips, I couldn't tear my eyes from hers. "You know, you're a really good kisser."

She chuckled at my reaction and I found myself leaning in again, entranced by the way she tasted. Putting my plate to the side, I raised a hand to pull her closer, getting better access to her mouth.

She tasted sweet like the strawberry she'd just eaten and I swiped my tongue across her lip, indicating I wanted her to part her them. She did, allowing me to slip my tongue in and wrestle with hers, revelling in the way she tasted. My heart was thumping loudly in my chest as she let out a moan, it reverberating in my mouth and giving me goosebumps.

When lack of oxygen became an issue, she pulled away breathlessly, flushed cheeks adorned with a smile.

"As lovely as that was, I actually want to eat what I made," she ridiculed playfully.

"Yes, we will," I assured her, my hand moving from her neck up to her jaw. My thumb touched her lips, outlining them tenderly, subconsciously committing them to memory. "We'll get back to it."

She wanted to laugh, but I moved forward and caught her bottom lip between mine, unable to stay away. It was wrong, the rush I felt in my gut and the warmth that spread all over my body and the tingles that travelled down my spine. Because I knew what it all meant, but admitting it was a different story. So, I didn't.

I just continued to kiss the girl before me, knowing I could have kissed her forever and not regretted a single thing.

[bethansfandoms]

from arwa on instagram: “remus and sirius are both drunk as hell at james’ birthday party or something and they make out drunkenly, neither of them having expressed their feeling for each other - they wake up together the next day in bed and it’s all awkward”

Remus knew he couldn’t have been the drunkest at the party when Sirius and James stood on a table, took off their shirts, and started singing Bohemian Rhapsody with their wands held to their throats so their voices were amplified.

He really did have no idea why their shirts had to be off in order to do this. Sober Remus would’ve recognised that, by every definition, James and Sirius’ rendition of the song was horrible. It was unbearably loud, their voices were slurred from alcohol, and they couldn’t hit half of the notes.

Drunk Remus found himself thinking that Sirius was rather good at singing and that he looked good with a shirt off. Of course, it was no new revelation to Remus that he was desperately in love with his best friend, but whilst sober Remus would’ve avoided looking at a shirtless Sirius under all circumstances, drunk Remus didn’t seem to be shy about rather obviously staring.

Remus also concluded that although he was definitely very drunk, Peter must be further gone than him as he had decided to take his shirt off too, maybe for solidarity, and start dancing in circles as Sirius and James approached the high note. Remus was curios as to whether they’d actually hit it.

The answer was no, obviously. Sirius went for the sensible approach of singing the correct note but an octave down. James decided to really go for it and he was absolutely nowhere close. All of Gryffindor were jumping around nonetheless and so it only seemed fair that he joined in.

Sirius leapt from the table when Remus began dancing and quickly grabbed his wrists to spin them both around. It made Remus feel a little nauseous but he laughed and went along with it anyway.

Sirius never did jump back on the table to complete the song with James. Instead he drunkenly threw an arm around Remus and started swaying with him.

“We should do this more often!” He shouted.

Remus laughed, “We can’t exactly do James’ birthday more often, Pads.”

“I meant dancing! I love dancing.”

“I hate it.”

Sirius pouted, “Not even with me?”

Because Remus was drunk, he told the truth. “When it’s with you, I may make an exception.”

This answer seemed to please Sirius and he wrapped his arm tighter around Remus before belting out the final few notes of the song. James did a bow and then promptly fell straight off of the table. Sirius and Remus just giggled and left Lily to help him.

“Are you tired?” Sirius asked. He’d leant in close to ask the question as even without James’ singing, the music was still very loud.

“Why?”

“You’re always tired and it’s almost two in the morning.”

Remus rolled his eyes, “I’m not always tired.”

“Are too.” Sirius stuck out his tongue and Remus did it straight back. “I’m tired.”

“Go to bed then.”

Sirius looked towards the stairs and groaned, “But... too many stairs. I’ll fall, Remus, the drinks make me wobbly.” He giggled at that and Remus found himself laughing as well.

“Here, I’ll help you.” He wrapped an arm around Sirius’ waist and the two of them made their way to the stairs, Sirius occasionally bursting into fits of laughter for no apparent reason.

“You’re very cute, Remus, have I ever told you that?”

Remus felt himself flush and began dragging him up the stairs. “I don’t think you have told me that, no.”

“Well, then I shall do so more often! You’re always helping us, Moony.”

“Thanks, Pads. Look, I’m almost as drunk as you, I can’t pull you up these stairs.”

Sirius gave some sort of battle cry before he started running up towards the dormitory at full speed. This was very short lived and he immediately tripped over his own foot. Fortunately, Remus caught him.

“Nice catch,” Sirius joked. “You should be keeper.”

Remus gave him a sarcastic laugh before hugging him close again and making it up the final few steps.

Sirius collapsed straight into bed, Remus’ bed, and sighed in relief.

“You can’t sleep in your clothes, Sirius.” Sirius gave him a dramatic wink before shedding his trousers, his shirt already abandoned somewhere in the common room, and taking his hair out of it’s lopsided bun. “That’s my bed, by the way.”

Sirius grinned and pulled the covers over himself. “Yours is comfier, don’t know how. You coming to sleep then?”

Remus didn’t really know why, possibly because it was his bed after all, but he agreed. He rummaged around in his trunk to find a pyjama shirt and was too tired and too drunk to find the matching trousers and so kicked off his jeans and decided it’d be fine.

“Why all the long sleeved things?” Sirius asked, tugging on the sleeves of Remus’ tshirt as he slipped into bed next to him.

“I’m always cold.”

“I’ll warm you up.”

Remus gave him a light shove. “Also, my scars.”

“You and those bloody scars.” Sirius groaned, rolling onto his back. “They’re beautiful, Remus. You’re beautiful.”

“You don’t mean that.”

Sirius rolled back over onto his side, his nose only a few inches away now. “You’re beautiful,” he repeated. Then, he kissed him.

Because Remus wasn’t sober and because he’d wanted to do it for such a long time, he kissed back. Moments passed before Remus finally shoved him away. “No, Sirius, we’re drunk.”

“You don’t want to?”

“Of course I do,” he muttered. “I’ve wanted to for ages.”

Sirius grinned and kissed his cheek, “Me too.” His neck. “Wanted to tell you for so long.”

“Tell me what?”

Sirius just kissed him again as though it were an answer. Although, Remus found himself thinking that it was enough of an answer for him.

Remus was sharply awoken by both the pounding in his head and at the door. “Let me in!” James was shouting.

Remus hadn’t actually been aware he’d locked the door. He rolled to get out of bed and then froze. There was an arm around his waist. He sat up, slowly, and turned around. It was Sirius.

Then, the same way it did after full moons, small bits of the previous night started coming back to him. He half leapt into a standing position and quickly pulled on the jeans he’d discarded the previous night, almost tripping as he did.

Sirius groaned and slowly blinked awake, just as Remus pulled on the long sleeved tshirt that, at some point during the night, had also been removed. “Moony?”

“Uh, morning.”

“Tell James to piss off.” He rolled over in order to look at him and his eyes widened slightly. “What the fuck is that on your— oh.”

Remus quickly looked in the mirror and was greeted with three purple bruises on his collar bone. “Uh. Yeah. Get out of my bed and I’ll put James out his misery.

“Wait, Remus.” Sirius sat up, the duvet exposing his chest but keeping the rest of him firmly covered. “I— fuck.”

Remus bit his lip. He couldn’t comprehend multiple things. The first being how he’d been drunk enough to sleep with Sirius Black. The second being how Sirius Black had been drunk enough to sleep with him. “Look, can we just... just forget it, alright?”

Sirius ran a hand through his hair. “Is that what you want?”

If anything, Remus wished he could remember more. “Sirius, you’re my best friend. I won’t— we were drunk and... I can’t loose you because of this. Okay? So yes, I want us to be... us. So forget it.

“What if I don’t want to?”

Remus felt his heart speed up. “I...” He was thankful for James’ incessant banging at the door cut him off because he didn’t know what to say.

“Look, you’re right. We were drunk and I’d hate myself if this ruined us. I just— I know I probably said a lot of stupid shit last night but I also remember telling you you were beautiful? And I meant that. I regret that we were drunk but that’s the only bit I do regret.”

“Sirius,” Remus breathed. James was still banging on the door but neither made a move to let him in.

“If you wish it had never happened then of course I do as well, I didn’t want to take advantage—”

“You didn’t,” Remus said quickly. “I said I wanted to. I did, want to.”

“Me too. Look, Moony, you’re just... the best person I’ve met and I, uh, I think anything I said to you last night were all probably things I was just too scared to say whilst not drunk out of my mind. There. That’s all I have to say so, yeah. Your move.”

Remus decided James and his relentless pleas to be let inside could wait. He crossed the room in three strides and knelt on his bed, taking Sirius’ face in his hands and kissing him. He may have been horribly hung over, but in that moment he still felt happier than he had been in a long time.

Anyways I hate this, because that happens sometimes, but I hope you don’t :)

[alrightberries]

honey, honey (how you thrill me)

request: i loved strawberries and cigarettes but levi just can’t catch a break :(( can we have a super fluffy modern au with boyfriend levi instead? thanks!

request: hi i’m new here and had read your fics. i love your take on levi’s character! Also that your writing is very great to read!😘 (tho that angst really made me cry HARD) if i may request umm... i want a levi x reader fic about them being like an old married couple but they’re not in a relationship ‘yet’ so like everyone ships them. Its a fluffy crack fic/ Reader is like “well you’re clean and I kinda lilke you so...” then levi be like “you’re tolerable and knows how to properly clean.” and then they really ended up married. It’s like the easiest transition from friends to lovers that one day they just said lets get married we act like it anyway whats new 😂. I want fluffs and laughs! Aot is angsty enough we need fluffs with our favorite characters!!

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff, semi-crack.  ❈ word count: 4.6k

❈ summary: modern au. In which you and Levi are both professors at the same university, and are painfully unaware that all the students and other staff members have a bet that’s been going on for years now. What’s it about? When you’ll both finally confess to each other and just date already.

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. mentions of sex

a/n: made it gender neutral as per usual. this was really fun to write! makes me think about writing fluff more often (pffft sure)

Trost University was home to many brilliant minds. It was a prestigious school with an acceptance rate of 600 out of 4000 yearly applicants, and producing the finest students; those of which would almost always graduate with high honors before starting a successful career of their choosing.

Its professors, undoubtedly, were of the finest quality as well. They were professional, extremely skilled, and highly trained. It was a workforce full of almost over qualified educators excelling in their respective fields, with master and PhD certificates framed on cubicle walls being the norm in the faculty room.

Erwin himself was proud to be a professor here. He started working as a high school teacher when he was still studying for his master’s degree, shifting from high school teachings to college teachings as years passed by, before eventually getting recognized and offered a job seven years ago by the prestigious school.

His friends— a loving and longterm couple who, as far as he knew, were high school sweethearts and still going strong today— had joined him on this journey as well. He’d known them since they were in college, all studying different fields but aiming for the same career of teaching.

The three of them shared a strong bond; a bond built on study groups, mutual dislike for crappy teachers, and a certain love for education. They were there for him, and he was there for them. He especially disliked it, however, when their relationship went through rough patches. He didn’t like picking sides, and listening to the same story being told from two different perspectives almost always made him want to grab Y/N and Levi’s heads and bash them together for how dumb they were acting.

But despite the differences and occasional fights, he wouldn’t hesitate to say that he trusted them with his life.

So Erwin, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out why he was just now finding out that the power couple he knew and loved wasn’t even a couple at all.

“So, wait.” He speaks, trying to be heard over the crowded cafeteria chatter. “You’re telling me... they’re not a longterm couple?”

“They’re not.” Moblit confirms easily. “Apparently, they’re not even dating.”

“Or so they claim.” Hange interjects. “Y/N and Levi have actual matching rings. Literally— I asked Levi about it once and he said Y/N was his fiancé.”

“But not romantically.” Moblit quickly adds on. “I was there too, he said not romantically.”

“Why would Levi propose to someone he’s not romantically interested in, huh?!” She counters back, a little louder than the brown haired man’s volume.

“I don’t know! Citizenship? Money? Sex—“

“They’re in love! You know they’re in love, you’re just denying it because you want to get in Y/N’s pants.” She huffs. “And because you’re about to lose the bet.”

Erwin’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “Bet? What bet?”

“Oh, you don’t know about the bet?” Hange asks. “It’s been going on for, like, five years now. The entire faculty’s in on it.” She begins to chow down on her soup, not offering more of an explanation. Moblit takes this as his cue to expand when he notices Erwin’s blank stare.

“Since you guys joined maybe... seven or so years ago? Everyone just assumed Y/N and Levi were a thing. Because of, y’know, the way they interact with each other. But then five years ago Hange and I asked them when their anniversary was so we could get them some wine, and both of them full on denied even being in a relationship.”

Hange nods, more than a spoonful of soup and a more than generous bite of bread in her mouth. “Yeah, but then I peaked at their faculty files—“

“Peaked at their faculty files?” Erwin murmurs, but he’s ignored.

“—and they have the same home address. They live together!”

“I can confirm that much, at least.” The blonde man answers thoughtfully. “They’ve been sharing a dorm since college but Y/N moved out at some point. They live together in Levi’s apartment now, though.”

“That doesn’t prove anything.” Says Moblit. “They could just be roommates and really good friends.”

“Well I’ll say!” Hange throws her hands in the air. “I caught Y/N sucking Levi’s dick at a party once. Must be one hell of a friendship they have, aye Moblit?”

Her elbow begins nudging the brunette beside her, and Erwin stares with amusement when Moblit starts getting irritated from the eccentric woman’s teasing.

“So what’s the wager?” Erwin asks.

The two professors stop their bickering and share an evil smile. Hange gestures for Erwin to come closer, as if she were about to tell him a secret, and he does just that.

“Whoever wins the bet gets a free meal from Shaw’s Bistro.”

Erwin’s eyes widen. Shaw’s Bistro; the classy high end restaurant with the fancy wine, fancier atmosphere, and the best Japanese Salted Salmon he’s ever had.

It was an expensive restaurant— even for someone with his salary. Erwin knew he could rarely ever eat there unless he wanted to run his bank account dry. And he concludes that this petty bet must be a Pretty Big Fucking Deal.

He squints his eyes. “I’m listening.”

Hange giggles as she continues. “Basically, you have to guess how long it’ll take for Y/N and Levi to finally admit they’re couple. But you can’t choose the same answer as other people in the bet, we can’t afford two winners. Literally.” She gestures to Moblit. “Unless you’re like dumb dumb over there who wagered they’ll never admit it because they’re not a couple—“

“They’re not!”

“—I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

Erwin nods his head, one hand on his chin in thought. He never did explicitly ask whether they were dating or not, he just assumed they were.

He carefully considers his options; be a snoop to his longterm friends and possibly break their trust for joining a foolish bet? Or Japanese Salted Salmon from Shaw’s Bistro?

Hange and Moblit look at him expectantly, smiling when he nods.

“Deal me in.”

The cafeteria was noisy when you walked in.

Students mingled amongst themselves, chatting idly about academics and gossip. Cutlery scraped against each other as people took bites of their meals. Your eyes scanned the crowd, spotting your friends sitting around their usual table and having what seemed to be a heated discussion.

You turned to look at the man beside you. “Did you bring your own lunch today?”

Levi nods as he lifts up a small black bag. “Always do. But I’ll stand next to you in the lunch line so you don’t look like a loner.”

That was Levi Speak for I’ll wait for you.

You smile. “Thanks.”

The brief silence between you is broken when you start talking about your students— how proud you were that Armin was tutoring some of the struggling students in his free time, how terrible Jean was at hiding his crush on Mikasa, how terrible Mikasa was at hiding her crush on Eren (“I don’t even think she’s trying to hide it. At this point, I’m convinced that Eren is either dumb or dense.”)

Levi nods along to your tales, seemingly uninterested and bored. But anyone who knew him well would know he was listening intently as you spoke, every word heard loud and clear and processing in his mind as soon as they left your lips. Occasionally, he would pipe in with his own comments (“Eren’s just dumb.”) but he didn’t engage too much, opting to let you speak and rant on.

Your talkativeness never got on his nerves, contrary to popular belief. He liked listening to your stories, listening to your voice, and seeing the little glint in your eyes when you start talking passionately about your students. He overall just liked being around you. You were cleaner than most people he knew. You were tolerable. Sometimes a pain in the ass, but still tolerable.

But what does get on his nerves, however, is being ‘secretly’ watched by his friends.

Once he’s sure you’re not looking, he turns his head in the direction of their table, murderous glare prominent on his face. Hange, Moblit, and Erwin quickly snap their heads down and pretend to eat, but Levi knew they were definitely staring.

“Oh crap, I forgot my free meal card.” He hears you mumble beside him. He hadn’t even realized you were already standing in front of the counter.

“Figures. You have the memory of a gold fish.” Levi comments off-handedly. 

He hands the cashier his free meal card and grabs your tray for you, and you silently took the coat that Levi had swung over his arm to carry with you instead. You knew he’d hate for it to get dirtied by any accidental soup splashing.

“So, what’s happening on your end of the gossip?” You ask, both making your way to your usual table with friends.

Levi shrugs. “The brats are doing well on their thesis. Their grammar is shit though; makes you wonder how they graduated high school.”

You snicker. “You say that now but tomorrow pull an all-nighter to help them study and revise.”

“You’re not one talk. You scheduled two different consultations between classes and three more after your shift.”

“I can’t help it, okay?! You know I have a soft spot for the kids from the 104th.”

Of course he did. He knew of your affection for that specific group of students— admittedly, he held a twinge of affection for them too.

They were part of the first class you ever taught in your entire teaching career. At the time, you both worked at some crappy school in the 104th district. And to see the kids now, all grown up and studying at a prestigious college, it made your heart swell. And Levi’s heart... well, suffice to say it cracked some of the ice around it.

“That soft spot of yours is making you lose sleep.” He scolds. “I’ll take some of the consultations off your hands. The lil shits deserve a teacher who isn’t half asleep.”

Again, that was Levi Speak for Don’t overwork yourself, let me help.

You jokingly slap his arm. “That’s rude!”

“I know.”

Your conversation is interrupted when you finally arrived at the table, Levi setting down your tray in front of you and you handing him back his coat as you sat down next to each other.

“Hey.” You greet your friends, and Levi silently unpacks his lunch. “What were you guys talking about? It looked pretty intense.”

“Oh, nothing, nothing.” Hange waved off. “Just the usual. Grading papers, grading lab experiments, grading essays. The usual.”

You nod, unconvinced but letting it slide. “I see.”

The table is once again filled with laughter and conversations. Banter was thrown around here and there, mostly between you, Hange, and Moblit as you debated about films and TV shows. Levi and Erwin stuck to light chatter, but it didn’t go unnoticed to the shorter man when Erwin’s eyes squinted as Levi placed his arm around the back of your chair like he always did, or when Hange tried to hide her squeal when he wiped some excess soup from the corner of your lips.

Something was up.

It was about ten minutes into lunch when your phone began to ring, a notification from a reminder app you downloaded. You picked up your phone and sighed as you read your schedule.

“Gotta go. I have a meeting in a few.” You mutter, beginning to clean up your tray and utensils; you were a little disappointed. You didn’t even get to finish your soup.

Levi eyes you and the way you kept glancing back and forth between your soup and the clock. He sighs before he speaks, “I’ll take care of your dishes and buy you lunch later. Just go.”

“No, no, I can— fuck!” You yell when the bowl of soup is accidentally knocked over, spilling over your jacket.

Levi silently offers you his handkerchief to clean yourself up. He starts using napkins to clean the table as well, before taking the coat he brought and giving it to you.

“Use this for now.”

You smile at him once again, taking your coat off and slipping on his as you stood up. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t flinch (or react for that matter) when you kiss his cheek before you left, only letting out a small hum of acknowledgement as you waved goodbye to your friends and made your way to the meeting.

Once you were out of view, Hange’s smile immediately drops in favor of too serious eyes as she starts interrogating Levi.

“Okay, cut the crap, Ackerman. How long have you—“

“Hange, no, we’ve talked about this.” Erwin tries to reason but his pleas fall on deaf ears as she continues.

“How long have you and Y/N been dating?”

Ah. So that’s what it was about.

Levi sighs and continues to chew on his bread. He unenthusiastically stares at the woman yelling at him, swallowing his meal before speaking, “I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again: we’re not.”

“Bullshit!” She yells. “You guys are a disgusting old married couple who have two adopted children—“

“Dogs.” Levi corrects boredly, but just like everyone else at the table, he’s ignored as Hange continues her tirade.

“—have matching sweaters, do small bullshit for each other like paying for meals and lending your coats. And for god’s sake, they literally just kissed your cheek even though you hate human contact.”

She finishes her rant but Levi looks unphased. God, she wanted to punch his dumb and oblivious face so bad.

“Those are normal things normal friends do. I’m not surprised you wouldn’t know, four-eyes.” Says Levi, but Hange is unaffected and already used to his abrasive words.

Levi continues. “We don’t do anything beyond what’s considered friendship.”

Hange squints her eyes in suspicion. “Didn’t Y/N move into your apartment?”

“Yeah. Their landlord was shit.”

“Where I caught you having sex?”

“We’re fuck buddies and you don’t know how to knock.”

“But you introduced them to your mom as your fiancé?”

“I lied so she would stop bugging me about getting married.”

“You literally have a shared bank account and a shared retirement fund!”

“It’s easier to keep track of.”

“Damn it, Levi!”

Armin stares at the study guide in front of him, mind half processing the words and half... not. Quite frankly, he starts to wonder if the papers you’d given him were written in gibberish or some dead language no one spoke anymore.

You see him struggle to understand the sheet of paper in front of him, and sigh.

“Need a little help there, Armin?” You offer but he shakes his head. “I’m okay. I think I can understand this if I read through it more, it’s my friends I’m worried about.”

He glances beside him where the rest of his study group also stared the papers, each face painted with a unique mixture of confusion and dread.

You weren’t surprised, however. The readings for this module were quite complex, and the fact that your brightest students— Armin and Mikasa— were struggling with it made you feel a little bit hopeless for the rest of your class. Truth be told, even though you taught this topic countless of times, you weren’t entirely sure how to simplify it without leaving out too much information.

“Okay, how about this, we could—“ A soft knock interrupts your sentence, and you stare at the students in front of you to remember if you were expecting any more. It seemed like everyone was here, however, so you weren’t sure who was at the door.

“It’s me.” Came Levi’s voice, almost like he heard your inner monolgue.

“Come in!” You called out, focus shifting back to the paper in front of you as you heard the door open and close.

Okay, so I guess I could take this part and summarize it for them? Or would that still be too complicated? No, maybe I can—

“Ah, it’s that topic.” Levi mumurs, snapping you out of your thoughts. His face was directly next to yours as he stared intently at the papers you held. “No wonder you all look like you’re about to crap your pants.”

“Language, Levi. Not in front of the students.” You scold.

“They curse more than I do.”

“Still.”

He ignores your comment as he hands you a brown paper bag, pulling a chair out to sit next to you. He grabs the paper from your hands to look over the study guide you prepared, undoubtedly trying to figure out a way to simplify it as well.

“What’s this?” You ask, opening the paper bag.

“Bought you dinner.” He replies, eyes not leaving the paper in front of him. “I figured you’d forget again.”

As if on cue, your stomach suddenly starts feeling empty. It was impossible that you were hungry, though. You just had lunch. And after lunch you had some meetings to attend to, a couple classes, some last minute consultations, and— okay. Maybe it’d been a couple hours since lunch, but it couldn’t be that bad. A brief glance at the clock confirms that—

“Holy shit, it’s almost 8pm.”

“Language, Y/N. Not in front of the students.”

“Kiss my ass.”

“Gladly.”

The students in front of you let out a loud groan, faces over exaggeratedly contorted in disgust at your and Levi’s conversation.

Levi glimpses up at them and raises his eyebrow in question, while you jokingly roll your eyes.

“Alright, I think we should continue our consultation another time.” You said, beginning to pack up your teaching materials as the students did the same. “It’s getting late and curfew’s at 8pm. I’d better not see any of you outside the dorms.”

You knew you would though. It’s Friday night, there’s a bar across the street, and they’re teenagers. What could possibly go wrong?

You turn to Levi and hand him the keys. “You go ahead to the car, I’ll finish packing up.”

“It’s alright, I’ll wait for you in the hallway.” Levi takes the car keys as he stands up, walking out the door once again and leaving you alone with your students.

As you began to arrange your papers and clear the table, you start to remind them, “Okay, so we can discuss chapters—“

“Are you and Professor Ackerman dating?” Eren asks curiously, earning a shove from Jean and a silent threat to shut up, dumbass.

You chuckle. “No, Eren. We’re not.”

He gives you a doubtful look, one which you only return with a curious face.

“What’s with that look?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“You should date him— ow, what?!” He speaks, getting shoved by both Reiner and Jean this time before Mikasa pulls them off of him. You pause from your task.

“Okay, I’ll humor you. Why should I date him?”

The students share a look, daring each other to respond to your bold question. A few tense moments pass by and you smugly continue packing your papers. Yeah, you figured no one would—

“He’s nicer when he’s with you.” To your surprise, it was Mikasa who answers.

Unsure how to answer but still wanting to remain professional, you nod your head without looking up from your task. “Duly noted. Now go on, I know you have parties to attend to. I won’t hold you here much longer.”

The students laughed as they said their goodbyes; you held the door open for them until everyone was out before you left as well, shutting down the lights and locking the room once more.

A warm hand makes its way to the small of your back, and you smile.

“Hey.” Levi greets.

“Hey.” You repeat. “You read to go?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna share my dinner when we get back home?”

“...yeah.”

He takes the stack of paper from your arms, his free hand reaching out for your own. You walked down the hallway in relative silence, interlocked hands swinging slightly from every step.

From the opposite corner of the hallway, the students’ prying eyes observe the small interaction; the two professors remained completely unaware that they were being watched.

“Told you they were a thing.” Ymir gloats, and the group snickers as Reiner irritatedly hands her some money.

Something was wrong.

If there was one thing Erwin knew from the nearly two decade long friendship he shared with you and Levi, it was when something was wrong.

It didn’t go unnoticed to him when Levi didn’t open your side of the car door as he usually would when you arrived at the parking lot; when he made a beeline for his cubicle in the faculty instead of helping you get settled first; when you didn’t make a fresh pot of tea for him before classes started; when your small sweet gestures throughout the day were kept to a minimal; and most importantly, when neither you nor Levi wore your matching gold rings.

The faculty was nearly empty, save for himself, Hange, Moblit, and the two people who were having a lover’s quarrel. The entire day went by without seeing you two walk side by side like you usually would, and Erwin was pretty sure Levi’s permanent frown somehow got deeper.

Yeah. Something was horribly wrong.

“Pssst.” Erwin hears from the desk next to his. He turns around and is met with Hange and Moblit’s curious gazes.

“The hell happened to those two? Trouble in paradise?” Hange asks, eyeing Y/N and Levi’s grouchy faces and refusal to acknowledge each others’ existence as they each packed their things. She adds on, “Are they getting divorced?” Only to be reminded by Moblit that “They’re not dating.”

Erwin shrugs, answering Hange’s question. “No idea.”

Moblit chimes in, “I heard Petra tried asking Levi out yesterday and now Y/N is jealous.” 

She scoffs. “Y/N isn’t the jealous type. Besides, Petra’s part of the bet so that means she thinks they’re going to get together.”

“I’m part of the bet and I don’t think they’re going to get together.” Moblit points out. “And Petra stares at Levi the way Levi stares at Y/N.”

“Full of disdain and irritation?” Hange asks.

“No,” Erwin finally interjects. “Full of love and admiration.”

“Can the three of you creeps keep your mouths shut?” Hange, Erwin, and Moblit’s heads snapped to the direction of the voice, eyes meeting a pissed off Levi with a pissed off Y/N beside him. It seems like their hushed whispering wasn’t so hushed at all. 

“When you gossip about our private life the least you could do is wait until we’ve left the room.” You gritted.

“No, it wasn’t-” Hange tries to defend herself but is cut off by Levi, “We already heard you talking. Now out with it before I change my mind about letting this slide.”

The three guilty professors sigh, sharing a look before Erwin decides to come clean. “We’re concerned for you.” He starts. “You’ve been ignoring each other the entire day and whatever this fight is, it’s the worst one I’ve seen you have.”

You sigh. “Listen, it’s not that we don’t appreciate your concern, it’s just that-”

“-it’s just that it’s none of your goddamn business.” Levi interjects and you immediately glare at his rudeness. 

“Shut it, Levi. I don’t have time for your bull.”

“And I don’t have time for your petty lies.”

The three watched as you and Levi begin to quarrel, sharp words and irritated glares thrown around with each passing second. Your voices overlapped with each other as Erwin tried to make sense of what it was you were even fighting about, some words about betrayal in the highest degree and ruining a good thing and a relationship built on lies being the few words he understands. 

Finally, he has enough.

“Stop.” Erwin says loudly but firmly. The two of you pause from your bickering him and stare at him incredulously; he continues to speak, “We’re not teenagers anymore, we’re grown adults. I’m getting tired of playing mediator whenever you fight but if I have to do it again so you stop yelling, then I will.” 

He sighs. “Now what the hell are you two fighting about?”

“Y/N started it.” “Levi started it.” You say at the same time, and Erwin feels a headache coming but decides to ignore it.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

The two of you stare at each other angrily, almost daring the other to back down. This goes on for a few seconds before Levi finally sighs and speaks.

“Y/N thinks lemon scented detergent is better than lavender scented detergent.”

Hange and Moblit snicker but quickly shut up when Erwin gives them a look. He wasn’t even surprised that a fight as small and menial as this would be the fight that tears his favorite power couple apart.

“It is and you know it.” You reply defiantly and Levi groans in frustration, hand holding his head in disbelief as he quietly mutters, “I can’t believe I’m marrying someone who thinks lemon is better than lavender.”

At that, Hange’s ears perk up. “You’re getting married?!” She screams, and the two of you look at her in confusion, fight suddenly forgotten.

“Yeah, next week.” You reply wearily. “We emailed you the invites.”

If Erwin thought your bickering was loud, then the squeal that Hange let out was nothing short of deafening as she suddenly lunges at the couple, forcing them into a group hug as she cheers, “I knew it! I fucking knew it! You are together.”

Levi scoffs. “Don’t be silly, it’s for tax purposes. Apparently the bank won’t approve the loan for our new house unless we’re legally wed; something about tax fraud.”

“House?” Moblit echoes. “Don’t you already live together?”

You nod. “Yeah, but we figured the kids-”

“Dogs.” Levi corrects.

“-deserve a yard to run around in. Our apartment’s getting too cramped for the four of us.”

“Don’t ruin this for me!” Hange yells. “I have a wedding to plan.”

Levi sighs. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, four-eyes. There isn’t going to be a ceremony. We’re going to a court house to get our marriage license approved. That’s it.”

“And we invited you and Erwin to be our witnesses.” You explained. “There isn’t going to be a celebration but we’re going to host a small dinner party for close friends and family.We’d greatly appreciate it if you can RSVP to the emails within the week so we know how much food to prepare.”

The three professors nod, each exchanging pleasant smiles. It wasn’t the wedding invite they were hoping to receive but it was still a wedding invite nonetheless, and they weren’t about to burst your bubble.

“Hold on a second,” Erwin mutters, suddenly remembering one detail. “Where are your rings?” He gestures to your ringless hands.

“We had them engraved with our initials. Makes things more believable.” Levi answers. “If you’re done with the dumb questions, we’ll go ahead now.” 

He doesn’t wait for them to answer as he holds your hand in his, walking you out of the faculty room and into the hallway as he pretends not to notice his friends giggling like teenagers at the information you just shared.

“So...” You start, giving him a warm smile as you squeezed his hand. “Do you think they’re catching on?”

Levi lets out a rare smile, eyes softening as he looks at you. “No. They’re too dumb to know we’re actually together. They’ll eat up whatever bullshit explanation we come up with.”

“Okay, but remind me again why we have to keep pretending like we’re not actually together and not actually getting married next week?”

He brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles affectionately before placing his hand on the small of your back.

“Does it bother you that they don’t know?” He asks, and you hum as you think it through. “No. It’s actually really entertaining.” You laugh. “But why don’t you want them to know?”

He shrugs, pulling you closer to him. “That’s what they get for placing stupid bets.”

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

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[getawayaccount]

they were roommates 2

Jay Halstead walked out of his brother’s building more confused and annoyed than he had been in quite some time. Today was his rest day and, if he believed Will’s latest text, the doctor wasn’t working either, also the detective had gotten ready and driven to his brother’s place to hang out or something. Except an exhausted - and clearly irritated - college student had opened the door of Will’s apartment before swiftly closing it back in Jay’s face, right after thrusting a pile of mails addressed to Will into his hands. 

Jay was boiling. He knew Will had money problems and had been looking for a roommate. However, his brother had failed to mention he was on the verge of homelessness… which in retrospect wasn’t that surprising, considering how proud and stubborn Will could be. 

Jay tried to call his brother but Will didn’t answer, also the detective drove to the only place he could think of: Med’s Emergency Departement. He was greeted by Maggie who confirmed it was Will’s rest day and that she hadn’t seen him since the previous evening.

“You wouldn’t know where I could find him, would you?”, Jay asked, not expecting much. After all, if Will hadn’t told him about his situation, it was unlikely he had told anyone at Med. And yet.

Maggie pinched her lips together before looking around as if to make sure no one was eavesdropping before grabbing a piece of paper and a pen. Jay frowned as she quickly scribbled something before looking up and back at him. She held out the paper before taking it out of his reach and he opened his mouth to protest, annoyed, but she shut him up with a look:

“I’m not supposed to give you this, also you have to promise me you won’t make a scene, am I clear?” Maggie warned him.

“Sure, whatever,” Jay answered. “I just want to know where he is.”

Maggie studied him for a moment longer before handing him the piece of paper. It was an address. An address in the Loop neighborhood, which made absolutely no sense considering how expensive the area was. Still, Jay thanked Maggie and walked back to his car.

The drive itself was a pain but he eventually made it to the front of some fancy-looking building that there was no way in hell his brother could afford to live in… unless he had found a questionable way to pay off his debts. Nonetheless, Jay walked in and up to the condo indicated by Maggie, ringing the bell and then knocking forcefully on the door as he had very little patience left in him.

Again, his brother did not open the door. Instead, Jay found himself face to face with Doctor Connor Rhodes:

“You aren’t the pizza guy,” Rhodes said.

His expression was annoyingly unreadable while Jay knew he must have looked pissed by that point.

“Is my brother here?”

Rhodes studied him for another second before he nodded and opened the door wider for Jay to enter. The place had this cozy-minimalist vibe going only rich people could afford… as well as some of Will stuffs laying around. But why? Why would Will move in with Rhodes out of all people? Why would he not tell Jay? Why -

“Will, your brother is here,” Rhodes called out.

There was a bang and Jay heard his brother swearing and a shower being turned off. 

“Can I offer you something? Coffee? A beer?”, Rhodes added, turning back to Jay. “Whisky?”

The detective shook his head, still trying to understand what was happening here. And then Will walked into the living room, a simple towel around his middle section, and still dripping water from his shower onto the - definitely expensive - wooden floor.

“Jay?” Will started, visibly startled. “ What - What are you doing here?”

“Are you serious right now?” Jay shot back.

“Hm. I think I’m gonna leave you two to it,” Rhodes said, retreating towards what had to be a bedroom. However, he stopped on his way to push a dollar bill against Will’s chest. “For the pizza. If it ever shows up,” was all he added before patting Will’s shoulder encouragingly. 

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” Will tried once Rhodes was out of sight and Jay just rolled his eyes. 

“Bullshit, Will,” he said.

“I mean... one minute we are being civil and having a drink at Molly’s and the next he is asking if I want to move in and I just -” Will trailed off.

And, wait, what? Wasn’t this about his brother’s money problems? Was this about Rhodes? Was this what Maggie was referring to when she told Jay to not make a scene? Were Will and Rhodes actually living together as in... seriously dating one another? Was this was that was about? Had Will not told him he was moving because he was moving in with a boyfriend? 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jay started, holding up his hands in a placating manner. “I thought… God, Will, don’t you trust me at all? Do you really think you couldn’t tell me? I’m your brother, no matter what, and I love you -”

Jay’s heartfelt tirade was interrupted by a snort and he looked away from Will’s uneasy and somewhat confused expression to glare at Rhodes, who had walked back into the room to pick up his phone.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Rhodes said. However, his tone betrayed his words as he was clearly trying - and failing - not to laugh. “It’s just, I think you got the wrong idea here,” he added, before catching Will’s gaze. “He is giving you the Talk.”

“What?” Will asked.

“The it’s-okay-if-you-are-gay-I-still-love-you talk,” Rhodes explained.

“I’m not gay,” Will protested, looking back at Jay as he was insane for suggesting such a thing. And really, the detective wouldn’t have bet his life on his brother’s heterosexuality.  “We are not dating. We can barely stand each other.”

“You live together, Will,” Jay deadpanned.

“Yeah, call it pity,” Rhodes pipped in again.

“Fuck you,” Will shot back immediately. 

“I thought we had established that wasn’t happening,” Rhodes concluded.

He had a way too innocent look on his face and Jay was so done with whatever this was.

[talesofarcadia78]

Chemistry || One Shot

Beep! Beep! Bee--

Your alarm clock beeped, but you quickly hit the off button, not wanting to hear it anymore. You slowly got up, still wanting to sleep in, but couldn't since you had school. As you got up, you noticed that you had left your bedroom in the same state as last night. A mess. 

You quickly shook your sleep and got ready for school. 

While you were packing your bag, you noticed that you had a dozen messages from y/bff. They all read about meeting up at Sam's before school, at 7:30. 

Shoot! That's in 10 minutes! Sam's is all the way across town! 

You quickly zipped up your bag and rushed out your door. But before you could even turn the door handle of your door, your mom stopped you. 

"Hey, Mom! I'm in a rush, I got to go," you quickly explained.

"Not so fast. Aren't you forgetting something?" she asked. 

"Nope, got everything. Books, laptop, pencil case, phone, wallet," you listed. 

"What about your room?" she questioned. 

Oops. I forgot about that. 

"I'll just do it when I get back," you reassured her. 

"Sure?" she asked. 

"100% sure, Mom. Now, I have to go, otherwise I'll be late," you reminded her. 

"Yes, yes. Go, but remember, be back home by 6," she said sternly. 

"Will do. Love you!" you said, running out the door. 

You rushed to your bike and quickly rode off into town. 

After a while, you got to Sam's. You saw that y/bff's bike was already there, along with your friend group's. You walked in, to see a bunch of high schoolers occupying each table. You searched for your friends, when you spotted them at the back. You ran over and plopped yourself down. 

"What took you so long?" y/bff asked. 

"Sorry, got held up," you replied. 

"Anyways, did you guys know that we're going to get a chemistry assignment today?" Tia informed. 

"Cool! Is it group, individual or partners?" you asked.

"I'm pretty sure it's partners. So I dibs y/bff!" Tia answered. "Sorry y/n but I want to work with her."

"It's okay, I'll just partner up with--" you started but was cut off by Belle. 

"Me and Lauren!" 

"Okay, I'l just partner up with someone else," you chuckled. 

After about 20 minutes of chatting, you looked at your watch, 8. 

"Uhh, guys, it's 8. We should start heading to school," you said. 

All of you rode to school. Soon a sign 'Arcadia Oaks Academy', came into view. 

You chained up your bikes and headed to your lockers. 

"Who will you partner up with?" Lauren asked you. 

"I don't know. Maybe Douxie? He seems like a good person to partner up with," you replied. 

"Aww~ You two would be great partners. Plus, maybe you too could get a bit more closer by the assignment," Belle teased. 

"Uh... sure. Since we would have to do the assignment after school, we would have to exchange numbers, get each other's address--" you agreed but you got cut off by Belle, again. 

"No! Yeah like that, but you know closer. As in like a relationship, like how Tia and Lauren are," Belle explained. 

"What! I hardly know him!" you exclaimed. 

"Well, you two will get to know each other, since you two would get closer," y/bff hypothesised. 

"Plus, there will be a bit of chemistry between you two," Tia added, "Since you're like, in chemistry." 

"Uh, I uh... um... I guess? I don't know, guys. I don't like him like that," you said. 

"Sure you don't! I always see you sneaking glances at him in class," Lauren smirked. 

Your eyes instantly widened. 

"I- I wasn't! I was... uh... memorising the periodic table that was above his head!" you quickly denied. 

"Yep. Sure," everyone nodded, smirking at each other but you. 

"Let's discuss this later, we'll be late for class!" Tia reminded, pushing all four of you to class. 

After three tiring classes, the bell finally rang to indicate lunch. 

The five of you were walking to the cafeteria, when you of all people, tripped over your own feet, plummeting to the ground. You braced for the impact, but it never came, just strong arms wrapping around your waist, saving you. You looked up at your saviour, which you expected to be Belle or y/bff, but it was none other than your crush, Douxie. 

"H-Hey, Douxie," you said. 

"Hey, love. You okay?" Douxie asked, pulling you up onto your feet. 

"Yeah, I'm okay," you replied, dusting off some dust off your clothes. 

"Wait, do you have a chemistry partner? I've heard that we're going to receive an assignment that needs one," Douxie inquired. 

"No, I-" you started to reply, but was cut off by Belle, putting an arm around your shoulder. 

"Y/n, doesn't have a partner. You know, you can always partner up with y/n! Right, y/n?" Belle exclaimed. 

"Y-yeah," you agreed, blushing at the thought of you and Douxie working together. 

"Well, then y/n, Douxie, I'll leave you two to your chemistry," Belle smirked, walking off with the rest of your gang. 

"Well, y/n, may I have the honour of being your partner?" Douxie joked, bowing down and taking his hand out for you to take. 

You giggled, going along with the joke, "Yes, Douxie. You may have the honour," and put your hand in his. 

After the two of you decided on being partners, Douxie went off to find his friends while you did the same. 

Soon after, you found your friends all seated at a table on the far side of the cafeteria. As you were heading over there, you noticed that Douxie was at a table right next to your friends. 

You quickly sat yourself down next to y/bff. 

"So did-" Belle started but you cut her off. 

"Why did you guys sit right next to Douxie's friends? Who's plan was this?" you hissed.

Everyone pointed to y/bff. 

"Seriously, y/bff? Like seriously!" you fumed. 

"Just you wait. In just a few days, instead of sitting with us, you two will be at a table all by yourselves. So get used to sitting around him," y/bff teased. 

"Uhh!" you groaned, slamming your head onto the table. 

"Don't do that, you'll look stupid," someone sang. 

You looked up to see, Ella walking around the table and taking a seat in front of you. 

"Are you kidding me? You too, Ella! I thought you were the only one who wouldn't tease me about this," you whined. 

"Sorry, y/n, but I couldn't help myself," Ella admitted. 

Once again, you slammed your head onto the table. 

"Wait up! Ella, I texted you to come over to Sam's before school. Where were you?" y/bff asked. 

"Got caught up with cleaning my little brother's room, since he couldn't do it himself," Ella replied, grumbling the last part. "Anyways, rumour is, Douxie asked y/n out!" 

"What!" you cried.

Everyone turned their heads towards you. 

"Douxie did not ask me out!" you denied. 

"Are you sure?" Ella asked. 

She took out her phone and showed everyone a photo of Douxie bowing down, his hand in front of him, while it held yours. 

"Who took that photo?!" you gasped. 

"I don't know. It got texted to everyone anonymously," Ella shrugged.

"Everyone..." you gulped. 

Y/bff put a comforting hand on your shoulder. 

"It's going to be fine," y/bff reassured. 

"Fine?!" you exclaimed. "Now everyone must think that me and him are together." 

"I can find out who took the photo," Tia suggested. 

"I don't want drama," you said. 

"You sure?" Tia confirmed.

"Yeah, I'm sure," you replied, holding your head in your hands. 

Suddenly, you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. You took it out and saw that it was a text from an anonymous person. 

Great, this better be good. 

The text read: 

Douxie and y/n are partners in chemistry! The power couple can't stand to be away from each other. 

You immediately deleted the message. You noticed that your friends were also looking at their phones. 

"You guys got the text, right?" Belle asked. 

Everyone nodded. 

"Now what?" you questioned. 

"Well, whoever this person is, they definitely want to stir up trouble," Lauren claimed. 

"We just need to find out who that person is," Tia concluded and got up. 

"Where are you going?" you inquired. 

"To find out who the person is, duh," Tia answered. 

"I'll come. You might need help," Lauren said and got up as well. 

The two walked away and out the cafeteria. 

"Come on, y/n. You need to eat," y/bff stated, pushing a bowl of fruit salad. 

"Fine," you sighed and slowly started to eat lunch. 

Before, you could even put your fork in your mouth, you heard some of Douxie's friends laughing. 

You looked towards them, to see them walking towards your table. 

Your table! 

"What the--! Why are they coming over here?" you whispered to the others. 

Before any of them could answer, the boys had already made their way to the table. 

"Hey! We're Douxie's friends," a boy with brunette hair spoke. 

"Hey..." you hesitated. 

"What do you guys want?" Ella asked. 

 You zoned out after Ella spoke. You looked towards the boys' table and saw Douxie's face was red from embarrassment. He started to wave his arms in the air, trying to get his friend's attention. 

"He looks kinda funny," you thought. 

Just then, his eyes on fell on you. Both of your eyes widened and you felt your cheeks turn warm. Douxie then gave you a wink and a smile, while you just shyly waved and smiled before quickly turning your attention back to the conversation. 

"We heard that our boy Douxie's gotten himself a 'girlfriend'," the same guy that had brunette hair spoke.

"Let me guess, some anonymous person sent you a photo of Douxie bowing with his hand out while it held y/n's hand and maybe the same person sent you a text that they're partners in chemistry and and that the power couple 'can't stand to be away from each other'?" y/bff said. 

"Exactly!" a guy with black hair exclaimed. 

"FYI, Douxie's not in a--" you began but the bell rang, cutting you off. 

"Sorry, but we gotta head to class. See ya around!" the brunette waved and walked off with the rest his friends, including Douxie. 

You sighed and got up from your seat. 

"What class do we have?" you asked. 

"Chemistry," Belle replied. 

"Perfect. Just perfect," you grumbled and started heading towards the chemistry lab. 

As you took a seat, you saw that Douxie was looking at you. Y/bff nudged you in your side, smirking. 

"Look, Douxie can't keep his eyes off of you," y/bff teased. 

"There might actually be chemistry between the two of you after all," Tia sang from beside you. 

You groaned and hid your face in your hands. 

Soon after, class began. 

The teacher explained what the assignment was about and all the little details. 

The teacher then asked everyone to find somebody to partner up with. All your friends instantly partnered up with one another. You had to move, since only 4 people could fit at one table. You glanced towards Douxie, who was motioning you to go over to him. You obeyed and walked to him, seating yourself down beside him. 

Since most of the lesson was spent being explained by the teacher, you got time to discuss the assignment with your partner. Douxie turned to you. 

"So, we should start the background research ASAP, if we want to hand the assignment in by the deadline in two weeks," Douxie said. 

"Yeah," you agreed. 

"So, do you want to work on the assignment after school today?" Douxie asked. 

"Uh... sure," you answered. 

"Nuclear! Here's my address and number," he cheered and handed you a sticky note. 

You shoved the note into your pocket and grabbed a piece of paper to write down your details as well. You quickly scribbled down you number and address and handed the details to him. 

Abruptly, your phone vibrated in your pocket. You took it out and saw a message from Tia. 

I've got a few leads on who the person is that's sending the texts and photos. 

You looked across the classroom to find Tia furiously typing away on her phone. 

Must be investigating. 

You put your phone away and turned your attention back to Douxie. 

"Is everything alright?" he asked. 

"Yep," you nodded. 

The bell rung for next class, making you jump a little. 

"Well, I'll see you at my place at four, love," Douxie grinned, giving you his signature wink and two-finger salute, walking out of class. 

As soon as you got outside of class, your friends instantly crowded around you. 

"So, how was it?!" they all asked at the same time. 

"How was what?" you inquired. 

"Y'know! In class, with Douxie," Belle hinted. 

"Oh, that!" you exclaimed. "It was, uh... good." 

Suddenly, a random person bumped into you, making you stumble forwards a bit. Your sticky note fell out of your pocket. Once you had regained your balance, you noticed that the note was on the ground. You went to pick it up, but Lauren beat you to it. 

"GDT Arcane Books and..." Lauren read aloud. "Ooh! His number!" 

"Gimme that!" you cried, trying to snatch it from her hands. 

But alas, you were shorter than her, making you fail miserably. 

"Aww~ Look! He even wrote a short message for you at the back!" Lauren gushed. "It says: 'I'm really looking forward for you coming to my place, y/n. I'm sure we'll be able to get to know each other better. I'm glad that your my chemistry partner. See you at 4!'" 

"Alright! Give me that right now!" you exclaimed, finally snatching the note from her. 

You shoved the sticky note into your backpack and left for your next class. 

The last classes went like blur and before you knew it, school was over. You peddled your way back home. You quickly finished your homework and cleaned your room. 

You re-packed your bag and peddled back into town, heading to GDT Arcane Books. But as you made your way there, storm clouds rolled in and the heavens opened up. You were drenched by the time you were inside the bookstore. 

You quickly took in your surroundings. There was a a bunch of crystals everywhere and a lot of books on the shelves. In one of the corner's, there was a fireplace lit and an armchair near it. At the other corner was a spiral staircase which obviously lead to level above. The place was overall homey and cozy.

"Hey, love," a voice spoke. 

You turned to the source of the voice to see Douxie halfway down the staircase. 

"Hi, Douxie! Nice home, it's a bookstore," you said. 

"Well, this isn't exactly where I live. I live upstairs," Douxie chuckled, gesturing to the stairwell. 

All of a sudden, his eyes widened. He scrambled down the stairs. 

"Uh, Doux, you good?" you asked. 

"I should be the one asking you that question right now, love!" Douxie said, grabbing your backpack from you. "You're completely drenched and shivering from head to toe!" 

"I'm fine, Douxie," you assured him. 

"You are absolutely not fine, y/n. You can catch a cold, and I'm not letting that happen on my watch," Douxie shook his head. 

He led you up the stairs and onto the second level. He walked up to a book on a shelf and pulled it slightly. The shelf started to go inside the wall before it seperate into two, revealing a black door. You gasped in amazement. Douxie unlocked a door and held it open for you. 

The apartment wasn't much, but it seemed big enough for Douxie. Douxie led you down a very narrow hallway, where one side you assumed was the bathroom and the other side was just a side table where keys hung above it. Down the short hallway, was a couch up against a wall with a coffee table and a TV in front. The kitchen was in the corner, with the dining table attached. 

(No balcony) 

"Wow! A secret apartment  behind a bookstore. That's so cool!" you commented. 

"Thanks," he grinned. 

Douxie placed your bag on the floor next to the couch and headed to another room, which probably was his bedroom. He came out seconds later with a small black hoodie and grey jeans. 

"Uh, Douxie, why did you get clothes?" you asked. 

"Well, I can't have you in wet clothes and then catch a cold, can I?" he explained. 

You looked at the clothes in Douxie's hand and then looked down at yourself. 

They won't fit me. 

"Umm... Douxie... uhh... don't you think they're a bit big?" you questioned. 

He looked at his clothes then at you, smiling sheepishly at you. 

"Plus... the umm... jeans are 'kinda umm... not my uhh... gender," you stammered. 

"Well, the hoodie can keep you extra warm and the jeans are gender neutral, so like uhh... you can wear them. And plus, they haven't been worn in years," Douxie reassured you. 

"Okay..." you hesitated and took the clothes. 

"You can change in there," he said, pointing towards the bathroom. 

You nodded and walked into the bathroom. 

You quickly got changed and looked in the mirror. The hoodie was huge on you, it went all the way down to your knees and the jeans were a bit (okay maybe too) long for you so you had to roll up the ends up to your ankles. You then looked at your frizzy hair. You hastily combed your hair with your fingers and put it in a low messy bun. Then you exited out of the bathroom. 

You noticed that Douxie was heating up water in a kettle. 

You stashed your clothes in your bag before you heard a loud crash from the kitchen. 

"Oh fuzzbuckets!" Douxie yelled. 

You whipped your head towards the commotion to see water spilled across the counter and pieces of shattered ceramic across the floor. You ran over to Douxie to help him. You briefly looked at the mess before letting your gaze fall on Douxie. 

"You need help?" you asked, but you already knew his answer. 

"Yes please," he squeaked and got down on his knees to pick up the ceramic. 

But before he could pick up a piece you warned him, "You can injure yourself if you pick the pieces up one by one." 

"Then how am I going to clean this up?" he puzzled 

"Do you have a dustpan?" you inquired. 

He pointed to a corner behind you. You got it and handed it to Douxie, 

"Now you can clean it up." 

You got tissues and wiped the water away. 

Soon, the kitchen was as good as new. 

Douxie popped the kettle back on and got two mug's from a cabinet. 

"I'll make the tea, you can start researching," Douxie said, adding a tea bag in each cup. 

"Wait, why are you making tea?" you asked. 

"Well, one: tea's nuclear, two: why not?, three: it's the perfect weather, and four: you just came from the rain, so tea would be nice," Douxie replied, pouring the hot kettle water into both mug's and handing one to you. 

The two of you took a seat on his couch and started to research. 

An hour and a half later ~

"My eyes are hurting from looking at the screen," you whined, stretching your arms and slumping back on the couch. 

"Well, we've been researching for an hour or so nonstop on chemical reactions, so I guess we can stop," Douxie chuckled. "We can continue to research tomorrow." 

"Right," you nodded. 

"Hey, I got an idea," he started. 

"What?" you asked, sitting up more straight. 

"We can play truth or dare!" he finished. 

You looked at your watch. You had around half an hour until you had to go home. 

"Sure," you smiled. 

"Okay, y/n, truth or dare?" Douxie asked. 

"Easy, truth," you stated. 

"What's the worst date you've been on?" he asked. 

"I've never been on a date, so I never had a worst date," you told. 

"What?!" Douxie exclaimed. 

"Why are you so shocked?" you speculated. 

"Well, I'm shocked cause umm... like, you're very pretty... and like, no one's asked you out on a date..." Douxie stuttered. 

You cheeks grew warm and looked away, "I'm not pretty." 

You felt a hand on your shoulder and turn you towards Douxie. 

"You're very pretty, y/n. Very pretty. In fact, your one of the most beautiful girls I know," Douxie expressed.

"Awww... Thank you, Douxie. No one has ever said that to me before," you breathed. 

"Well, I'm glad I'm the first, love," Douxie grinned. 

"Okay, now it's your turn!" you declared. "Truth or dare?" 

"Truth," he said. 

"What's the funniest pick up line you've every used?" you shot. 

"Okay, get prepared y/n, this is a good one. Are you terms and conditions? Cause whatever you say I’ll always agree with you," Douxie answered. 

(Sorry if you don't think that's funny, just pretend it is if you didn't)

You looked at him with a straight face. 

"Did you think that was funny?" Douxie hesitated. 

You slowly started to nod before you burst out laughing. He let out a sigh and started to laugh as well. 

The two of you kept playing the game until it was time for you to go. 

You walked down Douxie's short hallway and was about to open the door yourself but Douxie opened it up for you and bowed down. 

"Why thank you, kind sir," you joked. 

"Your welcome, m'lady," he said, going along with your joke. 

You walked out of his secret apartment and back into GDT Arcane Books. 

Douxie escorted you to the door and waved you goodbye. 

Soon, you were riding your bike back home. Luckily, the rain had stopped, so this time you didn't get wet. 

When you had gotten home, you saw that your mom was making dinner. 

"Hey, Mom! What 'ya making?" you called. 

"Hey, y/n! Just making f/f," she replied. "Also, why are you in a hoodie and grey jeans. If I remember correctly, you left the house in a shirt and pants." 

"I got wet, so a friend lended me their clothes. They didn't want me getting sick," you explained. 

"Right," she nodded. "But isn't the hoodie and bit, I don't know, big?" 

"Yeah, it's actually a men's size," you admitted. 

"So, your friend is a guy? Ooh~" she teased.

"Mom!" you cried. 

The next two weeks flied by. Soon enough, it was time to hand in your assignment. 

Over the two weeks, you and Douxie had gotten really close. Not just close in friendship, but literally as well. 

Once, you had tripped over your carpet and fell into his lap. You face was on fire at that time, you also saw that he had a slight blush across his face. 

Another time, was when you and him were discussing while walking to class when you, being the clumsy human you were, tripped over your feet and descended to the ground. Douxie thankfully, caught you by your waist, but he also fell. His face was so close to yours, your noses were touching. You would've had scrambled up, but you stuck in a sandwich with the ground and Douxie. 

Back to the present, you and Douxie were ready to hand in the assignment. Well, the assignment was ready to be handed in, but you weren't ready to let go yet . Douxie on the other hand was totally chill about the situation. 

"How are you so calm about this, Doux?" you whimpered. 

"Cause I know we've done our best," Douxie stated. "You want me to hand the assignment in instead?" 

"Yes, please," you begged, handing him a booklet. 

He walked to the front of the classroom and gave the teacher the assignment papers. He walked back and sat down next to you. 

"All done," he smiled. 

"Now, we just need to wait for our grades," you told him. 

"Don't worry, whatever we get, it'll be good," Douxie reassured. 

The next day, you were biting your finger nails nervously. 

"What if we get a bad grade?" you whispered to Douxie, eyeing the teacher as they handed everyone their assignments back. 

"As I said, whatever we get, it'll be good," Douxie repeated. 

You nodded as the teacher smiled at the two of you and handed you the paper. 

"Good job you two. You make a good pair!" they commented. 

The teacher walked off while you and Douxie were blushing like crazy. 

You looked down at the grade you had gotten to see... 

An ‘A’! 

"Yes!" the two of you cheered. 

You gave each other a high five and unexpectedly Douxie hugged you. You obviously hugged back, just before you heard the whole class saying "Aww~". You both pulled away to see everyone had their phones out, taking photos. 

"So, I guess you guys are a couple, right?" y/bff asked, walking up to you. 

"I... uhh..." you stammered, unsure what to say. 

Suddenly, the bell rang for next class, saving you from answering her question. 

You walked out of class, only to be pulled aside, your back against a wall. You looked up to see that Douxie had put his hands both placed next to your face. 

"Douxie, what are you doing?" you asked. 

"Y/n, do you like me?" Douxie asked. 

"Umm...  uh... I..." you hesitated. 

"Cause I sure like you," Douxie smiled, leaning in. 

His eyes started to flutter close as did yours. Then your lips met. You smiled as Douxie interlocked your warm fingers with his cold ones. Soon, you both pulled away, keeping your foreheads touching. 

"Actually, I love you, y/n l/n," Douxie confessed. 

"I love you too, Hisirdoux Casperan," you said. 

You kept staring into each other's eyes for who knows how long. 

"So... uh... are we, like, a thing now?" you inquired, breaking the silence. 

"I guess we are," Douxie nodded. 

"Uhh, Douxie, I need to get to my next class. So can I go?" you asked. 

"Oh yeah," Douxie said, moving aside, letting you pass. "I'll see you at lunch!" 

"'Kay!" you called and continued to walk. 

A few weeks later~ 

You and Douxie had been exchanging glances whenever you two got the chance. In class, the cafeteria, bike racks, lockers, streets, shops, the list goes on. 

Whenever you two were ever alone, Douxie would take the opportunity to give you a kiss. If not a proper one than just a peck. 

Douxie would always sent you at least 5 cheesy pick up lines a day. They were funny and sweet. 

He had taken you out on dates every weekend. The movies, picnics, dinner, lunch, you name it. 

You had to admit, your friends were right. The chemistry assignment did make chemistry between the two of you. And you were glad. 

Word Count : 4, 527

[honeypiehotchner]

intelligence & issues (Hotch x Reader) -- chapter eleven

I’m backkkk <33 Enjoy!

Today’s chapter title comes from “Wildest Dreams” by Taylor Swift and honestly? That song is Hotch and Reader’s song tbh

Chapter Warnings: fluff! Crime scene stuffs, case stuffs, and Hotch is an asshole at the end (what’s new?)

Previous chapter || Fic Masterlist

Chapter Eleven: I thought, “Heaven can’t help me now.”

When you wake, you have a strange sense of Deja Vu. Hotch is shaking your shoulder again, only this time, you’re not in your bed.

“We’re landing soon,” he says softly, hand lingering on your shoulder, but you welcome its weight and warmth, forgetting for a moment that the rest of the team is on this jet.

“Mm, okay…” You bring the blanket underneath your chin, only this is when you realize it’s not a blanket.

You tilt your head down to look at the fabric, then lift your eyes back up to see Hotch isn’t wearing his jacket.

His jacket.

Oh my God.

He sees the realization on your face and smiles, but instead of commenting on it, he turns to start waking the others. As expected, Rossi didn’t sleep, but Reid is still quite frankly passed out. Emily, JJ, and Morgan are coming around, though, and upon seeing that, you scramble to get Hotch’s jacket off of you, catching Rossi’s eyes in the process.

“You were cold,” Rossi says with a shrug, and a smirk.

You shouldn’t be mortified, but you are.

After folding Hotch’s jacket over your arm, you wait until your boss is sitting back down to hand it to him with a raised eyebrow. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“You’re welcome,” he says, thinking nothing of it as he shrugs it back over his shoulders. When he sees you’re still looking at him like that, he adds, “You were getting goosebumps. Would you have rather I let you freeze to death?”

Is he making a joke? You wonder, with the corners of his lips tugging upward. You shake your head, saying nothing else.

No wonder you slept so soundly.

+++

Upon arriving at the local police station, you’re all met with the usual: desperate officers who want you to snap your fingers and find the unsub ASAP.

And, they always look pretty displeased when you admit that you need time.

You swear sometimes people think the BAU is made up of sorcerers who can see the future and not regular humans who are just trained to recognize and predict behaviors.

Regardless, they’re happy you’re here.

“I was shocked myself when I made the connection,” Sheriff Ansley says, nodding to the pictures of the other seven victims, with Nathan and Jonathan at the end. “Those others were so spaced out, we just… Oh, it sounds bad, but when you’ve got other problems coming across your desk, they can all blur together.”

“We understand,” you say, trying to be the comforting one here, even though you’re feeling more and more like time doesn’t exist and that you’ve entered a third dimension.

A few hours of sleep and jet lag can really do a person in. Especially with the added stressor of Hotch standing next to you.

“Morgan, L/N, I need you to come to the crime scene with me,” Hotch says, and your eyes widen the moment your name slips from his mouth. Is he trying to mess with you? You figured after covering you up on the jet, he’d make a conscious effort to be as far away from you today as possible. Just because Morgan is also coming along doesn’t mean much. Profilers aren’t dense.

“Prentiss and I will go talk to the victim’s family,” Rossi says, nodding to Emily.

Reid says nothing, too engrossed by the pictures and details tacked up on the board. Though, after a moment, he says, “I need a map of the town. Maybe the region. Yeah...the region.”

A little confused, Sheriff Ansely replies, “We’ll get that for you.”

JJ notices the confusion and says, “I’ve got it, don’t worry.”

With everyone focused, you pile into a vehicle with Hotch and Morgan up front (you purposefully sit in the back) to head to the crime scene. Sheriff Ansley leads in her car, and about two seconds in, you wish you would’ve thought to ride with her.

“You know I have to ask,” Morgan begins, a shit-eating grin on his face as he looks over at Hotch. “What did you get up to last night? Get lucky?”

Hotch looks ready to backhand his fellow agent. “No.”

Morgan keeps going. “Come on, Hotch, it’s about time you get some.”

“For now, I’ll stick to the case.”

Morgan huffs, giving in, which you think is for the better. But when Morgan turns his head to look out the window, Hotch catches your eyes in the rearview mirror.

You sink as far down as you can in your seat, biting the inside of your cheek to hide your smile.

+++

You have no clue what you were expecting when you pictured the outside of Jonathan King’s house, but it wasn’t this.

A few police cars are already here, their men having already gone in to look around, but not touch anything. A few cars look tiny next to the monster that is the mansion you’re looking at.

“I thought this was a small town,” you mutter, closing the car door.

“Jonathan’s daddy was the owner of the only car dealership in town,” Sheriff Ansley explains. “They were big money.”

“I can tell,” you shake your head. “Definitely don’t have houses like this where I’m from.”

The sheriff chuckles. “Yeah. Before they built it, this was a wide open field. Tiny house. Space for all kinds of animals. Had a red barn out there,” she points off to where a gigantic pool complete with a rock waterfall is.

You hum. “A lot changes for the worse sometimes when money comes in.”

She looks at you then, almost like she respects you a little more now. Which isn’t unusual. The sheriffs in small towns don’t exactly like having to call the FBI in for help. Some do it rather begrudgingly. It’s more often than not that you find yourself being the bridge between big city and small town.

“Any signs of forced entry?” Hotch asks the first officer he sees and they shake their head.

“Nothing. But this damn mansion is so big…” He trails away, looking around at it all.

“I understand,” Hotch sighs. “If you find anything, let us know.”

“Hotch,” you speak up, nearly tapping his shoulder, but you quickly pull your hand back. “If this unsub is a woman, then it’s likely there won’t be any forced entry.”

The sheriff nods. “She has a point.”

“How?” Morgan asks, eyebrows furrowed over his sunglasses.

“Seriously?” You deadpan. “Do you want me to demonstrate?”

He catches on, and drawls, “Go right ahead,” prompting you to shove his shoulder.

“Focus,” Hotch scolds. “I hear you. He probably let her in.”

“Did Jonathan have a reputation of being a player?” Morgan asks. “Take a lot of girls out on dates? Get serious with a lot of them but never marriage-serious?”

Sheriff Ansley nearly snorts. “Oh, yeah. He was the town’s bachelor. New woman every week. Swore every single one was The One.”

You nod slowly. “He must’ve picked up the wrong one, then.”

“Evidently so,” she replies quietly, leading the three of you into the house.

Hotch opts for looking around the house with the sheriff while you and Morgan go to Jonathan’s bedroom.

And he’s still lying there. Wonderful.

You nearly gag, but stop yourself. You’re never going to get used to this shit. At least there isn’t blood literally drenching the walls like that other case.

Moving on.

“Looks like it’s the exact same MO,” Morgan comments, idly checking the body for anything the officers might’ve missed.

You dig around on Jonathan’s dresser, drawers, nightstand, everywhere.

“This guy was seriously rich,” you mutter, picking up a few really expensive watches. Upon opening one drawer, you literally find a wad of cash. At least two thousand dollars, stuffed in between pairs of socks. “The unsub didn’t take this?” You hold up the cash to Morgan.

“She must not’ve spent time here,” he concludes. “Doesn’t look like she took any trophies either.”

“I can’t imagine why,” you say, then crack a smile. “So you’re on my side then, huh?”

He turns his head, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“It’s a woman.”

Morgan chuckles. “Yeah, kiddo. I’m on your side. This has woman all over it.”

“Kiddo,” you groan, tossing the cash back in the drawer. “Any clothes from the unsub lying around? I’m guessing she’s smarter than that.”

“Yeah, there’s nothing,” Morgan says, going into the bathroom. “The window in here is locked tight.”

“I really doubt she forced her way in,” you say. “He probably took her out on a date, brought her inside willingly, and didn’t realize until it was too late that he should not have messed with her.” You pause. “Does this place have security cameras? It looks expensive enough to have them. We should get Garcia to get the footage.”

You’re too busy rambling to see that Morgan has walked back into the room, only this time he’s eyeing you carefully.

You turn your head, raising an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Listen, I know these guys were…” He gestures rather than saying it.

“Rapists?” You say tiredly, placing your hands on your hips. No need to be afraid of saying the word around you. You’ve heard it plenty and said it yourself more times than you want to. “What about it?”

“I just wanted to say I know how good it can feel to see someone like that taken down,” Morgan says slowly. “And then you feel guilty for feeling good.”

You set your jaw, hating he’s right. You’ve yet to admit it to yourself, though. Isn’t it wrong? On multiple levels? You’re supposed to catch the bad guys, not relate to them so much that you understand why they’re doing this.

“And I know it can also bring up some bad memories, but, I’m here for you,” he says, keeping his eyes on yours. “I mean that.”

“Thanks, Derek,” you whisper. “It does...kinda feel good, but...I know it’s the wrong way to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Make a difference,” you shrug. “If I killed Trevor, I’d be taking the short route. That’s why I’m here. To make a bigger difference.”

He smiles then, gently. “And you’re doin’ it. Trust me.”

You let yourself smile, too. “Thanks. Now let’s get back to work before boss man comes in here telling us to focus,” you mimic Hotch’s voice and tone at the end, making yourself laugh as you turn back around.

And that’s when you have the absolute shit scared out of you because Hotch is standing there, frowning at you. Oh, he totally heard that.

“Sorry, sir,” you murmur, knowing you should apologize while you’re ahead.

Thankfully, to save yourself from embarrassment, Morgan’s phone starts ringing. He pulls it out and puts it on speaker.

“Talk to me, babygirl.”

“All of our other victims? Yeah, they were accused of rape, too. Four of them were acquitted or blatantly dismissed, three of them with such short sentences it probably felt like a vacation.”

You roll your eyes. “Sounds about right.”

Hotch eyes you, but talks to Garcia. “Get us a list of anyone in this region that fits those same criteria.”

“Already done, and it is heading to JJ as we speak.”

Morgan shakes his head at how good she is. “Oh, and check and see if you can get the footage from Jonathan’s security cameras at his house. Y/N thinks he should have some.”

“She’s correct, I just found them,” Garcia says, no doubt through a smile. “I’ll send the footage over and start looking.”

“We should get back to the station and go over those names, see if we can narrow it down at all,” Hotch says. “Hopefully Garcia can get us something from that video.”

+++

Garcia gathers one thing from the video, but it’s not anything to do with facial recognition.

For now, it’s obvious this woman is a strong suspect because she’s the only one seen entering and leaving the house (she walked out right through the front door with her head down) in the window of time that Jonathan was killed. But...

“There’s not a clear shot at all,” Garcia says. “Because they’re… How do I put this? His lips are basically attacking her face and it’s a miracle they made it inside instead of just going at it against the door.”

Morgan snorts out a laugh, Reid (who is working on connecting the nine victims further) goes impossibly red, and Hotch shakes his head.

“Well, we’ve got a physical description now,” Rossi says, trying to see the bright side before Hotch loses it, you’re sure.

“Yeah, but it’s just a young brunette in a dress and heels,” Emily argues. “That’s nowhere near narrow enough.”

“Brown hair is actually the second most common hair color,” Reid supplies. “The most common is black, but they’re usually lumped together in studies. A recent one found that 84% of the world’s population has dark hair. But, of course, women are more likely to color their hair than men—”

“We got it, kid,” Morgan says gently, tapping Reid’s shoulder to get him to slow down.

“So,” you chuckle, “she has dark hair, which are the two most common hair colors.” Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a thought occurs to you. “Wait, can I see the video again?”

Garcia plays it again.

“Pause there,” you point to the woman’s hands. “See how she reaches for his wrist?”

“Where are you going with this?” Morgan asks.

It’s then that it occurs to you just where you’re going with this, and you try to hide your embarrassment.

“You can play it again.” After a few seconds, you get Garcia to pause again. “See? She tries to pin his wrists. She’s dominating. She’s the one in control there. See how his back is against the door, too? He didn’t start that way, she turned them around to get the upper hand.”

“So she’s confident,” Emily ponders.

“In sexual situations, at least,” you add. “Some women who are outwardly shy, but like to dominate in bed. It can be different for everyone.”

“So you’re saying we’re looking for a super quiet, shy woman?”

“Not necessarily. Given that she has had enough confidence to kill these nine men without anyone noticing, I’d be willing to bet she’s pretty confident now. It could be a newfound confidence, or she honestly could have always been this way. A lot of Dominatrixes are pretty confident outside of the bedroom, too. Maybe not in the same way, but they are. Just comes with the territory.”

“A territory you seem to know a lot about,” Morgan teases, poking your shoulder.

You scoff. “You wish.”

But your eyes find Hotch’s and you feel another rush go through you, all the way to your toes. You burn every single time you’re underneath his gaze. Averting your eyes quickly back to the screen, you try to shift in your seat in the least noticeable way.

It’s not like he doesn’t already know. If he seriously doesn’t know or at least have some suspicion, then you might suggest he get a new profession.

Redirecting the attention back to the case, Hotch turns to Sheriff Ansley and says, “We’re ready to give a preliminary profile.”

The team stands to head out to the main area. You and Hotch are the last two left, which you’re sure he did deliberately.

“You should take the lead,” he says, and you swear, your heart falls out of your ass.

“What?” You’ve never taken the lead on a profile in your life. Why would he just spring this on you right now? On this case, of all cases? Seriously?

He doesn’t change his mind. “I trust you to get all of the details right. And we’ll jump in when needed, but I want you to take the lead.”

You’re shaking your head. “Hotch, I haven’t—”

“It’s an order,” he says, voice firm. “Understood?”

“Yes.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes what?”

Bastard. He did it again. “Yes sir.”

And your jaw nearly ends up on the floor when he smirks, a quiet, “Good girl,” falling from his lips.

Damn him. Now you’re supposed to give the profile? How bad would it be to let Emily take over so you can jump Hotch in the nearest supply closet?

You never find out how bad it would be because Hotch walks out and thanks the officers for being there, and introduces you, giving you zero time to recover.

“Thank you so much for your patience,” you say first. “The unsub we’re looking for is, in fact, a woman, confirmed by some security footage that was recovered from Jonathan King’s home. She’s a brunette, average height, attractive, and she’s confident. She’s killed nine times and hasn’t been caught yet, so she’s likely to be gaining confidence.”

An officer raises his hand, so you nod to him. “No offense...but your description fits practically every girl in this town -- I guess, besides the killing part.”

“That’s what we figured,” you admit. “Unfortunately, this kind of unsub is the hardest to catch. They don’t stand out at all, they blend right in. It’s partly why they go so long without being caught.”

“But they’re not impossible to catch,” Rossi adds, helping you out with the annoyed officers. “This unsub has already killed twice in a week, which could be a sign that she’s beginning to devolve. When they’re in this state, they are easier to catch because they tend to get reckless and forget things, change patterns, which is what we need.”

“So we need to keep a tight lid on this for now,” JJ says. “The media isn’t going to cover this at all tonight because we need our unsub to believe she’s still getting away with it.”

Another officer pipes up. “If the news isn’t gonna report this, how can we keep people safe?”

It’s a valid question. It’s one that you always get when you decide to not have media coverage.

“Keep an eye out. And don’t take any women home,” Morgan offers.

But that doesn’t seem good enough, because the same officer says, “All due respect, sir, but asking a man not to do that is like asking him not to breathe.”

The amount of laughter and you got that right’s that you hear from the other male officers makes your stomach twist. Morgan’s small laugh makes you want to smack him.

“Well, try to refrain for a while,” you state plainly, bringing the focus back around. “If you can help it.”

Another officer says, “I don’t know if I can…” and clicks his tongue mockingly.

“Well, this unsub targets rapists,” you say loudly, placing emphasis on the word. “So if you aren’t a rapist, consider yourself safe and sound.”

That causes an uncomfortable silence to settle over the room, but you could care less. It should make them uncomfortable. It’s unfair that it’s something women have to just live with. It’s bullshit.

Emily and JJ share a look with you, the only kind women can understand. Makes you want a drink. And it’s not even late afternoon yet.

Rossi helps draw things to a close while Hotch practically stares you down. Not subtle at all. You feel it, and for that reason, you don’t look at him. But he’s hard to ignore.

Especially when he walks over and says, “I need to have a word with you,” and walks past you, giving you no choice but to follow.

Well, you could choose not to follow, but you’re not so sure you want to take your chances there. Not that the thrill of the idea doesn’t get you all excited, but now is not the time or place.

So, with your heart racing and your annoyance showing clearly on your face, you follow your boss to an office at the end of the hall. He’s waiting for you, already inside, and he doesn’t look happy.

What’s new?

He shuts the door behind you, his arms crossing over his chest again.

After a few moments of silence, you raise your eyebrows. “What?”

“Don’t be a brat,” he says sternly, causing your stomach to twist for different reason. “And don’t say what. You know what.”

You shake your head slowly. “I don’t, actually. That’s why I asked.”

He looks ready to absolutely devour you in the worst way possible, yet he doesn’t move. “I understand that after the case in your hometown—”

“God, why does everyone keep bringing that up?” You’re two seconds away from throwing your hands in the air like a child, but you stop yourself after the look he gives you.

“Because it just happened three weeks ago,” he replies, voice even. “And because it took a toll on you. That’s not something to be ashamed of, it’s just a fact.”

“You’ve never been up my ass about cases like this, not until you found out.”

“My knowing has not changed anything,” he says, and you think he might mean it. “And last I checked, this is your first case with a female unsub attacking rapists.”

You could punch him. You really want to punch him. “What’s your point?”

“I need to know that you can be objective,” he says. “I know you relate to our unsub. I know how easy it was for you to put yourself in her shoes. You did it almost immediately. I bet you knew it was a female unsub within the first few seconds of the debriefing.”

He’s right. Dammit. “And?”

“I need you to be on our side of this case.”

“I am!”

“Are you?” He counters. “If you knew who this unsub was, would you turn her in?”

“Are you suggesting—”

“Hypothetically.”

“Yes! For God’s sake, yes, I would turn her in.”

“Are you being honest with me?”

“What is wrong with you today?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “If you have something else to say you might as well say it while we’re alone.”

He doesn’t move. Or say a single word.

So much for that.

“Look,” you uncross your arms, tired of fighting already. It’s exhausting on any normal day, but pair it with jet lag and it being between you and the man you obviously care for, and it’s a million times more exhausting. “Yes, I get where this unsub is coming from. Honestly, if it was legal and if there was a market for a job like what she’s doing, I probably would’ve gone into it instead of the FBI. But there isn’t. Because killing people is illegal. So I decided to go to the FBI to make a bigger difference— a real difference. Yes, I relate to the unsub. I get why she’s doing what she’s doing. But just because I get it doesn’t make it right.”

“Good,” he nods. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “I shouldn’t have even had to say it.”

The room falls silent.

Hotch sees it then, that look in your eyes. During the profile, it was all determination and confidence. When you entered the office, it was bratty and defiant. 

Now, it’s hurt.

That’s all he sees. And frankly, that’s all you’re feeling.

Since he doesn’t say anything else, you take it upon yourself to say, “Excuse me,” and join the team in the conference room with only one question on your mind.

Does he not trust me at all?

Next chapter

[adorethedistance]

Party Hard - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: drinking, partying, intoxication, non sexual stripping, swearing probably, 

Words: 6343 (which, if you know me, is a FUCK ton)

Summary: Going from tipsy to full on drunk is a terrible idea, but especially when you’ve got a secret to hide that could mean the difference between preserving and ruining your relationship with your best friend.

A/N: A couple items before we get started: I think I’m back on my bullshit? I mean I wrote this fic and it’s three times the length of my normal fics. Also I wrote this headassery as a literal self insert me(ace) x someone and so there are a couple flaws here and there that make this something I’m not 100% proud of. Owen picks the reader up a few times and I’m aware this kind of thing can really effect someone’s experience with this fic so I do apologize for the lack of inclusivity in regards to body type/ableism. I’m falling really behind on school work because I just can’t find the motivation which either means y’all will be seeing a lot more of me soon or absolutely nothing at all. Not sure which yet.

“You’ve got it so bad.” Charlie rests his left arm on his best friend’s shoulder, tipping back the half-full angry orchard bottle he’d been nursing for the better half of an hour. Owen’s stare is immediately broken and he crosses his arms defensively.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” Turning to meet his friend’s smug stare, Owen shoots Charlie a glare of annoyance before returning his attention to the girl on the dance floor. Surrounded by a gaggle of her closest friends, Y/n is dancing and singing her heart out to Fergalicious with Chelsea, Leila, Savannah, and Carolynn. The bunch of them share in sporadic laughs as they exchange ridiculous dance moves just to add to the fleeting moment’s laughter. An assortment of screeches and squawks blend together as they all prepare to sing the rap section of the song. Observing the level of excitement the girls have over the verse, Owen can’t help but laugh at the spectacle.

“Why don’t you just ask her out already?” Charlie inquires between sips of his cold drink.

“What?”

“Y/n. Why have you not asked her out.”

“We’re just friends.”

“Yeah. Because you haven’t asked her out.” Owen rolls his eyes before turning 90 degrees to fully face the smug guitarist. He turns about-face to prove a point, but another symphony of squeals at the next song choice drags his attention back to his other best friend on the dance floor. “You’re so whipped.”

“Am not.”

“Are too! Look, if you don’t ask her out tonight, I will.”

“You’re not even into her,” Owen protests unceremoniously. Setting the molasses colored bottle on the counter next to Owen, Charlie steps back and copies his position of crossed arms and a relaxed stance.

“You’re right, I’m not. But you are, and if that’s what it takes to light the fire under your ass then I’ll do it.”

“She wouldn’t say yes.”

“Are you sure? I mean, the only way to know for sure is to ask.” And with that, Charlie is off, speeding toward Y/n at a pace that launches Owen into an impulsive chase. To prevent his friend from doing something stupid, Owen shoves him in the opposite direction from the group of girls on the dance floor. What he hadn’t anticipated was Charlie moving so far so fast. Owen has longer legs, he’s supposed to be the faster one, not Charlie. That’s why he hadn’t anticipated turning away from his musical friend to come face to face with a very flushed Y/n. Her lip-gloss coated lips are parted as she catches her breath from all the dancing. They look so soft and inviting that Owen can’t help but stare, and doesn’t realize the several looks of confusion among the girls around him.

“Everything okay, Owen?” Snapping out of his hyper focused stare, Owen blinks a few times, trying to generate a reason for coming over.

“You’ve been dancing for a while.”

“...Yeah?”

“Let me fix you a drink?” His statement comes out as more of a question but the breathless girl agrees nonetheless. Owen extends his hand to her which she gladly accepts but not without a quick word to her friends.

“I’ll be right back, I’m getting a drink.”

Her friends aren’t stupid, quite the opposite actually. And they see right through Owen’s facade of fixing her a drink because she’d been ‘dancing a while’. Please. As if they didn’t know a desperate attempt at flirting when they saw it.

The pounding music from the backyard begins to fade and muffle once the pair step into the Shada’s beautiful kitchen space. Owen leads her to the kitchen island where he has her take a seat on one of the barstools in front of the high countertop. Stepping around the fixture, Owen busies himself with whipping up a drink for Y/n at the makeshift bar on the island. He doesn’t even have to ask what it is she wants. Ice, pink whitney, club soda, and a splash of lime juice mixed together in a red solo cup Owen had considerately written her name on before going all mixologist-mode.

“Your usual.”

“Thank you, sir. You know, I’ve only had a handful of barbecue chips since I got here, and I’m already tipsy, so this actually might get me completely drunk.” Taking a sip, Y/n hums out of pleasure, “Why do you make my favorite drink better than I make my favorite drink?”

“So you have a reason to keep me around.” At the sound of Y/n’s laugh, Owen cracks a smile in time with his favorite sound in the world. The blonde haired man leans forward to rest his weight on his left forearm. He stares at her with adoration seeping from his gaze, before lifting his own cup to drink with her.

“What is that?” she asks, sitting up taller to try and see into Owen’s cup over the island.

“Jack Daniels.”

“I want some.”

“No,” Owen answers swiftly albeit softly. Y/n, however, is not feeling as conciliatory.

“No?”

“Have you ever tried whiskey before?”

“Well, no-”

“You’re drinking a fruit flavored cocktail that’s like 30% nonalcoholic. A sip of this would knock you off your little ass.” Y/n frowns at his words and employs a fake pout of anger to guilt her now laughing friend. Despite her smile, she whines,

“You suck.” Owen merely shrugs unapologetically before sipping and wincing at his drink of choice. “So… how did your date go- with Amy?” And there it is. The question that’s been at the forefront of Y/n’s mind for the last 24 hours.

Owen met this girl Amy at a more professional house party type of event and they hit it off right away. They spent the night invested in conversation, sharing in a cacophony of laughter. Y/n had no right to be upset, but she was. Amy was drop dead gorgeous in that Mini length red, velvet dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her figure was snatched to the gods, and she was about 5’3”; a seemingly irrelevant thing to notice, but Y/n knew that was the height Owen loved in a partner. At least, based on all his previous flings. And not to mention, her beautiful golden blonde hair that extended all the way down her toned back. Amy was perfect to all standards including that of any straight man with eyes and undoubtedly Owen’s. They spent the entire night together, Y/n long forgotten despite having been Owen’s plus one.

Y/n on the other hand didn’t exactly view herself as the drop-dead gorgeous supermodel type. Seeing how Owen took an interest in her at that event, it was no wonder Y/n was jealous. In fact, she had been so jealous that she allowed their flirting to ruin her entire evening.

She had been invited platonically as Owen’s guest, but Owen didn’t feel guilty about leaving her alone once he saw Charlie was by her side the whole night. Little did he know Charlie was only there for her because Owen wasn’t. It was pity company. Pity company that she was grateful to have as she cried into a few gin and tonics. Y/n avoided telling Charlie about her feelings for the adorable drummer, but with the way events transpired, he had figured out what it was that had upset her.

Charlie so badly wanted to give Owen the guilt trip of a lifetime. And he did once he and Owen were alone, heading home in Charlie’s orange hatchback car. He did so by telling Owen about how his best friend had spent the entire evening crying into gin and tonics. ‘Y/n doesn’t even like gin and tonic’ was all Owen could come up with.

When he inquired about why his best friend was crying, Charlie said he didn’t know, but it may have had something to do with the fact that the person who invited her spent the whole night ignoring her; he left it at that, leaving Owen to connect the dots, sort of. Owen had come to the realization that Y/n must have been crying over him, but why? Unable to comprehend a reason, he pushed the situation to the back of his mind. So far back that when Amy texted him that same night, he immediately responded and eventually set up a date for them to get dinner alone Friday evening.

The date was fine. Objectively there was nothing wrong with it. But every time Amy took a sip of the gin and tonic she had ordered, he couldn’t help being reminded of Y/n that night. It took Owen a solid thirty minutes to finally conclude that maybe Y/n was... jealous? Of what? Of Amy? Quickly reviewing a long list of qualities, identical to the one that Y/n had thoroughly checked through when she first saw the blonde, Owen realized she was indeed jealous of Amy. But why? What did Amy have that Y/n didn’t?

Oh.

His initial conclusion in the car with Charlie had to be right. Y/n was crying over him, and seemingly jealous of Amy, all because Amy had his attention. Why was that a problem?

Oh… no. No, Y/n does not have feelings for him. Y/n is... well, Y/n. His best friend, his partner in crime, his confidant, there’s no way she’s in love with him. There’s a different reason as to why she’d been crying into drinks she didn’t like. And that different reason is why her text replies have been short and cold when he had asked for date night conversation pointers. And that different reason is why her smile kept faltering on FaceTime when he was asking for fashion advice for his date.

Y/n is not in love with her best friend.

Owen had spent the past year pushing down his feelings for the girl that threatened to bubble over the top. If Y/n was truly into him, he would’ve acted on them. But she isn’t, so he didn’t. At least, that’s what Owen told himself…

“It was alright,” he offers lamely as a reply to her inquiry. Y/n simply nods and takes another swig of her drink to dull the ache in the center of her chest.

“Just alright?”

“Okay, it was better than alright. She was great.” There’s a hole burning in the center of her heart, and against her better judgment, she expands the deficit by asking for more information.

“What does that mean- that she was ‘great’?”

“You know…” Owen trails off in search of the right words, some words, any words, but nothing comes to him. To sell her nonchalant demeanor, the hopelessly devoted girl is staring down into her cup as if it’s the most interesting thing in the room. She didn’t expect Owen’s eyes to be boring into hers when she looked back up, so she quickly musters a polite smile. Maybe the average onlooker couldn’t tell it was fake, but Owen knows something is off. He just knows. Because he knows her.

“How did those conversation pointers pan out?” She’s deflecting, he thinks.

“One of them worked.” I’m just feeding into it, he thinks.

“Only one of them?” He’s holding back something, she thinks.

“Well, yeah. We didn’t really do much talking if you get what I mean.” I don’t think I can handle this, she thinks.

“I see…” The pair stands together in a silence so tense they felt like strangers. It’s awful. Y/n and Owen hate every second of it, but what could they do? In a moment blinded by upset, Y/n reaches across the island to grab the newly opened bottle of grey goose and pours what must’ve been no less than three shots of liquid into her cup. No club soda or lemonade this time, she chugs down the rest of her drink in a flash; Owen stares at her in disbelief and shock.

Y/n hates being drunk, she likes being the designated driver, she’s never had straight up liquor in her life, and she’s a lightweight, that’s for damn sure. Owen knows all of these things and is even more surprised to see her reaching for an almost empty bottle of gin.

“Hey. Maybe you should take it easy, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a lightweight and you know it. Put the cup down.” When Y/n shakes her head no, something in Owen snaps and his desire to be gentle is long forgotten. “Y/n. Put the drink down.”

“Why do you care, Owen?” In taking time to respond, Owen sees the opportunity and goes for it, taking the cup from her loose grasp and splashing it down the drain of the vegetable sink. “What the fuck?!”

“I think you’ve had enough to drink. Come on.” It’s only a matter of time until Y/n becomes an incoherent human being that’s impossible to wrangle, so Owen is very aware he’s on the clock. Snagging two Arrowhead water bottles in one hand, he takes Y/n’s hand in the other and brings her into the Shada’s den. There are only a few other people in the room, one is a couple and the other a pair of pining idiots, to which Owen becomes slightly wary. Not that the dynamic would change much. He and Y/n are practically a couple according to everyone around them.

Chelsea and Charlie are sitting fairly close together for just friends, on the chocolate brown loveseat facing the couch that Owen has plopped his increasingly intoxicated friend onto; Leila is sitting in a single armchair that a very tipsy Taylor is hanging over the back of to hug her shoulders. Upon seeing Y/n’s pouting expression Chelsea seeks more information,

“You good, fam?”

“He threw it down the sink!” She’s fading faster than Owen had hoped.

“I did. I poured what would’ve been her fifth and sixth shots down the sink.”

“Jesus, Y/n, are you trying to kill yourself?”

“What are you, a cop?” Even tipsy she’s still sharp as a tack. If Owen wasn’t frustrated with her at the moment, he would’ve probably laughed. But he is, so he didn’t. Slipping back into caretaker mode, he hands her one of the water bottles he snagged from the cooler on the way out. In her typical stubborn and petulant fashion, Y/n weakly throws the unopened bottle onto the couch cushion next to her. All their friends laugh but Owen isn’t having it.

“Y/n.” And it only takes a firm call of her name for the slumped over lightweight to glare at him but oblige. She retrieves the bottle and sticks her arm out straight toward Owen’s still standing figure.

“I can’t open it.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this fucked up,” Leila comments.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you fucked up period,” Chelsea adds on. Charlie laughs lightly before resuming whatever conversation the four of them had going pre-Owen and Y/n’s entrance.

Satisfied with the small sips she’s taking of her water, Owen relaxes and takes a seat next to her on the couch. The temporary break in her temper tantrum allows Owen to save his breath; he opens his own water bottle, taking a few drinks which ended up being half the bottle. He’s given her a good bit of room on the couch but it isn’t good enough for Y/n. It takes her a few failed attempts to screw on the cap of her water but once it’s properly sealed, she moves closer to her best friend. The water has acted like some magical temperament cure as Y/n’s previously permanent pout has disappeared.

Owen knows he and Y/n are close enough to where cuddling wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. But the way she’s burrowed into his side, picking up his seemingly ‘heavy’ arm to place it around her own inebriated frame, laying her head high up on his chest, and unintentionally resting her hand on his lower abdomen, something feels off. Her hand isn’t dangerously low, but low enough that the side of her limp palm has met the waistband of his jeans. Owen can’t help but feel his skin tingle and burn under her touch. Why is he so affected by her touch all of a sudden?

Owen is pulled from his snowballing thoughts by the sound of Y/n’s muffled voice against his chest. He leans down as far as he can which places his head on top of hers gently.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you don’t need to be sorry,” he whispers just loud enough for her to hear. A tiny drop of warmth on his shirt under her head triggers Owen’s memory: Y/n’s an emotional drunk. She doesn’t get drunk often but when she does, she goes all in and becomes somewhat manic as a result. That accounts for her previous anger. Now it’s sadness, so in about ten minutes, she’ll be easily excitable and bouncing off the walls.

Y/n had carpooled with Leila and Chelsea to the party, and though Owen was upset about her not picking him up like they’d briefly talked about at first, he’s suddenly thankful for the arrangement.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?”

“Unhhh.” The lack of a coherent response is enough for Owen, and after finishing the rest of his water, he sits up on the couch.

“Where’s your house key? Hm?” The prospect of losing her key is absolutely devastating to Y/n as she begins to weep. Her imminent distress in response to Owen’s question has all their friends laughing once more; Leila speaks up,

“Check the left chest pocket of her jacket.”

Owen nods, noting the directions, and gently rolls his friend over on her back. Deciding against using her strength, Y/n flops over onto her other side which still allows Owen access to her pocket. His long fingers dwarf the button fastener on her jacket that she often struggles to open, and sure enough her sky blue house key is in her pocket just as Leila said.

“Thanks,” he acknowledges Leila before taking Y/n’s cold hands in his own larger ones to help her stand. It’s a bit of a struggle to stand and as a result, the fading girl leans a bit of her weight into Owen’s side. “You gonna say bye to our friends?”

Y/n nods a goodbye to each person in the room, moving from left to right naming Leila, Taylor, Chelsea, and then Charlie. Upon saying bye to Charlie the small girl starts to cry again, harder this time, much to everyone’s confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“Charlie looked a-at me like he didn’t l-like me.” The entire room bursts out laughing, Owen included this time, but she’s still crying. “It’s no-not funny.”

“I know. You’re right, it’s not funny.” Owen’s exaggerated sympathy goes undetected by the very emotional Y/n as she presses her face into his grey long sleeve shirt. She reaches up to hug her arms around Owen’s neck for stability as she adds more tears to the tiny spot from before. “Can you walk?” He asks genuinely as more of her weight leans into him. The only response Owen gets is a few soft sobs, and in reaction to her messy state, lets out a subtle eye roll. He shakes his head before bending down to place one arm under her knees and the other behind her shoulder blades, sweeping her off the ground before she can protest.

“Would you guys tell Jer thanks and that I had to take her home?” A symphony of affirmations and goodbyes usher him out of the house, and once outside Y/n’s crying diminuendos into short sniffles and the occasional sigh.

“Here, be careful,” Owen panics as his friend nearly bangs the front of her head against the roof of his car. Once he cautiously places all her limbs in the passenger side, Owen shuts the door and hurries over to the driver’s side as if Y/n could hurt herself in the next five seconds. He places the key in the ignition but before he even touches the gear shift, he turns and looks quizzically at his best friend. The sniffling and sighs coming from her puffy face have lulled her into an almost unconscious state; Owen puffs out a frustrated sigh as he reaches across the entire car to grab Y/n’s seatbelt for her.

Another thing about drunk Y/n is that her emotional state makes her more likely to give in to physical impulses. So after she registers Owen leaning across her lap for the seatbelt, she grabs his shoulder so he doesn’t move away. The action surprises Owen and he turns his face to look into her half-lidded eyes. He’s trying to make sense of the action but his trailing thoughts are interrupted when the girl in the passenger’s seat leans forward slightly to put her face against Owen’s neck.

“I like your smell.” Owen tries so hard not to laugh in fear of upsetting her again, but he can’t conceal the smile growing on his face. He then gently pulls away from her grasp in order to actually start driving,

“Okay. Thank you.”

The car ride is composed of mostly comfortable silence with the occasional inebriated comment or nonsensical sound from the girl in the passenger seat; Owen had been so captivated by Y/n’s uncharacteristically relaxed state, he’d been driving on autopilot and instead of turning left to get on the highway that runs south to where her apartment is, he’d gone north to go to his own place. No big deal, Owen didn’t plan on leaving her intoxicated and alone, and she’s stayed the night plenty of times before now. What’s one more night? It isn’t until he puts the car in park and helps her out of the vehicle that Y/n clocks her surroundings.

“I don’t live here.”

“You don’t, no, but I do,” Owen replies simply before he slides out of the car. Y/n stays in the car as if Owen told her not to move, and looks up at him confusedly when he opens her door. In her tipsy state, she is able to recognize what Owen is doing and smugly places her hand over the buckle of her seatbelt. With her tiny palm over the red button, she begins giggling maniacally.

“What are you doing?” Owen asks with a frustrated sigh although he can’t help the small smile overtaking his features at the sound of her growing laughter. He doesn’t get a response, just more giggling which lets him know he’s going to have to do things the hard way now that she’s in a lifted mood. “Kid, you have to get out of the car.”

“You can’t make me.”

Owen takes a step back from the open door to reevaluate. Y/n always tells him to work smarter, not harder. Another one of her many bouts of wisdom is that you can keep the attention of children and adults alike with a vastly dynamic change in volume. The question is will she notice Owen using this tactic on her in her drunken state?

“Hey, Y/n/n,” his speech drops to a low whisper. “I’m sad, can you hold my hand?” The change in volume works exactly as described; completely convinced by the sincerity of his whispering, Y/n gives him her right hand. “Can I have the other one?”

When she nods a small ‘yes’ and gives him both of her hands, Owen finds himself fighting the urge to laugh at how easy that was. He takes both of her cool hands in his larger left one to reach across her body and release her seatbelt with a swift CLICK.

Luckily Y/n didn’t tangle herself up in the seatbelt, but she had other ideas for causing trouble. Owen helped her out of the car but once she was standing on her own two feet, she began running away from him. With a slam of the car door and a string of breathy curses later, he chases after his best friend before she can hurt herself on literally anything in the parking garage. The sound of Y/n’s laughter carries through the vacant space, and despite all her best efforts, Owen quickly catches up to her. Her giddy intoxication allowed for the suspension of disbelief that she could outrun the much taller Owen Joyner, but she’s sorely mistaken when his strong arms wrap around her waist and lift her feet off the ground. Y/n’s bouts of laughter are contagious; Owen finds himself laughing alongside his best friend. Setting her feet back on the ground he asks,

“Are you going to run away again if I let go of you?”

“Yeah,” she chokes out through the tail end of her laughing fit. The candidness of her reply prompts Owen to throw his head back, shaking it as if in disagreement with the universe itself,

“I appreciate your honesty.” And with that, Y/n screeches in glee as her best friend maneuvers her body in his grip to lift her over his right shoulder.

“Owen!”

“You did this to yourself, kid.”

The silent elevator ride up to his flat is comfortable relative to the current position they’re in. Y/n’s no longer fighting being carried but instead entertains herself by tapping out an intricate beat on the surface of Owen’s back.

“Guess what song this is.”

The beat she’s playing is close to incoherent and Owen tries to stifle his full laugh in fear of making her cry again. He’s been successful so far, but now having Y/n over his shoulder, she can feel the movement of his abdomen that was unintelligible by sight alone.

“Your favorite song,” he guesses insincerely.

“No, my favorite song doesn’t sound like that. It was sicko mode.”

“That was not sicko mode.”

“Owen, how come you don’t wear a badge?”

“What?”

“Because you’re the song police?” Owen can’t help but snort out a laugh even though the comment was made at his expense. Still sharp as a tack.

Once the pair reach the front door of Owen’s ‘bachelorette pad’ as Y/n liked to call it, he sets her back on the ground albeit reluctantly as he recalls why he was carrying her in the first place. Thinking quickly on his feet, Owen forms a plan that’s more likely than not foolproof.

“Hey, Y/n/n?”

“Yeah?” Her voice is still right behind him thankfully.

“Can I have a hug?” After a few seconds of silence in the hall, Owen begins to doubt his plan until he feels the weight of his best friend leaning on his toned back. With her cheek pressed against the middle of his spine, Y/n brings her arms around his waist, clasping her hands tightly together. Her semi-public display of affection allows Owen some time to unlock his front door. Once he props the door open, Owen realizes that Y/n probably isn’t going to let go any time soon and opts to waddle through the threshold with her still attached to him. He’s able to turn around and lock them back in for the night which makes the girl begin to laugh.

“Was this your plan all along? To get me drunk so you could lock me in your apartment and hold me prisoner for the rest of my life?”

“And I would’ve gotten away with it, too...”

“If it weren’t for those meddling kids and their dog.”

True to his imagination that Y/n wasn’t letting go any time soon, Owen swivels her around his torso so that he could hold her to his side rather than support her with his back. He now has his right arm over both of her shoulders as she continues to hug her best friend. The way she leans her head onto his chest makes Owen’s heartbeat the tiniest bit faster. ‘She’s drunk, she doesn’t know what this does to you’ is the mantra blaring through Owen’s subconscious. Shaking any and all sort of romantic thoughts out of his head, he begins to lead her back to his bedroom.

Flicking the lights on proves to be a mistake once Y/n starts groaning miserably, and Owen decides the floor lamp is a better option than the overheads. Much to Owen’s surprise and relief, Y/n moves to sit on the edge of his bed on her own volition. She’s not upright for long as she collapses into the sheets of his unmade bed that contemplated neatening before leaving the house; hindsight is 20/20.

“Hmm. I like your smell,” Y/n parrots despite already bringing up the topic on the ride home.

“This is the same cologne I always use.”

“No. I like your natural smell.”

“What?”

“I was reading up about pheromones the other day. And there was this thing that said when couples like each others’ scent, it’s like a primal way of seeing if you’re immuno-compatible with someone so your offspring have the best chance for survival. It’s an evolutionary thing for the survival of our species. Ants have pheromones, too.”

Sometimes she has trouble remembering to feed herself, but leave it to Y/n to remember extensive information about pheromones whilst intoxicated. The concept is intriguing to Owen, so he proceeds to ask questions, ignoring the tug on his heart he felt after hearing her say the word ‘couples’.

“So, if I like your scent, we’re immuno-?”

“Compatible, yeah. But it’s mostly me because you can sniff out my period.”

“I can what?”

“I read that men can tell when a woman is at her most fertile because that’s when they like her smell the best. They did a study where a bunch of men were introduced to a few different scents, and without fail, the one they liked the most or would describe as ‘sexy’ or ‘attractive’ was the scent they took from the woman who was ovulating.”

Y/n continues talking about what she learned about pheromones as Owen picks up a bit of the mess around his room. She returns to the topic of ant pheromones as he digs through his surprisingly large closet for something for his friend to sleep in. His temporarily bubbly best friend also notes that he should ‘sniff her now because she’s ovulating and he would like that’ which makes him laugh into the drawers of his waist-height dresser. Returning to find her still slumped over on the bed, he pats her leg and beckons her to sit up. After Y/n’s upright again, Owen hands her his classic black ‘BEANS’ t-shirt and a pair of briefs that won’t properly fit her but will fit better than a pair of his actual pants.

“Can you put these on for me?”

“Yeah.” Owen’s conflicted with both wanting to respect Y/n’s privacy by leaving the room, and prioritizing her safety, and not leaving her unattended at any moment. He comes to a compromise which is staying by her side but turning a full 180 to face the wall of his bedroom. A couple of moments pass until Y/n begins whining frustratedly.

“Owen.”

“Huh?”

“I can’t ubns-” her words become incomprehensible as she begins to cry again and Owen turns around to find her struggling with the buttons on her shirt, her jacket long discarded on the bedroom floor. This shirt: her white, cap-sleeve crop top with a peter pan collar that she wore for anything mildly significant, this was her favorite. Owen remembers her fussing about how she ruined it only to find that she just forgot to steam it one day. So with a little heat and water, Owen had fixed the shirt like nothing ever happened, and he’d do it a million times over again if it meant he got to relive seeing the smile that graced her face for the first time again.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do the buttons.” She runs the back of her right hand against her tired eyes to wipe away her tears and Owen internally curses himself for the way the small action makes his heart flutter.

“Do you need help?”

“Yeah.”

“Listen to me, you are okay,” he sinks to kneel in front of Y/n as she sits tiredly on the edge of the bed. Owen doesn’t miss the slight tremble of his hands as he reaches up to unbutton her shirt, but he prays that she will. Through tiny sniffles and teary eyes, she watches his hands effortlessly work down the length of her shirt, each button modestly dancing between his fingertips. Once the short top is fully unbuttoned, Owen returns to his normal standing height and Y/n attempts to shrug the fabric off her body. She struggles lightly and knowing her frustration is imminent, Owen reaches down to gingerly push the sleeves off her shoulders. The light graze of his rough, calloused skin against her own skin sends electric-like shocks through the both of them; yet neither of them believed the other felt it too.

Owen hastily withdraws his hands and, without warning, Y/n quickly removes the bralette she was wearing. Owen’s eyes widen slightly at her lack of inhibition. He does his best to be a gentleman and swiftly redirects his gaze to the white ceiling fan that has all of a sudden become the most intriguing object in the universe. His lower peripheral vision indicates that she’s finally slipped the black tee over her head, but she begins sniffling more fiercely as she struggles with taking off her jeans. Owen sighs and drops to his knees once more in spite of himself, and aids his best friend in slipping the material over the length of her calves and off the tips of her toes. Hoping to speed up the process, he grabs the briefs he had brought her and unfolds them in preparation for helping her into them. His efforts are all for naught as Y/n forgoes the need for any more clothing and slides under the covers of his unmade bed. Owen then turns to leave the bedroom, opting to set up on the couch for the night before Y/n’s small voice is cutting through the comfortable silence.

“Where are you going?” He sighs,

“I’ll be right back, okay? I’ll get you some water and Advil for when you wake up tomorrow.” Y/n then nods acceptingly and allows her eyes to flutter closed as he leaves the room. Despite how tired she feels, Y/n won’t quite yet let herself sleep--not ‘til Owen is beside her. When he returns he sets the ibuprofen bottle on the nightstand before uncapping the Kirkland brand water bottle he had in the fridge. He coaxes her into sitting up just one more time so she can drink some of the water before falling asleep. She sits and rubs her tired eyes as she drinks and Owen has to physically force himself to look away from the adorable sight. He just wants to take care of her forever but things have always been strictly platonic between them.

The risk of making their friendship weird or awkward was just too great.

“Goodnight kid, I’ll be right outside if you need me.” Owen leaves without awaiting a response and lets out an annoyed sigh before setting himself up on the couch in his living room. He was so focused on getting Y/n to bed safely that he forgot to grab clothes for himself. Not a big deal. He simply strips down to just his underwear and climbs underneath the thick Pottery Barn throw blanket Y/n had gifted him as a housewarming gift. That and a fire extinguisher because ‘you don’t notice its absence until you need it’ she claimed. The memory makes Owen smile and he allows his eyes to close after a long day.

A long day that was about to get longer. Owen finds himself sinking further and further into sleep until he hears the padding of footsteps that are now in his living room. He’s too tired to open his eyes, and it’s not like he doesn’t already know who it is. What does surprise him, however, is the feeling of the familiar weight squeezing between the couch and his turned back.

“What are you doing?” He half mumbles into the night.

“You’re warm.”

“That was not the question, Y/n/n.” After not receiving a reply, Owen turns as best as he can to look at his friend who’s nestling her way into his sleeping arrangement for the night. “Kid-”

“I just wanna be with you.”

“Alright,” Owen sighs out of irritation, exhaustion, and a sliver of adoration before sitting up on the couch, “Come on.”

He stands up, fully expecting to have to drag her back to the bedroom, but finds relief in seeing her struggle her way off the couch. Slipping her tired hand into his unexpecting, larger one, Y/n allows her friend to lead her into the bedroom for the second time that night.

Owen considerately lifts the covers for her to climb back into before getting into the other side of the bed.

“Owen.”

“Hm?”

“Guess what.”

“What?”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too, kid.”

“No,” Y/n speaks in a casual tone as if she’s not divulging into her biggest emotional trepidation to date. “I love you, Owen.”

Owen can’t help the way his heart seemingly stops. The way the butterflies in his stomach are going wild. The way he wants to smile like he’s the biggest lovestruck idiot on planet Earth.

She’s drunk. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. She won’t remember this tomorrow.

“I’m in love with you, Y/n.”

She won’t remember that tomorrow.

***

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[weasel-b33]

500 Miles (j.p x fem!reader)

Description: A few years after the birth of your son Harry, you and your husband James recall the beginning of your relationship. (NO VOLDY I CAN NOT DO THAT TO MYSELF) 

Warnings: Fluff, Kissing, A little Swearing, idk Cute Daddy James, Prolly many spelling errors I wrote this late and I am very tired...

 (THIS IS MY FIRST TIME EVER WRITING SOMETHING KINDA SIRIUS hehe SO IM SORRY IF IT IS TERRIBLE) 

Also the dates may be a bit wrong so im sorry in advance!! 

italicized is flashback!! 

Lyrics used in the song are from “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)” by The Proclaimers (I KNOW THE SONG CAME OUT IN ‘87 BUT SUSPEND YOUR DISBELIEF PLEASE)

(not my gif)

The rambunctious laughter of the four year-old toddler and his father echoed throughout the large estate.

“Daddy!” exclaimed the messy haired Harry, “Can I please have a story.” Heavily emphasizing the puppy dog eyes he learned from his godfather, Sirius, a few years prior.

James Potter, the man unable to say no to anyone, tried to recall a story he had not told his son. Thinking back to the fairy tales of a prince slaying a fictional dragon, even though they are very much real, to save the princess that his mother used to tell him, James realized he was all out of good material. 

“I’m sorry bubs, I have nothing new too share,” the bespectacled man added lamely. The disappointment was instant on the child’s face, but luckily before the waterworks began, Y/N Potter strolled through the foyer into the den.

“Mommy!” Harry exclaimed, jumping up and bonding over to his mother, nearly knocking her over with his brute strength.

“Umph- Where’s the fire lovey?” you questioned with a slight chuckle. The dramatics of your son were never a surprise. Between his father and Sirius, you were surprised he had not acted much worse. Walking, more like sliding due to the child gripping your calves, over to your husband and lightly pecking his lips you ask, 

“What’s wrong now?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, he sheepishly stated, “I sorta don’t have a new story to tell him... he’s a bit peeved, if you couldn’t tell.”

A loud laugh tore through your throat as you pet your son’s hair affectionately.

“Come off Harry, Mommy has a perfect story to tell you,” you crooned softly.

“You do?”Harry questioned, rubbing the tears out of his stunning green eyes.

You picked him up and sat down near James, “Yes poppet, I have a very interesting story about how two very special people fell in love.” 

James quickly turned his head and quirked a questioning brow, “It all started when they were 15...” 

November 7, 1975

Quietly sitting on the vermilion couch of the Gryffindor Common Room, you began to fade out the noise of Lily ranting about the recent History of Magic exam, and Marlene’s long monologue over if she should or should not cut bangs. Instead, you were beginning to rip out each and every one of the hairs on your head because your Potions essay was nearly finished, yet you could not get those final words to conclude it all. 

Across the common room, a rowdy group of teenage boys, better known as the Marauders, were planning the newest prank on Snape. 

"We should give him that shampoo that will change his hair pink,” Sirius added.

Remus shook his head disapprovingly, “Pads, we did that last time come on..”

“WE HAVE NOTHING! WHAT IS WRONG WITH US, MOONY, HELP I’M DYING OF NO CREATIVITY!” Sirius exclaimed throwing himself across the scarred boy.

Although, many people turned their attention to the dark haired pureblood, James seemed he could not take his eyes off the girl nearly burning holes into her parchment, the girl he has fancied since he was 12. 

While playing with the snitch he stole, he said, “What if we tried that new rain spell we learned in charms today?” 

“Too difficult, we have not had enough practice.” Remus dismissed. “Well what if I found someone to practice on?” James added quickly turning to face his werewolf best friend. 

“Sure... Whatever, I could care less- Pads, get the bloody hell of me before I kick your arse,” 

“I’D LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY REMUS JOHN,” Sirius yelled beginning his quick climb up the stairs to the boys dorm, with Remus and Peter quickly following.

“You comin’ Prongs?” Remus asked to the brunette still staring at the girl with shaky hands.

“No, I’ll come up in a few, still want to try to figure this prank out...” he said quietly. The lanky boy followed his best friends line of sight and quietly smirked to himself.

“Alright, don’t wear yourself out too much.” 

Even throughout the commotion, you still made no move to change your line of sight. That was until Marlene nudged you and whispered into your ear.

“Psst! Oi! Y/N! Why is Potter staring at you?” 

You quickly shook your head and waved off her question, opting to continue to find the right words.

Well until your blonde friend gripped your jaw, and turned your head to the direction of the boy. You instantly made eye-contact with the messy haired Gryffindor and quirked a brow. He smirked and turned his head away. You thought nothing of the interaction, until you felt a sudden drop above your head...

Instantly, it seemed as though there was a storm in the common room. Looking towards the ceiling you saw the dark rain cloud above your head. Quickly turning your head to the essay you were writing you noticed it completely wet and ruined. You jumped into action, trying to salvage what you could, but it was too late. Ignoring the screeches of your friends and fellow housemates, you began to look for the source of the cloud.

That was until you made eye contact with the laughing and smug James Potter.

“POTTER!” you yelled. Almost immediately the rain stopped, but the damage had been done. “JAMES POTTER! YOU BETTER HAVE A REASON YOU STARTED A STORM IN THE COMMON ROOM!” 

Hearing the commotion, the rest of the Marauders came down to the common room to witness what was happening. But all they saw was a yelling match between you and their brunette best friend.

“YOU ARE A DICK JAMES POTTER! KARMA IS A BITCH AND SHE IS COMING! IT’S GONNA BE SO NICE TO SEE YOUR FACE WHEN ALL YOUR ACTIONS FINALLY COME TO KICK YOU IN THE ARSE!” you yelled.

“What? I did nothing, I don’t mean to dampen your mood, but I have no idea what you are on about.” James replies smugly.

“UGH- YOU ARE A BULLY AND A RIGHTEOUS, STUCK UP, EGOTISTICAL ARSEHOLE! I HOPE YOU ARE ENJOYING THIS BECAUSE-- OH MY! I-” You were quickly being dragged away by your red head companion. 

“Y/N, he is not worth it... let’s just leave.” 

“NO! I HAVE TO RESTART MY ESSAY! I WAS THIS BLOODY CLOSE. UGH- YOU ARE AN ARSE JAMES POTTER I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT!”

“Y/N, it was just a prank, its no big deal relax.” James said.

“RELAX! ARE YOU KIDDING... I-” you paused taking shallow and rapid breaths, ‘you know I can not believe you think its funny. You truly have no regard for people and how they feel do you?” you asked slowly and meticulously. 

“Prongs, just apologize and lets go..” Remus said quickly.

“I- I didn’t realize it would be that big of a deal.” James tried to say to you, but it was no use because you had already dragged Lily and Marlene out the common room and to the library to re-start your assignment. 

“Oh, COME ON! I did not” James stated jokingly.

“Darling, you must certainly did, I barley passed that essay as well. I blame you for me getting an E in that class.” You replied giggling.

“Moooommmyyy! Story, get back to the story,” Your son said dramatically, grabbing your cheeks and turning to face him for extra effect.

Hearing a chuckling from James in the background, “Alright bubs, back to the the story”

January 23, 1976

After months of back and forth between you and James, he was fed up trying to get your attention. From roses to chocolate, to even a firework show in your honor, James believed he had done everything to apologize to you for his stupid prank and prove his affection.

Tired of his friends constant whining, Remus and Sirius decided to take matters into their own hands and talk to someone who knew you better than anyone else, Lily and Marlene.

“Oh Evans, Mckinnon, we are in grave need of your beautiful minds” Sirius flirted. Remus smacked him across the head adding, “Ignore the git, we need some help its about-”

“James?” Lily and Marlene said in unison.

“Yeah...how did you know” Remus questioned. “Are we gonna ignore the fact they spoke at the same time” Sirius said, once again receiving a blow from his friend.

Rolling her eyes, Lily remarked, “Well, Y/N has been complaining about him for months,” Marlene quickly interjected, “...and you never are without him so its an easy assumption. 

Now its was the boys turn to roll their eyes to the back of their heads. “Anyways, he will not shut up about getting her to forgive him... so we were wondering if you had anything that could work to get her to forgive him?” Remus pleaded with the best Sirius puppy dog eyes he could muster.

“Fine,” Lily and Marlene said jointly.

“THEY DID IT AGAI- OH NOT YOU TOO AS WELL!” Sirius exclaimed rubbing the now sore bump on his head. 

Ignoring the dog’s dramatics, the group of four began conducting a plan for James that would knock Y/N’s socks off.

At this point, Harry had nestled between his parents and fell into a deep sleep.

The two of you put him to bed and settle down back into the living room.

Looking longingly at his wife, James says, “Well, might as well finish the story love... it is the best part.”

Giggling at the antics of your husband, you shrug and began to finish the story...

February 14, 1976 

The Great Hall looked as though Cupid had just went on a decorating rampage. The room lined with pink and red hearts and the sight of loving couples nearly made you want to gag. Then, you remembered the boy who has dying to get your attention for the past months and can not seem but to get excited.

What does he have planned for you? Is he gonna get me a gift? Do I look presentable? 

“WHAT!” you quickly think to yourself, “Why in Merlin’s name am I excited to to see Jame- Potter. Godric I can’t feel like this for him... He his as a fly that buzzes and will not leave me alone... but he is not the worst to look at”

You quickly snap out of your thoughts as Lily starts to put food onto your plate. You begin to eat, but can only think of one thing.

James Potter.

“Why?” You begin questioning again, “Godric, Y/N You like him... No I do not.. You realize you are having this whole conversation within your brain, right? It is obvious you like him...” you grumble to yourself as you realize your psyche has won once again.

Lily noticing your strange behavior begins to question if you discovered what they have planned. 

Almost as though the boys heard Lily’s thoughts the beginning of the plan is activated.

Instantly, the candles in all of the Great Hall extinguish and there is the beginning of a song plays.

Suddenly, a spotlight shines onto the teachers table where atop, James and the rest of the Marauders stand, Remus and Sirius with guitars and Peter on the drums. James holding a mic begins to sing...

When I wake up, Well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who wakes up next to you.

Your head snaps to the noise and there you see in all of his glory, James Potter holding a microphone staring straight at you.

When I go out, yeah I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who goes along.

Quickly shoving the breakfast roll down your throat you nearly choke as you see the boy slowly make his way towards the front of the Gryffindor table.

When I get drunk, well I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you.

Your eyes widen comically when you see James Potter jump onto the Gryffindor table. 

And when I haver, hey I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who's havering to you.

Slowly, the boy begins his walk across the table to where you sit. You try to make a run for it, but Lily and Marlene quickly grab your arms and anchor you down to the bench 

“What friends you are!” you hiss at the two.

Marlene just rolls her eyes and Lily pinches your hip.

And I would roll 500 miles And I would roll 500 more Just to be the man who rolls a thousand miles To fall down at your door

Once the boy is standing in front of you he reaches down for your hand. Stubbornly, you ignore his gesture, well until your two friends throw you up onto the table with the love struck brunette. 

When I come home well I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who comes back home to you And when I grow old, well I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who's growing old with you.

You grip onto the boys biceps for stability and are forced to look into his ravishing hazel eyes...

In that moment you forget all that he has done to you in the past and all you can think about is him and you. 

But I would roll 500 miles And I would roll 500 more Just to be the man who roles a thousand miles To fall down at your door.

Smiling, to yourself, you grab the face of the boy in front of you and mold your lips together. Ignoring the cheers of your classmates, the only sounds you hear are the background noise of the boy’s best friends signing backup. 

Da da da  Da da da                                                                                                            Da Da Dun Diddle                                                                                            Un Diddle Un Diddle Uh Da Da.....

Smiling to yourself and grabbing the hand of the man you love you start laughing.

“What’s so funny, love?” James asks.

“Nothing.... Just we began dating because you performed a whole song and dance in front of the entirety of Hogwarts.” you reply breathlessly.

“Well, hey, look at us now... happy, healthy, and a true family.” he replies smiling at your antics.

You lay down your head into the lap of your husband, and look up into his hazel eyes you got lost into all those years ago, “Such a sap, Potter, such a sap...”

Kissing your cheek softly, “Only for you, my darling girl... only for you...” 

“I love you Jamie”

“I love you more, my love.”            ______________________________________________________________

AHHH I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!! IM SORRY IF IT IS SO BAD!! THIS IS MY FIRST FIC PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I COULD DO ANYTHING BETTER!!! AHHHH (but like kinda like this story... kinda proud ;))

[quietmyfearswith]

would've been you ; steve rogers x fem!reader

status — completed oneshot

word count — 4,477 words

summary — in which steve rogers pretends to be in a relationship in order to get his ex to stop pestering about his life.

warnings —swear words, fluff?? mentions of blood and bruising, angst?? insecurities, implied smut

pairing — steve rogers x fem!reader

a/n — italics are the flashbacks,,, and would you believe it's been a fat minute since i've written about steve rogers??? so i hope i bring his character justice lmao,, also this is my take on the fake dating au so i would really appreciate some feedback and asks/messages are open! if you follow me, please state your age/age range in your bio. i will block you if you follow me and don’t have your age/age range in your bio!!!

tagging —​ @la-cey​ @pedropcl​ @isysen​ @slutforcevans @iloveshawnieboi

masterlist | series masterlist | join my taglist (please follow the rules)

“There you are, doll!” Steve cheerily yelled, pausing his current conversation with Sharon. Walking over to Y/N, he kissed her cheek and took advantage of the fact that his back was facing Sharon and whispered in her ear, “Play along with it, please.”

Sensing the desperation in his tone, she nodded in her head and plastered a smile on her face, “Where have you been, doll?” The way he called her doll had her biting the inside of her cheek as she had to remind herself that this was all just a ruse and so she went along, “I’m sorry ‘bout that, honey,” She raised the folders that contained important mission intel, “Had to run these over by Fury first.”

Draping an arm over Y/N’s shoulder, he then turned to Sharon and smiled at her, “Oh Sharon, I don’t think I’ve told you yet but me and Y/N have been dating for quite a while now.” The girl being addressed to tilted her head a bit  — she was silently analyzing the pair’s compatibility and after a few silent seconds she somewhat came to the conclusion that they were somewhat a good couple — before smiling, “Well good for you both! Thought that our breakup was too harsh on you, Steve.”

Y/N had to hold back a chuckle at Sharon’s seemingly innocent remark; but Steve could only scoff, “Well it was harsh, until I was with my beautiful doll.” She felt his lips place a gentle kiss on the top of her head and she didn’t know the reason behind her snuggling herself to Steve’s side — was it because she was playing along? Or was it due to the warmth his body was radiating made her relax and seek more of that comfort.

“Since you have a girl,” It creeped Y/N out when Sharon wiggled her eyebrows as she said the word girl, “You wouldn’t mind going to my Valentine’s party then?” The Avenger took the invite she held out. “A Valentine’s party? Wouldn’t that be a bit condescending?”

Chuckling at her question, Sharon just waved them off, “Oh no! I don’t think it will be. Plus, me and Mark just love celebrating every holiday or festival!” She checked her phone and realized she had somewhere else to be, she waved off as she bid adieu, “I’ll see you both okay? Bye!”

“Be sure to invite us for your St. Patrick's Day party, okay?” Y/N sarcastically reminded her as Steve genuinely laughed out loud. Once Sharon was out of their sight, he grabbed her hand and led her into his office so they could discuss privately.

“What the fuck was that, Steve?” Y/N yelled at him once they both were inside his soundproof office. “I’m sorry! I had to do so,” Steve explained, his blue eyes evidently expressed stress, “Sharon suddenly had me cornered and was asking about how I was after we broke up.”

“So you decided to tell her that we were dating?!”

“No!” His answer had her confused as she tilted her head back to stare at him in disbelief, “Well, not necessarily that we were dating.”

“I feel like I’m owed more than that; so explain yourself clearly, Rogers.” Y/N crossed her arms and looked at him dead serious in the eye; sighing to calm himself down, Steve then closed his eyes before slowly opening them as he explained to her, “She asked me how I was doing post-breakup and I said I was doing well. Her nosey self wasn’t satisfied with that answer and inquired further if I was dating anyone.”

“Then you told her you were seeing me?” Y/N predicted and was surprised when Steve shook his head, “I vaguely told her that I was dating someone already.”

“But she kept on pestering you for a name and face?” She giggled as Steve rolled his eyes but nodded to answer her question, “You were the first dame to pass by and thought that maybe she’d piss off once she saw that I indeed have someone.”

Snatching the invite that he held, she read through the details of the party they were invited to as she chuckled, “Then it looks like we have a party to attend to on the 14th, hm?”

“What?” Now it was the super soldier’s turn to be stunned; he thought that it was only a one time thing where they had to pose in front of Sharon as a couple. “We’re going to the Valentine’s party?”

Pursing her lips together as she looked at him as if he lacked common sense, Y/N answered, “Well, duh. Wouldn’t it be odd if you attended the party alone when she clearly invited us both?”

He understood her point, but what he failed to recognize is why she was willing to pose as his partner when they weren’t together, in any way. “You’re on board with this whole fake dating thing?”

“Okay for one, don’t flatter yourself,” She defended as she caught herself thinking that maybe he thought that this was her way of living some fantasy where they were a real couple, “Two, you said it yourself — Sharon’s not gonna stop bothering you. Why not just ride along with whatever she’s playing, yeah?”

Her reasons made sense to Steve and he jabbed at her too, “Plus, you did seem interested with what her Valentine’s party looked like.” As he mentioned the ridiculously themed party she burst out in a fit of giggles as she raised the invitation to their eye level and said, “Well it does state that we both have to wear either red or pink.”

“I knew you were dumb, but I didn’t know you were this dumb,” Bucky stated as he placed the weights Steve lifted against the parallel bar dips of the gym bench. Lifting himself off the inclined seat, the blonde Captain glared at his best friend, “You and I both know I’m not dumb! Who was it that pieced together quickly that he wasn’t in the 40’s the moment he woke up?”

Rolling his eyes, the brunette flicked Steve’s ear as he drank some of his energy drink, “Well you’re dumb enough to engage in a fake relationship with the woman you’ve been in love with for a few years now.”

The captain was quick to swat his friend’s thigh to silence him; his blonde locks moved left and right as he looked sideways — making sure no one heard his deepest secret exposed supposed best friend. “Keep it down, will you?”

The former Winter Soldier could only chuckle as he watched Steve prepare his things as they both had reached the end of their workout, “But still, are you sure this plan won’t backfire and blow up all over your face?”

Truthfully, Steve hadn’t considered that yet, “Honestly? I don’t know.” After a few silent seconds, Bucky knew the look that his friend was sporting so he fished for more answers, “But?”

“But I’m hoping something good will come out after this whole ordeal,” Steve quietly admitted with a sigh as he rested his back against the cold, metal walls of the elevator. Bucky took the time to study his friend’s facial features; it was amazing how at the mere thought of being with Y/N instantly relaxed him. “I hope the same for you, pal.”

Midway through the elevator’s journey to their floor, it rang softly as it halted, and the doors opened to reveal Y/N, “Hey you two!” When she entered the small box, Steve stood up straight as he smiled at her, “Hi doll, how are you?”

With the metallic palm pressing against his lips, Bucky stifled his amused laughter with how dumbfounded his friend was; he could see the miniscule beads of sweat and nervousness appear behind Steve’s facade as he faced the girl of his dreams and he couldn’t wait to tell this tale to Sam. Unaware of what was previously going on, the only girl in the space smiled warmly, “Drop the act Steve, Sharon’s not here,” She turned to Bucky and greeted him too, “How was the workout, Sarge?”

“It was great! Also got to help out some of the other recruits who were struggling,” Steve’s mind was foggy as the two conversed as he silently reflected on what she said to him. Drop the act? Did she think that him being nice to her was just part of their stunt? She must not have any idea of how much she really means to me then, he concluded.

Upon hearing her say, “Well I did know you were a better combat fighter than Steve,” To his best friend snapped him out of his deep thought. “Excuse me? Did you say I wasn’t better than Buck?”

“Uh oh,” Bucky warningly mocked as Y/N laughed at Steve’s pout; she brushed his cheek with her palm to comfort him, “Don’t worry honey, I still know that you’re skilled enough to sweep me off my feet.”

The elevator chimed softly, serving as a cue for Y/N that she was already on the floor where she needed to be. Before stepping off the box, she winked at Steve, “Bye boyfriend, see you later.” Steve was grateful for the elevator’s timing as he watched her exit for his cheeks got all red as he replayed the earlier events in his mind.

The brunette, of course, noticed the dreamy state his friend was in and didn’t hesitate to poke fun at him, “Two sentences and she got you all flustered and blushing? Man, can’t wait to tell this to Sam.” Bucky huffed out as Steve hit his chest with the back of his palm before exiting the elevator once they were on the floor of their living quarters, “Shut the hell up, jerk.”

“Yeah? Well you’re one coward punk!”

“What’s the emergency?” Steve wondered as he entered Y/N’s office after receiving a text from her that demanded his presence immediately; though it was a vague text which read;

My office, ASAP. We have an emergency.

He quickly concluded his meeting, worried at the thought  that something might have happened to her. However, as she walked from her couch and greeted him, “We haven’t talked about what we’re going to wear for the party!”

“Seriously?” Steve deadpanned as he chuckled lightly, Y/N mocked his amusement as she nodded, “I am!” She held the invitation between her fingers, “The invite said we have to wear either red or pink. But couples were encouraged to wear something that matched.”

After his amusement died down, he then placed the weight of his chin on his palm, “And what are you proposing we wear to the party?” With that she gleefully skipped to the coffee table, where she carried the hangers and showed to him the outfits she bought — she bought him a pink, strawberry-themed long sleeve; while she bought herself a dress of the same design and color.

“This one?” He held the cloth of the top he was supposed to wear, “We’re wearing this to the party?” Sheepishly, she nodded as she swayed a little bit, “Okay, they were a bit self-indulgent,” Steve snorted and she glared at him as she continued, “But hey! This fits the dress code; it’s pink and we’ll be matching too!”

Scratching the back of his neck, he thought about it and was extremely on the fence on whether he should wear it; apparently he took too long to respond as Y/N huffed out as she sat on the couch with a pout as she crossed her arms, “And here I was willing to help you in your dilemma and yet you can’t do this small thing for me.

Sitting beside her, he poked her sides and to no avail, “Hey, come on now. Don’t be like that,” He wrapped his arms around her figure and he felt her still in his arms but ultimately relaxed as she leaned back to his chest and looked at him with a pout, “What?”

“I always wanted to wear this dress,” She confessed as she played with his fingers that were tapping on the skin of her stomach, “And you know, the party seemed like the perfect occasion to do so.” She peered up at Steve, his chin almost resting on the top of her head, “Don’t worry, I can change what we’re gonna wear. Would matching sweaters work for you?”

With a serious expression, he shook his head, “We’re not going to the party wearing sweaters.” She gasped out but it was short-lived as he smiled and kissed her forehead, “We’re gonna be wearing these pretty heart outfits.”

Her whole face lit up and she smiled brightly as she enclosed his neck with his arms, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” It surprised them both when she planted a soft kiss on his clean-shaven cheek, “I’m really thankful that you want to dress up in those hideous outfits.”

Stroking her back, he shook his head, “They’re not hideous; I know for a fact that you will look even more lovely once you wear that dress,” Images of what she would look like as she wore the dress filled his mind, and she looked jaw-dropping.

After relishing in the contented silence they shared before Steve tapped her forearms, “Okay, doll. Need to go now,” He thought of how he needed to call back some of the officials he dismissed at the meeting he was earlier in, “I’ll pick you up at 6pm tomorrow, okay?”

Nodding her head, she too stood up and handed the garment to him, “Don’t forget this.” Snatching the fabric from her, he winked at her before leaving her to her company, “See you then, doll.” And that mention of the nickname, she felt himself melting like ice cream.

“So this is what a Valentine’s-themed look like,” Steve noted as he took a sip of the red, sugary drink being offered at one of the tables as Y/N snickered after taking a bite of the chocolate-strawberry, “Still a bit condescending, and damn is it too pink and red!”

Around them, there were a litter of red, pink, and gold balloons taped to the wall; while there  were pink streamers attached to the back of the chairs and heart-shaped stickers littered the room — as if to mock those who weren’t in any way experiencing an overwhelming amount of love. Steve laughed at her comment and was about to sip more of his drink when he noticed that Sharon was approaching them; he draped an arm around Y/N’s lower back, pulling her in closer to him until their bodies touched, as he continued to drink his beverage.

“Hey guys, how are you enjoying the party?” When she stood tall and proud in front them, it nearly blinded the two as she was donning a sparkly, sequined pink dress that screamed “Valentine disco ball.”

“We’re enjoying it,” Y/N managed to get out without squinting her eyes too much and with a convincing fake smile, “I do have to say you have great tastes in sweets,” She raised the half-eaten strawberry she was munching on. The blonde girl laughed as she nodded her head, “Well Mark has a sweet tooth so of course I have to indulge him.”

Steve was about to remark about how Mark was on their brief exchange upon their arrival but was quickly cut off by his ex’s questioning, “So tell me, how did you two become an official couple?” The fake couple looked at each other as they stammered out a coherent response as they stared at each other, getting lost in each other’s beautiful eyes.

“I mean, I knew about how Steve had this miniscule crush on you,” Sharon stating that casually made them snap out of their haze and focus on the blonde, “He might have confessed that early on in our relationship.”

“I’m sorry?” Y/N wasn’t sure why that was what she said but Sharon quickly waved it off, “It’s fine, really. I too had a crush on someone when we were together — who can resist Keanu Reeves, am I right?”

The two girls chuckled — Y/N genuinely laughed this time as she too draped her arm around Steve’s lower back, somewhat to ground herself — and once they both calmed down, Sharon returned to her questioning, “So really, what’s your story?”

“Well it started after a rough mission, after our breakup,” Steve recalled which caught the attention of both women. Anticipating his recollection, they watched him with eager eyes and silent mouths, encouraging the Avenger to carry on, “I was punching some bags in the gym until I was bleeding. Then Y/N showed up and from there we were inseparable,” He paused for a while before looking on his the mentioned girl and smiling softly at her, “You might not remember it, doll.”

“I do, actually,” She retorted softly, before turning to Sharon as she recounted what happened from her point of view;

“Don’t think punching that bag will change the mission’s outcome,” Y/N’s voice echoed through the empty room of the gym; it also caused Steve to halt his assault on the object and smirking to her, “It won’t, but it might change how I currently feel.”

Walking over to him, she sat on the nearest bench from where he was standing as she stated out loud her observation, “Come over here and let me treat your bleeding.” He gave her a firm look which was his tell that he was about to pull the “I’m a super soldier” card; but he hasn’t even got out a syllable out before she shut him up, “Super soldier or not, you can die of loss of blood, you know?”

Sighing and rolling his eyes, he walked over while removing the punching gloves before moving to sit beside her. Her fingers peeled off the tape he covered his knuckles in that were now sticky with both sweat and blood, “Jesus, Steve, how dumb can you be?”

“Is that a challenge?” He snickered but it quickly died down to a hiss as she applied a liquid ointment on his knuckles before dabbing it with cotton, “Sorry,” She apologized with a meek smile, “But no, I have mission reports dating back to the 40’s to prove how impulsive you can be.”

They sat there in silence for a few minutes as she was treating his hands before Y/N spoke up, “Do you need someone to listen to and comfort you? Or someone who can give you solutions?” Steve lifted his gaze from his bruised knuckles to her gentle eyes, “What?”

She smiled softly at him before resuming in bandaging his knuckles, “I know for a fact that the mission isn’t the only thing that got you all worked up.” She didn’t have to say it, but it was evident that she knew about his and Sharon’s break up.

“So you’ve heard about it then?” His inference had her smirking at him as she placed her hands on her thighs after finishing up on his hands, looking at him incredulously, “The proper question is who hasn’t? I bet only Scott and Hope don't because they’re on that mission in New Zealand.”

A chuckle erupted from his chest with the manner she was being honest with him, “I guess I just like having someone not looking sorry for me or offering sympathy with the whole ordeal,” Every time someone mentioned the breakup they were all sympathetic to him and it was refreshing to be with someone who somehow found humor in his rather sad situation, “So I like how you feel nor display neither.”

He didn’t have to say it as well, but she got the faint hint that he needed a good laugh just to forget about everything and she was more than glad to do so, “Since we’re being honest, why don’t you go for a quick shower? You’re starting to smell from the 40’s already.”

Her remark had him gasping as he placed a hand on his chest, slightly offended but was still in a playful mood, “Oh? And what do I get once I smell like more of this century?”

She stood up and smirked at him as she was strutting away to leave him shower, “Gonna show you a good time, cap. Just text me once you’re done, yeah?”

“You naughty minx! You too did it right away?” Sharon excitedly concluded, invested with the blossoming relationship of her ex-boyfriend — Y/N thought it was unusual how a person would genuinely be interested in their former partner’s well-being, but this was better than her treating her with spite.

Steve laughed loudly as he shook his head, “Sharon! No! We didn’t do what you’re thinking.” His statement had her confused as she pouted and whined for answers, “Well she said she would show you a good time? What else am I supposed to think?”

“I drove him out to this amusement park and on the way home took him to this karaoke dive bar thing,” Y/N clarified and nuzzled the side of her face to Steve’s arm upon remembering how hard and loud Steve laughed throughout the day.

Upon the mention of the bar they went to, Steve placed his now empty glass on one of the tables as he fished his wallet out and got one of the many photo strips they took on the bar’s photo booth, “I even made sure to keep these, as a reminder of our first unofficial date.”

Sharon cooed as she looked at their adorable poses; but Steve and Y/N were both staring into each other with longing and love in their eyes, and yet neither of them could bring themselves into saying it to each other.

“Oh shit, Mark’s calling me,” Sharon said as she hastily said goodbye to them as she was approaching her boyfriend, “Enjoy yourselves okay?” They both nodded to her and told her to go to beau as they would be fine by themselves.

“Wanna get out of here?”

“Yes, please,” Steve chuckled at her immediate response; tucking the strip containing their pictures in his pocket, he grabbed her hand, holding onto it tightly as he sneakily led to exit the party.

For a while, they were just walking down the street with their tangled hands swaying as they both silently took in earlier events. “So, you kept all those strips of photos we took?” Seeing as he nodded bashfully, she scoffed, “We must have inserted over a dozen quarters that night! Do you know how many photo strips that could be?”

Truthfully, she didn’t want to look at those photos — let alone have a copy — since it served as a painful relic of a night filled with fun and spontaneity. And she feared that it was all a dream and that it wouldn’t be once again replicated.

“And I kept every single one of them,” Unlike his bashful demeanor earlier, his tone was now firm and confident. They both paused their walking as they were by the park, that was thankfully not crowded at this time of the day.

“Why?” Y/N hated how she sounded so weak, which was far from how confident her tone was whenever she held meetings for SHIELD or the Avengers. Steve smiled at her with the fondness that he never thought he had, “Because if I were to choose my soulmate, it would’ve been you.”

In a state of disbelief, Y/N rapidly shook her head while she shakily protested, “But you were with Sharon,” She was struggling to unclasp her hand with Steve’s; but he wasn;t letting her do so as he held onto hers firmly, “You wanted her, possibly loved her. There’s no way you could want me.”

He understood her point, but he had his own and wanted to make it clear; he grabbed both her hands firmly and placed a kiss on her knuckles before speaking, “If there’s one thing I learned from this generation, is that sometimes we date and put ourselves out there to learn more about one’s self.”

She was unsure with where he was going, so she decided to let him talk, “And in my short stint of being with Sharon, I came to the conclusion that I’ll always want you.” His hand let go of hers as he brushed his hand from her temple to the crown of her head, “I know that you will always have the most beautiful hair that I have ever seen.”

The hand traveled to the front of her face, brushing gently the side of her eyelids, “One with the most expressive and wonderful eyes,” His thumb and pointer finger then playfully and gently squeezed the bridge of her nose, “The cutest nose.”

With a deep breath, he planted his hand  at the nape of her neck, pulling her into a soft, passionate kiss. His lips formed a smile when he felt that she relaxed into the kiss enough that she too reciprocated the vigour he had. Steve could feel the hairs on his back raise as he felt her warm hands on them; she suddenly felt the need to feel more of him as their lips and tongues passionately danced together.

“If this is your definition of a joke, I will have you removed from being an Avenger,” He thought of it as an empty threat but she was dead serious; he chuckled from where their lips were touching as they rested from kissing.

His hands were on her chin, getting her to look up at him, “This isn’t a joke, doll, I promise. This is me, putting myself out there for the woman I have grown to love and admire. Hoping that she will allow me to be her boyfriend.”

She loved seeing the boyish, hopeful smile he sported; she laid a quick peck on his lips before answering, “I’d love for you to be my boyfriend, Steve.”

In the spur of the moment happiness, Steve yelled out loud as he twirled Y/N around and dipped her, as if they were dancing. “Steve! Put me back up!” She squealed when he kissed her as he put her back to stand back up on her feet. “Sorry doll, ‘m just extremely happy.”

Bopping his nose, she teased him, “Just said yes to us being a couple, I don’t recall telling you I love you yet,” She then mockingly wondered out loud, “What more would your reaction be if I do say those three little words, hm?”

Sensing that she was challenging him, he smirked as he draped his arm around her shoulder, resuming their walk back to the compound as Steve said, “Well I too know how to show you a good time; and I bet after that you’re gonna be telling me how much you love me.”

[emotionalsupportemoboys]

🔞 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 🔞

Song: So Contagious by Acceptance

You stare at your tired reflection in the bathroom mirror. It had been over a year since you’d joined the League of Villains and several months since you’d all started living together under one obnoxiously small roof. Your days were long, full of life-threatening missions and unsavory tasks, and yet, you wouldn’t have changed any of it for the world. You’d found your place among these so-called ‘villains’ who were fighting to abolish Hero society. They were your comrades, your friends, and one of them had even become your lover.

You were worried about said lover, which was nothing new. You hadn’t heard a single word from him all day and you’d returned home after your mission to find the house vacant. Dabi was arguably one of the most powerful members of the League—incredibly intelligent and talented—but he was also the most reckless. It seemed likely that he wouldn’t come home for good someday.

You try to distract yourself by going about your usual nightly routine. You change out of your clothes and slip into your favorite robe, preparing to take a shower. You’re under the impression that you’re still alone when the bathroom door suddenly swings open, crashing against the wall with a loud bang that seems to reverberate throughout the entire house.

“Jesus Christ!” Your heart starts hammering in your chest as you instinctively brace yourself for a fight.

When you spin around to confront your attacker, you find Dabi casually leaning against the door jamb, staring at you with a drunken smile on his face and a half-empty bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand. You take in his disheveled appearance while exhaling a breath that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. He looked pretty rough around the edges with his shaggy black tresses more mussed than usual and his white t-shirt stained with, what appeared to be, dirt and rust. He’d clearly had a long day.

“There’s my Doll.” He rasps, on the verge of slurring his words. As someone who rarely drank to the point of inebriation, you’d never seen him quite like this before.

Still riddled with adrenaline, you can’t help but snap at him, “What the hell happened to you? You look like something the cat dragged in!”

He snorts while stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind him, “I am the fucking cat and don’t you forget it.”

It fleetingly occurs to you that you might be in trouble. Dabi could be volatile, even on his best days, and you had no idea what to expect from him right now. You’re able to smell the strong alcohol on his breath as he saunters toward you, but there’s another, much more concerning scent that catches your attention.

“Dabi...” You reach out to grab his hand and he flinches away. The rancid odor of charred flesh was coming from clusters of fresh burns on his forearms, starting at his wrists and ending just below his elbows. Much of his badly scarred, discolored skin had been damaged anew. You quickly conclude that he must have started drinking as a means of coping with the pain and your heart breaks for him.

“I’m falling apart at the seams.” He says with a bitter laugh.

You knew that his quirk took a toll on his body, but he was always careful to hide this weakness from others. He never wanted anyone to see the true extent of his suffering, least of all you.

You struggle to swallow past the lump in your throat, fearing that tears might escape from your eyes at any moment, “Here, let me bandage you up.” You say softly.

“No.” He growls, mood changing in an instant. He hated being fussed over. “I just want to fuck you until I pass out.”

He sets his whiskey bottle on the edge of the sink before grabbing your waist, mercilessly digging his fingers into your hips as he draws you against him. There would be no arguing with him tonight, but you had an idea. You rest a hand on his chest to push him away, though his lean form doesn’t budge an inch, “At least take a shower with me then!” You say, figuring that rinsing his burns with some cold water would be better than not tending to them at all.

His glazed over, turquoise eyes suddenly come to life, “Alright, Doll...I’ll shower with you.”

TBC

[wolvesandpetals]

Loki x Sylvie fanfiction: Playing house (Rated T, Humor) Part 1

In which the ones at the end of time place them in a reality where they are a married couple in a suburban town, à la WandaVision.

Master list of my Loki x Sylvie fanfiction can be found here.

---

They didn't know what to expect at the end of time. But they certainly didn't expect to open the door to the citadel and walk into a town.

"This must be an illusion", Loki says in horror as he takes in his new surroundings- two storied houses in every shade of pastel, gardens of roses, lillies and lilacs, wide open roads, pavements lined with freshly cut bushes. "This isn't real."

It looks real enough though. It feels real too.

This is the quintessential suburban town. And they are in a quintessential suburban house.

"They have trapped us in a nightmare", Loki concludes, scanning the new neighborhood again, this time spotting the children playing tennis in the front lawn of the house next door.

Sylvie touches the door frame with the words "Mr. and Mrs. Low-key" etched in the wood in gold. Her fingers trace the letters. It feels so surreal and impossible, yet it feels just as real as she is. "Apparently, we're married in this reality."

"It's not all bad then", he concludes cheekily.

She gives him a death stare. "I don't have time to play house with you right now."

He shrugs. "Until we find a way out, we have to." He checks out the neighborhood one last time for any identifiable imminent threats, before walking back into the house- their house. Holding the door open, he gestures to Sylvie. "Coming?"

She smooths the wrinkles in the sundress she has ended up with, vowing to definitely kill the bastards that did this.

-

The interior of the house does not suit two gods of mischief at all. It's all very... quaint. The sofa is soft and snuggly, the telly hanging from the velvet painted walls is huge, her wardrobe has way too many dresses and skirts, and the knives in the kitchen look like they'd be hard to kill a man with.

"Can you conjure me up something less-" she vaguely gestures at her figure, her lips arched in an angle that spells distaste.

He understands exactly what she means, but does exactly what he wants. With a snap of his fingers, he conjures up an entire rack of clothes for her.

She checks them out one by one, noticing how every jeans, every top is designed a specific way. "These look very tight."

His grin tells her it's intentional.

"You know I can still wipe that smug look off your face in this reality, right?" Her voice expresses how serious she is.

He waves his hands again, and this time, a second rack of clothes materialises, ones which are more functional.

She picks a jeans and oversized top and disappears into the bedroom.

He plops down on the sofa, staring at the Van Gogh hanging from the wall, wondering what their next move should be.

---

The ring of the doorbell breaks them out of their contemplation.

Sylvie grabs every single knife she can find in the kitchen drawers, Loki grabs the mop. Gesturing to each other, they open the door at the count of three, to find a woman standing there with a casserole in her hands.

"Hiya neighbor", she says cheerily. "I heard that you two just moved in. Oh my, that's a lot of knives."

Sylvie holds one up to her throat. "Who sent you?"

The woman grimaces, keeping her eyes fixed at the spot where the knife touches her skin. "My husband. He thought we should welcome our neighbors."

"Liar", Sylvie barks, and increases the pressure on the knife. "Tell me who sent you here before I cut your tongue out and feed it to the cats."

It's at this moment that Loki decides he has to intervene before the situation escalates to unnecessary murder.

"Sylvie, Sylvie, honey", he coos, slowly guiding her away with a gentle touch to her shoulders. "This lovely woman is not the friend I was expecting." He pushes her inside the house, at a safe distance from the lady, before throwing a charming smile in her direction. "I am so sorry. My friend was supposed to visit, I asked my wife to help me play a prank on her. She thought it was you. It's all a giant misunderstanding. Allow me to apologize profusely on behalf of my wife."

Sylvie switches between glaring at the lady and at her "husband".

The lady laughs nervously. "It's quite alright."

Loki extends his hand. "Hi, I'm Loki." He wraps his other arm around Sylvie's waist to pull her close. She tenses, and for a moment he thinks the knife will end up aimed at his throat, but she relaxes a little and gives the neighbor a tiny smile. "And this is my wonderful wife, Sylvie."

The lady shakes his hand. "I'm Agnes. So nice to meet you. Where are you from? Low-key, that sounds Nordic. Are you from Norway?"

"No."

"Yes."

They answer at the same time, then glare at each other, as if their answer was the only acceptable one.

Loki rushes to fix it before Agnes gets suspicious. "What my wife means is, we are from Norway originally, but we moved here from Alabama."

Agnes smiles. "That's a long way from home. Welcome to the neighborhood."

---

Sylvie erupts the moment the neighbor leaves and their doors are closed. "Why the bloody hell are we playing along with this ruse?"

Loki looks at her seriously. "What is the alternative? Murder our way out of here? Slaughter an entire innocent town?"

"No, no, no no." She paces till she is standing directly in front of him, holding her chin up in a posture of challenge. "Why slaughter a town when you can rule it, right?"

He lets out a sigh. Leaning his head back and closing his eyes, he takes in a deep breath. He needs all the strength in the world to reason with her. He opens his eyes again and begins. "We don't know how we got here. We don't know what dangers are here. We can't plan an escape like that. We need to gather information and learn everything we can about this place."

"This place is clearly hell", she roars, letting out a scream that shoots a wave of energy out of her hands and shatters the coffee table.

"Perfect", he mutters under his breath, as he picks up the mop.

---

"I'm hungry." She announces after an hour of sitting on the sofa, sulking, while going through the hundred different channels and trying to pick even a single thing worth watching.

"Oh yes, me too." He agrees quickly. "Starving, actually."

She motions at the cell phones on the table that the house came with. "I suppose we should order something like humans do."

"Yes, of course." He nods in agreement. He picks up the phone closest to him, swipes up the screen, and sees the wallpaper of him and Sylvie, on a beach, hand in hand, in matching Hawaiin shirts, with matching grins on their faces. He knows this isn't real, this has never actually happened to them, but it makes him smile anyway. Swiping to the side, he notices the phone comes with too many games. There are also apps that he knows from advertisements. Opening one that promised good food in no time, he stares blankly at the incoherent list that pops up.

She gets impatient after a few minutes. "Well?"

He purses his lips. It's difficult to admit defeat. "I don't actually know how to order."

She blinks in disbelief. "What?"

"I don't know how to order food." He repeats.

"How can you not know how to order food?"

"Well, I've never had to do it myself." He says, irritated, before his tone turns boastful. "I've always had someone do it for me." Food was never even a concern in Asgard. On earth, he has always had some human gladly do it for him. No God would ever bother with the trivial details of food ordering.

"Lucky you." She says dryly, before snatching the phone out of his hands. She pauses to look at the wallpaper as well, at the waves and the sand and the two happy people that represent a life that they can have if they choose to. Before the thought can take its root in her mind, she quickly focuses on ordering.

He stares at her in awe. "Where did you learn how to do that?"

"I didn't exactly grow up in an Asgardian palace." She rolls her eyes. "I had jobs, Loki. I know how to look after myself."

"I am so glad I'm stuck here with you." He says with a grin. "It makes everything easier."

"It's not that easy. We still need to pay for the food." She points out. Then a horrifying thought occurs to her. "Do we even have money?"

He wants to point out he can just conjure some, but before the words can form in his mouth, she rushes to the kitchen, rummaging through the drawers. He follows, and opens the refrigerator, staring at the inside of the freezer.

"People don't keep cash in the freezer, Loki."

"I knew that." He lies.

She switches to the bedroom, and he follows her there as well. She looks through the dresser drawer, the wardrobe, and searches under the pillow. He looks under the bed.

"Look at us. Searching for money to buy food with. What a shame." He muses out loud. "Mortals used to offer food to Gods."

"Food and virgins." She spits the words out angrily. "I hate these archaic ways."

"Oh, me too, me too." He pretends to agree. He likes being worshipped. He likes the food and the offerings. The virgins? Well, he took virgins in a very different, very alive way, and they were all very willing.

"I don't think we have money in this house." She announces, sitting down on the bed with a huff. "Is this his masterplan? Make us starve to death?"

"Allow me." He snaps his fingers, and wads of cash appears in her hands. This is what he was going to do before Sylvie started searching and he decided it's best to first find out what useful items they have in this house.

"That's handy", she notes. "I suppose it'll be easy for you to do chores around the house."

"I don't do chores." He declares.

She glares at him.

"I don't know how to do chores." He clarifies.

Her glare never loses its edge. "Well you better figure it out soon then, before I cut your fingers off."

---

They eat in complete silence, adjusting to this new reality they have found themselves in. Loki tries to make conversation, tries to tell her a story of banquets in Asgard, but she stares absent-mindedly into the distance, and he takes the hint.

Night arrives quickly.

"I'm exhausted. We should sleep." Sylvie admits. She gets up, ready to change into something more comfortable for the night.

He gets up too, and heads in the direction of the other bedroom. Of course, all he wants to do is snuggle up close to her. He can think of a hundred excuses to talk her into it too. But he holds back. "Well, I wish you a very merry slumber."

She doesn't want to focus on why she does it, but she calls out to him. "We should stick together. Just in case the enemy decides to attack while we're asleep."

He stops in his tracks, smiling like a fool. "I agree. Clever plan."

Ten minutes later, they are both awkwardly lying side by side in bed.

Sylvie stares at the ceiling, at the glow-in-the-dark stickers that are shining. "Is that what people's ceilings look like?"

"Mostly children's."

"The constellations..." She notices. "They're slightly different."

"Yes." He smiles. "This is the view from Midgard, not Asgard."

"Oh."

It's quiet for a while. Loki wonders if she fell asleep. Then he hears her whisper. "I hate this."

"Why are you suddenly acting like this?" He finally asks. "You have been patient your whole life, planning everything for years. You always have a plan, and a good one. Now you're suddenly in a rush to get out of here. Why?"

She doesn't answer. She doesn't even open her eyes. With her focus on the darkness behind her eyelids, it is easy to forget that this is the most peaceful evening she has ever had, that this is the life she always wanted, the life she has been fighting for.

He studies her features, memorizing the way she looks when she tries to fall asleep. Tentatively, he touches her hand. Her fingertips twitch involuntarily, before she responds by taking his hand. He gives it a reassuring squeeze. "We'll get out of here, I promise you."

---

(To be continued)

[tennessoui]

KUWSK is killing me with cuteness like I literally feel my heart clench with every one shot. I was wondering if you could maybe do a lil one shit on the aftermath of the aftermath of the router incident 😭 after obi-wan clarifies he does in fact love the kids and doesn’t want them to leave…I just need anakin to tell obi-wan he wants to stay… love this sm

oh bless, i'm happy to hear you like them!!! this is a bit sappy and also um definitely unedited so 🙈🙈but i think this includes the most obikin content of them all so far which is wild seeing as how my google doc for KUWSK is literally 15k at this point.

(here is the aftermath of the Router Incident, for context)

(1.6k)

Comforting and calming the children, that’s the easy part. Children forget grievances like water rolls off a duck’s back. Adults are trickier.

Adults don’t just forget and forgive.

Obi-Wan finishes the book he’s been reading to the kids. Last night, they had been on Chapter Two. Tonight, the kids are asleep by Chapter Four, but he keeps reading, all the way through the denouement at the end of the book. He knows he’ll have to go back to Chapter Four tomorrow night, knows that he may have bought himself some time but not enough time to make a difference.

But if Anakin really wanted to leave, there was nothing on God’s green earth that could stop him.

He places the book on the nightstand between the two beds and quietly stands, adjusting his glasses.

Finding and signing a lease can happen very, very quickly. He suddenly wants to wake the kids up, just to read another chapter. There are so many books left to finish, but finding and signing a lease can happen...can happen very, very quickly.

How many more chapters do they have left?

The entire time he spends walking down the stairs, he’s hoping that Anakin will have already gone to bed. But the light in the living room is still on, which means Anakin doesn’t want to keep ignoring the elephant in the room, which means in turn that either Obi-Wan can continue down the hall at the bottom of the staircase to his own room and just pretend that he doesn’t know Anakin’s waiting up for him, or he can confront the situation and perhaps even act his age.

He goes to the living room. If he only has a certain block of time left with Anakin in his presence, he’s not going to waste any of it hiding in his room.

Anakin is standing with his arms crossed, looking at the mantle of the fireplace and the photos lined up there. His face is hidden from view, but his posture is stiff.

“The children are asleep,” Obi-Wan says, mostly to announce himself. Which he knows is stupid, seeing as how Anakin most definitely heard him come down the stairs. But suddenly he wants Anakin’s eyes on him quite desperately. He will, in fact, do most anything to have the man look at him. His eyes are so expressive. His eyes are so beautiful.

Obi-Wan shakes the thought from his head and reminds himself of what’s very quickly become his mantra over the past few months. You will not make your housemate into your rebound.

It had sounded so logical when Quinlan had suggested it. So easy to agree to.

“Thanks,” Anakin says, turning to face him. It’s awkward. Anakin hasn’t thanked him for putting the children to bed for months.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan replies, coming into the room completely. “I--”

“I--” Anakin starts, but cuts himself off when Obi-Wan speaks. “You go.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan stutters. “Well. I. I meant to say. That I...I understand. Obviously. If you were to. Want to leave. You must have had time by now to...have found a place that could. Better fit your needs.”

Anakin clears his throat. “I guess,” he says. “Yeah. I’ve. I’ve looked.”

“You have?” he asks, much too quickly and with much too much painful interest dripping off the words. “And have you? Found a place?”

Anakin hesitates and looks askance at the frames on the fireplace. “No,” he admits. “Not a place that’s. That’s anything like here.”

Obi-Wan’s smile feels so forced on his face that it actually hurts to hold. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, Anakin.”

Anakin looks at him as if he’s lost touch with reality. “Obi-Wan, come on, you have to know.”

Obi-Wan stays quiet. He doesn’t know anything. Just a day ago he had wondered absentmindedly how they were going to deal with a teenaged Luke and Leia both wanting the singular second floor bathroom in the mornings before school.

And now--well.

“You have to know,” Anakin insists in the face of Obi-Wan’s silence. “I would stay here. If it were up to just me.”

“If not you then who is it up to, Anakin?” he begs and then tries to pretend that he isn’t begging by rubbing a hand over his beard and turning away. He’s faced immediately with a picture of the twins on Christmas morning, passed out in the foreground as Obi-Wan is in the background trying to put together one of their new toys.

It had been one of the most frustrating mornings of his life. He wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“Do you...do you really think...that I don’t--that I hate the twins? Anakin, you have to know I love them--”

“No, I’m sorry,” Anakin quickly says. “I never said that, Luke was just--he--”

“He made his own conclusions,” Obi-Wan finishes.

The other man nods gratefully. “Obi-Wan, I know you love the kids, I know you do. It’s not. It’s not the kids.”

“So if it’s not you, and it’s not the children, it must be me,” Obi-Wan concludes dully. Of course. Of course it’s him.

Anakin doesn’t immediately say no, and that pause is enough of an admittance that Obi-Wan has to pause to take several deep breaths to regain his composure.

“You’ll get tired of it,” Anakin finally says quietly. “You never signed up for us, for this for this long. I don’t want to impose. I--” he turns away to stare at the mantle, where a picture of the four of them after one of the twins’ school plays sits proudly in the middle. “I don’t want to see you growing to resent m--us. You shouldn’t have to tell us to leave. It’s your house.”

“Anakin, if you think it’s just my house still, after all these months, then I don’t know what to tell you,” Obi-Wan scoffs. “Other than to look around. “There’s stains on the ceiling I didn’t put there, we never managed to get Leia’s crayon drawings fully off the walls in the hallway, and I can’t walk twenty paces without tripping over some sort of mechanical part I have no idea what to do with if I try to pick it up off the floor. I haven’t thought of this as my house in months.”

Anakin ducks his head, as if he’s being scolded. “I’m sorry,” he says, barely louder than a whisper.

“I’m not,” Obi-Wan wants to yell, but he’s mindful of the children asleep just a floor away. He walks closer to Anakin instead, and speaks with a quiet sort of intensity. “I’m not, Anakin. And if you leave, it will still not be my house. It will just be--”

He purses his lips and sets his jaw.

“What?” Anakin asks, coming forward to meet him in the middle of the room. His hand twitches as if he wants to reach out and touch Obi-Wan, but he doesn’t.

Obi-Wan shakes his head and swallows, but he figures he’s already committed to this sort of confession. There’s nowhere else to go from here. “A house I live in,” he admits quietly. “A big, quiet place that I’ll dread coming home to.”

Anakin looks speechless, and Obi-Wan tries to smile. He can’t--he shouldn’t pressure Anakin. He’s said his position. If Anakin truly had only been afraid of overstaying his welcome, surely Obi-Wan has assuaged those fears.

But the fact that he hasn’t said anything must certainly mean that Anakin harbors other reservations. Ones he doesn’t want to share with Obi-Wan.

Very well.

“I will not...pressure you,” he tells the man. “I understand. I do. I--”

Anakin cuts him off and grabs his shoulder. “Obi-Wan, I want to. The children want to. I don’t want to leave. I’ve never had…”

Obi-Wan waits on tenterhooks for the end of the sentence, as Anakin searches for the words.

“...a home that feels like this,” Anakin finishes quietly, his hand slipping off Obi-wan’s shirt. Obi-Wan misses the muted heat of the touch immediately.

“Then don’t leave,” he pleads, crowding forward into Anakin’s space. “Anakin, stop looking. Would it help...would it help to quiet your fears if we were to draw up some sort of lease?”

“A lease?” Anakin asks, sounding strange as he looks down at Obi-Wan.

“Just something that says we’ll talk about this every year. To check in and make sure we both still want to live here?” Obi-Wan knows his answer won’t change. Probably won’t ever change. But if it’ll help calm Anakin, he’ll sign whatever.

Anakin seems to think about this for a minute, mouth pursed and eyes downcast. Obi-Wan wants to thumb at the moue of his lips, wants to press against his wrinkled brow until the skin smooths out.

No.

No.

“Alright,” Anakin finally agrees. “We can draw up...a lease tomorrow then. But it won’t be legally binding, alright? As soon as you want us out, tell me and I’ll start looking. Please, Obi-Wan. That’s my only condition.”

Anakin’s only condition to stay is that Obi-Wan will tell him as soon as he wants him to leave?

Does the other man know the extent that Obi-Wan would have tried to go to convince Anakin to stay?

“Alright,” he says, instead of anything else he’s thinking. “Of course. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Anakin repeats. “Okay. Um,” he backs up. “Goodnight then, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan reaches out and grasps his wrist as soon as he turns to leave. He doesn’t know why. He just. He wants. He doesn’t want to see Anakin go yet. The idea of being alone right now terrifies him in a sort of undefinable way.

“Sit with me?” He says, instead of what he really wants to say, which is thank you, thank you, thank you.

Anakin gives him a sort of half-smile that’s impossible to read. “Sure,” he replies. “I’d like to hear about your day.”

Obi-Wan winces, thinking about how much of his day was spent fretting in Quinlan Vos’ office. “Oh, I’m not entirely sure about that, dear one,” he laughs self-deprecatingly, and Anakin’s smile grows, and Obi-Wan knows that everything is going to be okay.