#writing about the girls really makes me yearn for a girlfriend again!! where is my gf!!! I want one!!!

[cerise-on-top]

how long do you think it takes Kate and Valeria to day ‘I love you’ to their s/o’s? love ur stuff fyi!!! 💚

Hello! Thank you for liking my stuff, I hope this is enjoyable to you as well! I think it would take the both of them quite a while to say it!

When do Valeria and Laswell Finally Say “I Love You”?

Valeria: It would take her a while to say it. I mean, once she’s with you, she’s already smitten, but she says “I love you” in different ways that aren’t just saying those three words. Valeria courts you with lots of gifts, that much is true, but the closest thing you’ll ever hear from her that resembles a “You have my heart, I love you more than the sun loves the moon, than the ocean loves the land” would be her spending a day with you where she isn’t spending copious amounts of money on you. But that’s not what you asked. Valeria will tell you that she loves you when you’re feeling insecure since she never says it, but on her own accord? It would likely be a year or longer into your relationship, on one of those nights where the two of you are lying in bed together, just talking about your lives, what you’ve been through and how it’s shaped you as people. Just venting your worries, voicing your appreciation for each other and how you’ve helped one another. It’s during such a night, when you’ve gone quiet for a moment, that Valeria would hold you close and tell you, in a voice softer than what you’re used to normally from her, that she loves you.

Laswell: Like Valeria, she shows her love for you through different means. While she may be a gift giver as well, she also shows you how much she loves you by doing anything you may or may not ask of her. From chores, to walking your pet, to cooking you some stew when you’re sick. Laswell doesn’t say that she loves you from the get go either, it would take her several months to a year for her to say it. But when she does, it doesn’t seem like a special moment to anyone else. You’re probably hanging up your freshly washed clothes while she’s sitting at the table, a cup of coffee in hand. Laswell would get up, give you a kiss on your cheek, and tell you that she loves you so very dearly. She was overcome with adoration for you during that moment and needed to show you that she loves you. It’s afterwards that you get a lot more I love yous from her. Not on the daily still, but they would be more common. She will always, and I mean always, accompany her I love yous with some form of affectionate gesture, regardless of whether it be a kiss to your temple, a hug from behind, or a small lovely rose she found in a flower shop. You will always be taken care of and loved.

[nyctophiliq]

⋆⑅˚₊ — in the back seat, I’m yours. abby anderson

description.             non of you can keep your hands to yourselves after a night out with friends, it has to be done right here, right now.

content warnings.               MDNI, nsfw content, female bodied reader, semi public sex, vaginal fingering, fingering, cunnilingus, college au, car sex author’s note.                 tumblr kept community label this back in may and I guess I am trying my luck again so you the ppl on tumblr can also see it !!! hope you like this if you haven’t read it on ao3 yet :)

it was one of those nights that when the day ended and before the next one started, ellie, abby, dina, jesse, you, and a few other friends of yours didn’t need to be cooped up in the college’s library, learning for upcoming exams and writing essays for extra credits. it was a night to celebrate your hard work and relax, let loose and forget about school even if it was just for a little while. abby and you both enjoyed nights out like these, seeing each other in lovely outfits, nicer than what you two usually wear but not so fancy you would look apart from everyone, laugh with everyone, to laugh with each other when arriving home.

the two of you have been driving around a little just before, trying to not get caught in the city’s traffic too much but one thing lead to another with abby parking a little away from the dorms, in an unlit alleyway, maybe one or two streets down. non of you could keep your hands to yourselves, not after you have endured almost five hours of just being around friends with no chance to really admire each other.

“abby…” your voice came out almost like a whisper, and you looked down, trying to work out a sentence. but your mind’s wires were knotting as you couldn’t stop your fantasies from taking over every coherent thought you had up to this pint. in such a thigh place like this, on the backseats of abby’s car, no wonder you had no room to think, abby was the only thing on your mind. her lips, her skin, her fingers, her breath, her voice… just abby.

“i’m yours… i wanna be yours,” you finally choke out, your hands tensing around abby’s neck as you wait for her to pull away and say no, that it is too public and fooling around was where she drew the line.

abby smiled sweetly down at you, with one of her hands on your flushed cheeks as she hummed, “yeah? wanna be mine, sweet princess?” you nodded, biting your lips while doing so, hypnotized by the lustful look on abby’s face.

“want you so bad abs…” you whine as you lean closer, wanting and needing another kiss so the burning feeling between your legs would be kept at bay. your eyes slipped shut and you whined softly as abby’s teeth got caught on your lower lip, biting and pulling before her mouth slipped to your jaw. she nipped and sucked at the skin of your neck, each kiss sending new tingles across your body.

a grin ran across abby’s face hearing your needy whines. she pushed some hair out of her face before burying her head into you neck, sensually kissing as her hands gave your thighs gentle squeezes. your girlfriend was more than eager to leave some marks, sink her teeth into your perfect skin, and hear you cry a little before letting a pleasant moan out when her tongue soothed the pain.

“you are so precious princess, so soft.”

abby whispered as she opened your legs, pushing the apart and unbuttoning your jeans, practically ripping them off in excitement, ogling those see-through, pretty pink thongs. the sight made the girl’s pussy above you clench around nothing, and that yearning desire to hear her pretty thing of a girlfriend cry out her name grew bigger.

she palmed your clothed cunt, laughing out loud pleasantly as she felt the forming wet patch on her palm. “i was thinking o-of this all n-night… you touching me like this,” you watched as abby’s eye darkened at your words, a grin eating away her facial muscles.

“all this flattery is gonna make me take real good care of this pussy.” abby smirked, flashing one side of her teeth hungrily as she stretched her back for one last time. she wanted to see the forming mess that you were, see how your face twitches as she moved your panties down and pocketed them. “gonna touch you now, ‘kay?”

you turned away, trying to hide your face in your own shoulder as you were already feeling fuzzy and sparkly all over your body. it felt so good to be under abby like this, feeling so small and at a loss of control, but still feeling just as special, her pretty princess, and now you just wanted to please the predator that had trapped you. if abby kept talking to you with that low voice of hers, with this choice of words, the sickly sweet tone that made your knees buckle, then you would have done anything abby had asked for no matter if people were to watch.

abby’s hand run up your flushed body, taking handfuls of your soft breasts as abby rapidly flicked your clit with her tongue. you worked up the courage to look, your glassy eyes stuck on abby’s face as it disappears between your thighs, trying your best to focus in spite of the dizzying weightlessness in your head that threatened to blur your vision. you wanted to see abby first, at least for a little while.

“you are so wet, princess, do you feel that?” abby asked teasingly, moving her thumb up and down between your sticky lips, eyes completely drowning in the stretching sight of your early arousal. she dragged your slick up to your clit and circled it once as slowly as she could, reveling in the way you absolutely melted under her. your entire body thrummed as abby repeated the motion, your mouth hanging open and your body shuddering.

you could taste it in the air how turned on you were, it was embarrassing and the best feeling at the same time. there wasn’t a single thought in your head besides how good it felt to be at abby’s mercy, letting her touch your pretty parts and play with you as a fox would with a bunny before catching it.

your thoughts were interrupted and you almost slipped off the seat when abby’s tongue glides over your fiery core, pushing into you eagerly. “it’s so fucking hot when you drip for me, must be feeling good, huh?” you nod, hardly you can but you try, unable to do anything else because there is no word that you could form with your mouth.

abby teases you a little more, playing dangerously, barely doing anything that would feel too good before pushing a finger inside you without any warning. your juices drip onto the car seat and abby’s fingers slip right in you, a gasp catching in your throat as your insides welcome your girlfriend with much need and want.

you feel amazing, and abby feels amazing as she moves inside you, relishing in the teasing strokes inside of you, as abby goes joint by join in you before even thinking about speeding up. there is a sight of satisfaction leaving you when abby picks up an even speed, her tongue playing with your clit while her finger fucks into your tight hole.

the night air is cool on your exposed, bare breasts, and you reach up to pinch and rub your already hardened nipple, your other hand reaching for anything in the car to grip, to hold onto. it is abby’s hair that you land your pick on, it feels so good, and the great view of abby’s head between your thighs doesn’t hurt either, just makes you feel even more excited and pretty.

the sound of abby’s finger moving inside you is dirty and hot, and you can feel your face heat up with the pleasure of it. you thrust your hip up into abby’s hand, your own encouraging way for her to put more pressure on your clit, to play with it, to abuse it even.

it comes so suddenly, without a warning when you feel that oh-so-wonderful knot in your stomach paired up with those butterflies trying to break out, making your body writhe, twist and turn. you shake, nails scratching abby’s scalp as you gasp and moan, cursing multiple times, your thigh muscles tensing and wanting to close around that handsome face of abby’s.

“mh… fuck, abs, ‘m gonna m-make a mess, c-cum all over!” you moaned, feeling your hot clit throb and pussy squeezing around abby as she didn’t let off, feeling your hips spasm against her before abby’s finger was coated in your warm, milky arousal, working you through your orgasm. “come on pretty girl, come for me.”

your back arched off of the little support that the inside door handle was providing, your head pushing up against the fogged-up window as you moaned her name out loud, chanting it as your muscles tensed then let go of your body as a whole. you fell back limp against the fabric of the back seats, panting with your eyes stuck closed, little mewls leaving you as the last waves of your drunken daze rode through your body.

“you are so sweet,” of course, abby knew how you tasted, it wouldn’t have been the first time she had pulled her fingers out of you and licked them clean of your oh-so-sweet cum. “like candy.” she continues her little comment, chest blooming at the sight in front of her, looking down between your legs, watching as the fabric absorbs your delicious juices. she feels bad, wasting something so good.

“come on, let’s go inside, yeah?”

[9tzuyu]

right where you left me

request [from wattpad]: Hey can you write a chapter on your Natasha romanoff one shot book about the reader having a really abusive boyfriend and Natasha takes awhile to realise but then she figures it out and like beats him up and shit… I would read a chapter a day of your book after school and it was the only thing I looked forward to so it would really be amazing if you made a chapter from my request x <3

+ Oh and then can the reader and Natasha get together. I love loads of fluff xxx ur one of my favorite authors on this platform <3

note: so i changed up a few things. i changed boyfriend to girlfriend and i didn’t really have them end up together per se because i didnt want it to look like i was romanticizing it, but i got as far as i was comfortable with!

+ i dont think i usually use too many gendered terms, but to clarify on this specific fic, this is a fem!reader story :3.

if your names laura im so sorry omg…

warnings: heavy on abuse, mentions of blood and some descriptive violence.

not tagging anyone due to the subject at hand, don’t want to trigger anyone </3

thank you ally for proofreading ily bff.

.   .   .

natasha counted each bruise on your body. one here, two there, and another set of three there. some were big, others smaller, but it didn’t change the fact that each one of them plagued your body violently against your skin tone. 

you laid sprawled across her lap in nothing but a sports bra and clad sweatpants. she could see how much pain you were in by even the slightest movements you’d make. one wrong move from her and you’d be containing a yelp, desperate to escape your mouth.

“don’t worry nat, it’s just from the missions. they don’t even hurt that bad.”

there she was, once again being fooled by your lies, ignoring the gut instinct gnawing at her conscience. 

“do you need an ice pack? i’m sure it would help.”

“i’m alright. i need to head back to my girlfriend’s anyway. she’s been missing me.” 

natasha couldn’t help but frown. you’d just returned from your mission not forty minutes ago. you had enough time to shower and change, all you had to do was put on your shirt, grab your keys and leave.

but it was hard. you yearned for natasha’s soft touches, so contrast to the rough ones your girlfriend bestowed upon you. 

natasha wasn’t ever meant to see the markings. you guarded your body with anything and everything you had. somehow though, in the midst of you changing the redhead accidentally walked in on you just as you were tying the strings of your sweatpants into a bow. 

after seeing your body, natasha didn’t hesitate to pick you up and bring you into her room, your shirt over her shoulder. she set it down beside you after she gently placed your body on her bed — her own body sliding under yours seconds later. 

which is exactly why you both needed to leave and needed to stay.

leaving would only cause pain, both physically and mentally. it didn’t matter how much it would hurt getting off her, that type of ache was very minor compared to the pain you were to be greeted within the near future. 

withdrawing away from her would hurt too, in the sense that you’d soon forget how tender another person’s touch could be. one that you weren’t afraid of, one that you trusted. 

“you should stay, just a little longer.” natasha begged, and you almost said yes. 

but you’d been on a six-day mission apart from your girlfriend, a six-day mission too long for her liking. there was no way you could get out of it though, you were sure it would cost you your job if you tried.

“i can’t. i wish i could, but i can’t.” you whispered, carefully pushing yourself off the russian’s tiny frame. 

“i’ll see you tomorrow, okay? at seven in the morning, sharp.” you confirmed with a smile on your face. 

“at least let me walk you to your car.”

“you’d do it even if i told you no, natty.”

natasha smile met her eyes again and you were relieved that your act lasted yet another day. 

“well, i can’t have a pretty girl walking out all on her own now, can i?”

“that’s entirely up to you, nat.”

she watched as you drove off, already anticipating tomorrow.

it felt like the next ten hours couldn’t come any slower. natasha was already planning to give you the day off from training, fresh memories of your bruises still on her mind. 

you were welcomed back into your home with an eery silence. it was going to be a long night, you knew that much.

your girlfriend sat in the living room, tv remote in hand as she flipped impatiently through the channels. 

“fucking finally you’re back. i was beginning to think you’d been cheating on me with someone else.”

“no, laura. i’m your girlfriend, i wouldn’t ever even think about doing that to you.” 

she took one glance at you and grimaced, “you sure? cause that guilty look on your face says otherwise.” 

“i’m sure, laura. ”

she rolled her eyes at your reply. 

“there’s no way you had to be gone for six days now, was there?” you flinched at her tone of voice. “i tried to talk to him, you know i did...”

laura didn’t care though, and instead marched her way over to you. she smirked when she realized just how intimidated you’d gotten from her sudden movements. 

“you won’t go tomorrow. you owe me a few days worth of work.” 

“but-”

“you’d better remember who you’re talking to.” she growled, shoving you back into the door with a thud before walking off and leaving you on your own.

as heart-pounding and terrifying as your encounter was, what mattered most was that she didn’t add onto any injuries she’d previously given you. 

.   .   .

natasha waited anxiously for the sound of your footsteps to walk out the elevator doors. the compound felt empty and a little less bright without you there. 

but over an hour later after your scheduled time, and you still weren’t there, natasha started to worry. she tried to keep her nerves contained, but she just couldn’t help it.

when noon came around and she still hadn’t heard from you, natasha decided to give you a call. 

three voicemails later, natasha sped her way to your house. to her surprise, however, you were nowhere to be found. all that was there was your girlfriend’s red pickup and a small trail of blood down the porch staircase. 

after another thirty minutes and a few frustrated unanswered calls, natasha drove her car around the city. she had no final destination in mind, but it did give little relief to her anxiety. all that could run through her mind was the day before. 

around five natasha finally received a call back from you. you sounded distraught, vulnerable in every concerning way she could think of.

“i’m coming over.”

“no, natasha don’t! i’m okay, i swear. don’t come over.”

“why not?” she was mildly offended at your rejection, but that wasn’t important enough for her to focus on at the moment.

“just don’t, alright? i don’t need your constant checkups, natasha. i’ll be there tomorrow.” 

you hung up before she could say anything. 

but at least you were true to your word. 

you did show up the next day, just numb and spaced out. natasha hated it, hated every second of it. she couldn’t get one conversation with you to flow as it normally would. 

any chance she tried to ask about what was wrong, you’d snap and tell her not to worry about it. 

natasha couldn’t help it though. she loved you. 

a month later and the russian hit her breaking point. you’d been a lot more distant than usual, isolating yourself from her and everyone else on the team. you no longer called her names she adored like nat or natty. about the only person you really communicated with was nick, and that was only reserved for missions. 

so natasha brought it upon herself to follow you home one night not too long after you’d already left the compound. she was careful not to be seen, especially knowing how much more paranoid you’d been lately.

she parked her car one house down from yours and waited. her eyes followed every movement made within the house through the uncovered glass window in the front. you seemed to be picking up a lot, trash she assumed by the way you kept bending up and down. but then she noticed the silhouette of your girlfriend standing above you. 

and then a kick was landed on your face, forcing you back by surprise. with a few quick moves from laura your body was trapped between hers and the floor beneath you. 

natasha wasted no time jumping out of her car, picking the lock to your door to shove it open. 

in an instant laura’s body was pushed off of you. fiery red hair clouded your vision. you watched in shock as natasha easily throw laura to the ground. 

sure you had the training, the skillset, and the strength to fight laura, but the one thing you didn’t have was the courage to fight her back. 

you’d been living in fear of her for over a year. the thought of defending yourself only crossed your mind only a handful of times, but those thoughts were quickly disbanded when her fist would connect to the side of your ribs. laura was smart enough not to leave any marks where everyday people would see, but there was the occasion she’d get carried away and give you a broken nose or a black eye, sometimes a nasty bruise to the corner of your jaw. 

laura’s grunts brought you back to the situation at hand, and you rose to your feet to pull natasha off of her. 

“nat! natasha, stop it!” you screamed, voice cracking mid-sentence. you’d never seen her so angry before and it was honestly kind of freaking you out. 

“you’re scaring me, please, natasha stop...”

you sat back and watched in horror as the redhead continued to throw punches, splats of laura’s blood coming from her mouth hitting the floor. natasha threw in a few more good hits before finally stopping. she slammed laura’s head against the ground one last time and made her way over to you. 

the russian wasn’t dumb though; she used enough force to knock laura out, not kill her. 

you flinched when natasha took a step towards you, the scene replaying over and over in your head again. natasha had only ever shown you love and kindness, so to see such a drastic change in persona was almost traumatizing on its own. 

but a few moments later, with the sound of her voice coaxing you out of your headspace, you were brought back to reality. 

this was natasha. your natasha. natasha who would never hurt you. 

her hands wrapped around your arms, fingers drumming lightly on your bicep to further your grounding. she led you back into her car, careful not to slam your door.

the rest of the night was hazy, all of it jumbled into one big blurry memory. 

you woke up with a pounding headache, body sore from every punch and kick laura got away with prior to nat intervening. 

“hey there, sunshine.” 

natasha set two painkillers and a glass of apple juice on her nightstand. it was only then when you noticed you were in her room. 

“i wanted to keep an eye on you throughout the night so i let you sleep in here.” her voice was hoarse, and you knew she’d spent the night crying. it didn’t help her case when she started to tear up looking at you.

“nat, don’t cry. i’m okay.”

she let out a humorless laugh, wiping her nose. “you’ve said that so many times before and i listened to you, so don’t say it now when it’s not true and i won’t believe it.”

you went to speak, but she was quick to stop you.

“no, no. don’t apologize. you don’t have anything to be sorry for. what’s important is that you’re here now, safe. you’re safe.” she whispered the latter, although you could tell it was more for her own reassurance. 

you sat up in bed, wincing as the pills slid down your throat. 

“where do we go from here, nat?”

she reached her hand over to steady your hold on the glass cup. “we go at your pace with whatever you’d like to do.”

you hummed, thinking back as far as you could.

truthfully, you had no idea when or why it got so bad. laura was the sweetest she’d ever been when she first met you. the first few months with her were great, you didn’t really have anything to complain about. 

then it started to get a little rocky. laura lost her job and her entire personality changed on you. why the sudden change? you weren’t sure, and you were positive you’d never know. 

one shove became one slap, then a punch, a few kicks and threats and you were locked in her cycle. it hurt to breathe sometimes, walking was a nightmare, you’d lie awake sleepless, dreams tormenting your mind over the thought of her actually killing you. 

laura would always make up for it though, well she did at first anyway. she’d tell you how sorry she was, ask for your forgiveness through thoughtful gifts or romantic dates, sometimes sex, and you thought it would all be okay again. it never was though.

because now you lived with endless post-traumatic stress, flashbacks flooding your mind over the smallest things like the heaviness of someone’s footsteps. you’d have to live trying to relearn love and all the wonderful things it could be. god only knows how long that would take.

not to mention the numerous relationships you’d ruined in the process of staying with laura. good friends of yours now basically hated you because you dropped everything instantly for your ex. it’s essentially what she trained you to do — to depend on her, to know that she was the only good thing in your life, that everyone else was against you. 

“hey, look at me.” 

you met natasha’s green eyes. 

“it’s not your fault. no matter how much you think you let it get that bad, it’s not your fault.” she paused. “can i lie next to you?”

“yes, that’s fine.” 

“can i hold you?” 

“that’s fine.”

natasha didn’t miss the tiny flinch you gave out, but she knew better than to comment.

“i love you.”

“i love you too, natty.” 

[drakenology]

A B C’s with Todoroki Shoto.

hiii! so I got this little idea while leisurely scrolling through bnha smut. idk if this creator is the originator of the trend but I wanna give credit anyways so shout out to @nillabeam​ for inspiring me to drabble on and on about my shoto doin the dirty. 

warnings: smut (obvi so 18+ please), slight daddy kink, all characters are aged up, and some swearing cause I feel like it. 

enjoy my little heathens!

A- Aftercare

Oh don’t be fooled by Todo’s calm and stoic demeanor. He is fucking insatiable in bed. 

But after a long night of ravishing you until you’re drunk on his cock, he’ll run you both a bath to soak your muscles in and relax.

Would help you in and out of the bath as he washed you up, rinsing your back for you. 

He’d leave kisses where he left harsh hickies. 

Would tell you how much he loved you, and gush about how delicate and pretty you were. EEK!!

B- Body Part 

He loved your breasts. 

You would often catch him staring at them as you talked to him, earning a stern look on your face to remind him to pay attention to you.

Would fuck you on your back just to watch them bounce and jiggle around 

He felt like your boobs were always so happy to see him, perking up when he would grab them. 

Would kiss them during sex and loves playing and sucking on them. 

Most of your hickies were all over them 

As for his own body, He really likes how toned and strong his arms got. 

He wants to protect you, so he got stronger so he can beat people up for you if he needed to. aww how sweet. 

C- Cum

He cums all over his favorite part of your body (see B). 

He also likes to cum inside you, cause he’s got a small teeny weeny breeding kink. 

You always cum first.. like it’s mandatory. He simply can’t bring himself to do it knowing you haven’t had your fill. 

When you go down on him thoooooo..

He loved to cum all over your pretty face. He always thought you looked gorgeous painted in his cum. 

He’d kiss your lips after you gave him head if a little bit of his hot cum was still on your mouth. 

D- Dirty Secret

As I said, Todoroki was a stoic and cool person out in public. 

He didn’t appear to be as sexually savant as he is 

but BABY

I’m tellin you, in the bedroom Todo is a beast. 

He really liked being called daddy.

It was something about watching your cute little face twist in pleasure whine and beg for him to fuck you. 

“Address me right, princess.” ASDGFJKF

HUGE daddy kink, da fuqq.

E- Experience 

eh.. some.

He had another girlfriend before you; some girl Endeavor set him up with. She cheated on him. 

but yeah.. my baby knows what he’s doing.

He loved showing you his moves. Watching your amazed and fucked out face was his favorite part of fucking you. 

F- Favorite Position

He loved them all tbh. 

He liked to experiment with a lot of different positions, getting bored pretty quickly.

But his tried and true is missionary.

He got to watch your face react to his every maneuver, kiss your neck to mark you up as his territory as he whispers in your ear sweet praises 

“Good girl, kitten.” “So good for me.” “You feel so good, baby”

Also your luscious breasts were front and center for him to stare at as he pounds you ooooooooo. 

G- Goofy

Yeah soo.. Shoto is a little serious. A little too serious in fact. 

Once when you two were making out he lifted you up, trying to carry you into your room as he bumped your head on the door frame. 

God it was like you were on life support or something

He apologized a million times, blaming himself as if he severely hurt you. 

You just giggle and kiss him in hopes it’ll shut him up and calm his worrying. You knew it was just an accident. 

H- Hair

He kept himself pretty trim, not really liking having a lot of hair on his body, for the exception of his arms and legs. He couldn’t help that he was a hairy guy (I imagine Endeavor being a lil hairy under his hero costume soo genetics?)

I- Intimacy

 he’s such a hopeless romantic it’s adorable.

he dotes on you the whole time, ensuring he’s not hurting you too much 

would kiss you over and over again

wants to you be comfortable at all times. 

in moments like these you’re the only thing that matters. 

J- Jack off

If for whatever reason he’s away, he always calls you. 

“I need you baby, what are you wearing right now?” He’ll ask, no matter if he’s in an important meeting or away on business, if he’s horny he’s horny.

Needs your voice to help him through his orgasm. 

Loves to facetime when he’s away so he can see your face and your body. 

“Yes, god Y/N you’re so perfect. Bend over for me.. yes..” He groaned, sloppily palming away at his length as he comes to his climax.

K- Kink

he’s got a lot sksksns

definitely a fucking dom

loves telling you what to do, always calling the shots in bed most of the time

Loves pet names, “baby girl” “kitten” “princess” 

overstimulates you sometimes just to see you squirm under him, the sick bastard. 

high key a sadist.. he’ll never openly admit to that tho

L- Location 

anywhere, surprisingly. 

If you two were out with friends and he felt an urge to taste you, he’d simply say you two are going to the car to get something, only to start having sex with you in the back seat. 

Fucks you in his office

Fucked you in his childhood bedroom once as a fuck you to his father. haha.

down for whateva.

M- Motivation

one thing that always got him going was you acting coy. Like you don’t know that what you’re doing is turning him on. 

You lean a little more, your blouse unbuttoned so he can see your ample cleavage. 

“What do you mean, Sho?” You bat your eyelashes, smirking at him as you watch his face turn red. 

“Fuck Y/N, don’t be cute. You’ll be sorry when we get home.” He would hiss at you, secretly not wanting you to stop teasing him.

He loved your sexy ass.

N-No 

he hated excessive hitting or pain play.

he was always too scared to hurt you, knowing he could by mistake at any given point. 

he just won’t hit you.. so don’t ask.

O- Oral

he loved sloppy, degrading head from you. 

fucks your throat sometimes, loves hearing you gag. 

when he gives you head though, he’s relentless.

he wont stop until your sobbing, begging him to fill you as he ate you out, shallowly fingering you with one finger to make you.

“Aw.. look at you. So desperate. You want me inside you, kitten?” UGHHH

P- Pace

depends on the situation or what mood he’s in. 

when he’s making love to you, his pace is slow and methodical, wanting to savor the moment

however when you’ve been bad... FUCK

he’s gonna pound you into the mattress until you’re a fucked out mess underneath him, begging him to slow down so you can catch you breath

“Don’t cry now, princess. You had so much mouth earlier.” He would mock you, smirking at your weakened state. Yall I-

Q- Quickies

as much as he loved taking his time with you, quickies were something that were quite vital for you two.

Shoto was always busy with something as he always kept himself occupied to provide for you two. 

Whenever the opportunity arises, you two strike while the iron’s hot

R- Risk 

Shoto likes to explore every aspect of sex, so that leaves for lots of room for exploration.

Finding new spots to touch and lick and suck on. 

He loved taking risks if it meant he got to listen to your sweet moans. 

S- Stamina

uhm.. yes. 

he had a fuck ton, you often cumming multiple times before he did. 

“I hope you’re not tapping out on me. I’m not through with you yet.” He would coo to you, urging you to yet another orgasm. 

he almost felt bad for you, as you twitch and shake overstimulated from his stamina being filled to the goddamn brim. 

T- Toys

he used them on you a lot.

loved little bullet vibrators, they were so handy in helping him send you into a frenzy. 

one night he had made you squirt when he used one on you as he fucked you senseless. 

“Ooh I know you’ve got some more in there for me, kitten. Be a good girl and do that again.” 

he also liked to watch you fuck yourself with a dildo. 

he found it pretty easy to degrade you as he watched you try mimic his thrusts with it. 

“You wish that was me don’t you, kitten? Too bad.” 

U- Unfair 

he totally LOVES teasing you

in public especially, loving to see you flustered and speechless as you try and talk to others. 

“What’s wrong, princess? You seem a little hot.” He’d say, caressing your inner thigh under the table at dinner. 

V- Volume

todo isn’t very loud in bed.

he’ll grunt and groan against your skin has he fucked you 

definitely cussing a lot under his breath and whispering praises or obscenities in your ear as he took you. 

“Ugh..baby. You feel so good.” “You’re mine..all mine.” “Shit, you’re so wet.”

W- Wild Card!!!

todoroki’s favorite memory of one of your ventures was when he had you bent over the kitchen sink. he didn’t think you could cum that hard around him, the feelings almost sending him into his own release.

he loved when you wore dresses to give him easy access to your pussy. 

loved fucking you in them, something about pulling it up to reveal you cheeky little panties made him feral. 

X- X-Ray

todoroki is PACKIN okay? 

i don’t imagine him being extra long, but he had really nice girth

still to this day you’re left speechless when he pulls that glizzy out his boxers. 

Y-Yearning

shoto loves you.. like a lot.

everything you do kinda sends him into a frenzy, wanting you right then and there. 

he wants sex pretty much all the time, I think the only time he’s not horny is when he’s working. 

Z- Zzz

you always fell asleep first, being that shoto wears you the fuck out

he liked to watch you sleep, leaving soft kisses all over your face. 

“I love you, Y/N.” He’d whisper, holding you close as he drifted off to sleep with you. AWWWW 

whew this shit took longer than I thought. hope yall liked this. i’m finally starting to write about more characters other than my baby daddy katsuki. bye! 

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: What We Don't Know Can't Hurt Us

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Librarian!Reader (cishet female) meet-cute

Warnings: No warnings really, some language and mention of masturbation and sex. Reader doesn't like kids. Yearning. Frankie is a TOTAL DILF SWEETHEART. Sad ending.

Summary: Reader is a librarian who has to temp at the kids' section desk from time to time which is a pain because she doesn't like kids. And who is a regular if not a very hot, scruffy-looking dad with the very polite and mild-mannered daughter? Sparks fly but some things maybe aren't meant to be.

Words: 5,155

a/n: Just to be clear, this one doesn't end well. I just wanted to write something sad, I guess.

Oh, shit, there he is again. The Hot Dad.

You straighten a little in your chair and once again curse the fact that you’re working in the children’s section at the library: the only desk that isn’t adjustable. You prefer to do your service desk duties standing up, not only for ergonomic reasons but because you hate how patrons look down on you – literally – when you’re seated by the desk. Also, you tend to slouch and it’s not an attractive look. And at the kids’ section, you’re all supposed to work on the same level as the little tykes. And you’re not particularly keen on those.

You are, however, keen on hot dads. God knows you only get them once in a blue moon and if they show up, it’s usually in tow of a whole clan of children and a wife. But this dad has been in once before when you’ve had desk duty and you saw him stop at the shelf for picture books about divorce and pick out a few. You also heard him tell his little girl that she shouldn’t bring the books she chose to her mom’s. Divorcee, so fantasizing was even more allowed – although he probably had a girlfriend. Guys like that always do.

“You don’t want to lose them, sweetie,” he had explained patiently to his daughter. “You can keep them in your room at my place but if you take them to your mom’s there’s a risk you lose them and that means I have to pay for them. You see, we’re only borrowing these books, that’s what you do in a library.”

You had smiled an inwards smile when listening to him. There was nothing you loved more than parents who actually seemed to understand that all the material in the library was free at one simple condition: return it in time, in the same condition as you borrowed it. A lot of people did not seem to grasp this and made a huge deal when they failed to meet these conditions and were faced with late fees or even had to compensate for lost books. But when parents who knew how to use a library include their offspring, explain how it all works for them, well, that’s how you foster a new generation of good library patrons.

This dad did just that. And he was very careful with the books, prompting his daughter to be the same. Every book she pulled out of the stacks, he helped her put back in the right place. That’s practically marriage material right there and it was enough to make you weak at the knees, to be honest. After almost ten years working in a public library, you were disillusioned about people in general and their intelligence in particular. Sure, you liked your job enough to not cry in the mornings when you had to leave bed, and you did enjoy the work itself (mostly), but… having to deal with people was exhausting. Having to deal with little people even more so, and the worst was having to deal with adult people who had little people with them. Parents.

Hence your absolute obsession with Hot Dad who was soft-spoken, really good with his kid, understood to appreciate the library and its services, nodded his hello to you when passing by the desk, didn’t make a mess, clearly read to his kid regularly and encouraged her to read for herself. You just didn’t get to see people like that so often, and it triggered your interest. You allowed yourself to daydream about him.

Francisco Morales. You remember his name from his last visit, when he and the kid came up to the desk with their haul. You always encouraged patrons to use the self-service check-out (the less you had to do deal with them, the better), but for this guy you were more than willing to go the extra service mile, even with the kid staring at your every move from across the desk as you registered all the loans. You silently gave her plus points for not trying to “help” like some kids did, and for the quiet but clear Thank you she gave you without prompting from her father.

You’re busying yourself with the returns, loading them onto a cart, when you hear a soft, deep voice go Excuse me behind your back. You twirl around and see Morales, pulling his baseball cap off his head to reveal curls that would make any hair model cry of envy.

“Sorry to bother you,” he offers. Take me now, you think to yourself but instead, you give him your brightest customer service smile, the one you rarely give patrons.

“No worries, how can I help?”

“We’re looking for picture books about farm animals. You don’t happen to have those separated? I noticed you have some subject areas separated.” He gestures back towards the picture book stacks where his daughter is quietly perusing.

“We don’t, but I think we have some Julia Donaldsons available, let me come and have a look.”

You don’t always offer. With most patrons, you’d tell them to look under D for Donaldson and then smile sweetly and ask them if they’re okay to do it themselves. You can’t do everything for everyone, that way they’ll never learn. But for Francisco Morales and his well-behaved little girl, you’re absolutely willing to make an exception.

There are some Donaldsons that the girl, whose name you learn is Sofia, eagerly accepts when you present her with them.

“I love fawm animals,” she sighs happily as she browses the first one. “Do you?”

“Who doesn’t love animals?” You make the effort to small talk although communicating with kids usually makes you awkward.

“What’s youw favowite? Mine is bunny. And howses. And lambs.”

“Goats! I love goats, they’re so cute and sweet and playful.” You almost add something about goats being the devil’s favorite animal as well but manage to stop yourself in time.

“Is there something else you want to ask the librarian?” Morales asks his daughter. “If not, I’m sure she has a lot of work to do, and we shouldn’t keep her any longer.”

“I’m here to help,” you shrug and give him a little smile: not a polite, impersonal one that you’d give a patron, but a more intimate one. A flirty smile. “You just need to ask.”

The smile he gives you back is warm and grateful, and you realize that he doesn’t have different facial expressions for different people. He doesn’t work in customer service because if he did, he’d know the difference. Not that you ever thought he worked in retail or anything like that, well, maybe a hardware store, but no. He just doesn’t seem like the type. The way he moves his body suggests something a lot more physical.

Oh, you’d like to get physical with him, alright…

All the sucky library-themed pick-up lines flash through your head. Can I check you out as an overnight loan? Can I insert my private collection into your empty stacks? My reference desk or yours? Am I being too loud, well, you’ll just have to shush me with your lips. You’re like an overdue library book because you have fine written all over you.

Worst part is, if Hot Dad Morales tried any of these on you, you’d probably forgive him and go for it. Maybe. You’re really not that simple, but a girl can dream, right?

The kid thanks you and you return to the relative safety of the desk and the mundane task of alphabetizing returns. You need to calm the fuck down and act professional. Daydreaming is fine but you’re barely toeing the line.

God, you need to get laid. As if that’s something that one can remedy just by walking into a store and ordering a medium dick with a side of hands and tongue.

📚📚📚

The next time you see Francisco and Sofia Morales, you’re taking your lunch break in the small park outside the library. It’s a sunny day and you didn’t fancy sitting in the breakroom with your salad, listening to colleagues talking about who cares what. So you took your lunch box, fork, and water bottle, and went to sit on the park bench the furthest away from the swing set and sandbox. The weather is nice and you enjoy yourself and your break from the library’s chat service. You never know what you’re gonna get when you work the chat: a stupid question about opening hours which anyone could google the answer to, or something more complicated like requests for books with partial or no titles, rarities, or subject areas that you don’t know much about. That’s when you get to use your whole competence and really dig deep, think outside the box, solve problems. You love it but it’s challenging at times, and takes a lot of energy. Your outdoor break is welcome.

“Hi!”

You hadn’t noticed the girl walking up to you and the greeting startles you.

“Oh, hi.”

“We’we wetuwning the animal books,” Sofia informs you seriously. You have to smile.

“Good job. You want more of those or something else this time?”

“Mowe. Will you help me find some?”

“I’m not working the desk at the children’s section today but my colleague there will absolutely help you. Just ask her.”

Now you see Morales walking towards you from the swing set, carrying the large, flowery canvas tote that says “book bag” he always brings to the library.

“Hello,” he nods with that warm smile that he definitely gives everyone. “Sofia, don’t disturb the lady on her break. I’m sure she wants some peace and quiet before she has to go back to work.”

Jesus fucking Christ. How does this man just know shit like this?

“I’m sowwy,” Sofia immediately offers. “I wanted to say hello.”

“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” you allow, although technically, he’s not wrong. “I’m almost done. It was nice to see you. I hope you have a good visit to the library.”

“Thank you!” She skips along and Morales chuckles as he takes off his baseball cap and scratches his head, swipes his long locks out of his forehead, then puts the hat back on.

“You’re her favorite, you know,” he tells you. When you raise your eyebrow, not comprehending, he hurries to elaborate. “Of the librarians. She says you’re the best.”

“Thank you, but whatever for?” You know you do a good enough job at your usual position and that your regulars appreciate you, but you are also very aware of not being at your finest in the kids’ section.

“You have to ask her,” Morales grins as he looks out for his kid, who has returned to the swing set and is pumping her legs on the swing, brows knitted in concentration. “But she’s very taken with you. I think it’s because you’re very calm and focused with her.”

Calm and focused??? You almost laugh out loud. That’s everything you’re not when you’re at the kids’ desk.

“Thanks,” you manage, because you have to say something.

“She’s also really interested in your tattoos and I definitely think she wants to get her nose pierced now,” Morales goes on. “I told her that we don’t comment on people’s appearance, but just a heads up, she might ask you about those.”

Ah, the unpredictability of children.

“I appreciate it.” You really do. You don’t mind talking about your tattoos or the septum ring you have but if a kid suddenly asks about it, you’d rather be prepared.

“Anyway, sorry to intrude on your lunch.”

“No worries,” you reassure him. “You can… sit down for a while if you want to? I have ten minutes left.”

Your heart beats faster at your proposal. It’s not exactly appropriate but you just want to enjoy his company for a moment. And discreetly sniff him because he smells so fucking good, woodsy and smokey but with a hint of… vanilla? You’re terrible at recognizing smells but it reminds you of some aroma reeds you had a couple of years ago that smelled like a wood cabin with vanilla sugar spilled on the floor. You loved it but like everything you love, it was discontinued.

Morales looks over at his daughter before nodding, the book bag slipping down from his shoulder as he places it next to the bench.

“If you’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.”

He likes your straightforward answer, you can tell from how his eyes crinkle a little and how relaxed his body language is when he sits down.

“I’m Frankie, by the way,” he says, like he just remembered that introductions are a normal part of human interaction. He extends his right hand to you and as you accept it and tell him your name, you can’t help but marvel at how huge his hand is. Big, warm, slightly damp but not in a weird way.

“Nice to meet you, Frankie.” Frankie. Francisco Morales is Frankie. It suits him better than Francisco, to be honest.

“And that’s Sofia.” He points to the girl who seems content swinging by herself. You realize you’re expected to say something nice about her to the proud dad.

“She seems sweet.”

“Yeah, she’s awesome. And she loves coming to the library, it’s all she talks about when I have her.” He clears his throat and adds: “Her mother and I got divorced quite recently. I only get her five days every other week.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Shit, it’s divorce and custody talk from the start. You have no idea how to respond to that.

“That’s life,” he shrugs, “but I figured that going to the library every time I get her could be a good routine to ground her. And then we have books that we can read together for her entire stay.”

It’s definitely a good routine as far as you can tell.

“When I was between nine and thirteen years old, my dad would take me to the local library every Monday evening,” you tell him, smiling at the memory. “My dad never opened a book in his life but he patiently read the auto and tech magazines while I collected half the kids’ section with me. When I went to tell him that I was done, he always pretended to object to the amounts, but then he’d help me carry it all to the car.”

As you tell him this, you’re looking at him, no, staring at the patchy, grey-splashed beard he’s sporting. It’s the most fascinating thing you’ve ever seen. What’s the story there, why doesn’t it grow evenly? Is this a thing? You don’t have enough experience in the field of facial hair. Is it genetic? Is it always like this?

He keeps looking at his daughter as he listens to you with a small smile on his face, clearly enjoying your little anecdote.

“That’s lovely,” he says, turning his attention back to you when you’re finished. “Dads and daughters, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

You pick up your phone to check the time. Shit. You have to return to the chat.

“I gotta go. Lunch break’s over.”

You collect your things and stand up, brushing off your skirt. Frankie stands up as well and picks up the book bag.

“I’ll see you in there?”

“I’m not a the desk today.”

“Oh.” He seems disappointed, his eyes flickering from you to the ground. “That’s too bad.”

“And the kids' section isn't my primary department.”

“The bad news just keep on coming, don't they,” he jokes as the two of you start to walk towards the entrance. Sofia jumps from the swing and comes running.

“She's not at the desk today, daddy,” she tells Frankie precociously.

“I know, mija. We'll have to ask someone else about the animal books, okay?”

Sofia doesn't seem too happy with this solution but nods. You take your leave before she has the opportunity to ask about your body modifications, and disappear through a door marked “Staff Only”.

📚📚📚

The following weeks you seem to see Frankie everywhere. You run into him at the supermarket and get drafted into advicing him on what cereal to buy for his kid. “Something healthy, but good so she'll actually eat it.” How the hell should I know? you want to scoff, but you're simping for him enough to help him choose something you'd never in a thousand years touch yourself. You see him in town one afternoon when you're running errands and he suggests you grab a coffee - holy hell, in your book that's a fucking date - but you decline as kindly as you can, citing a busy schedule when in fact you're mostly just scared out of your mind. The daydream is becoming a little too real and you're absolutely not ready for that, especially not because of the kid. If it wasn't for Sofia, you could have dared the leap, but dating a guy relatively fresh out of a marriage, and with a kid to boot? No, that's asking for trouble and you don't want trouble.

One afternoon at the kids' desk, you once again get to help Sofia find books, this time on sharks.

“She went from farm animals to sharks in one week,” Frankie confides in you when the girl is sitting quietly in a reading nook, carefully studying every page and occasionally widening her eyes at what you suspect is pictures of shark teeth. “It's sharks this and sharks that. She asks if there are sharks in every body of water she sees, from the pond in the park to the ditch outside my parents' house.”

“Have her watch Jaws and she will never want to think about sharks ever again,” you suggest, earning a laugh although the idea was probably a little bit on the morbid side.

“Maybe, but that would probably scar her for life. I actually want her to learn how to swim.”

“Then best not.”

You pick up a couple of books someone else left behind on a table and make a gesture that says I have to re-shelve these, come with and Frankie follows you to the right shelf.

“You know, she talks about you as her friend at the library.”

Now, some people would find that adorable but you don't. You're not friends with this kid, you're in a position where you could possibly influence her keenness to literature and literacy but you will always risk critique from her guardians. Being a children's librarian is like a hybrid between being in customer service, and being a teacher. You get to form young malleable minds but you are always subjected to criticism, even when you've done nothing wrong. Kids are patrons, like adults, and to have them see you as friends is only going to complicate things.

“That's nice,” you reply carefully, not really sure what else to say. It's so hard to talk to parents sometimes, one wrong words and you're basically Satan, you can't know because you don't have kids yourself, how dare you not worship the ground my offspring just vomited all over?

“You're definitely her favorite librarian.”

That you can take. You have a couple of adult patrons who come in regularly and prefer to get their reading recommendations from you. They always have time to discuss literature and they bring you a box of chocolates for Christmas.

“Well, she's easy to help. She always knows what she wants and she's polite. And quite easy to please,” you smile, meaning every word. You don't mention that the only time you like kids is when they're like Sofia is right now: reading quietly in a corner, handling the books with care.

“You're my favorite librarian as well,” Frankie adds, and now that sweet smile he's always wearing when you see him is shy. There's definitely a red tinge on his cheekbones as well and it makes you want to lean forward and kiss him on his goddamn mouth with that goddamn full lower lip that he sometimes sucks into his mouth or fucking licks...

“How many librarians do you know?” you ask and manage to sound easy-going, or at least you think so. The laugh Frankie produces is low and rolling and it makes your stomach coil in on itself. Fuck him and that deep voice he rode in on!

“Got me there. It's basically you and Mrs Wilkerson, the school librarian who scared the shit out of me when I was in elementary school. She made sure I didn't step foot in a library until, well, now.”

“Oh, I so wanted to be a librarian like that when I was a kid!” You grin at Frankie's horrified expression. “No, no, hear me out! I always had this idea that those librarians led these super rich, fulfilling lives as night-time vigilantes or that they were actually millionaires who spent their free time floating around in pools with fancy drinks in hand.”

“Were you... a normal child, besides these illusions?” Frankie teases you and before you can stop yourself, you're slapping his arm playfully. Like a girlfriend would. Or someone more intimate than a Favorite Librarian, at any rate.

“I'll have you know that the voices in my head are saying that we had a very normal and healthy childhood,” you reply with as much dignity as you can muster, while desperately wishing for the phone to ring or another patron to ask for your help. But no, the ones present seem to be managing on their own - except for one mom who seemed to have overheard your joke because she is now staring at you with hesitation in her eyes.

It's Sofia who comes to your rescue with her request of being taken to the bathroom. By the time she and Frankie are done there, your colleague has come to relieve you of your duties at the children's section.

📚📚📚

You knew of course that it was coming. You may not be that experienced in the terms of dating and relationships but you weren't stupid and you had some experience: Frankie was going to ask you out. It had to happen. Technically, it had already happened that afternoon in town when he asked you out for coffee. He maybe didn't see it as a date, but you certainly did.

It happened when you had just started your shift in the children's section and it was a fucking mess. A class of kindergarteners had just left and the teachers hadn't bothered to keep them in check, so there were not only books on every available surface, they were also put in the wrong way and in the wrong places. Your colleague who you were relieving stayed behind to help you, feeling too bad to leave it all to you.

That's when Daddy and Daughter Morales showed up. You weren't really happy about the existence of kids in the first place but made an effort for Sofia, who brought you a drawing she had made in preschool that day. It featured some figures in green, slightly reminiscent of animals and one human but you wouldn't be able to tell. Luckily, Frankie explained it to you.

“She's waited all day to give you this drawing of you with goats.”

“Wow,” you manage. “Thank you, Sofia, this was so kind of you.”

The girl is beaming with pride. “Will you put it on the wall?”

“Super probably!”

“I can see you're busy,” Frankie notes and ushers Sofia along. “We won't distract you. Come on, honey, let her do her job now and maybe you'll get to talk to her later.”

You nod your thanks and focus on cleaning up the entire department before you colleague leaves and Frankie and Sofia come to the desk to borrow this week' picks. Sofia seems uncharacteristically giddy.

“Do you want to come with us to the awbowetum?” she asks with a wide, expectant smile. Fuck shit ass hell.

“We're going on Saturday,” Frankie fills in, “and we were both hoping you'd want to join?”

Saturday. Thank goodness.

“Sorry, I work on Saturday,” you say, trying to sound rueful. It's true and you're relieved about not having to lie. “But thanks, it's sweet of you to ask.”

Sofia is clearly disappointed and so is Frankie, but he masks it better.

“Some other time, yeah?”

If it were only him, you'd tell him it wasn't a good idea. But you can't say that with the kid right in front of you. You may not like kids but that doesn't mean you want to scar them for life.

“Yeah, maybe.”

You loan them the books and as they leave, Sofia waves happily at you and Frankie shoots you one last smile that makes you press your thighs together in your seat.

Come Saturday, you're by your usual desk in the section for adult fiction and you almost fall off your chair when you see Frankie come up the stairs and straight up to the desk.

“Hi.” He's had a haircut and a shave and looks different. Still good, but very different. The dark locks of his hair are more tamed. The mustache is still there but you miss the patchy beard.

“Um, hi? Where's Sofia?”

“In the car, with a friend. We're going to the arboretum.”

“Right. I hope you have a good time, the arboretum's lovely.” You still don't understand what he's doing here and he seems to have some difficulty in telling you. Moving his weight from one foot to the other, he scratches his neck and looks down - why does he have to be so freaking cute? - before looking up at you.

“About that... I wanted to apologize. I wasn't sure it was a good idea to ask you to come with, but Sofia was so persistent. She likes you so much. I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. I'm sorry.”

“That's alright,” you brush it off because there's not really anything else you can say. “Don't think about it, just go have a good day.”

“I also wanted to ask if you wanted to go grab a drink with me. Just me. Maybe next week when Sofia's at her mother's.”

Fuck, there it is. His hopeful face makes you hate yourself for the answer you have to give.

“I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Frankie,” you begin carefully. “I'm really flattered, but you're... recently divorced with a kid. That's a lot of baggage and things could get complicated. I don't want to get caught up in that.”

You've practiced this speech at home but it still breaks your fucking heart because Frankie is so good-looking, kind, funny, and sweet. You would've asked him out yourself already if it wasn't for the baggage. Fuck, you masturbate to the thought of him, for crying out loud! You imagine what it would be like to be with him, to make dinner together and watch movies and go to bed and wake up in each other's arms. You think about sex with him a lot. You make an effort with your appearance those days you know he'll show up at the library, you don't even mind the kids' section that much anymore because you get to talk to him.

You are fucking in love with him, or at least the idea of him because you don't know much about him, only that he used to be a pilot in the special forces but now he trains new pilots, he has best friends who are like uncles to Sofia (and who have been asking about this mystery librarian she always keeps talking about), he likes cooking and loves baking with his daughter, he hates working out but knows he should take better care of himself, hell, you even know what brand of milk he buys.

He's clearly disappointed but keeps a brave face, one that you can see right through because he wears his heart on his sleeve.

“I understand that,” he says quietly, mildly. “I'm sorry, I hope I didn't embarrass you.”

Jesus fucking Christ can this man not???

“No, don't worry. I'm sorry I couldn't give you the answer you wanted. It's just... not a good time.”

Shit. You shouldn't have said that. Now he might think it could be a better time later.

Frankie nods and smiles sadly. “Yeah, you're probably right.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

He clears his throat and nods. “I better be going. You have a good weekend now.”

“You too.”

He shoots you one final smile before he turns around and leaves. As you watch him go down the stairs to the exit level, you just want to call his name, do your run through the airport and hurry after him, throw yourself into his arms, kiss him, Jesus, imagine that somewhere there's someone who'll get to kiss him some day, tell him that you made a huge mistake and you want to go out with him, you want to have drinks with him and dinner and breakfast and lunch for the rest of your lives because nothing would make you happier than making him happy. You want to be the reason his eyes crinkle and his cheek displays that little dimple that makes you lose your train of thought every time you see it.

But it's not for you. People with kids need to prioritize their kids and you know that you can't be anyone's number two. You don't want to get caught up in custody disputes, you don't want to be "your father's new slut", you don't want to be anyone's stepmom. You don't want to have to spend five days a week in the same house as a five-year-old. Being in a relationship is difficult enough as it is and if you can make choices that avoid some of the problems, you're going to make them, no matter how much it hurts.

And it hurts. A lot. But so much in life hurts and you've made it through before.

He must already be out the door, probably in the car. Does he say something about this to his daughter and friend? Is it a female friend? No, it must be one of his army buddies, probably one of the brothers.

You pull up Frankie's profile in the library database and see his phone number. You could call him anytime. Or send a text. Keep talking to him, flirting.

Shit. It's a bad idea.

A patron approaches the desk and you force yourself to look mild and service-minded.

“Hi, do you have Hate To Want You by someone called... Ray, I think?”

“Please hold a moment, I'll check.” You stifle the sigh that threatens to escape you and hope that the day will be busy so you won't have time to think about Francisco Morales again.

[m-aster-of-spinjitzu]

the hues of an empty sky

Missing memories, or having two of them for one moment - not quite the same, but if there's one thing Jay's leant over the last few weeks, it's that literally nothing makes sense anymore.

Or, some Skybound aftermath, Zane actually expressing emotions about his memory switch being turned off for all those years, and what was supposed to be a 'they tell everyone about the erased timeline' fic, but it turned into a 'two characters who barely interact on screen talk at like one am in the morning, and don't actually tell the other what exactly they're alluding to the whole time' fic that I wrote at like one am- 

Also yeah, I realized too late that they split up to look for Wu after s7, we’re just gonna pretend that they waited a few days or something, idk anymore tbh, lol.

(I also didn't have time to edit - so please tell me where the typos are? 😂💛)

Word count: 4539

Prompt: crying, from @ninjago-bingo 's warm board.

Trigger warnings: the main character has a panic attack, and squeezes their fingernails into their hands once or twice but I think that's it.

*facepalms* also, guys, i’m so stupid - i literally just realized that this freaking CHANGES TENSE HALFWAY OHMYGOSH I-  i don’t think it’s super noticeable, but ugh, apologies to anyone who actually thought my writing was good lol-

---

It's cold.

Bitterly, freezing cold.

The biting chill of the air is a bit strange for this time of year, but, heck, that's nowhere near the craziest thing that's ever happened to him - not by a long shot.

He sighs, squinting at the stars dotted liberally against the black canvas of the sky.

Cole had once joked that one of them might be the remains of their golden weapons, after they'd hurled the burning mass into the sky - in another alternate timeline; one that only existed in the memories of a certain few.

Gosh - that seemed like such a long time ago.

Wouldn't it be nice to go back to that time, when he'd still thought that their powers were the coolest thing ever - instead of despising them for all the responsibility and sacrifice that came with them? When one of his biggest worries was whether the girl he had a crush on liked him back - not wondering if his friends would survive the night?

"I did not expect to find you awake at this hour, Jay."

Reflexivity, he jumps back, his mind twisting his friend's gentle voice into the- the djin's triumphant, accented one.

You're supposed to be a ninja. What good are you if your friends can still sneak up on you?

"Geez, warn a guy before you sneak up on him! I almost fell off the Bounty!"

"My apologies. I was... surprised to find you awake at this hour," Zane answers. "What are you doing?" "Couldn't sleep. It's too cold," he confesses, not entirely a lie. Ninjago wasn't 'that' far from the Sea of Sand, but he'd grown up in a much warmer area - unfortunately resulting in his practically nonexistent tolerance to the cold. That never failed to stop Kai from teasing him about it, though. He doesn't mention the pressing weight on his chest, almost tangible - or how it constantly makes him feel. Like he's being dragged through the darkness of an empty sky, spikes of fear making everything so freaking terrifying- "You?"

"I have been analyzing my memories of Pixal, in the hope that it may lead me to her whereabouts. However, all my efforts have proved... unsuccessful," Zane answers wearily, shifting his gaze to the sky.

Oh- oh. They'd all be so caught up in the chaos of the last few weeks - hey, it's not like any of them had asked the universe to permanently be out to get them! - that they'd forgotten Pixal was still offline.

"Hey, I'm sure that she's still there somewhere," he says, earnestly. "After all - she wouldn't be your girlfriend if she didn't pull a vanishing act every now and again, eh?"

The question is punctuated with a laugh, but he doesn't say that he's a little worried about her too. They hadn't talked much, but-

I can't see one of my best friends find out that his girlfriend is dead, a quiet voice at the back of his mind points out. Well - been there, done that, wouldn't recommend, he thinks bitterly. Emotional breakdowns and frequent nightmares apply. Anxiety attacks are half off, too!

It's quiet for a few minutes, neither of them seeing a need to break the silence. The wind blows softly through the sails above them; gray wisps of cloud revealing a pale sliver of moonlight that paints the sky in its glow.

It should be a peaceful night: beautiful, calm, no one trying to kill them or destroy their city - for a change.

His hands won't stop shaking.

It should be a peaceful night, but, as usual, the world is too freaking unfair for that-

He hasn't even slept for a full night in weeks! Well, not since- since-

Don't think about it! That's only going to make it worse, duh-

"Are you alright, Jay?"

"Yeah- I- I'm good, thanks," he says quickly, ignoring the way his breathing keeps speeding up. FSM, not this-

Not for the first time, the world suddenly becomes too loud - too much. Every little thing, from trying to breathe properly or even walk- feels insurmountable, because, gosh, oh gosh, it's going to come crashing down if he even moves-

The memory starts off the same as it always does.

Rubble strewn over the temple grounds, his friends literally reduced to nothing more than statues. A shot that hit the mark perfectly, but perfectly shattered his world in the process.

A poison-splattered dress, a terrifying realization.

Her well-aimed joke, but one that never fails to sting every time. Gosh, why hadn't they just allowed her to join their team in the first place? Maybe they could've prevented this- this- whole situation, if they hadn't been so freaking egotistical-

And, again, he's overwhelmed by the sheer sense of helplessness, all his power and training and skills completely useless to one of the people he cared most about. FSM, if only I hadn't used my first w-request so carelessly! If only I'd been able to escape- or, or if only I'd been able to assemble the team faster! If only-

Despite being in what must've been unimaginable pain, she offers a strained smile - a sweet gesture that, ironically, feels like she's poisoning him, because- because FSM, this is all so wrong, it wasn't supposed to end like this-

He watches with horror as her eyes dull and she stills in his arms.

She's gone, FSM, she's gone and it's all my fault-

"Jay?" a voice asks, concern evident in their tone. Distantly, he registers that he's having a breakdown in front of one of his best friends - one of the things he'd been trying really hard to avoid.

Dang it.

"I-" he tries to say, but, great, he's breathing too fast to even get the stupid words out.

"Breathe in for four seconds," Zane says, softly.

Four seconds? Time has no meaning right now, narrowed down to, like - falling down a chasm, terrified of what's at the bottom, except the fear's all around, this- this... foreboding thing of his mind that keeps yelling that he needs to run, or fight, but he can't, can't-

Right. Four seconds.

You're okay, you're fine, no one's trying to hurt you or your friends. She's not dead.

But what if- what if they're being dragged out of this ship right now? What if it was all a dream, and she's dead anyway, because all of us were too stupid to come up with another plan, and none of us could even do anything when she-

After a little while, when he could breathe a little easier, and the fear didn't feel like it was slamming into him from every possible direction, he slowly opened his eyes. Shakily, he wiped a tear from his face - as if that would wipe away all the weeks that had, theoretically, never even freaking happened.

The sky comes back into focus - pinpricks of light against pitch black. 

How was he going to come up with some sorta explanation without... well, explaining everything?

Great.

My nerves are frayed, and I have to lie to a walking lie detector - what could possibly go wrong?

"Are you alright?" Zane asks, his brows creased in concern.

"Heh heh, yeah. Probably just too many video games," he replies quickly, laughter a bit strained.

"You were muttering to yourself," his friend replies quietly. Ugh, trust the way-too-observant-nindroid to call him out on the remains of his facade. "If you do not mind me asking, what was 'all your fault'? I am sure that it was probably a misunderstanding."

You're the one who misunderstands everything, he thinks wearily, ignoring the part of him that yearns to tell someone else about... well, everything that's happened because of that stupid teapot. He's not one to keep secrets by nature, and it's been taking a bigger toll of him than he'd thought it would. Is this how Nya felt when she was still the Samurai? "It's- it's nothing, probably just nonsense."

"Are you sure? You seem... quite worried about something."

Dang it, were his hands still shaking? He presses his fingernails into his palms, squeezing his eyes shut for a second.

He's talking to one of his best friends, FSM. Weren't friends able to tell each other anything?

"Do you think it's easier to forget? Better?"

He didn't even realize he'd asked a question until Zane's eyes widened in surprise.

A forest coated in snow, ice crystals dangling from the tree branches above their heads. Plenty of screaming - way too much, he reflects, couldn't they have been a bit nicer? It must've been pretty jarring to learn that you weren't human, or that your father had erased years of your life from your mind - in that weird underground treehouse. Those crazy tree monsters - and the realization that they all had much more power than they'd thought.

"N- nevermind," he stutters, fleetingly thinking of kicking the deck. "That's way too personal, you don't have to answer it-"

"I do not mind," Zane says, a bit sadly.

Oh.

Heck, his friend was way too nice.

They gaze up at the stars for a few minutes, not really seeing them - one drowning under the weight of too many secrets, the other, too many memories.

It's quiet - too quiet.

Ugh, he thinks, sighing, that sounds like something a low-budget horror movie would start with, cringey sound effects to match.

But the silence is a painful reminder of the days he'd spent tossing and turning in a cramped cell - nothing but his worries and the bruises on his leg from that stupid ball and chain keeping him awake.

He's been trying hard - maybe too hard - to avoid being alone, avoid being in a situation where they've gotta be quiet ever since then, because, dang it, his memories always seem to fill the silence, and they're always far more terrifying than they should be-

It's easier, in a way, to be mocked for his stupid jokes than it is to relive a single moment from those nightmarish few weeks.

Almost reflexively, he grasps for something to fill the quiet.

"Heh, this is a bit awkward. It's okay if you wanna leave-"

"I do not mind," Zane echoes, walking a bit closer. "It is not as if I need to sleep. But... I do not quite know what to think of your question."

There comes the answer - or a semblance of one at least, and it's the last thing he'd been expecting.

"You don't know?" he blurts out before he can even think of trying to filter the thought. Way to treat your friend who's been nothing but kind to you, Jay. "But you're- you're a nindroid! You know everything-"

"Pixal," his friend mutters softly, sighing, and the hurt, the fear, laced through the word makes something in his heart practically twist. He knows all too well what it feels like to be in that situation - even if, technically, it had never happened.

Then- "I wish that were true. But I suppose that my emotions make certain situations much more complicated than... than they need to be. Thus I cannot give my perspective on this - or, at least, without sounding quite conflicted."

"You know that you're allowed to be conflicted, right? Even the coolest Nindroids don't know everything."

"...Yes, I suppose so."

Jay frowns at the almost subconscious hesitation, eyebrows creasing in concern.

"Seriously," he starts earnestly. They're both leaning on one of the railings just above the deck now. "Just 'cause you're a nindroid doesn't mean that you've gotta chase some kind of perfection that doesn't even exist."

He doesn't miss how Zane's eyes widen in shock, their bright blue hue glowing a little brighter - and heck, if that doesn't hurt even more than the earlier realization.

"Besides - it's not like none of us haven't made mistakes before. Hate to go all Wu on ya, but they help us learn or some stupid thing like that. Even if the mistake is trying not to make 'em, you know?"

"Thank you," Zane replies, a tired smile on his face. "Even the most advanced tech is susceptible to error, I suppose."

They've all made lots of mistakes, heaven forbid if one of them is still agonizing over messing up over the crazy situations the universe constantly put them in. It's not like they were told they'd have to face more ancient evil armies than they could count, were they?

Maybe it's time to stop focusing on events that never even happened, and pay more attention to your friends. What's the point of being part of this team if you're always scared or selfish?

"Shut up," he mumbles, rubbing his temples. What's the point of fighting if your own brain is gonna fight you whenever it gets a chance? A few seconds later, he schools his face back into his default anxious grin. "Great, cause I- I- could use your advice on something." "Alright," comes the quiet reply, his friend seemingly lost in thought.

"What if you wanted to tell someone something, but you couldn't?"

His breathing starts to speed up again, but he grips the deck until his fingers are practically bruised, stark white against his tanned skin. Not this time-

"Is this what you were referring to earlier? An event that you blamed yourself for?" Zane asks, eyes flitting between the floor and the sky.

Dang it, way too observant as usual. He masks his surprise with a laugh, but the conversation definitely isn't going as planned and, oh gosh oh gosh, what if-

No, there's no way that any of them would even believe that. Besides - no one can remember stuff that they've forgotten, especially if magic's at play.

"Yeah, kinda," and he's surprised by how steady his voice sounds. It's not easy to even think about that- event, talking about it is a whole different thing. A much more difficult thing, but also - a bit, a little bit, easier. "I-" "Apologies for interrupting," his friend interjects. "I suppose that I have not been entirely honest with you." What?

"A few days ago, I discovered a number of deleted memory files buried deep within my code."

Just like that, his whole world tilts out from underneath him.

It takes every ounce of his strength to keep himself from falling into the abyss again.

Wait, what?

Has he really known for all this time? It's been weeks! Surely he would've said something? It can't be, it never even-

The rational part of his mind points out that he can remember every day of those few weeks. Well, he was the one to make the wish - magical logic is kinda stupid, but maybe that's why he had to remember it or something?

Well then, a small voice interjects, why was Nya cursed to remember everything too?

Of course, even the stupid magical logic doesn't even make sense to the one who caused this whole mess in the first place.

"They were almost entirely corrupted - scrambled in a way that I am not familiar with. However, I did realize that certain files bore dates that have not even occurred yet. I dismissed it as a problem with my code, however..."

Breathe, calm down, it's not like he was able to process them or anything-

We agreed that no one was supposed to know! What if they end up blaming us for keeping it a secret this long, or, or-

"I mean, they could've been-" he starts, but the way in which he's nervously twisting his fingers is a pretty clear indication that he's lying, dang it.

"So when you mentioned that you were unable to tell someone something - did you mean that it was because they had quite literally forgotten about it?"

Great. Fantastic. Of course the literal robot has pieced it together by now-

He squeezes his eyes shut for a minute, hoping that if he ignores the problem, maybe it'll go away.

Okay, fine, maybe he's trying to figure out a way to fix this whole mess. Doesn't mean that he's any closer to coming up with a solution, though.

"Er, yeah," he whispers, shoulders slumped, eyes still firmly shut. Because gosh, he doesn't want to - can't, can't - see the realization dawn that, yeah, he's lied to people he's known for years and years, even though they've all seen way too many times that secrets bring nothing but trouble-

"Well, then - I would say that you don't have to tell them," Zane replies, surprisingly... earnestly? That, or he's either too freaked out to understand the tone properly. Could be either.

He opens his eyes, hesitantly.

And it comes as a bit of a shock to find nothing but concern reflected in his friend's.

The almost persistent weight on his chest feels a little lighter now, like the sky isn't as quite so empty.

Well, it still kinda is. But that doesn't hold as much weight as he'd thought it did - not if one of his friends is willing to look past that; past the heaviness of holding up all those memories with nothing his single star, flickering in and out of the darkness, to try and light the unforgiving darkness of the sky.

"Why?" Jay asks, so quietly he can barely hear it himself. "Don't I owe it to them? Do you?"

"No. Definitely not," comes the reply, so full of conviction that he almost stumbles back. Why-

"My father..."

Oh- oh.

"thought it was better to spare me the pain of mourning him than for me to know who I was," Zane confesses, hesitantly. "Not that I disagree, necessarily. I just..."

He trails off, clutching the railing so hard that the wood almost snaps beneath his titanium fingers.

It takes Jay a little while to realize why - why exactly his friend, who has access to a wealth of knowledge and information, is grasping for an answer. Because- because, well, even if someone does something in your best interests - sometimes the choice isn't always up to them. Or maybe it is, but it was... difficult, to say the least, to let go of the fact that his parents had never told him the truth sooner. Not that he blames them, necessarily - it's not like they knew that his father would pass on before he'd even get the chance to meet him - but... it's confusing, and difficult, not to know why you were left at a junkyard as soon as you were born. Maybe if he'd known that sooner, he could've asked the one person who might've had answers - although it's not like hoping for the past to change will actually change it.

They don't even know that you know, a small voice at the back of his mind points out, and suddenly everything makes a lot more sense-

"You wanted a choice," he breathes, eyes widening. A choice - like one that he'd never been given, one that he stills struggles not to hold against two people who've always had his best interests at heart. Even if they did have the right to withhold that one thing, after all they've done for him - the 'what if's' still echo in his mind far more often than he'd like. "There's nothing wrong with that, even if it feels that way. I kinda get where you're coming from, dude, and it's... super confusing, but I'd be pretty mad if my memories were tampered with like that."

So would anyone, he realizes, heart sinking. Oh, great. Not helping-

"I- I suppose so?" Zane answers, but it sounds more like a question than a reply. "However, in the same vein, it would be unwise for you to give away your choice whilst you still have one." "But don't I owe it to everyone? You just said it, it's horrible to alter people's memories and I- I-" "Did we forget... whatever it was for a good reason? "I- I mean, I guess, but..." "Then you do not owe it to us to relive something that we do not even remember." The words should be a relief - and they kinda are. But some part of him really does want to explain the crazy alternate timeline, and everything that happened in it. It's just... really, really freaking difficult.

"What if- what if I wanted to, though?" Jay asks hysterically, running his hands through his hair in a frenzied sort of way. "And I still couldn't? I just, I-"

He cuts himself off with a bout of forced laughter.

Zane takes a moment to reply, the bright blue light in his eyes flickering - a small tell that he was thinking so deeply, his processors were literally sparking up a bit.

"You queried earlier if it was easier, or better, to forget. And while all situations are different, I suppose it is... well, subjective. What do you think?" Zane asks, softly.

Derailing the conversation a bit, but his friend's obviously smart enough to be leading up to something.

Sure, he'll go along with it.

"I mean, there are some things I'd rather forget, you know? I guess we all know what that feels like," Jay replies, the statement with oddly sad air to it. They're still kids, after all, and it gets a bit exhausting pretending that their superhero lives were all fun and games - when they'd just given him enough grey hair to last then lifetimes, and enough nightmares to keep him from ever getting the normal amount of sleep his mum always prattled on about.

Sleep, heh heh. Practically a foreign concept, now.

"And I know that stuff that happens, like shapes us or something - and Master Wu would probably go off on a whole ramble about why we learn from our mistakes or whatever," he laughs nervously, resisting the urge to just fall headfirst onto the deck of the stupid ship instead of continuing the conversation," and how 'our scars only make us stronger', crap like that, but I just-"

"I'm just really... tired of this," he confesses warily, shoulders slumped. "W- I remember so many horrible things, and I-" he breaks off, laughing bitterly. His voice takes on a sort of brittle quality, way too high pitched, "and I can't even talk about them, dude. If that's not the most pathetic thing ever, I dunno what is."

"It does not-"

"Don't say it," Jay mutters, rubbing his temples. "I know, I know, my feelings aren't pathetic, they're always valid, whatever, spare me the lecture-"

"That is not what I was going to say," Zane replies gently. "It just seems that you have answered your own question."

"Gee, which one?"

"I do not know how much helpful assistance I can provide in this situation, but it is understandable to wish certain events had never occurred. However, seeing as we cannot change the past, it seems unwise to dwell on said events if you can avoid it."

Jay stiffens, clamping a shaky hand over his mouth. Something seems to press down even harder on his chest, a heavy sort of weight that causes his breathing to speed up again. Don't say it don't say it there's no reason to warn them this time-

"If you would like to tell any of us about something, of course you are welcome to. It does not to be the whole story, after all. Just make sure that it is the decision you choose, not one you choose because of what you think how it will affect others," Zane finishes quietly, ducking his head as if he's embarrassed.

The stars are still white-hot, burning away some million miles above them.

"Thanks," he says, and puts his hand softly on Zane's shoulder. "I mean, I know - that all makes sense, I guess. It's just- I-"

"You want to?"

"Yeah," Jay starts, sighing, "I do. It's just- it's not just my choice. And I'm pretty much dying already right now, so, as fantastic as making it all worse sounds, hard pass."

Oops, maybe he shouldn't have said that last bit. They'd agreed not to tell anyone about it - even this conversation was cutting it way too close. It wasn't impossible for them to put everything together - they were a pretty smart group, after all, even without their resident inventor and engineer - and Jay didn't really know what he'd think if they did. Fearful? Relieved? Angry?

"That does... not sound great? Dying certainly does not seem-"

"It's called sarcasm, Zane."

"Oh- yes. My memory now accesses the fact that people often speak in that manner. It does seem a bit counterproductive, though. Why not just say what you mean?"

"Shut it, you have no clue how integral to my life it is," Jay replies with a halfhearted grin.

A few seconds later, he remembers something his friend had mentioned earlier, and the grin disappears.

"You know that you can talk to us if you're not happy, right?" he asks, earnestly. Sure, it's not like he could always do that, considering, well, a stupid djin and even stupider magic, but it's not like he needs to. It's- well- he'll be okay, probably. Maybe. Kinda.

Zane's eyes blink on and off again, blue fading in and out. "I... I suppose that I was not quite aware of that."

Okay, they've screwed up way too many times, but this... this is pretty bad. Dang it, how long does it take for them to throw self-preservation instincts at their friend before he freaking- picks them up or something?

"However, will it not hurt those who have experienced the same unfortunate events?"

Dude, not the best question to ask someone wondering the exact same thing-

"It's been... uh, nice, kind of, talking to you. So- I don't think so, and I'm pretty sure someone would say so if it did. Besides, don't we talk about our adventures all the time? It'd probably be better if we... uh, well- heh heh, nothing."

"If we talked about the less than positive elements of them? Perhaps, but I still-"

Maybe it's the fact Zane has always tried to be there for him, or maybe he's too sleep deprived to care anymore, but this is a way too familiar situation and-

Well, not ignoring the issue would be a start.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we're family, Zane. We care about each other. And, gosh, that means that we care about you too. Memories are stupid and annoying sometimes, but we have to make good ones too, right? To block out the bad ones a bit, I guess? Kinda, at least."

They both look away from the stars now, grappling for something else to say.

In the end, they leave it be with a hug and a fondly exasperated warning about sleeping, if you happen to need it.

After all, they're family. They don't have to be perfect, or tell each other everything - even if it does take them a long time to realize that, and an even longer time remembering it.

---

The next time Jay startles awake from a nightmare, the sky is still empty - painfully so, like an ache that simmers beneath the surface even when it's not able to be seen.

The hue, though, is a little lighter.

Just a little - the all-encompassing darkness of it is now a navy sort of blue, his star shining a little bit brighter.

It's still not sunrise, not even close - but he'll take it. AN: the ‘sky’ mentioned at the start and end is a stupid metaphor that i somehow ended up liking too much to trash, it’s ‘empty’ because he hasn’t told anyone about the timeline, and Nya’s not included because they never had a chance to tell each other everything significant or even talked about it or processed it on screen. so yeah! if you read this,,, not great thing, can i send you a hug or good vibes or smth? tyy🥺

[lovelybarnes]

second choice- bucky b.

a/n: dhakhd i can never write good endings

pairings: bucky barnes x natasha romanoff, bucky barnes x reader

warnings: death, angst

about: no, you're not his second chance, you're his second choice

it had been a month. exactly one month since natasha sacrificed herself for the world and you lost your best friend, wondering exactly how much the world meant to you without her in it. without steve, and tony, and loki.

you were convinced it didn’t mean all that much for you at the moment, and tried to wave away another flitting thought that it should’ve been you. because the beautiful souls the world lost were so much more important than yours- at least that’s what you told yourself.

you weren't one to bring yourself down, not anymore. it was a long, hard road to get to where you were. happy, secure, not as confident as you would like, but confident. you knew you were important, the face of the little girl you saved once a constant reminder that you were. the giggle of the baby of the woman you had helped off the ledge, and the smile of the ten- year- old boy you saw every morning as you went to get your coffee, the boy that you rescued.

you knew your worth. you simply thought natasha had more. that tony had more, that loki had more (even against horribly popular opinion). so, yes, you wished that you had been the one that jumped off the ledge, the one that snapped their fingers, or the one that was brave enough (and, yes, possibly a little naive) to face thanos with only a blade.

you missed steve, but you understood. even when you didn’t, you did, and it brought you a sense of comfort you didn’t want.

bucky and natasha started dating long after you began to have feelings for him. you never told natasha, although you doubted anything would’ve changed if you had. it was cruel fate, truly, seeing your soulmate and the man you loved together. you couldn’t even hate his girlfriend, she was the best person you knew. so, you settled being the third wheel, the kiss bucky needed to get back into his senses and realize he loved natasha. the shoulder they both came to when the other wasn’t available. the second choice.

you weren’t even mad when you realized that was what you were. you understood.

another cruel understanding you didn’t want.

bucky was everything. he was the moon and the sun and the stars and the clouds. he was the flowers and the butterflies. he was everything.

but you were nothing, not to him, not compared to natasha.

it was truly a cutthroat realization that you loved him, you felt so stupid. how could you let yourself fall for his smile? his smell and his laugh? the crinkles around his eyes when he was happy? the tears that slid from his face and onto your shirt? how could you ever let yourself fall for the love of your life? correction- the love of your best friend’s life.

natasha deserved him. truly, she did, you knew that. he made her happy and she made him, and they both deserved happiness. true, wonderful, blissful happiness that made them high on nothing but each other.

but, god, did it hurt.

the kiss bucky pressed on your lips meant so much more to you than it did him. natasha and him had gotten into an ugly fight, where natasha had gone to get solace from a stranger at the bar, while bucky came to you.

bucky was pacing, hands tangled in his hair and his eyebrows crinkled in a way you found so beautiful.

your hands had held him steady, your lips saying soft, gentle, comforting words, and he had stared at you.

he told you you looked so pretty like that, in your t- shirt with no makeup, and he kissed you.

your body had lit up with fireworks, and you knew you should pull away. but he was tugging you closer and the smell that was purely him was making you dizzy. his lips were soft and cracked and beautiful. perfect and imperfect wrapped into perfect bucky barnes. his hands were on your waist, and he had pressed you against him so there wasn’t a millimeter of space between the two of you.

he told you it was a mistake the next morning, when he and natasha had made up.

one thing you realized quickly was that they got into a lot of fights. breaking up for at most a week before coming back to each other, fucking each other's brains out each time.

he always came to you before, though. he hugged you and pulled you to him when you were watching a movie on the couch. he would brush feather light kisses to your cheeks, and your forehead, and sometimes your lips. he made his goal to make you laugh and he always did because you would do anything he asked.

you hated yourself because you were putty in his hands, because he threw you away again each time he got back together with natasha. because she was your best friend and you were lying next to her on and off love.

you didn't care, as naive and painful as it was, the few moments you had with bucky when nat wasn't around were your favorite.

it was stupid.

you were stupid.

you didn't care.

natasha and bucky said i love you for the first time right before they went into battle with thanos. they held hands and nat screamed when he dusted.

you held her together with the pieces of tape you used to keep yourself together, and it wasn't very long before you started to break apart.

you were really surprised nobody had found out about your crush, seeing as there were so many soldiers, spies, geniuses and mutants constantly around you.

wanda was the hardest. your emotions and thoughts were so loud. especially about bucky.

she found out at some point, though, because she started to look at you with a worried look on her face that made you want to rip your hair out.

she knew you were crumbling, only pieces of yourself now.

it was you and natasha who decided to try and get them back, not ready to give up, never ready to give up on bucky and them.

the only reason you hadn't gone with nat to get the soul stone was because you went with thor and rocket. nobody trusted either of them enough and so you were the babysitter. it was fun though, until you got back and realized your life was gone.

you hated yourself, seeing as, if you had gone with her, maybe it would've been you. and she would've stayed in the world she finally found her place in. you were sure of that, too (again, cruel information), considering she told you countless times you were her soulmate. yes, she loved bucky. he was the love of her life, but you were it for her. she could grow old with you and only you because she loved you so much.

you loved her. she was, as she put it (like you did as well), your soulmate. it was such a beautiful and bitter thing. the fact that you were the exact same and she didn't know. you were more similar than she thought, and it was horrible.

but she was it for clint, too, though. unfortunately.

when bucky came back, you sobbed. tears ran through your face fast and hard and mercilessly. because you missed him so much but natasha was gone and you were in turmoil. he locked himself in his room alone for two days, then he let you in. you stayed with him for two weeks, during which he allowed steve in. then, steve left and he stayed in his room with you some more, until he was as okay as he could be. he grieved natasha with you, then steve. he grieved some more when you left for asgard, and then, somehow, he was okay. he had accepted the deaths and it was flabbergasting to you. you didn't complain, you could never. not about bucky.

after ten months, he told you he loved you. you had stared at him as the words you always yearned to hear slipped out of his perfect mouth in his velvet voice.

"y/n. you're my second chance. i think the universe or something finally realized how fucked up it's been for me and it gave me you," you didn't understand. you had been here this whole time.

"it gave me 'tasha, then it took her away, but, you- god, y/n. you're my second chance."

your heart had heard what it had been craving, but, you shook your head.

"no,” you whispered, blinking fast. “i'm your second choice.”

you were the person bucky went to when he couldn’t be with natasha, and you would’ve settled for that before, but not anymore.

“i'm not your second chance, bucky. i'm your second choice. it’s always been like this and i get it, okay? nat was amazing. she was beautiful and badass and perfect for you. i’m the step down and i get it. but that doesn’t mean i want to be."

bucky had stared at you as he realized you were right, and he hated himself for it.

[minachuuu]

BlackPink Reaction to Shy S/O Liking Cuddles

What best to unwind the mind than writing a fluffly short reaction. Thanks for requesting this!

Jisoo

Your relationship with Jisoo has never been big on physical affection. Mostly Jisoo isn’t really used to it and you are way too shy to ask for it. When you both first met, it was obvious there was an instant connection, but you were just two cute bundles of awkwardness trying to flirt with each other without the subtle touches. And even if you were too shy to make a move, she handled the verbal flirting pretty well, so it all ended working out in the end.

It all boiled down to one cold winter night, your girlfriend had come to your apartment to visit you on her free day, but ended up trapped in there because of a strong snow storm. Neither of you were really complaining because let’s be real, it meant more time together. And it would have been a lovely romantic night, if only the heater was functioning correctly. So there you were, both of you surrounded by tons of blankets each, trying to peacefully watch a drama.

It wasn’t until Jisoo noticed your teeth chattering and your whole body shivering, that a little light bulb turned on in her brain. 

“Open.” She demanded, nodding towards your nest of blankets.

“Are you crazy?” You answered back, incredulous. “I’m going to freeze to death!”

“Trust me!” She whined.

You opened your arms along with all the blankets covering you, the cold breeze starting to creep in. But Jisoo jumped straight into them with all her blankets too, tucking herself into you. A soft ‘Oh’ escaped from your mouth, your cheeks blushing at the gesture as you closed your arms around her. You both stayed there awkwardly and tense at first, but with the seconds passing, your body heats combined and you relaxed into each other’s embrace. The heater eventually started functioning again, but only layers of blankets were stripped as you stayed there, your new found favorite position to spend time with each other.

Jennie

If you thought you were shy, prepare yourself to discover that the Jennie from Blackpink can be as, or even shier than you. To the point where it was you who actually had to make the first step after days and days of just stealing glances at each other from a distance. You asked for her phone, you started talking and from there the rest is history.

As a shy and very gentle couple, you mostly stay within those gestures that you know the other is comfortable with. Hand holding, a spontaneous kiss on the forehead or temples, you cooked each other your favorite dishes, you visited her at practice, she delivered flowers to your apartment, you name it. You’re both really okay with the fact that your relationship is very casual, you value your domestic romance like no other. But we would be lying if we deny that sometimes you both yearned for a little more.

This one day you watched her from the couch as she was shuffling polaroids over your bed, her bright smile lighting a fire over you, when an impulsive boldness took over your thoughts. You stood up, marching towards her. You messed some of her polaroid arrangements as you climbed over the bed, earning a groan from her. But after you surrounded her shoulders with your arms, laying your chest on her back, a huge tint of red covered Jennie’s face.

“I’ll help you arrange those later, I promise.” You whispered as you buried your face in the back of her neck, tightening your embrace.

“Is everything okay?” She wasn’t used to this kind of affection, so she assumed there was something wrong at first.

“Yeah, I just wanted to cuddle my girlfriend. That’s all.” You softly answered. 

The red in Jennie’s cheeks intensified, as her cute smile grew even bigger across her lips. Turning her head to leave a tender kiss on your temple, she enfolded your arms in hers. If this type of thing happened when you got a little braver, maybe she would encourage you to be brave more often.

Rosé

Chaeyoung is a very cute girl, hands down. The instant your eyes laid on her you were hooked, and you're the luckiest person in the world because that feeling was mutual. And why 'lucky' you may ask? Because never in a million years you could have gathered the courage necessary to even speak to her. So she actually managed all the heavy work of approaching you at first, and asking for your phone, and asking you on your first date, and asking you to be her partner, and- you know what, you get the point. 

Of course that means she's used to it by now. Chaeyoung is the one to start most affectionate gestures and you're very much thankful about that because your shy personality sometimes gets in the way of your actual desires of dowsing your girlfriend in kisses and cuddles as she deserves it. 

Until one day, you hear her opening the door to your shared apartment and by the sound of her heavy steps you instantly know she didn't have a very pleasant day at work. You glanced at her as she laid down her guitar, not as gently as you were used to seeing. Then, she slumped in the couch next to you, rubbing her temples. Not sure of what force took over your body, you gently tapped Chaeyoung's shoulder, only for her to turn and see you there, with your arms and legs open wide, ready to welcome her in a cuddle. 

A giggle came out of her lips at the sight of your stiff posture, but she didn't delay a second into jumping into your embrace. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" You whispered. 

"Maybe later, for now I'm enjoying this one in a lifetime opportunity." She chuckled. 

"I might get used to it," You giggled back. "This is fun." 

And as a cherry on top that made Chaeyoung completely forget about all of her problems, you decided to place a kiss on her forehead. Maybe she needed to return home like this more often if that meant getting a good dose of cuddles from you. 

Lisa

This weird reputation preceded you everywhere you go, a silent killer, always lurking around. The big reality of it all was that you were just too shy to talk to anybody. So one could imagine the personality clash that was meant to happen when you met the human energy ball that Lisa is. But to everyone's surprise, you balanced each other perfectly. It wasn't long until you built a stable and cute relationship because of that.

With you being a very laid back person, Lisa learnt quickly to give you your space, and even when she is a very hands-on person, she respected that you weren't really that much of a touchy-feely kind of gal. But little did she know that you actually craved being cuddled, hugged and kissed and everything about it, you could hardly say any words, imagine asking for them? 

It wasn't until one day you decided to visit her at her dance practice. You enjoyed seeing your girlfriend in her element and couldn't help but fall a little more in love every time that you watched her perform with passion in her eyes. The rehearsal was over and she threw her tired body besides you on the couch, and just as a little monkey, she climbed on top of you, surrounding your chest in her legs and arms, before resting her head on your back. You gasped at her actions, paralyzing. 

"Oh, I'm sorry. I remembered you don't really enj-" She halted her movements when she realized you embraced her arms in yours. Tightening and pulling her closer. "Y/n?"

"You're so warm" You mumbled with the cutest tone available in your voice as you gently laid your back against her chest. 

"It's because I'm sweat- Oh. OH!" Lisa was ecstatic to say the least. She pulled you in closer in a strong motion, resting her head over your shoulder, giggling like an excited little girl. 

And I hope you really like cuddles cause Lisa won't be able to get her hands off you now that you showed her that you enjoy them. It makes her so happy to fill you with all the affection she can, and let's be honest, you don't complain about it either. 

[enjennie]

Bottom’s Up

synopsis: the dreamies during a night of drinking somehow end up talking about their exes, revealing the different types of relationships and exes they have or had.

a/n: this has been long been in my drafts so Jisung was still a minor here, thus I didn’t give him any drinks lmao. Enjoy! btw, I’m still deciding if I should make Haechan’s backstory for this, or if the markHyuck one should do…

[10:37]

The boys have arrived, piling into Chenle’s condominium that was set up just to have their long awaited guys night. They planned this weeks prior, promising each other that after their finals they’d set aside time to drink away their thoughts and release any stress they have that built up.

By 10:50 bottles have been popped and cups have been poured, the boys sat in the balcony to feel the cool air of the city night.

“You guys really aren’t sharing?” Jisung watches as the older boys raise their glasses in celebration.

“You wait a few more months, sir,” Mark sets his glass down and pats the younger boy on the shoulder. Guy nights wouldn’t be complete without Jisung, even if he wasn’t allowed to drink yet. He never minded sitting in the living room, playing with Chenle’s console with Jaemin and then later on laughing at his older friends’ shenanigans once the alcohol hit them.

Renjun isn’t quite the drinker, but Haechan made him a bet and unfortunately, he lost. Being an art major wasn’t easy, he knew he had a few more things to finish before his semester ended but with that, Renjun drank to forget.

Besides his plates, he had nothing else to worry about. He’d been getting emails from companies waiting for him to graduate, a family happy to support him, but surprisingly, the boy lacked in the love department.

His previous relationships, only being flings and one night stands, none of them really ever stayed after the cuddles. Except… a particular someone.

On the opposite side of him sat Jeno, who was watching his friends in amusement. Now, Jeno has a high alcohol tolerance. Although he becomes chatty, and starts to excessively clean his surroundings, he takes care of his friends well. Usually he’s the one who tucks them into bed or prevents anything like drunk driving and some other stupid shit to happen.

Jeno the architectural major was the responsible friend in a night out. The single friend who starts playing the guitar to set the mood when 2am rolls in. And, the single friend with the broken heart, which hasn’t quite mended yet even after three years.

Haechan on the other hand, is a messy drunk but handles his alcohol well until the 2nd bottle. The boy has a lot going on in his mind, and was the first to initiate the plan to drink.

His phone rings, but Haechan dismisses it, tapping the red decline button and watching as the screen faded into black. Mark follows his eyes and hesitantly brings it up.

“Aren’t you going to talk to her?”

Haechan only shakes his head before taking another swig. Everyone knows well enough about Haechan and his girlfriend’s on and off relationship. They break up, make up, fight and the cycle repeats.

Mark’s adam’s apple bobs as he asks another question. “Why don’t you just break up? Y’know… for good?”

The boys around them seem to have noticed the tension that built up and had their eyes fixed on the pair.

“I don’t know, man,” Haechan is too drunk to think about Mark’s question. Too drunk to realize how Mark completely sold himself off to be in love with him with that one question. It wasn’t a big secret, especially since Mark has done a poor job in hiding it, but apparently not bad enough for Haechan to see. Everyone knew, except for the clueless boy.

Jaemin was too busy babysitting Chenle, who was having his first drink tonight, to even have shots of his own. He didn’t like drinking, anyway, and used Chenle as an excuse to keep sober.

Jaemin the medical student naturally tells his friends to lay off the alcohol, as it can damage their liver. He can only do so much though, as the others tend to be hard-headed and stubborn.

“I can handle myself!” Chenle protests, reaching for his glass which Jaemin took away. “You’re supposed to drink, eat a lot then drink again,” Jaemin explains. “You’ve only taken drinks so far, you’ll be knocked out in an hour if you keep this up,” He tells Chenle.

Of course, Jaemin knew his way around drinking. He just didn’t enjoy it, doesn’t like the bitter taste of it. Didn’t like how it made him think of his past either. Jaemin’s cup remains half full, and he uses this tactic to not get refills.

It keeps him away from his phone, sober enough to know better than to drunk text her. Even if her presence was all he yearned for at a night like this.

Jaemin x Reader – By My Side

[COMING SOON]

[12:03]

As the night gets deeper, so do the conversations between the close friends. Just like Jaemin predicted, Chenle had his head down on the table already, passed out.

“Jeno, you know what to do,” Jaemin nodded his head, signaling the boy beside him. Jeno gave him his smile, which now looked more drowsy and silly because of his tipsy state.

Jeno lifts Chenle easily, with Jaemin assisting him, leaving the three boys on the table.

“I want ____. Where is she?” Chenle had his eyes closed, mumbling to his friends. Jaemin and Jeno exchanged looks and laughed at the younger.

Poor boy, had a ton of expectations to meet he couldn’t even date around.

Chenle’s main priority had to be his family, and their business. He couldn’t afford any distractions, but to him, she was more than that. She was his driving force, and it hurt the boy to be keeping her a secret. Only the boys knew about his secret relationship, if word got out that Zhong Chenle the son of the most well-respected corporate business owner was dating, it would be the entirety of Shanghai talking about it.

As much as he wanted nothing more than to show the world and tell everyone who he’s in love with, he knew she wasn’t ready to face it all and step into that kind of light yet.

Chenle x Reader – In The Limelight

While the two boys took Chenle into his room, it left the three boys and Haechan’s buzzing phone out in the cold night air that the terrace provided.

“What happened this time?” Renjun asks, in line with the phone that’s close to annoying the hell out of him if it doesn’t stop vibrating the entire table. Haechan had his head down, and he lets out a laugh. Humorless, just cold.

“I don’t get her. She wants me, then the next second she doesn’t,”

When the boy lifts his head, it’s made obvious of all the pain he’s been hiding. His eyes, teary and sullen. Renjun couldn’t help but laugh at his friend’s face, clapping his hands and throwing his head back in laughter. “Aw, c’mon man! It’s only 12am,”

This, however, doesn’t humor Mark the same way. Seeing Haechan in pain was like a bullet through his heart. He gave the boy a pat on the back and watches as his head fall once again. Mark swears he saw a tear fall too.

“I’m not just an object you can set aside, then use when needed,” Haechan continues to wail. Although he was already drunk, Mark felt that Haechan’s words were the most sober when he wasn’t.

As for Mark, the literature major didn’t care much about alcohol. However, it did get his creative juices flowing. Most of Mark’s best written pieces were done when he couldn’t even remember writing them.

During blurry nights intoxicated in alcohol, Mark’s thoughts flow easily through him and onto the sheets of paper that lie around his room. Sometimes, he’ll drink on a school night to get an essay finished for it’s due date the next day.

But seeing as he had no pending things to write, Mark drank for the sake of trying to numb himself somehow. Although it didn’t work well when the person he’s trying to get his mind off of is sat right beside him, thinking of someone else.

Mark x Haechan – Always, I’ll Care

[COMING SOON]

[1:13 am]

When Jaemin and Jeno came back, Jeno was already carrying a guitar. He strums it softly to a random tune he came up with on the spot. Haechan, of course, was singing along. Throwing in words like ‘baby’ and murmuring a few words about love. By now, Renjun’s cheeks were pink and a few hiccups had already escaped him.

“Do you remember that girl Jeno dated second semester of senior year?” he says, out of the blue.

The boys need not ask who, as they all knew who Renjun was referring to. The group of boys burst into fits of laughter and the guitar takes an abrupt stop as its player shoots his friends a nasty look for bringing up his past unprovoked.

“You were smitten, bro,” Mark smacks Jeno’s shoulder as he giggles.

Jeno daggers his eyes to Renjun, who has his head thrown back, laughing.

“How about you, huh? What was her name? _____-“ Jeno begins his avengement by mentioning the name he knew would get back at Renjun. He gets cut off shortly.

“I’ll stop you right there, sir,” Renjun places a hand over Jeno’s mouth before he could speak the name.

“C’mon, how many years has that been though?” Jeno asks after getting the boy’s hand off of his mouth.

“Two, and what about it?” Renjun defensively counters, surprising the other boys.

“He knows! Wow, do you keep count?” Jaemin chuckles, amusement all over his face.

“Shut up, ____ ,” Renjun points a finger at the male, mentioning the name of Jaemin’s past lover. Jaemin’s jaw drops and he crosses his arms,

“That was low,” The corner of his lips tugged into a smile nonetheless.

“C’mon, guys. It’s not like we’re releasing bad omens talking about our exes,” Haechan tugs on Renjun to sit him back down.

“Easy for you to say, you’ve only had one ex and she’s your girlfriend,” Renjun huffs. No one dared to speak the name of Renjun’s ex around him aside from people who have balls like Jeno, Jaemin, Haechan and Mark.

It wasn’t because he was bitter about her. But try as he might, there was a feeling within him that says she’s the one. Or she was. And Renjun was stuck, thinking about all the what if’s. Even after 2 years.

Renjun x Reader – To Be So Lonely [COMING SOON]

“I see things are getting heated over here,” Jisung stood by the door to the balcony now, with a sly smirk on his face.

“Ah right, let’s talk about mister lover boy over here,” Jeno motioned to the younger boy, who surprisingly is the only one to have a love life at the moment.

Jisung was courting the student body president. He could not, however, get her to answer him, but the boy never gives up.

“You must have some balls to hit on your senior,” Jaemin comments. The student body president was in fact two years older than Jisung, but the boy was determined.

Jisung x Reader – Like A Fool

[COMING SOON]

“At least one of us is progressing in terms of love,” Renjun sighed.

“Jeno’s doing well though, isn’t he? Lots of girls always after him,” Jisung gestures to the male beside him who’d started playing the guitar once again.

“I don’t think that counts as doing well,” Jeno mutters, absentmindedly.

“Oh yeah? And how does having half the school pine over you not count as doing well?” Jaemin lightly nudges his friend.

“Because the one I love, is in someone else’s arms right now,”

And cue the exaggerated crying and wailing of his friends, who’d given him sympathetic pats on the back.

Jeno x Reader – We Find Love

[COMING SOON]

“Oh, man,” grumbled Haechan, clearly already very intoxicated. He placed his head between his hands to try and stop his world from spinning. “I got to go to her, I have to say sorry,”

The boys all averted their eyes to the boy who looks to be having his spiritual awakening.

Mark’s heart dropped upon hearing Haechan’s words. He looked down at his hands and sighed. It wouldn’t be the first time Haechan had a sudden realization and wanted to be in his girlfriend’s arms right then and there.

It usually happened when he was smashed drunk, after the 7th or 8th cup. Asking his mates to take him home and running into the arms of his girl.

Mark didn’t know why he wasn’t used to it at this point. It isn’t and never will be him.

“No way,” Jaemin tutted. “You gathered us all here to drink and bothered us for weeks then you’ll flake midway? I don’t think so,” The other boys agreed.

Renjun stretched his arms and fell back onto the chair he sat on. “What’s with the sudden change of atmosphere anyway? It’s like we did release bad omens when we spoke about our exes,”

“You just had to bring ____ up!” Jeno threw a fry at his friend, who was the first to mention his ex and start the discussion. Renjun caught the fry in his mouth, surprising the boys and himself.

“Let’s just drink up,” Renjun raises his glass in the air, although it’s half empty.

“Nice try, here have a refill. We’re all taking equal shots,” Mark had risen and was now reaching for the bottle of beer to pour his friend’s glass.

“To… I don’t know- fuck! To getting fucked up!” Haechan yelled, raising his glass in the air.

The rest of the boys do the same, clinking glasses together and downing it mercilessly to their livers.

Relationships come and go, but the dreamies are always here to stay.

[slygirl666]

lack of self control pt. 1 (F.W)

A/N my first Fred x reader, technically a Slytherin reader agin but they are adults in this. Fred lives after  the war in this, because he shouldn't have died. 100% inspired by the song strawberry lipstick by YUNGBLUD was suposed to be a one shot but now it’s split into like 2 parts sorry

warnings: language really that should be it for this part, Smut in the next part can be a one shot

word count: 3,383

*

*

*

Fred and George spent the day interviewing witches and wizards to work at the shop. George was going to be on his honeymoon soon, him and Angielina planned on spending two months in Italy. The boys had been meaning to hire help for a while so it just made sense.  

George sat back with a sigh looking at the clock above Fred’s head. “Angie’s gonna kill me if i'm not back for dinner, can you take the last one on your own?” “Of course mate,” Fred smiled tiredly at George who packed up and left. It had only been two years since the war but to Fred, who nearly died it was like yesterday. His life felt like it's hardly moved since then, George would be getting married in two weeks, Ron was already married, Ginny was engaged. Maybe He’d be like Charlie and grow up alone doing what he loved.

Or not the man yearn for something new and exciting.

There was a knock on his office door, and that when you walked into his life...again

* * *

It was Fred's sixth year when he had first noticed you. You were just outside of Honeydukes with a group of giggling girls by your side. Someone had handed you a bright red lolli. He watched carefully as your face twisted into one of complete innocence before placing it on your tongue and pulling it into your mouth, then pulled it out of your puckered lips with an exaggerated ‘pop.’ after that he entered the store as you drowned in a fit of giggles handing the candy off to the girl next to you.

At that point Fred hadn't even known your name. What he did know was that you were enticing and he wanted to see more of you.

* * *

“Hello, Y/N Y/L/N.” you stuck out a hand.

“I remember we went to Hogwarts together.” Fred Gladly took your hand shaking it.

“I’m surprised the famous Fred Weasley remembers me. “ you  let out a laugh as she said his name.

“How could I not? I was a part of that little stunt you had pulled on Umbridge,” he laughed watching your face go red. “Although that was just as much as a surprise to me.”

  You hid behind your hand embarrassed. “Merlin, I can’t believe you remember that, I was so Bold back then.”

“No i think you really just wanted her to shut up.” he let out a laugh.

* * *

The First time Fred spoke to you was in detention, with Dolores Umbridge. You had been sitting at a desk writing your lines when she pulled the lanky ginger boy in by the ear. She had started him on his lines before she was called away for another ‘emergency.’

He remembered you from that Hogsmeade trip last year. “What are you in for?”

You took a second before turning to him, “she said my uniform was against regulations.”

He took her in noticing the silver and green tie around her neck. “There's nothing wrong with it.”

“Exactly.” you rolled your eyes annoyed. “I told her it’s not my fault I'm a little shapely, then she screamed out ‘detention’. And the last time I wore my pants to class, she said it wasn’t ladylike to wear trousers.”

Fred laughed, “I’m Fred Weasley by the way.”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you shook his hand.

It took another week before he saw you again, he was entering his DADA class as sixth years exited. Umbridge was calmly talking to you about how a young lady shouldn’t paint her face like a tart and she didn't want to see that in her class.

“You have no right to say that to a student,” your voice was scary and even. “You do not know me.”

“Maybe not miss Y/L/N,” she giggled. “But I do know of your reputation with the boys.”

Fred was a little concerned he went to put a hand on your shoulder fully intending to drag you out of that horrid women's classroom. You looked at him, eyes glimmering with mischief as you bit your lip.

“Right,” you nodded, voice turning sweet. “And my reputation says everything about me.”

Without a moment's hesitation you had pulled Fred by the tie for a fiery kiss. Fred couldn’t tell if it had been ten second or ten minutes when you pulled away. You licked your lips dragging the pad of your thumb across him bottom lip. “I got some of my lipstick on you.”

You pulled your thumb into your mouth walking away from a shouting Umbridge, laughing class and a dazed Fred.

* * *

You had gotten through the interview quickly. “Well Y/N, I’ll be talking with George tomorrow, if you get the job expect an owl in the next week or so.”

“Thank you,” you had gotten up going for another hand shake. “It was good to see you again Fred, hopefully it won't be the last time.”

Fred watched as you walked down the stairs to the front door, he mentally scolded himself feeling like a sixteen year old boy again. You hadn’t changed one bit. You still held yourself as though you knew you were desirable and you wanted to show it.

Fred mentally scolded himself, as far as he knew you were married or in a serious relationship. He sighed, closing up the shop.

It had taken two days for you to get an owl saying you got the job. You were ecstatic, you found a job, it didn’t hurt that you were working for the man of your school girl dreams as well.

You were called to the joke shop the day after for training, the twins were going to show you how to handle products and where everything went.

You had spent all day in the back room memorizing most of the products, when the crowd died down George had led you to the front of the shop where he showed you how to work the displays and demonstrations. It had been a long day and worse for the twins because they spent the day between you and their customers.

“I say you join us for a drink at the pub.” George smiled at her, “my Fiancé is meeting us there tonight.”

“George she just spent the entire day here i dont think she wan-”

“That would be lovely, I have no reason to be home so soon.” you raised your eyebrows at fred, “i could really use a drink too.”

“We’ll lead the way,” George smiled at her. The three of them went down the stairs where George locked the doors. He walked ahead of you and Fred, leading you to the exit of Digon Alley.

“Is it a muggle pub?” you whispered up to Fred who nodded at you.

“Muggle London is awfully busy on weekends.” he offered his arm. You linked your hesitantly through him. “We go here every few weeks for a few drinks, some of our family will most likely be joining us.”

You nodded at him, slightly intimidated by the idea of meeting a family full of famous people. By the time you three got to the pub there was already a rather large table with a generous amount of redheads.

They greeted Fred and George before noticing you.

“I never knew you had a girlfriend, Fred,” a thick French accent cut through the silence. Fred shook his head at her.

“Sweetheart, i think that's their new employee.” A man she recognized as Bill Weasley, give or take a few years since the last time she saw him, wrapped his arm around the pretty french woman.

“That is correct, im Y/N Y/L/N.” you waved rather awkwardly.

“Bloody hell aren’t you the girl who shagged someone on Umbridge’s desk before dropping out?” Ron went slack jawed as Hermione slapped his arm crying ‘Ronald.’

You snorted the Slytherin in you coming out, “is that really what they said? I just snogged your brother in front of the entire seventh year before entering private lessons.”

Ron’s jaw dropped. Angelina laughed, “Merlin, I remember that, we made fun of Freddie boy here for a whole month.”

“Yeah,” you laughed, then turned to Fred. “did I ever apologise for that?”

“No need to,” George chuckled. “Freddie thought about that day for years.”

“Then i'm not sorry,” you smirked at the amused crowd. Who started talking among themselves. They asked you questions about the time you spent out of Hogwarts and the brief time you were in the healer program.

You got along with the weasley family just fine. They eventually moved on to talking about family affairs. You got up feeling a bit awkward now. “I should get going.” some of the family playfully booed. “Sorry someone has to feed the cats at home.”

Fred got up letting you slide out of your seat, “see you tomorrow, Y/L/N.”

You nodded going to the bathroom to apparate out.

* * *

It was another week that went by fairly uneventfully, the Twins had given you a simple uniform guideline, of a pencil skirt or slacks, a plum button up and a dusty orange bowtie, colores both of them seemed to favor.

You were in the shop ringing up the last customer of the day when you heard laughter and yelling.

“George this isn’t funny,” you walked up the stairs curiously. “Mum s’ gone mad I swear. I’ve told her so many times, she doesn't have to set me up. I'm a grown man.”

“Fred, George,” you knocked softly on the door before opening it. “We're done downstairs, I wanted to be sure you two were fine.”

“Why don't you just bring Y/N.” George’s face lit up. “It would shut mum up.”

“George, don’t drag her into-”

“Into what?” you looked at the twins amused.

“Mum wants to set Fred up with her friend's daughter for my wedding,” George laughed. “Lovely girl, but exceptionally clingy and loud.”

“I’ve been ‘set up’ with her for most family events,” Fred groaned, “would you go?”

“Sure your family is lovely.” you shrugged. George laughed, “now I’m going home now, George just send me the details.”

You winked at the boys and walked out of the store.

“Freddy you’re drooling,” George let out another laugh.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have made the skirt an option.” Fred grumbled to his brother.

“Well look at the bright side, you have a date with one of the prettiest witches you know.”

Fred shoved his brother diving into paper work to distract his thoughts of you.

But you made sure to make that difficult for him wearing that skirt every day you could, it was hard not to notice his stare that traced every curve of your body when he thought you weren’t looking.

The wedding was tomorrow meaning the shop would be closed for the rest of the weekend. George being busy ment you and Fred were stuck at the shop alone. You sat on the counter cross legged as you and Fred looked at the store layout next to you, you two were preparing for the back to school rush that was sure to happen.

“Well if the Pygmy puff sells a lot with the female crowd, what if we put a love potion display across from it. You know just a little push.” you leaned closer to the paper then looked to Fred.

“That is a wicked idea.” he looked up at you, “where have you been! Georgie and i always wonder where to put the love potions this time of the year.”

“You boys just needed a womens’ touch.” you giggled catching a red painted lip between your teeth.

Fred looked up at you, you were only inches away from each other, he audibly swallowed eyes moving from your lips to eyes. “Yeah I think we found it.” he got close, you could feel his breath on you before muttering a “to hell with it.”

Just then he kissed you. It was a soft gentle kiss so you would have the s[ace to move away, but you didn’t want to. Bringing your arms up to his neck pulling him closer. He tasted like sweet coffee.

Eventually you needed air. The separation seemed  to bring the two of you back to reality. You giggled at him, his eyes were half lidded, lips smeared with the vivid red you had on your own. You took your thumb whipping it across his lips, showing him the red. “I got some of my lipstick on you.”

He laughed, “it wouldn't be the first time.”

“Uh yes,” You smiled at him getting off the counter. “I should get going, I'll see you tomorrow Fred.”

You walked out realizing that tomorrow would be a very interesting day.

* * *

You paced in your apartment in muggle London. You were dressed in a pale green sundress, you looked in the mirror adjusting it, the dress fell just above your knees but the neckline was rather daring considering your chest size was generous. You had given your hair a light curl making sure it covered your back to hide your battle scars. With some shimmery eye makeup and that same red lipstick you wore when you wanted to feel confident you were ready for George’s wedding. That you were going to, with Fred. Your boss, who you kissed last night.

“Merlin,” you muttered, going for a shot of firewhiskey to calm your nerves. There was a rhythmic knock at your door.

Fred was at your doorstep ready to escort you to the Burrow for the wedding, you agreed to go early so his mother believed he had a date. Plus he was the best man he needed to be there early.  

“You look rather dashing,” you gave him a once over he was wearing a button down, rolled up to his elbow and a black vest and bowtie.

“And you look exceptionally pretty today,” he smiled at you. Holding a hand out for you. You didn't hesitate to grab it, he pulled you close. He took his wand out then there was a familiar nauseous pull in your stomach.

You and Fred  landed outside of the tallest most spectacular building you’ve ever seen. “It’s not much but it's home.” he smirked at the look of awe on your face.

Not letting go of your hand he guided you inside.

A plump redhead woman with grey streaks in her hair excitedly walked towards you. “You must be Freddies date.” she pulled you in for a hug.

“yes , Ma’am, Y/N Y/L/N.” you went a bit rigged at the sudden hug.

“Oh, none of that. Call me Molly,” she let you go eyes searching every inch of you. “You’re a pretty thing aren’t you. I almost thought Georgie was lying when he said Fred had a plus one.”

She laughed, you stifled a giggle as Fred whined at his mother. The woman turned to fuss over him, it was funny he was a giant compared to her, yet he still managed to look like a disgruntled five year old as his mother fixed his tie.

The ceremony was short and sweet, something you were thankful for, it took all of thirty minutes for the bride and groom to say ‘I do.’ the thing you weren't expecting was to sit at the family table. They served appetizers as guests mingled. You looked in awe as all the weasleys talked and laughed together all around you.

“They are really something else, aren’t they,” Harry potter sat next to you looking amused. “I had that same look on my face the first time I came here, about ten years ago.”

“They're all so close,” you smiled fondly. “Im Y/N Y/L/N, by the way. It's nice to officially meet you.” He smiled, shaking your hand.

Soon Fred was called to give as Speech as dinner was being served, “Hello, I am Fred Weasley the handsomer of the Weasley twins. But we aren't here to discuss that were here to congratulate Angelina and George. So George has known Angelina since first year and was completely in love with her by fourth year, not that he'd admit it. So i tried to push him during our school days, i even asked her on a date at some point, which caused a row but he was to dence to say anything.” Fred took a deep breath, “it only took ‘round twelve years but were here now, and that's what matters.”

People clapped, Fred held up a hand, “by the way we switched suits before the wedding, Angelina you are now legally Mrs. Fred Weasley.”

“He’s missing an ear you dumbass,” Angelina laughed, the crowd of people joining her.

You were amused when you had talked to your own family; they were rather cold, always talking about how the marriage will bring a long line of great purebloods to come. This was about family though. It was rather charming.

The rest of the wedding went on with warmth and adoration soon everyone was joining the newlyweds on the makeshift dance floor. Fred held a hand out for you, taking a large gulp of wine, you gladly took it to join the rest.

“So, are you enjoying yourself?” Fred playfully spun you around before pulling you back to him to resume swaying dramatically.

“yeah , everyone is lovely,” you smiled up at him. You couldn't help but laugh at his exaggerated movements.

The two of you playfully danced to a song you had never heard before, Fred continued hid goofy slow dancing. Eventually he dipped you causing another fit of laughter. When the song ended he led you to a table. “I’ll go get you another drink.” he winked and walked towards were they served the drinks.

Ginny Weasley sat at the table, her heels in front of her on the table as she looked you up and down. “So, a girl can finally keep up with Freddie,” she smirked as your face heated up.

“Were just friends,” you protested.

“Sure, sure.” She shook her head as Harry came and sat next to her.

“Gin, stop teasing,” he rubbed her shoulders affectionately.

“You can’t tell me what to do harry,” she gave him a playful look. “Plus he deserves it. Do you know how many years he gave me grief about you.”

Fred returned with two glasses of wine. “Hope they aren’t giving you a hard time.”

“I told you no need to worry,” you rolled your eyes. “Seriously, your family is absolutely lovely.”

The rest of the night went by with a few more glasses of wine, and more silly dances. By the end of the night you were a bit more than tipsy.

“We have extra room here, Freddie,” Molly smiled at her son as he talked about flueing you home.

“Mum, we’re going to go,” Fred groaned at her. “Comon, we’ll flu to my flat then get you home.”

Fred led you to the fireplace.

You got to his flat above the Joke shop, he didn’t want you apperateing drunk.

“You can take the bed, I think I have some sweats or something you could borrow.” he scratched his head walking over to the dresser.

“It’s fine Fred I can take the couch,” he handed you a pair of sweats and a plain shirt. You put the sweats on, they hugged your hips a bit because Merlin, this man is skinny. You struggled reaching for the zipper. “Can you help with the dress?”

You heard his footsteps get closer to you. He gently pushed your hair over your shoulder, slowly trailing the zipper down. His eyes followed the skin that was exposed. You could feel them on the large gash scar across your back.

“I got it during the battle,” his hand traced it. “That was the day I was officially deemed a blood traitor.”

You turned to look at him,  his eyes met yours, hands finding his way to your hips, turning you to face him. “I have my fair share of scars from it too, want to see?”

He licked his lips, eyes shining as you nodded at him. That's when he broke pulling you in for a searing kiss.

[unholyobsessions]

Oblivious Memories

Pairing: Julie x Luke

Description: The Universe is in charge of soulmates and making sure they meet. They have never met anyone as oblivious as Julie and Luke. 

Read on ao3

Warnings: none 

Word Count: 2.3k 

Masterlist

For my jatp secret valentine @vividblues262 I hope you enjoy this and you have a as good of a time reading it as I had writing it. thank you to @screwunsaidemily for organizing this! @jatpsecretvalentine​

The Universe is a powerful being. They create many great and beautiful things but the one they are revered most for, is soulmates. Each person is assigned someone who they are meant to be with. One just isn’t complete without their other half. 

According to everyone, you just know who your soulmate is. There is no specific experience. Some claim to see a string connect their wrists, others say it’s like seeing color for the first time, and others say it feels like your heart stops beating only for it to start again with the same beat as their person. 

Each soulmate meeting is unique, and the Universe admits, each pair is different. Some more stubborn than others to meet their person. So getting some people together is harder than others. 

But the Universe has never had a harder, more oblivious pair than Julie Molina and Luke Patterson. 

. . .

Julie Molina hasn’t met her soulmate but she doesn’t worry, she knows it will happen when the time is right. She traces the tattoo on her forearm, the black music notes that stand out against her white t-shirt, as she lets her mind drift on the topic.  

Julie doesn’t know what she’ll experience but she hopes it will be memorable. 

Lost in thought, she doesn’t hear the footsteps echoing down the hall and toward her room until the door slams open. 

Flynn stomps in, fingers plugging her ears and Carrie follows behind her, clearly annoyed at her girlfriend’s antics. 

“Damn it Flynn just listen to me!” Carrie exclaims. “Julie tell her to listen to me!” 

Julie simply stares at her two best friends, rolling her eyes and shrugging her shoulders. Flynn won’t listen to her and whatever Carrie did to get her to act childish is not her problem. 

“La la la la la,” Flynn chants, getting louder with each word. And Julie had promised herself a long time ago that she would not get involved in their fights. They’re soulmates and should know how to figure it out themselves, but Flynn hasn’t been in her room for two minutes and she’s already getting on her nerves. 

Julie stands with a sigh, walking over to Flynn and yanking her arms apart. “Flynn! Stop yelling,” she commands. Flynn immediately pouts and starts mumbling about Julie being unfair and taking sides. 

Julie ignores her best friend and turns to Carrie, who has already made herself comfortable on the beanbag next to her desk. “What’s going on?” Carrie starts explaining what happened between her and Flynn but Julie shakes her head to stop her. “No not that. I mean why are you here? I thought you guys were busy today.” 

Flynn pulls her arms from Julie’s grip and goes to sit next to Carrie, seemingly forgetting that they were arguing not five minutes ago. “We were busy, but then the museum got boring so we decided to come here to drag you out of your room. We’re getting coffee.” Flynn isn’t asking, and Julie has learned to recognize when she won’t win. So, she pushes her feet into a pair of sneakers, too lazy to untie and retie the shoe laces, and slips on a cardigan over her dress. 

Julie shouts a goodbye to her dad and linking her arms with her friends’, they all make their way to their favorite coffee shop a few streets away. It’s crowded, as it usually is on Saturday afternoons. The tables are filled with students typing away at their computers, attempting to finish essays at the last minute. The booths are filled with friends, gossiping and laughing together. Julie is dragged to the counter, where she orders her usual vanilla iced latte, smiling politely at the barista. 

Leaning against Carrie’s side, Julie looks around the shop as she waits for her drink. She finds herself looking at the corner booth, crowded with four boys discussing something she couldn’t quite hear. One of them is hunched over a notebook, lip between his teeth and pencil tight in his hands. Julie stares, intrigued by the brunette. He lifts his head, eyes closed and mumbles something under his breath. When he opens his eyes, they stare right at Julie and she feels her stomach twist with embarrassment. Before she can turn away and try to forget the interaction ever happened, he smiles at her and goes back to writing in his notebook. 

Julie’s stomach twists again, but with a completely different feeling. Flynn snaps her out of her daze by placing her iced latte in her hands. Julie thanks her and allows herself to be dragged outside, rolling her eyes when Flynn says that she wants a new jean jacket. Conversation distracts her as she walks away, not allowing her to dwell on the foreign feeling. 

The Universe frowns down at them. What just happened? They’ve been putting both of them in the same rooms for years and they never even acknowledged each other’s presence. And when they do, they ignore each other? Did they not feel it? The pull toward their soulmate? 

The Universe sighs, frustrated. They will have to work a little harder on this pair. 

. . .

A week later, Julie is at the mall with Flynn, helping her find a pair of sneakers to match the jacket she bought the week before. The store they’re in is small, with white walls and red accents. It’s inviting, so it’s no wonder this is the first one they visit. Julie makes a beeline for the benches, and tells Flynn where to find her when she is ready to model the shoes she’s chosen, if she finds any that ‘call to her.’ 

She scrolls through her phone, mindlessly liking posts on instagram, leaving a comment here and there and entering a couple of giveaways. A loud laugh makes her head snap up and her heart flutter. She doesn’t recognize the voice but there is a yearning within her that she doesn’t recognize. Twisting her head, trying to find the source of the beautiful noise she sees the guy from the coffee shop with an arm slung over his leather jacket clad friend.

His smile is blinding and Julie doesn’t want to look away, no matter how much she knows she should. He says something back to his friend that causes the dark haired male to push the brunette away. The push lands him in Julie’s way as he stumbles into the bench. 

On instinct, Julie grasps his arm in order to stop him from hitting the floor. Their eyes meet and Julie’s heart screams, but neither attempt to make a move, or even speak to each other. 

The Universe smiles. Finally. Nothing can get in between them now. They’re in front of each other. They’re touching. They have to know. But then. 

Flynn’s voice reverberates across the store as she says that nothing spoke to her. Willing herself to stand up, Julie averts her gaze and walks away, not understanding why her chest feels like it will burst open with every step she takes.

The Universe could scream. Just how hard will they have to try to get these two idiots together. They didn’t make a mistake. There is no such thing as soulmates who aren’t meant to be, whether they be platonic or romantic. No, these two are just too dense and oblivious for their own good. 

Time for plan C, the Universe decides.  

. . .

The club is packed. Sweaty bodies push against her and Julie crinkles her nose. She doesn’t normally frequent clubs, especially places as packed as this one, but Flynn and Carrie dragged her out tonight (as they do every weekend) because apparently this up and coming band is playing tonight and they are sure that she will love them. 

Julie doesn’t doubt that she will, there is hardly a genre of music that she doesn’t enjoy, but she much prefers to listen to them from the comfort of her room, or anywhere else that doesn’t require her to interact with drunk people who keep pushing her. 

She is not really listening to Flynn and Carrie’s conversation, only nodding whenever it seems appropriate. It isn’t long till the lights dim even more than before and a spotlight lights up the stage. Four guys jog up the steps and the crowd screams joyfully. 

They all get ready and as soon as the drummer counts them in, the song starts. The lead singer looks up and Julie stops breathing. He starts singing and her sight goes black. Suddenly, memories that she is sure aren’t hers start flashing before her. 

A young boy getting his first guitar. 

Him meeting his friends and making a pact with them.

The same boy, older now, writing his first song. 

The boy laying on his bed, fingers brushing against the tattoo on his forearm, identical to hers.

Starting a band with his best friends, his brothers. 

She sees him fight with his mom, loose a relationship so important to him.

She sees him breakdown as he pedals down the street.

He’s there at the mall, the record store, the ice cream parlor, the bowling alley. 

He’s always there. Moments she’s shared with the people in her life, he’s always there. So close but just out of reach. 

Then it’s him meeting her eyes at the coffee shop. Their moment at the shoe store. 

The pictures start flashing faster now and it’s harder for Julie to make out what they are but what is clear to her is that it’s her, growing old with the brunette. With Luke. 

His name is Luke, and he is her soulmate. 

And even though she has never heard their music before, she starts singing. The lyrics of the song written by Luke coming naturally to her. It’s the first time she’s sang in over a year and it feels like a breath of fresh air. 

Luke suddenly can’t hear anything. His bandmate’s instruments fade out and all he seems to be able to hear is an angel-like voice, coming from somewhere in the crowd. 

His eyes search for the source and once he locks eyes with the girl his vision goes black. 

He sees a girl, sitting next to her mother on a piano bench as she makes an attempt to play. 

Then he sees her again, sitting with another girl on the playground, and as all the other kids are playing, they’re performing a song. 

The girl is older now, playing the piano keys in a perfect melody. Her mom is still sitting next to her and she’s smiling down at her. 

She’s in the hospital, carrying her little brother for the first time.

The girl is sitting on the piano again, this time alone and there are tears streaming down her face. 

He sees her loose her mom and therefore her music. He sees her not even hum for over a year. 

Then he sees himself, walking past her, not noticing her. She’s everywhere. That time at the beach with Reggie, she was there, playing with her family. 

His walks down sunset boulevard with her only a few feet away. How could he not notice her? How could he possibly miss her when she shines brighter than anything in the world?

But he notices her now, and he will keep noticing her in the future, as images of her growing old with him and making music together flash before him. 

He comes back to reality to see her still looking at him, singing, and he realizes that he missed his cue, but he doesn’t care, because nothing matters more than the beautiful girl, Julie, who has taken his breath away. 

Julie, his soulmate. 

His tattoo stings and he winces, finally breaking eye contact with Julie to look down. The music notes are glowing and when he looks back up he notices Julie’s are too. 

The music continues and he wonders if everyone is witnessing the moment or if only him and Julie can see. His next verse is coming up and he knows he can’t miss another one so he leans forward to his mic and starts singing, not taking his eyes off of Julie. 

She stares right back, singing the lyrics loudly and passionately. The show continues much the same and if he were to ask anyone, they would say it is the damn best he has ever played. Once it’s over he runs off stage and out the back door, planning to make his way to the front of the bar. He runs down the alleyway and crashes hard into another body. 

Lifting his arms to steady the person, his heart stops. She’s there, standing in front of him, looking up through her lashes and he does the most drastic and impulsive thing he has ever done. 

He kisses her. He kisses her because he is so sure that he would die on the spot if he didn’t. And Julie kisses him back.

Luke cups the back of her neck as she tangles her fingers in his hair. After a couple of seconds, or maybe years, they pull away. 

“Hi,” he whispers. 

“Hi,” Julie responds. 

“I’m Luke,” his voice is much too breathy, and he is still attempting to get his lungs to work properly. 

“Julie,” she doesn’t sound much better. 

They both smile and then burst out laughing. 

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say,” Luke admits once he has calmed down. 

Julie shakes her head. “I would say that we should get to know each other but I just saw your whole life played out, which by the way I have never heard of it happening.” 

Luke’s smile widens. “Well I have also never heard of soulmates meeting and not realizing they are soulmates so I think we’re just special.” 

“Yeah,” Julie says resting her head against his chest and listening to the beat of his heart matching hers. “I think we’re special too.” 

The Universe leans back, smiling down at the pair. They were a hard one, possibly the hardest they’ve ever had to do. But as they study them, already falling in love with each other without having to even say much, they know that it was worth it. The Universe wasn’t ready for Julie Molina and Luke Patterson, but they are now and the whole world better get ready. 

[pennyserenade]

for the ask game:

of all the things I’ve loved

send me a title & i'll tell you what i'd write

The other night when I had too much time on my hands, I re-organized my yearning playlist to play like a love affair would. It goes from songs that represent the really intoxicating and dizzying feeling of new love; to a more mature love, one that's still fun and exciting, but with a more refined edge to it - it's sensible; to songs that represent love that is a bit more shaky and uncertain, like these two people have hit a patch were they've become disenchanted by their own love; to reconciliation, where they realize they do still love each other. It's finished off with the realization by these two people that they really do belong together, in a very serious way, like no matter what happens or where they go, or who else they love, this is the love they were meant for. They realize that they were born to be with one another and that they have lived for the other person for as long as they can remember. I think for a title like "Of All The Things I've Loved" I'd write a story like that, with Javier Peña as the guy.

I'd probably have Javi and this girl weave in and out of each other's lives. They meet and they date in Laredo for a long time, maybe even before Javi dates and decides to marry Lorraine, and they stop dating because she goes off to college in another state. They were sick on each other, but she was sensible and he wasn't cruel enough to chain her to a place he didn't even want to be, so they broke up and they moved on. Javi goes to Colombia and forgets about his life in America, and she gets a good job working on movies, perhaps as a casting director, and that keeps her away from home. But then, life happens again, first for him, with the second Colombia trip of Javi's going miserably, and then hers, with the death of her father.

They both find each other again in Laredo, at the unfortunate setting of her father's funeral. Javi doesn't make any passes to her because it's a funeral, but they acknowledge each other at the wake and he says how sorry he is about her dad, and she asks him if he'd like to go for coffee sometime later that night because she's in need of a break from everything. He says yes and they do it, and he gets a nice, warm feeling from being in her company, so he asks her if she'd like to come for dinner at Chucho's sometime. She agrees, and it happens like that--a string of casual dates that lead up to them seeing each other regularly. They don't have sex the first week or the second, or even the third, but eventually they get around to it, and Javi feels very good about waiting because she's lovely and he wants to take her as seriously as he can.

They begin dating. He lets Chucho talk about it in town and he calls her his girlfriend, even though he feels too old to be calling people that. Javi doesn't feel panicky about the relationship getting serious, either; he likes that he feels that he has something to look forward to all the time now and she makes him laugh more than anyone else, and the sex isn't half bad either. However, life offers him a cruel awakening one night when they're out at one of those family parties everyone seems to be throwing in Laredo, and he mentions to her that he wouldn't mind getting married sometime. He mentions it casually because they've been dating for awhile and his dad has him thinking about it. She says she doesn't mind the idea either, but she's got to go back to California soon because of her job. Javi's just got settled back in Laredo with his dad, and he doesn't think he can go to California at the moment.

She does go back to California, but they stay together. They call each other and at first it isn't half bad, but then Javi starts to get restless and worried and she gets angry at him for wanting her back when her life is there. Maybe they break up, or maybe they stay together but don't talk as much. Whatever it be, it's not a good time for them and it makes Javi feels awful because he really loves this girl.

Eventually he comes around to the idea of California and he tells her this. He goes, and he lives with her out there, and it's nice. He gets a job helping with horses for movies because of her and she continues doing what she's always done, except she's a lot less lonely. One night over dinner that he's cooked for them both, he asks her to marry him, and she says yes, but then she asks if they can do it now--just go off and get married right after dinner.

While this very fast marriage is happening, both of them look at each other and think of how nice it is to be this in love. Out of all the things they've loved before, this is the finest, most perfect version.

[catxsnow]

I’M BATMAN B.W.

Request: Can I request a Bruce x reader fic? Where Bruce and the reader are together for a while. Bruce thought it would be just like his old flings but he realises that he's fell in love with the reader so he decides to tell her he is Batman. And during the confession he starts with "I am..." and the reader finishes with "Batman!" as a joke but then of course it turns out to be not a joke. After that an awkward but emotional conversation ensues. Whether you write it or not, thank you!

Warning: mentions of sexual content, fluff

A/N: I’m sorry that it’s taking me so long to get some of these requests out! I promise you they’re being written! 

Also the second I watch the New 52 animated movies I am the BIGGEST Bruce Wayne whore. One look at this motherfucker and I am WEAK

GIF not mine

Word count: 2.1k

When you first started seeing Bruce, it was nothing but casual. He would show up to your apartment or you to the manor, you'd spend your couple hours together tangled between his sheets and then both of you would continue on with your day. You were a fling, and at first, you loved it.

Bruce Wayne wasn't just the richest person in the Gotham, he also had to be the hottest too. For you to catch his eye was a mystery upon itself. You met him at work and had just luckily stumbled into him when you were walking through Wayne Enterprises. It was rare to ever see him while you were working.

Apparently you made enough of an impact on him for him to ask you if you would like to see each other that night. The look in his eyes had made you agree without even hesitating. Least to say, Bruce found out he like your bed more than he was expecting to.

It was nearly a year that the two of you would have casual sex. Never staying the night, never talking about what the hell was going on between the two of you. It was all fine and dandy until Bruce started getting you to stay over at the Manor. It wasn't very often that you would, but during the times that you did, you found yourself gaining feelings for him that you had managed to avoid the entire year.

You were smitten with Bruce and he saw you as nothing but a fuck.

Or so you assumed. Bruce wanted more with you. He didn't want this casual relationship anymore. It was so easy to talk to you about anything, even if you didn't know everything in his life. Bruce found a comfort in you that he didn't have in a long time. He found love in you.

It wouldn't be late nights that you would see each other any more. Bruce would find you while you worked and offered to go buy you lunch. Lunch dates turned to dinner dates which turned to him asking you to be his girlfriend. You felt giddy like high school girl again when he started to spoil you.

Your periodically timed sex with him turned into a full blown relationship. Down to the 'I love you' and the 'I want you to meet my kids'. Things with Bruce Wayne had become more serious than you ever imagined they would be. At the start of this, you always assumed that he would get tired of you and move on. He was the biggest playboy in Gotham.

You were surprised that you were the person to get him to change his ways.

That night, you and Bruce laid in his bed. The two of you half naked with a thin layer of sweat covering your bodies. You traced random little shapes into his skin as he stared up at the ceiling. You could tell by the way that his eyebrows furrowed that he was deep in thought.

"Penny for your thoughts?" You asked, sitting up right in the bed so you could see his face properly. The sheets were pulled up your chest as you reached for the shirt that he had previously been wearing. Bruce watched as you pulled the material over your head.

"I love you," he answered. Bruce was very cut off from you sometimes. You felt like you knew him pretty well, but then there were times that you felt like you didn't know him at all. Of course you knew about his childhood and his parents, you figured that was why he was so reserved sometimes. You learned not to pry, if he wanted to tell you, then he would.

"I know," you smirked at him. Bruce trailed his hand up your bare leg until he reached your waist. "But seriously, Bruce. You've been more quiet than usual, what's going on?" You were worried about him. It had only been a few years that you guys were together - half of that being just hooking up - but that didn't mean that you didn't know him well enough to see when he was conflicted about something.

Bruce said nothing. The pad of his thumb swiped against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps. No matter how many times he touched you, he had the same affect that he had on you in the beginning.

You didn't push him to say what was on his mind. Bruce was a man of many secrets, that was just something that you were forced to learn to accept. You had your arguments about it, the bickering. The 'where were you last night' fights. All of them ended with Bruce assuring you that he loved you, and only you.

"I want to tell you something," Bruce finally caved. He was propped up on the pillows he had on the bed. His one hand still lingered on your skin and the other was tucked behind his head. The turmoil he had within himself about telling you the truth was eating him alive. You were the person that he wanted to spend his future with, meaning you needed to know the truth.

He just hoped that you felt so strongly about him as well. It wasn't often that either of you brought up the future, each to scared for your own reasons to see if the other was as committed. Of course you loved Bruce, you wanted to spend your life with him, to marry him one day. But he was so closed off, you couldn't tell if he ever wanted the same as well.

"So tell me," you continued for him when he took a pause. Bruce's eyes were filled with worry, doubt, you could tell that he was hesitant to tell you this. You pried his hand away from your waist and entangled your fingers. His hands felt so large in yours, years worth of callouses laced them.

"There's no easy way to tell you," Bruce tried to get you prepared. He felt your grip on him tighten before easing up again. Your heart rate was rising with nerves and you were terrified with what he was going to say. There was an endless list of possibilities and each one of them ended poorly for you. He was after all, a well-known playboy. "I am..."

"Batman!" You joked. As you laughed, you could see that his face was not only shocked but nearly... proud? Bruce's eyes darted away from you for a moment and your face dropped. You had only been joking to lighten the mood. Fear of what he could say clouded you and you blurted out the first thing that you thought would make you laugh.

But here Bruce was, shying away from you gaze and his hand limp in yours. You expected the worst from him - he was cheating on you, he didn't love you - and you were willing to say anything to stop your heart from racing out of your chest. But now, seeing the look on his face, what he wanted to tell you was nothing that you expected.

"Wait..." you trailed off. Your playful attitude washed away and quickly turned into a whole new kind of worry. Bruce Wayne, Batman? The more you thought about it the more it made sense. His sudden disappearances, his scars, his adoption of kids even lined up with the change in Robins. "That wasn't seriously it, was it? Bruce you're joking, you're not really Batman are you?"

"I'm Batman," Bruce confirmed. He was telling the truth. As much as he hid things from you - and now you could see why - he never lied to you. You sat their with your mouth agape, still processing his words. Your boyfriend, the loving and caring man that took care of you when you needed him was the same person that risked their life every night and mercilessly beat up criminals.

You needed a minute to process all that. After living in Gotham your whole life you had heard the rumors of the bat, at first you didn't believe them until you had seen him on the news. You never had the luxury of meeting him, and to be honest you were glad you didn't. He had always scared you.

Someone who went against psychopaths like Joker and Two-Face had to be some what insane.

Bruce watched you get off the bed and pace around him. You felt small under his gaze, the sudden information made you realize that he could squash you like a bug if he so wanted to. You were already intimidated by how fit he kept himself but knowing that he was Batman as well? That made you feel incredibly weak.

You guided your hands through your messy hair, unable to think clearly. All your thoughts were jumbled as you tried to piece everything together. The night at the gala that he had suddenly left you - the same night that Batman had put Bane in Arkham. The time that he had a bruise on his jaw and assured you that he had just been a klutz.

Bruce keeping so many things from you - this had covered just about every mystery there was to him. He kept you in the dark for so long because he not only wanted to protect his identity, but you. If he was telling you now, that meant that he must have wanted to keep you around for a while.

As you heart swelled with love rather than betrayal, you had finally stopped your pacing. Bruce had sat on the edge of your bed with nothing  but his underwear and tired eyes. He yearned for your touch, to comfort you through this revelation. However, he also could understand if you never wanted to see his face again.

Not everyone believed in the Batman.

Lucky for him, you did. Bruce was caught off balance as you pounced on him. His back fell against his bed and you straddled over top of him. Bruce trailed his hands up your bare legs to your hips as you kissed him. All those nights worrying what he was doing, you should have been worried about his life.

"I want to see it," you pulled away. "The legendary batcave. Prove you're really the bat." A coy grin played on your lips. Bruce knew that face, he knew what kind of trouble it could lead to. The last time he had seen that face, you had dragged him into his work office and gave him the best head of his life. This time, the circumstances were a little different.

Bruce nodded at you. He shoved on a pair of pants and lead you out of his room and towards the study. You watched as he opened the face of the old grandfather clock and pulled one of the dongles. A loud clicked echoed through the manor and the clock suddenly opened. No way.

Bruce gestured for you to follow. Your bare feet padded against the cold steps. He held your hand the whole way down, ensuring that you wouldn't fall. Bright lights shone through the dark cave and you were amazed by the room. Batman was truly equipped for anything. The space was incredible.

The suit Batman wore was on a mannequin in one of the glass cases. You stood before it, having to gaze up at it's glory. Bruce stood behind you, perfectly eye level with the cowl. He was Batman.

"Bruce this is incredible," You gawked. "I can't believe you trust me with this secret."

"Of course I trust you," Bruce assured. "You're the love of my life. If I want to spend a future with you,  you need to know all parts of my life." He continued to shock you that night - wanting a future with you as well? Bruce Wayne was full of surprises and you didn't think that you could handle anymore that night.

"I love you, too," You turned to face him. Once again, you had to stand on your toes to peck his lips. Bruce didn't realize how much weight was off his shoulders now that you knew the truth. He was tired of tip toeing around you all the time.

"Will you take me for a ride in the batmobile?"

"If you would like."

"Will you let me drive it too?"

"Don't push your luck."

[destiniesfic]

i hate everybody (but maybe i don’t) 1/3

This is my @jurdannet​ & @jurdannetrevels​​ Secret Snusband gift for @sevenfreckles-for-sevenloves​​! You tapped into a story I’d been wanting to write for ages, so you get three parts and three POVs (Vivi, Cardan, and Jude). Happy Holidays, I hope you like it. ♥ Thanks to @xdarkofthemoon​ for betaing!

This fic is rated E. Content warnings this chapter for excessive alcohol consumption, references to alcoholism, and (prescribed) antidepressant use.

Read on AO3 or read below:

Bars in Barcelona are not especially different from bars in the US. It’s a discovery Vivi has made over the course of her study abroad tenure: everything is different on the outside, but on the inside, not so much. She does like the outsides, though. She likes the tidy streets, the way the buildings don’t rise to blot out the sun as they have a habit of doing in American downtowns. She likes the cozy sameness of the facades, broken by the whimsical surprise of the odd Gaudí contribution. Like a lot of the European cities she’s visited there seems to be some unifying design principle, some common understanding. At home it’s anyone’s guess what the next office building or apartment complex might look like, a mishmash of styles as the cities clamor to reinvent themselves, modernist or postmodernist or deconstructionist or whatever.

Heather could name them all, if Heather were here.

But Heather isn’t here. Tonight, Vivi is out on the town with her two younger half-sisters, Jude and Taryn. Her twin baby sisters, although they hate it when she calls them that. The twins’ spring breaks overlapped by happy accident, so their adoptive dad, Vivi’s biological father, had sent them off on an all-expenses-paid Barcelona trip for a mini family reunion.

Taryn had been thrilled to go out. “I’m so excited that we can drink here,” she’d exclaimed, as she touched up her makeup in the AirBnB’s living room mirror. It’s a two-bed, two-bath apartment with an updated kitchen and certainly beats the dorms. Vivi was forced to give a silent, resentful thanks, Dad, but not out loud.

“You drink at home,” Jude reminded her from the bathroom, where she was trying to wrangle her hair into some style Taryn had sent her from Pinterest. “We have fake IDs.”

“It’s not the same,” Taryn had huffed, applying another coat of mascara. Vivi got that. It had not been the same when they came to Europe before, either, because they had been with Madoc, Oriana, and little Oak. Somehow parents at the table makes the glass of wine with dinner much less daring.

Jude had eventually settled on a high ponytail, and off they went.

Now they’re out at a bar not far from the AirBnB, with each of the twins perched on stools and Vivi leaning against the bar between them. Maybe it’s because she hasn’t seen them for so long except over FaceTime, but Vivi is shocked to notice that her little sisters aren’t kids anymore. They haven’t been little for a while, not since they overtook Vivi in height when they were twelve, but it’s one thing to not be little and another to be an adult. Taryn, who’s been yearning for adulthood since her tweens, finally looks more at home in the role. And Vivi doesn’t know how Taryn got Jude into that dark purple halter dress, which dips low in the front and lower in the back, but the way she wears that and her lipstick is a stark reminder that Vivi’s sisters are in fact nineteen, and no longer chubby, soft-faced children. It’s weird, and Vivi doesn’t like it.

Vivi gets hit on sometimes—with her undercut and piercings, mostly by “alternative” men and curious women—but the novelty of good-looking twins means Jude and Taryn shouldn’t need to pay for their own drinks. And they wouldn’t, except anytime a guy gets too close to Jude or Taryn, Jude adopts a laser-eyed glare and says, “No,” which is thankfully the same in both languages. Otherwise she might start speaking with fists.

“I don’t know why you won’t let us get free drinks,” Taryn pouts.

“The drinks are on Madoc,” Jude points out, nodding to the credit card Vivi puts back in her pocket. “They’re basically free.”

Taryn mutters, “It’s the principle of the thing.”

“You guys are such sisters,” Vivi says, taking a swig of beer.

“What does that mean?” they demand in unison.

Vivi grins and closes her eyes, shaking her head. For a second she just stands there, between the twins, and lets everything wash over her: the sibling bickering, the pungent smell of beer and whatever syrup is in Jude’s cocktail, and the music. Music is a strange experience in bars here. First there’s a Spanish song Vivi’s never heard, and then there’s Halsey, crooning over a Chainsmokers beat, and then back to Spanish with perennial favorite “Despacito.” It’s total whiplash. Vivi loves it.

It’s only because she’s listening so hard that she hears Taryn give a tiny gasp.

Vivi opens her eyes. Jude has gone very, very still. Her shoulders, which had been hunched up around her ears as she leaned over the bar, roll down her back, and the muscles there tense. Vivi is not sure Jude is remembering to breathe. She and Taryn are both staring at some fixed point across the bar, so Vivi looks too.

“Oh, hell,” she says.

On the other side of the bar—of the small space they are all crammed into—are four familiar figures. Three boys, one girl. Vivi has to blink to place them, because it seems absurd that four kids they went to high school with would show up in Spain while they, the Duarte sisters, are also in Spain, and also because they weren’t in Vivi’s grade. She knows them, though. Everyone knows Cardan Greenbriar and his trio of hot, mean friends, but Vivi knows them particularly well because of how her sisters have tangled with them over the years.

Taryn whispers, “What are they doing here?”

“I can go ask,” Vivi sighs. That group of kids has no quarrel with her. She and Cardan were friendly back in the day, meaning “ten years ago when Vivi would go hang out with Cardan’s older sister.”

“No,” Jude says, voice firm. Without taking her eyes off the interlopers, she picks up her cocktail and downs the rest of it.

Vivi doesn’t know exactly what happened, but Jude shed her fight-or-flight response sometime in high school. Now, she only has a fight response. Maybe Vivi took her flight response, because it was Vivi who was the terror until she turned eighteen, when she got the hell out of dodge. Taryn has always been in the middle, trying to keep the peace.

“We can go somewhere else,” Taryn suggests.

“No,” Jude repeats, setting her glass down on the bar a little too hard. “I’m not going to let those jerks keep me from having a good time.”

“Which I respect, and more power to you, but also, like, there are plenty of bars in Barcelona,” Vivi points out.

Jude glares. “I’m fine.” And then she holds up one finger in the bartender’s direction.

“You know those are really alcoholic, right?” Taryn says. Worry begins to seep into her voice like melting snow through cracks in a sidewalk.

“I know my limits.”

Vivi and Taryn exchange a wary glance. Jude might know her limits, but she has no problem blowing past them. Jude may not think Vivi remembers the tae kwon do tournament she sat through when Jude was eleven and Vivi was thirteen, but oh, Vivi does. Vivi remembers how her sister volunteered to spar until she had tired herself out to the point where she could no longer stand. Vivi also remembers Jude driving to school on a single hour of sleep after staying up to finish an extra credit essay in a class where she already had an A. Jude somehow didn’t crash her car, but she had been unbearable the entire day. Jude is a danger to herself and very occasionally a menace to society.

But Jude is also an adult and it’s not Vivi’s business.

“Suit yourself,” Vivi says, with a shrug. “It’s dear old Dad’s money.”

A few minutes later, Jude is nursing her second cocktail, and Vivi and Taryn are trying to carry on a conversation as though everything is fine. Any normal person would be well loosened up by now, but Jude retains that unnatural stillness like a dog who’s noticed a squirrel on the other side of a yard. Or, more accurately, maybe like a deer who’s spotted a human hunter approaching over the ridge.

Jude is no defenseless herbivore, but Vivi knows half a lifetime of being bullied has made her feel like a target.

“Hey,” Vivi says, jostling Jude with her elbow.

“What?”

“Tell me about your freshman year misadventures. Taryn won’t open up.”

Jude snorts. “What misadventures?”

“You have to have a few,” Vivi says. “I didn’t raise my sisters to be boring.”

“You didn’t raise us at all,” Jude mutters at her cocktail.

Vivi has never seen her sister anywhere near drunk before and is not sure she likes her like this. “What about boys?” she asks, gently elbowing Jude again. Then she raises her eyebrows. “Girls?”

“No. Nobody.” Jude finishes her second drink and, glaring across the bar, apparently makes the decision to switch to shots. “Vivi, is vodka still ‘vodka’ in Spanish?”

“I’m not answering that.” Vivi sighs. “What about you, Taryn? Anybody?”

“Huh? Um, no.” Taryn had been looking at their erstwhile schoolmates too. One of the boys, the redhead, is looking back. Locke. Vivi exhales. Bad news. There’s history there, the kind of history that shouldn’t repeat.

“Reeeeally?” she asks. “Nobody? Not one boy?”

Taryn blinks back to herself. “Vivi, I go to school for fashion design. They’re all gay.”

“Well, that can be fun.” Vivi gestures at herself. God, she wishes her sisters had brought Heather along. The hot lady bartender with the gorgeous tattoo sleeve keeps trying to catch her eye, and Vivi and Heather had established a “what happens in Barcelona stays in Barcelona” policy before she left, but Vivi doesn’t want a hot lady bartender. She wants her girlfriend.

“Yeah, they’re cool.” Taryn glances back across the bar. Now the blue-haired girl—Nicasia, Vivi recalls—is looking back, along with Locke. Not good.

Since Jude is negotiating for a shot of vodka with hot lady bartender in competent enough Spanish, Vivi lowers her voice and asks Taryn, “Are you feeling especially homesick?”

“We’ve kept in touch.” Taryn doesn’t meet her eyes.

Vivi would hold more of a grudge if someone had tried to sleep with her and her sister, but that’s very much not her circus or her monkeys. She asks, “Did you know he’d be here?”

Taryn shakes her head. “He said they were doing a European tour for spring break, but, like, it’s a big continent.”

“Good news,” says Jude, holding up a shot glass. “It’s vodka in both languages. Cheers.”

“You are going to be sick,” Taryn says.

Jude gives her a sarcastic shrug and then downs the shot. She coughs a little, which somewhat ruins the impression she’s trying to make, but swallows it all down.

“Jude,” Vivi says, beginning to worry, “we really can just leave.”

But Jude is looking at her old high school nemeses again. Cardan had been a particular thorn in her side, or he in hers; Vivi never made sense of that conflict, of who had started what. What she does know is that they’ve definitely been spotted now. The blond boy—Vivi doesn’t quite remember his name—seems to make a move to walk over to them, but Cardan reaches out and grabs his arm, shaking his head. Valentine? Valentino? looks sour, but doesn’t approach. Jude stares them both down.

“I have to use the bathroom,” Taryn announces. “El baño.” Taryn had taken French in high school.

“But—” Vivi begins.

Taryn has already vanished into the crowd. Vivi puts her elbows on the bar and cradles her head in her hands. “This is all going great.”

“Not how you pictured our night out on the town?” asks Jude, who has obtained another shot of vodka from God knows where.

“Yeah, not really.”

“Well, I can fix it.” Jude drinks her second shot and does not cough this time. “I’m going to go talk to them.”

Vivi picks up her head. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“So what?”

“Dad’s going to hold me responsible if anything happens to you.”

Jude fixes a level stare on her. “Dad never holds you responsible for anything,” she says. She slips a little when she gets up off her stool. Vivi wonders if she’s really thinking about fighting someone in those heels.

“You’re mean drunk,” Vivi tells her, trying to grab her arm. “Don’t go.”

“I’m mean sober, but nobody notices,” says Jude, which doesn’t make any sense. She shakes Vivi off. “Besides, I have a few things I want to say.”

And for the second time that night, Vivi watches as one of her sisters pushes her way into the crowd of people, unsure if she should follow or not. Maybe it’ll be good for Jude, in the end, to get some of this out of her system.

The guys across the room are watching Jude approach. Cardan especially. The blond guy is sneering, but Cardan watches Jude with the same strange stillness with which she’d watched him. Like he’s holding his breath until she gets there. Unlike Jude, he doesn’t seem that drunk at all, which Vivi notices because, well, it’s a rare day that Cardan Greenbriar isn’t drunk.

But he is too busy watching her and not his blond friend, who decides that he’s going to intercept Jude before she can even reach Cardan. He pushes over to her first and bars her way, and although Vivi is too far away to hear what’s said between them, she notices the squaring of Jude’s shoulders and the widening of the blond guy’s sneer. Because she is watching closely, she sees that Valerian is the one who shoves Jude first.

Valerian. That’s his name.

It clicks right before Jude punches him in the face.

The bar erupts. Cardan springs to his feet and tries to pull his friend away from Jude. A couple of nearby patrons try to save Jude from herself—Vivi could have told them it was a fool’s errand—by holding her back, not knowing Jude has sharp elbows. Valerian struggles hard and manages to break away from Cardan, only to find himself being grabbed by more pairs of hands. There is shouting in Spanish. Even the hot lady bartender is drawn away, trying to signal her coworkers.

The most Vivi-like thing to do would be to leave Jude to it and keep her nose clean. But Vivi remembers asking Madoc on the day of that fateful tae kwon do tournament, while they revived Jude with sips of Gatorade, why Madoc hadn’t stopped Jude when it became clear she was flagging. “Your sister needs to learn for herself when to stop fighting,” he’d said. “If I make those calls for her, she never will.”

Vivi has a lot of qualms with Madoc’s parenting style, and Taryn is nowhere to be found.

“Oh, hell,” Vivi says again, and she dives into the knot of drunk brawlers to pull her sister from the fray.

---

“I can’t believe you got us kicked out,” Vivi says.

Jude, drunk, hapless Jude, is sitting on the curb with her head between her knees, presumably trying not to barf. There’s still enough anger left in her to flip Vivi off.

“Unbelievable.” Vivi folds her arms and looks left, then right. It seems like a good quarter of the bar spilled out onto the sidewalk with them, a crowd of people chattering about what just happened. Forget kicked out, Jude’s lucky she wasn’t arrested. “Do you see Taryn anywhere?”

“What do you think?”

Vivi pinches the bridge of her nose. Taryn will be fine. She has the AirBnB address and a phone she can use on WiFi. Besides, as far as Vivi knows, she ran off with Locke. Vivi hasn’t seen the two of them come out of the bar yet, and she would not be surprised. She knows a bad decision when she sees one.

“You keep sitting down,” Vivi tells Jude. “I’m going to figure out a ride home.”

“Your face should keep sitting down,” Jude mumbles spitefully.

“Hey, guys? Vivi?”

Vivi cringes as soon as she hears the voice, because she knows the voice, and because in this situation the owner of that voice will only make things worse. Vivi doesn’t have any personal grudge against Cardan Greenbriar—they’ve even sometimes been friends—except for how her sister feels about him. Taryn’s always said he was kind of a dick, but Taryn doesn’t hate him like Jude does. Nobody hates anybody the way Jude hates Cardan. Vivi wonders if Jude has something to prove.

Sure enough, Jude’s head swivels at the sound of his voice like the kid’s head turning around in The Exorcist. “You,” she snarls, and then stumbles to her feet.

“Jude,” Vivi says, trying to catch her sister’s dress to pull her back, but Jude is already out of reach. With another sigh, Vivi stands too.

“What are you doing here?” Jude demands of Cardan, openly hostile. It would be funny, because Jude is a full head shorter than him, if Jude was anybody else’s sister. “We were all having a great time until you showed up.”

“It’s anybody’s city,” Cardan says, but he doesn’t seem to be mocking her. He holds up his hands to show her they are empty.

“Go the fuck home!” Jude yells, and shoves him, sending him back a couple of steps.

Vivi shouts, “Woah!”

“It’s okay,” Cardan tells Vivi over Jude’s head. “She’s not hurting me. Let her get it out.”

With a little cry, Jude pushes him again, and this time he only stumbles back a half-step, but he keeps his hands up and his stance somewhat grounded. The next time Jude shoves him he doesn’t budge at all, and Jude lets out a grunt of frustration, fisting her hands in his jacket.

And then she bursts into tears.

“Oh,” says Vivi, but Cardan doesn’t seem that surprised. She wonders if he’s used to people behaving badly while drunk or just being drunk himself.

“You’re so a-awful,” Jude says between sobs. “Everything’s awful all the time.”

“I know, Jude,” Cardan replies. He gently pries the jacket out of her fists so he can remove it and drape it over her bare shoulders. Jude grabs onto his shirt instead.

“Why do you hate me so much?” she asks, with a small hiccup.

“I don’t,” Cardan replies. His hand rubs circles between his shoulder blades. “But I hope you’re too drunk to remember that.” He looks up at Vivi, and Vivi feels a brief flash of embarrassment, like she’s intruded on something intimate, before she remembers that they’re in public and, also, she has no shame. “Were you going to get a taxi? I can keep an eye on her while you do. I don’t think she should walk back.”

“Oh.” Vivi blinks. “Yeah. I’ve got it. Where’s your ‘friend?’”

“Sent him packing. He’s back at the hotel, or he should be.”

“Well… good.”

But Cardan isn’t listening. He’s already looking down at Jude again.

It turns out Vivi has, carelessly, let her phone die. She isn’t anal about things like that. Taryn’s the one who keeps a charger in her purse at all times, but Taryn has vanished, and Jude’s phone only works on WiFi outside of the States.

So they hail one of Barcelona's bumblebee-like taxis the old-fashioned way, and Vivi is the one who climbs into the passenger’s seat and tells the driver where to go in Spanish that’s fluent, if definitely not Spain-Spanish. It is deeply ironic that Vivi, the only sister without a drop of Duarte blood in her veins, is the one who speaks Spanish the best. But Jude and Taryn were only seven when their parents died. Vivi had been nine. Two years makes a big difference with these things, especially because memories are shaping and re-shaping themselves in the minds of children that young. As far as the twins’ brains are concerned, they only had their parents for a short time.

Vivi remembers more. She remembers sitting on the counter in the old kitchen, legs swinging, as her dad cooked on Fridays—the special day, the end of the week day—and pointing at things in the kitchen so Justin could tell her their names in Spanish and she could echo them back. Cebolla, onion. Queso, cheese, of course. Cuchara, spoon. The words had a favor of their own, different from the English words she learned in kindergarten. She remembers the smell of toasting coriander seeds, the bright songs her dad would hum, the vibrant melodies bursting from the CD player Vivi leaned her elbow on. When she got far enough along in school, she threw herself into Spanish, hoping the words would pave a road that would lead her back to the man who shaped her.

Sometimes Jude gets in a sulk about their awful twist of fate, or Taryn gets weepy, and Vivi just wants to yell Justin Duarte was my dad, too! She feels like her throat is raw from screaming it her entire adolescence. It was easier in the end to just move away for college.

She ended up in Spain because Madoc and Oriana weren’t keen on her going to Mexico. Oh, sure, they’d been before on vacation no problemo, but as soon as Vivi wanted to go alone it was game over. No matter how much Vivi told them it was very racist of them and a total double standard. Apparently Oriana didn’t want her getting kidnapped. Vivi, who has in fact seen the movie Taken, knows she can get kidnapped in Europe just as easily, thanks very much. That had not been a persuasive argument with Madoc.

So here she is, in Barcelona, where familiar words can have entirely different flavors, and that’s even before getting to Catalan, which she can now speak a little but not well. Most of the time, she’ll be honest, she does love it here. At this moment she’s not feeling charitable toward anything.

Cardan helps load Jude into the backseat of the taxi. The driver, looking in the rearview mirror, asks, “¿Su novio?”

“¿Qué?” Vivi asks reflexively. She cranes her head around to see Cardan sliding in next to Jude, his arm around her shoulder. She switches to English. “What the hell, dude?”

“She won’t let go,” Cardan says simply. It’s true; Jude is clinging to him like a very weepy barnacle, her shoulders still shaking.

“Alright, well.” Vivi turns back around. It’s good to have the extra pair of hands. She wishes again that Heather was here. “You’re the official Jude wrangler now.”

“Copy that. I just—” He sighs, and in the rearview, Vivi sees him rub his face with his free hand. “It’s my fault.”

“Sure is.” The taxi begins to pull away from the curb, and Vivi checks her anger. She amends, “Actually, no, it’s not your fault that my sister’s a lightweight and an angry drunk. But from what I hear, the years of prior psychological damage are totally your fault. So, credit where credit is due.”

Cardan nods. Jude sniffles forlornly. Vivi is intrigued by how gentle he’s being with her, how tolerant. His shirt looks like a regular cotton tee, but knowing him it probably costs about the same as a single night in their very nice AirBnB. He doesn’t seem to mind that Jude’s getting snot and tears all over it.

“Hate you,” Jude mutters, pressing her face into his shoulder. “Hate this.”

“I know.” He pushes a lock of hair that’s escaped from her ponytail. “What are you on?”

“Huh?” There’s a pause. Vivi is watching the road now, but she can imagine Jude’s confused blinking. “I don’t… drugs.”

“Meds.”

“Oh, um, fuck.” Another pause. “Zoloft. I switched this year.”

“You’re not supposed to drink on that stuff,” Cardan says, but it almost sounds like he’s teasing. “It messes you up. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”

Jude sniffs. “It’s not like I’m operating heavy machinery,” she says, slurring slightly.

Cardan chuckles. “I did the Zoloft thing, too. I’m not on it anymore, though.”

“‘Cause you couldn’t drink?”

“Like anything would stop me.” He pauses, and Vivi looks into the rearview mirror to find him biting his lower lip in an exaggerated way, so drunk Jude is sure to get the joke. “No, there were... personal reasons.”

Jude is utterly nonplussed. “What?”

“Ah, you know…” He leans over and whispers something to her. Her eyes widen, and then she lets out a small, nervous chuckle. “Oh.”

“Yeah, I was like ‘If I can’t have sex, won’t that just make me more depressed?’”

To Vivi’s great surprise, Jude giggles. A totally surreal sound. She hasn’t giggled like that in years, if ever.

“There we go,” says Cardan, weirdly indulgent. “No more crying. Or, well—oh, okay,” he adds, as Jude turns her head and begins quietly sobbing into the sleeve of his shirt. “I guess some more crying.”

“You seem very sober,” Vivi remarks.

“Yeah, I’m trying it on. Just club soda for me tonight.” He leans over to rest his head on top of Jude’s. “It, cómo se dice, sucks.”

“Like your accent.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Vivi is beginning to get vaguely suspicious. She says, “But you are handling this well. Just used to dealing with a lot of drunks?”

“Huh? Oh.” Cardan’s dark eyes flick up to meet Vivi’s in the mirror. “This isn’t the first time. Jude got wasted at prom, after the stuff with Locke and Taryn came to light. Completely trashed.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“You were finishing up sophomore year, right? In like, Massachusetts? And it’s not like she would have told you. If she’s lucky, she doesn’t remember it. I loaded her into the Uber that took her home.”

Vivi’s stomach twists, but she channels the newfound sister guilt into suspicion and narrows her eyes. “Decent of you.”

“Yeah, I was trying that out, too. Got puked on for the trouble.” Cardan leans his head back against the headrest now. Jude’s sobs have quieted down. “But I still remember the Four Phases of Drunk Jude Duarte.”

“I’m glad somebody does,” Vivi admits. “What are they?”

“Angry, weepy, horny, sick.”

She snorts. “Basically Snow White’s shittiest dwarves.”

“Basically,” Cardan agrees. “But you’re not in danger of her getting sick yet, because we haven’t hit—ah. Um. Well.” He clears his throat. “Never mind.”

Vivi looks up into the mirror again to see Cardan plucking Jude’s hand off of him and returning it to her. “Did we just hit horny?”

“We just hit horny,” he says, his voice strained. Jude has her face buried in his neck again, but this time for entirely different reasons. The hand he had returned to Jude is already sliding back down his shirt. “Okay, hands above the waist. No, above—”

“Oh my God.” Vivi covers her mouth to stifle her laughter.

“Great. Very helpful, Vivienne,” Cardan says, grabbing Jude’s wrist and holding it still. It speaks to their relationship as nearly family friends that he can use her full name without invoking her wrath. “Your sister is outright molesting me and you can’t even tell her to knock it off?”

He doesn’t sound totally panicked, though. “I think you might want my sister to molest you,” Vivi guesses, turning around in her seat to look at him. Somehow, Jude has managed to thoroughly drape herself across him, but Cardan is showing admirable and frankly uncharacteristic self-restraint by keeping her from doing anything that can’t be undone. “Just a little.”

“When she’s sober. Jude, don’t bite my ear. Jude—”

Vivi snickers. The rest of the short ride passes like that, with Cardan deflecting Jude’s advances and Vivi deflecting the taxi driver’s questions about what exactly is happening back there and whether Jude is going to be sick all over his floor mats. They are lucky enough to not hit “sick” until Jude is out of the car and walking up the five stairs to the door of the apartment building. With Cardan’s warning in mind, Vivi is able to jump back in time.

Cardan, who is nearer to Jude, is not so lucky. She leans against the railing and doubles over it, but his shoes and the bottoms of his jeans are still caught in the splash zone. “Okay, great,” he says, gathering her back up. He does not sound entirely tolerant now, but he also doesn’t sound as angry as Vivi might expect. “That’s over. Feel any better?”

“No,” Jude mutters.

“You might in the morning.” He moves them both so Vivi can pass and open the door. “Man, is this really only the second time this has ever happened to you? I have to say, I’m jealous. Not of you in this moment, of course. Just in general.”

“We can’t all be charming teenage alcoholics,” Vivi says, propping the door open so Cardan can help her through.

“You hear that, Jude?” Cardan asks. “Your sister thinks I’m charming.”

“Uh-huh,” says Jude.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Vivi warns. “She’s almost out. Let’s get her upstairs.”

Jude doesn’t make it into the bedroom she and Taryn are sharing. They put her to bed on the couch, on her side, with Cardan’s jacket draped over her. There’s no laundry machine in the AirBnB, but Vivi finds some detergent in the cabinet and they fill the bathroom sink with lukewarm water so Cardan can wash his jeans. Vivi is not sure the right time for the conversation she should have is now, when Cardan is standing in his boxer briefs and Jude is passed out in the next room, but on the bright side, there probably isn’t a worse time.

“You know, I didn’t think we had this level of friendship,” Cardan remarks, dunking his jeans in the sudsy water. “Dealing with your sister must really be a bonding experience. You always liked Rhyia best.”

“Well, Rhyia’s cool.” Vivi folds her arms and leans in the doorway. She kicked off her boots when they got in the door, so Cardan now looks even taller, although certainly not very intimidating in his underwear. “Calvin Klein. Nice. You always struck me as more of a boxers guy, I have to say.”

“Sometimes. These jeans are pretty tight, though.” He looks over at her. “Do you need something?”

She shakes her head. “Oh, nothing. I just can’t believe you’re trying to fuck my sister.”

“I’m not trying to fuck your sister,” Cardan says, massaging his jeans in the sink in such a way that Vivi is forced to wonder whether he’s ever done his own laundry. “She’s wasted. And she hates me.”

Vivi frowns deeply.

Cardan asks, “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Vivienne Leigh—”

“Don’t you pull out my full name for this. You’re playing some game here and I will figure out what it—oh.”

“What now?”

Vivi squints at him. “Are you in love with my sister?”

Cardan lets out an exhausted sigh. “Taryn isn’t really my type.”

They both know they aren’t talking about Taryn. “What the fuck. How long?”

“Like a year. Or maybe my whole life. I’m not sure.”

“Does she know?”

“I really hope not.” Cardan grimaces at his reflection in the mirror, and then looks past himself to see where Jude sleeps on the couch. “She’d never let me live it down.”

“Okay, well…” Vivi pauses. This is more older sibling responsibility than she signed up for. “What are your… intentions?”

“I don’t have any.” Vivi purses her lips, and he adds, “I really don’t. I wasn’t expecting to see her tonight. I kind of thought I’d never see her again after we graduated.” He pauses and looks down at the sink. “I think, someday, I’d like to be a person she likes. That she’s capable of liking.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Huh.” He has it really, really bad. Vivi can’t imagine what Jude said or did to make him feel that way about her. Maybe it was her total lack of regard for him? “Is this why you bullied her for years?”

“I hope not!” Cardan exclaims, in a way that suggests this thought has occurred to him before, and moreover, that it actually bothers him. “I don’t know! I don’t want to be that fucking cliché, Vivi.”

“We’re all cliché in our own special ways,” Vivi says, glancing back at Jude. A vague plot is beginning to take shape in her brain. Jude is the plotter, Taryn the planner—there is a difference—and Vivi the pantser, normally. But there is something here that she thinks she can exploit. “Seeing as you have no pants, you should probably stay over. I don’t think any of our clothes will fit you.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. You can have one of the twin beds.” After a beat, she adds, “I’m not telling you which one is Jude’s.”

“Darn,” Cardan deadpans. “Now I don’t know which one to jerk off in.”

Vivi pulls a face. “That’s the idea.” And then, because Cardan is hopeless, she reaches forward and yanks the plug from the drain. “Rinse off your jeans in clean water. Otherwise they’ll dry all stiff and soapy.”

“Thank you for the advice, oh wise one.”

She rolls her eyes and leaves him to it. After checking on Jude, whose coloring and breathing are both normal, she heads back to her room and looks at her phone. Nothing from Taryn, even though it’s later than Vivi thought, but Vivi isn’t worried. Taryn’s kind of like a cat in that, somehow, she always manages to land on her feet. Vivi fires off a quick text to her, then stares at the glowing screen, thinking about the way Cardan had rested his head on top of Jude’s in the back of the taxi.

She texts Heather: sisters are a lot of work

And:

i wish you were here

It’s much earlier in New England. When the three dots pop up to indicate that Heather is typing a reply, Vivi smiles.