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#As soon as I found out! Anyways now I’m here in this packed tiny room sending my children off to breathe in peoples faces!”

imaniwriting · 4 months

Note

Hi, I think u said that some requests like got deleted or smth. anyway I had a request where it’s Rafe x reader and like he has to leave for a meeting that’s last minute and he was like hanging out with his girlfriend, the reader, and his friend and like he pulls him into another room and gets SUPER overprotective. saying stuff like ‘she gets a scratch, she catches a fever, anything happens I’ll kill u’. I saw it in another tv show and ughhhh 😩😩😩 anyway maybe the reader gets hurt or smth, idk u can add a little bit of ur own twist 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 thx

(Love overprotective!rafe)

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬 (Request are open)

Warnings : overprotective!Rafe, swearing, topper and kelce being a bad influence (let me know if i missed any)

Summary : when Rafe leaves to take care of business he makes it clear not to get you hurt.

Genre : mostly fluff

You were currently at the beach with Rafe and his friend’s topper and kelce. You were trying to learn how to surf by the help of Rafe but let’s just say you are not a fast learner.

“Fuck they calling me for.” Rafe asked himself while picking up his phone when it started ringing you guys were currently having a break and sat at the beach bar.

Rafe had his arm wrapped around your waist, glaring at any boy who stared at you too long. He knew he shouldn’t have let you leave with the tiny bikini you had on. But he promised he could fight if it came to it.

“What do you want Barry im busy” he said in an harsh tone annoyed. His eyes scanned you while Barry was talking on the other line he rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath before replying “I’ll be there”

You were obvious to the and still were eating your burger he had bought for you. “Baby, I gotta go i’ll see you later i need to take care of something” he said with a bitter tone to his voice he didn’t want to leave you in the first place.

You looked up at him in confusion “what why?” You asked. “I don’t know Barry told me he needed me stay away from the water till i’m back I won’t be long” he said getting up from his chair.

You nodded and he kissed your lips before handing you his credit card “ if you want to buy anything else do that just don’t go into the water without me” he said making you grin “don’t worry baby is won’t” you reassured him before he abruptly turned to topper and Kelce.

“I swear to god if anything happens to her, a cut, a bruise i will kill both of you slow and painful” he whispered in a low voice so that you couldn’t hear him. He then turned to you smiled and walked over to his car.

Soon after you had finished eating and went back to your towel. Closely followed by topper and kelce. “Damn I really wanted to keep on surfing.” You said sitting down on the towel. Topper shrugged “you can.” He said making you shake your head “rafe told me I should stay away from the water till he’s back.” You explained.

“So what he’s your dad now or what? You can do whatever you want” said kelce making topper nod. “For real though he wont even know.” He tried to convince you which worked rather fast. “Maybe one wave wont hurt.” You said standing up with the surf boat in your hand.

Topper nodded and walked with you to the shore. “Here we go” you whispered to yourself. Before running into the water. You stepped on your surf board that Rafe had customized for you when he heard you wanted to learn how to surf.

But before you could prepare for the wave it hit you knocking you off the surfboard but your eye hit the edge of the surfboard making you yelp before hitting the large body of water.

Topper and kelce saw that and panicked quickly running in to get you before contemplating whether they should tell Rafe or not. You were already sat back on your towel with an ice pack. “Dude if we tell him he’ll kill us!” Said Kelce while staring at you you found the whole situation rather amusing. “It’s not that deep kelce why are you so on the edge?” You asked laughing not knowing what rafe had told them before he left.

“Look y/n when he comes just act normal and act like you are just hot thats why you have the ice pack.” You shrugged and nodded not caring really.

Not long after Rafe made his way over to you who was eating an ice cream. He smiled before noticing the dampness of your hair. He looked at the surf board and realized that it was also wet.

“Hey baby,” he started but stopped when he saw the ice pack on your face. His relaxed expression was quickly replaced by anger. “What happened?” He asked grabbing your hand and gently removing the ice pack only to reveal a bruised eye.

His eyes snapped to topper and kelce who were rubbing their necks trying to ignore the stare he was sending them. “Let’s have a talk shall we guy’s?” He asked with fake enthusiasm while grabbing their arms.

Let’s just say that day topper and kelce returned with two bruised eyes.

#outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe smut #fluff #drew starkey fanfiction #jj maybank #drew starkey #outer banks rafe #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks x reader #rafe x you #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey smut #drew starkey x reader

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rodeoxqueen · 9 months

Text

High Fidelity

Dante/F!Reader

Chapter 1: Top Five Most Repeatable Albums

Summary:

You were a record shop owner in Fortuna that was fed up with the world a little in your thirties already. You had sworn off love after the broken engagement of your now ex-fiancé and despite the immense heartbreak you were happy as you were now (or so you like to you think), in your tiny record shop that crooned what you deemed superior music and your two strange coworkers Nico and Nero who grew on you. Life was simple, going to shows and listing your top fives of everything music-related: best albums, best stage presence, best comebacks, the list goes on. But when a certain red-jacketed devil is practically thrown through the window of your store, you soon might reconsider everything. Will love succeed again, or will you add Dante to your list of top five hearbreaks of all time?

It was tense in the room of your apartment, the day Rob, your ex-fiance left.

“Please, don’t go, let’s talk about this. You promised we would always talk about it.” You’re in his way from the door, eyes filled with tears and voice breaking. You’re trying not to lose your dignity but you feel like you’re going fucking crazy.

“I don’t think we can fix this, (Y/N).” Rob says, already packed and ready to leave your life forever.

Two years. You were together for two years. You wanted everything to do with him. Now he doesn’t even want to look at you.

“I’m sorry. I have to go. My flight’s soon.”

There’s no love in his eyes and this lump in your throat has to be your pride leaving your body, begging him not to go.

Every happy memory you have with him left the door with his bags.

You’re sobbing with all you got, heaving breaths as you walk away from the shut door. Your face in your hands, you find it in yourself to sit on the couch, the one opposite you Rob’s. Matching colors. Red and blue.

An IKEA date after you two moved in together a year into the relationship.

Your chest just hurts and you don’t know how this will get better.

Several months later, it did get better. Only a little bit. They do say it’s not healing if you’re isolating yourself from every possible conflict and confrontation, but who the fuck is they?

You stopped talking to Rob’s friends, you were only friends because you were dating Rob anyways. So there went most of your social life.

It didn’t matter, they were all snobby influencers and people who acted like butter wouldn’t melt in their mouth.

In the few months after post-Rob, or what Nico called it, you eliminated a lot out of your routine that would bring change to your comfort.

You didn’t really go out, you went about your life just focusing on your record shop: Fortuna Vinyls.

Speaking of which, you’d have to go soon, having to leave your bed that you learned to get used to sleeping alone in. A few more minutes of self-loathing wouldn’t hurt.

The morning light flooded the apartment when you opened the curtains in your bedroom. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you put on your usual outfit of a worn out band tee and comfortable pants.

Finished with brushing your teeth, you decided to forgo any makeup, not willing to make the effort on this Monday morning.

Durand Jones and The Indications’ “Is It Any Wonder?” played in your headphones as you made yourself a coffee to get going, forgoing the usual breakfast of cereal and milk due to lack of time. Okay, maybe more than a few minutes of self-loathing. The bed was just really comfortable today.

Your green sweater that used to be your dad’s? Check.

Sneakers on? Yes.

Phone? Keys? Wallet? Triple check.

You locked your door and stepped into the Fortuna morning. You hadn’t had the intention of living in a small city like this, with these religious fanatics, but property tax was low and business was decent here.

As long as it gave you a roof over your head and a nice dinner with yourself once and a while, you barely found the need to complain.

The walk to work wasn’t too far, just a couple blocks and a corner store away. You decided it wouldn’t be too late to grab a bagel from the bodega.

Bagel in hand after a transaction from the owner’s son who really shouldn’t be wearing a durag, you took to your route.

People walked past you, seldom acknowledging you unless it was to move around you while they went the opposite way.

That’s why you enjoyed wearing sunglasses, you could see everyone but no one knew where you were looking.

You switched the song previously playing to Yaya Bey’s “meet me in brooklyn.”

Fortuna Vinyls’ sign was still on, meaning either Nero and Nico forgot to turn it off while closing last night. You sighed.

Anyways, you unlocked the door and turned on all the lights. Dark to fully lit, you basked in your store.

Rows of vinyls on the left, tapes and CDs in the corners, and a few record players scattered around the store, your office in the back and check out counter to your right, the store was covered in posters that you also sold, except for the signed MTV Unplugged Nirvana poster you got from god knows how long.

You loved this store, in its red-bricked glory. You didn’t even care that someone tagged your window with paint pens, it kind of added to the vintage appeal.

Bagel and coffee on your desk in your office, you turned off your headphones and flipped through some vinyls you kept on the table.

“I guess this one will do for today.” Aretha Franklin’s Young, Gifted, and Black was one of your personal favorites, with her sweet voice and pretty lyrics.

You placed it on the record player, gingerly placing the needle at the edge of the vinyl. It played through the speakers as you went about your checklist, trying to figure out what needed to be done this week before your only two employees came in.

Nico and Nero were a package deal, either they showed up together or Nico would show up late and she was Nero’s only form of transportation from his and his girlfriend Kyrie’s flat, meaning sometimes Nero would show up even later, having lived the farthest away.

The two showed up one day when you were in desperate need of workers and you just called it good with them. Despite their many unprofessional behaviors, they still got the job done. Even though you’re pretty sure they sometimes show up after just smoking a joint.

You paid them to show up at least.

Sitting in your office, you watched people walk around through the big window of your office to the big display window of the store. You weren’t open just yet, and you figured some peace would be nice before Nico came in reeking of cigarettes.

Speaking of the devil, the door was opened and the bell chimed.

Nero came in first, Nico following close behind.

“Turn this whack shit off and let’s play my Monday playlist!”

“Come on, Eileen” replaced Aretha Franklin belting out a tune and you rolled your eyes at the overly cheery song.

“Come on, boss!” Nico cackled as she danced in front of your office window, wearing her usual white tank top that sometimes flashed customers and her signature work pants cut into shorts. Her cowboy boots clicked against the linoleum as she did a spin, trying to get Nero involved.

He shook his head, sipping his energy drink.

“Forget you then!”

“Turn it off!” You yell as Nico cranked up the volume, practically bass-boosting the store and disturbing a few passerbys.

Nero hears your plea and shuts off the speakers. Nico scoffed, scuffing her heel as she walked off, looking at the pile of new vinyls she had to put the prices on.

Work went by pleasantly after, a few customers bought some limited edition vinyls for Five Finger Death Punch and Billie Ellish.

You actually had time to eat today, sharing lunch of ramen with the two youngsters. It brought you back to your college days, eating ramen in your shitty dorm.

Everything was going good until one very pissed off customer came in trying to buy that one Dolly Parton album Nico loved.

….Which she refused to sell to anyone and made a big stink about it every time.

“This is the third time I’ve come this week and you still won’t sell this to me!”

“Mmmhmm, I have my reasons.” Nico scoffed, checking her nails over the counter.

“Why? And give me a real reason this time.” Nico looked at the man up and down.

“Because you suck.”

“Why you-”

You stopped the tirade, leaving your office and sighing.

“What’s the problem this time?”

“She won’t sell me this album!”

“Nico, come on, just sell ‘Coat of Many Colors’ to this man.” Nico put her hand on her chest, offended.

“Sell this album to a washed out business man who won’t understand the complexities of her first album?! (Y/N)-”

She never finished her sentence when your window shattered as a man was thrown through it.

What the hell?

#devil may cry #dante x reader #devil may cry imagines #devil may cry headcanons #dante

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yourlocalcrowtamer515 · 1 year

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OH BOY GUESS WHO'S WRITING SCI-FI FANTASY STUFF NOBODY ASKED FOR

Anyway here's Body Dystopia chapter 1

"I saw an elf in town yesterday."

"Hm?" I looked up from the makeshift counter to see Camila had sat down on the table across the room. "Oh, I guess that's a little unusual but it's not like they aren't allowed in."

"True, true, just this doesn't seem like somewhere they'd really want to be is all." She picked up her toolkit and started tightening a screw here and there on her arm. Leaving it exposed the way she did caused it to wear out quickly while she worked, but she refused to cover it while she was on the job, preferring to bear it as a symbol of her veteran status in the mines and a warning to any greenhorn who might underestimate the power of the machines they had to contend with nearly every day.

Chuckling at the thought of anyone wanting to be anywhere in this wasteland, I continued packing our lunches for the day ahead. "Hey Cam," I called over, "you said we were checking out something big today, right? Got any more details than that? Compared to us everything on Rhea's pretty damn big so a little more clarification might be helpful."

"No sé, one of the newer groups just told me they found something interesting and wanted us to take a look. Said the biologist they took with them couldn't identify it herself." She set down her pliers and sighed, "Guess we gotta find something interesting down there eventually. Leave it to some kids goofing off where they shouldn't to be the ones to do it. Sounds like someone I know." She leaned back in her chair and smirked at me.

"Hey now," I laughed, throwing a tiny piece of this city's excuse for bread at her, "in my defense my job is inspecting the mines, it’s not my fault we don’t always want me to inspect the same things.”

“Well you haven’t gotten yourself killed so far so I'll let it slide, but I swear if you end up dying I’m not letting you go exploring without an assignment for a year.” She smiled as she stood up, crossing the room in only a few strides to put her arms around me, “Also I’d be sad I guess, so be careful, Em.” She let go of me, taking one of the now finished meals and putting it in her pack. “Well, I’m heading over early to train the new groups on how to go about investigating a new find. Come at your normal time, you’re leading the group that found whatever it is that’s so interesting. Oh, and tell them to get started on a group name.” With that she nodded and headed out the door into the clamoring streets of Veta Nueva.

It seemed a little soon to be leaving, even with plans for an early shift, but Camila was nothing if not punctual, and she had never been known to give all the details of her plans if she didn’t think it was need-to-know information. That didn’t really bother me, though, I’d come to trust the judgment of the woman who raised me, even if our methods clashed on occasion.

With Cam gone and my shift not starting for a few hours, I decided to take the time to go out to restock our supplies. There wasn't much we needed, the two of us weren't picky about food, so whatever was cheap usually sufficed, and as long as we kept the mine running the city provided our power and fuel, but some other essentials were running low. I stepped out into the busy streets of the domed city, and feeling the humid air on my skin, began my trip to the main shopping district.

The streets were quieter than usual, though still full of pedestrians. I wondered whether it was just an unpleasant day to be outside or if some sort of event was drawing people away from where I was coming from. My answer soon came to me in the shouting I began to hear echoing from a large crowd gathered in a vacant store lot. “And what about the rest of us? What about the ones who they deem unworthy of saving?” A man shouted to the gathering throng, “We barely have the housing and resources to keep us all alive as it is, much less if we try to pack us all into hap-hazardly built ships. Do you really think they plan to take everyone? No, they plan to exploit your labor and leave you to die!”

As I got closer I could now see the black and green banner a man next to him was holding, a symbol of the Cultivators who try to gather support to back large-scale ecological advances. They were the ones responsible for finding the process to convert the biological matter in Rhea into usable soil and farm penicillin in the plants grown in it. Without them we’d likely all be dead, though they are fanatics to a degree and often pushed back against anything they saw as inefficient use of materials harder than I tended to think was necessary, particularly, as seemed to be the case now, against the Stargazers, a group who have been trying to find a way to leave Rhea before it the resources dry up completely.

As the man continued the crowd seemed to thin out over the next minute until only a small gaggle of people remained, which seemed to upset him, but like the others I had heard my share of his shouting and continued on my way. I pondered what the right course of action really was, whether it was right to try to save a doomed ecosystem or abandon four centuries of work just for a chance to return to a home that we never knew and that probably forgot we existed decades ago.

#scififantasy #scifi #sci fi character #science fiction #sci fi horror #sci fi haunted space station

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c-is-for-circinate · 3 years

Text

For a long, large part of my life, being queer in a media landscape--finding queerness in a media landscape--has meant theft.

I'm a Fandom Old, somehow, these days, older than most and younger than some, in that way that's grown associated with grumpy crotchetyness and shotguns on porches and back in my day, we had to wade through our Yahoo Groups mailing lists uphill both ways, boring and irrelevant anecdotes from Back In Those Days when homophobia clearly worked differently than it does now, probably because we weren't trying hard enough. I've seen a lot of stories through the years. I've read a lot of fanfic. (More days than not, for the past twenty years. I've read a lot of fanfic.)

When people my age start groaning and sighing at conversations about representation and queerbaiting, when we roll our eyes and drag all the old war stories out again in the face of AO3 is terrible and Not Good Enough, so often what we say is: you Young Folks Today have no idea how hard, how scary, how limiting it was to be queer anywhere Back In Those Days. Including online, maybe especially online, including in a media landscape that hated us so much more than any one you've ever known. And that is true. Always and everywhere, again and again, it's true, we remember, it's true.

We don't talk so much about the joy of it.

Online fan spaces were my very first queer communities, ever. I was thirteen, I was fourteen, I was fifteen--I was a lonely, over-precocious "gifted kid" two years too young for my grade level in an all-girls' Catholic school in the suburbs--I lived in a world where gay people were a rumor and an insult and a news story about murder. I was straight, of course, obviously, because real people were straight and anyway I was weird enough already--I couldn't be two things strange, couldn't be gay too, but--well, I could read the stories. I could feel things about that. I would have those stories to help me, a few years later, when I knew I couldn't call myself straight any more.

And those stories were theft. There was never any doubt about that. We wrote disclaimers at the top of every fic, with the specter of Anne Rice's lawyers around every corner. We hid in back-corners of the internet, places you could only find through a link from a link from a link on somebody else's recs page, being grateful for the tiny single-fandom archives when you found them, grateful for the webrings where they existed. It was theft, all of it, the stories about characters we did not own, the videotaped episodes on your best friend's VHS player, one single episode pulled off of Limewire over the course of three days.

It was theft, we knew, to even try and find ourselves in these stories to begin with. How many fics did I read in those days about two men who'd always been straight, except for each other, in this one case, when love was stronger than sexual orientation? We stole our characters away from the heterosexual lives they were destined to have. We stole them away from writers and producers and TV networks who work overtime to shower them in Babes of the Week, to pretend that queerness was never even an option. This wasn't given to us. This wasn't meant for us. This wasn't ours to have, ever, ever in the first place. But we took it anyway.

And oh, my friends, it was glorious.

We took it. We stole. And again and again, for years and years and years, we turned that theft into an art. We looked for every opening, every crack in every sidewalk where a little sprout of queerness might grow, and we claimed it for our own and we grew whole gardens. We grew so sly and so skilled with it, learning to spot the hints of oh, this could be slashy in every new show and movie to come our way. Do you see how they left these character dynamics here, unattended on the table? How ripe they are for the pocketing. Here, I'll help you carry them. We'll make off with these so-called straight boys, and we only have to look back if somebody sets out another scene we want for our own.

We were thieves, all of us, and that was fine and that was fair, because to exist as queer in the world was theft to begin with. Stolen time, stolen moments--grand larceny of the institution of marriage, breaking and entering to rob my mother's hopes for grandchildren. Every shoplifted glance at the wrong person in the locker room (and it didn't matter if we never peeked, never dared, they called us out on it anyway). Every character in every fic whose queerness became a crime against this ex-wife, that new love interest. Every time we dared steal ourselves away from the good straight partners we didn't want to date.

And: we built ourselves a den, we thieves, wallpapered in stolen images and filled to the brim with all the words we'd written ourselves. We built ourselves a home, and we filled it with joy. Every vid and art and fic, every ship, every squee. Over and over, every straight boy protagonist who abandoned all womankind for just this one exception with his straight boy protagonist partner found gay orgasms and true love at the end.

Over and over, we said: this isn't ours, this isn't meant to be ours, you did not give this to us--but we are taking it anyway. We will burglarize you for building blocks and build ourselves a palace. These stories and this place in the world is not for us, but we exist, and you can't stop us. It's ours now, full of color and noise, a thousand peoples' ideas mosaic'ed together in celebration. We made this, and it will never be just yours again. You won't ever truly get it back, no matter how many lawyers you send, not completely. We keep what we steal.

Things shifted over time, of course. That's good. That's to be celebrated. Nobody should have to steal to survive. It should not be a crime, should not feel like a crime, to find yourself and your space in the world.

There were always content creators who could slip a little wink in when they laid out their wares, oh what's this over here, silly me leaving this unattended where anybody could grab it, of course there might be more over by the side door if you come around the alleyway (but if anybody asks, you didn't get this from ME). We all watched Xena marry Gabrielle, in body language and between the lines. We sat around and traded theories and rumors about whether the people writing Due South knew what they were doing when they sent their buddy cops off into the frozen north alone together at the end of the show, if they'd done it on purpose, if they knew. But over the years, slowly, thankfully, the winks became less sly.

A teenage boy put his hand on another teenage boy's hand and said, you move me, and they kissed on network TV, in a prime-time show, on FOX, and the world didn't burn down. Here and there, where they wanted to, where they could without getting caught by their bosses and managers, content creators stopped subtly nudging people around the back door and started saying, "Here. This is on offer here too, on purpose. You get to have this, too."

And of course, of course that came with a whole host of problems too. Slide around to the back door but you didn't get this from me turned into it's an item on our special menu, totally legit, you've just got to ask because the boss throws a fit if we put it out front. Shopkeepers and content creators started advertising on the sly, come buy your fix here!, hiding the fine print that says you still have to take what you've purchased home and rebuild it with your semi-legal IKEA hacks. Maybe they'll consider listing that Destiel or Sterek as a full-service menu item next year. Is that Crowley/Aziraphale the real thing or is it lite?

And those problems are real and the conversations are worth having, and it's absolutely fair to be frustrated that you can't find the ship you want on sale in anything like your color and size in a vast media landscape packed full of discount hetships and fast-fashion m/f. It's fair to be angry. It's fair to be frustrated. Queerbait is a word that exists for a reason.

There's a part of me that hurts, though, every time the topic comes up. It's a confusing, bad-mannered part of me, but it's still very real. And it's not because I'm fawning for crumbs, trying to be the Good, Non-Threatening Gay. It's not that I'm scared and traumatized by the thought of what might happen if we dare raise our voices and ask for attention. (Well. Not mostly. I'll always remember being quiet and scared and fifteen, but it's been a long two decades since then. I know how to ask for a hell of a lot more now.)

It's because I remember that cozy, plush-wallpapered den of joyful thieves. I remember you keep what you steal.

Every single time--every time--when a story I love sets a couple of characters out on a low, unguarded table, perfectly placed to be pilfered on the sly and taken home and smushed together like a couple of dolls, my very first thought is always, always joy. Always, that instinct says, yay! Says, this is ours now. As soon as I go home and crawl into that pillow-fort den, my instincts say, I will surely find people already at work combing through spoils and finding new ways to combine them, new ways to make them our own. I know there's fic for that. I've already seen fic for that, and I wasn't really interested last time, but the new store display's got my brain churning, and I can't wait to see what the crew back at the hideout does with this.

Every time, that's where my brain goes. And oh, when I realize the display's put out on purpose, that somebody snuck in a legitimate special menu item, when the proprietor gives me the nod and wink and says, you don't have to come around the side, I know it's not much but here--there is so much joy and relief and hope in me from that! Oh, what we can make with these beautiful building blocks. Oh what a story we can craft from the pieces. Oh, the things we can cobble together. Look at that, this one's a little skimpy on parts but we can supplement it, this one's got a whole outline we can fill in however we want. This one technically comes semi-preassembled, and that's boring as shit and a pain to take back apart, but that's fine, we'll manage. We're artists and thieves. I bet someone's pulling out the AU saw to cut it to pieces already.

And then I get back to our den, which has moved addresses a dozen times over the years and mostly hangs out on Tumblr now (and the roof leaks and the landlord's sketchy as fuck but at least they don't charge rent, and we've made worse places our own). And I show up, ready for joy--ready for a dozen other people who saw that low-hanging fruit on that unguarded table, who got the nod and wink about the special menu item, who're ready to get so excited about this newest haul. Did you see what we picked up? The theft was so easy, practically begging to be stolen. The last owner was an idiot with no idea what to do with it. The last owner knew exactly what it could become, bless their heart, under a craftsman with more time on their hands, so they looked away on purpose at just the right time to let me take it home. I show up every time ready for our space, the place that fed me on joy and self-confidence when I was fifteen and starving. The place that taught me, yes, we are thieves, because it is RIGHT to take what we need, and the beautiful things we create are their own justification. We are thieves, and that's wonderful, because nothing is handed to us and that means we get to build our own palaces. We get to keep everything we steal.

I go home, and even knowing the world is different, my instincts and heart are waiting for that. And I walk in the door, and I look at my dash, and I glance over at twitter, and--

And people are angry, again. Angry at the slim pickings from the hidden special menu. So, so tired and angry, at once again having to steal.

And they're right to be! Sometimes (often, maybe) I think they're angry at the wrong people--more angry with the shopkeeper who offers the bite-sized sampler platter of side characters or sneaks their queer content in on the special menu than the ones who don't include it at all. But it's not wrong to be mad that Disney's once again advertising their First Gay Character only to find out it's a tiny sprinkle of a one-line extra on an otherwise straight sundae. It's not wrong to be furious at the world because you've spent your whole life needing to be a thief to survive. It's far from wrong. I'm angry about it too.

But this was my den of thieves, my chop shop, my makerspace. Growing up in fandom, I learned to pick the locks on stories and crack the safes of subtext at the very same time I learned to create. They were the same thing, the same art. We are thieves, my heart says, we are thieves, and that's what makes us better than the people we steal from. We deconstruct every time we create. We build better things out of the pieces.

And people are angry that the pre-fab materials are too hard to find, the pickings too slim, the items on sale too limited? Yes, of course they are, of course they should be--but my heart. Oh, my heart. Every single time, just a little bit, it breaks.

Of course the stories are terrible (they have always been terrible). Of course they are, but we are thieves. We steal the best parts and cobble them back together and what we make is better than it was before. The craftsman's eye that cases a story for weak points, for blank spaces, for anywhere we can fit a crowbar and pry apart this casing--that's skill and art and joy. Of course we shouldn't have to, of course we shouldn't have to, but I still love it. I still want it, crave it. I still thrill every time I see it, a story with hairline cracks that we can work open with clever hands to let the queer in.

That used to be cause for celebration, around here. I ask him to go back to the ruins of Aeor with me, two men together alone on an expedition in the frozen north, it feels like a gift. And I understand why some people take it as an insult. I understand not good enough. I understand how something can feel like a few drops of water to someone dying of thirst, like a slap in the face. If it was so easy to sneak it hidden onto the special menu, to place it on the unguarded side table for someone else to run off to, why not let it sit out front and center in the first place? I know it's frustrating. It should be. We should fight. We should always fight. I know why.

But my heart, oh, my heart. My heart only knows what it's been taught. My heart sees, this thing right here, the proprietor left it there for you with a nod and a wink because they Get It. It's not put together yet, but it's better that way anyway. It's so full of pieces to pull apart and reassemble. I bet they've got a whole mosaic wall going up at home already. We can bring it home and make it OURS, more than it was ever theirs, forget half of what it came from and grow a new garden in what remains.

And I go home to find anger, and my heart breaks instead.

#I don't actually know how to tag this #representation #maybe?#C needs help feeding the dinosaurs #because this is very much about being a fandom old #probably also #driveby meta attack #because that's where I keep my impromptu rambles #CR spoilers #technically I guess?#there's one line that references the finale #fandom history

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sunnyjae · 2 years

Note

prompt #41 & #46

dom!jay x switch!femreader

so umm i was thinking abt jealous sex :’D

+ aaaa im your new follower! i just saw your blog yesterday and i swear you write soooo good, your jeonghan fic tho 🙇‍♀️😰😮‍💨 tysm!! 🏃🏻

pls these jay requests have me reeling 😩👍🏻 welcome to my blog omgggg thanks for requesting, sweets!

prompts: #41 “you see that baby? that’s me deep inside you“ + #46 "face down ass up, you know the rules"

the role of the class president ♡ pjs [req]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. I put my smut strictly under the smut tags on here to protect you guys so don't open anything with a warning like this one. Please.

pairing ♡ dom!jay x fem!reader, switch!reader (alternatively a bratty sub lol)

genre ♡ e2l!au, non-idol!au, smut, mild angst (is banter/arguing considered angst?)

warnings ♡ arguing, lots of kissing, impact play (reader is slapped in the face once), jealousy, mild possessiveness, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, bulge kink

word count ♡ 2.9k

summary ♡ fighting with your enemy is fun, and all the more exciting when he’s jealous

author’s note - it takes me at least three days to write and edit requests lol so i hope you guys understand <3 i’m a full-time student so I need to manage my time well. Thanks lovelies! Check out my masterlist and prompts list here

Jay hated how attractive you were, barely letting him go about his daily business without internally crumbling when you came into class every morning. When you didn't, he found himself especially disappointed. You weren’t the most popular in your class, but everyone knew you pretty well and you were friendly to be around - making Jay’s quiddity a living hell (or so he thought). And although you and Jay had an unspoken hatred of each other, there was something more to your dynamic than just pure animosity: you were convinced of that.

Your Sociology teacher Mr Moon concludes the lesson on Critical Criminology with a clap of his hands, eyes immediately going to Jay Park. Who, in your eyes, is the most self-centred, nosy, egotistical and painfully sexy student you’d ever come across. When he passes you, a waft of cedarwood and musk hits your nose, making you internally curse and press your thighs together.

Jay doesn't do much, let alone even speaks to you and yet has this effect on you. Fuck.

“Clean the classroom after everyone leaves, will you, Jay?” Mr Moon packs his papers and takes his coffee mug in hand. You stay seated as the other students shuffle out, some of your friends waving bye to you as they leave.

Jay nods, watching the teacher follow. His chest tightens as he realises he and you are finally alone.

You open your textbook and look through some of the recently read pages, skimming for some necessary information. As you dig through your bag, you hear Jay open the cupboard at the back of the room with the set of keys Mr Moon must have left for him. Eventually finding your airpods, you notice they’re out of battery as they die as soon as they pair with your phone. Fuck. Now you have no way of distracting yourself.

Your tiny whispered curse gets Jay’s attention and he rolls his eyes for effect. “Studying isn’t that hard.” His voice isn't loud enough to echo in the classroom, but it's clear enough to get your full attention.

Your head snaps to him as he bends to wipe the desks a few feet from you with a wipe he must have procured from the janitor's closet, not looking at you. “I’m recapping some stuff?” you gawk, turning back to your book. “Don’t distract me, I’m busy.”

“Whatever, it’s not like studying is gonna help you anyways.” he adds.

You stand up immediately, swiveling in Jay’s direction again and pointing a finger at him. “I don’t like you.” you pause, suddenly unsure of what insult to throw that is suitable and effective for the situation (a relatable problem, but i digress). “Fuck off.”

He actually laughs at you, hysterically, even going as far as to bend over to rest his hands on his knees through his fit of booming laughter. “Very mature for your age,” he snorts, fingers going back to the wet wipe and swiping down the wood in long strokes.

You straighten your skirt and, slightly embarrassed, clear your throat before sitting down. Fingers playing with your red biro, you bite your lip and continue reading.

Jay suddenly leans over you from behind, the warmth radiating from his chest but not touching you, and that same cedar scent filling your nostrils again makes your heart flutter in well-masked excitement. He places his palm over the paragraph you were (kind of, but not really) reading and furrows his brows. “What are you looking through?”

You swallow, feeling the heat between your legs grow borderline distracting. “Marxist theories on crime.” you sniff.

“Hm. It’s pretty easy to understand - but of course you’re just not very intelligent, are you?” you feel him mock-pouting, and that comment does something to you that you can’t really explain. You’re concerned you’ll gush out onto the chair from your wetness, the skirt would be doing nothing to hide your arousal either, thighs slick and hot.

“Fuck off.” you mutter, “I won’t be intelligent if you don’t leave me alone, you dick.”

He lets out a tight breath, “Ouch. My feelings are hurt.” and the warmth is quickly replaced by the cold of the classroom again as he lifts himself up and heads for the front of the room.

Jay’s blazer does nothing to hide the definition on his arms when he picks up the mop and begins swiping at the floor like nothing ever went on just a few seconds earlier. You have to close your eyes to ground yourself before you jump him and go feral, your anger (you think) really getting the best of you.

When your friend from the year below, Sunoo enters the room with a wide smile, Jay can’t help but narrow his eyes. “Hey,” he settles himself on the desk beside you, the one Jay just wiped down, he reminds himself, tight-lipped.

“Hiya,” you turn to Sunoo, “What brings you to my study hour?”

“Thought I’d keep you company till the next bus.”

“Awe,” you coo, reaching to pinch his cheeks before he slaps your hands away.

Sunoo grimaces at you, “I’m staying for five minutes and then I’m leaving, calm your ass down.”

Jay tries to cancel out your conversation, but of course, your voice being as pretty as it is, he can’t help but perk up at the mention of his name.

“I have Mr Class President Jay with me to keep me company,” you throw him a look, making Sunoo glance his way too. “But he’s just a pretentious ass so he’s no fun.” you pout, and Jay fucking swears he’s never seen anything so cute in his life. If only he could put that pretty mouth to better use-

The tension is rife in the room and Sunoo clocks it immediately.

“Right then, have fun guys, I’m leaving.” he gives Jay a prolonged look as if to say thank me later and exits the classroom as quickly as he got in.

“Wait- Sunoo-” You stand, but your friend leaves with a quick salute and an accomplished smirk on his face.

You sit back down with a tilt of your head, unsure of what to say.

“Don’t tell me you have a crush on that guy,” Jay deadpans, finishing up the mopping job.

You scoff, snatching your bottle and taking a sip of your water. “And if I did? It doesn’t concern you.”

He stops moving and just stands there, facing the board at the front. “No?”

“So you’d date him?” he laughs unamused, biting his lip in anticipation of your answer. Sunoo’s nice, but you don’t really go for your best friends.

He rests the mop against the wall behind the teacher's desk and quickly forgets about his task.

Jay turns around, dark eyes on you already. “I asked you a question: would you date Kim Sunoo?”

Fuck it. “Yeah, if he wants to.”

Jay is silent. Only the sound of heavy breathing fills the room.

He points to the space in front of him. “Come here.”

With a twitch of your brow you question, “You want me to stand in front of you?” crossing your arms defiantly.

“I said come here.” he repeats, voice somewhat different, and the stare he’s pinned you under has you shuddering.

"Some goody-two-shoes rich boy telling me what to do? Funny, that." you smirk to hide your nerves, leaning back and crossing your legs for effect.

"If I have to repeat myself a third time, you'll be in trouble."

You shrug, considering your options. Whatever Jay has to say will have you internally choking so you guess it's just best to follow through.

Standing up from your desk, you make your way to eventually be face to face with the pompous ass of a class president. "What." Your question isn't even a question, you note, realising that you don't care for what he has to reprimand you for, only that he can absolutely fuck you into the next century.

His jaw is tight and he steps closer to you.

You laugh. "Are you jealous? I bet you can't even fuck me properly-"

He slaps your cheek with his fingers, just so he stuns you but doesn't hurt you. Humiliation burns in your stomach. "What the fuck?" you try to grit out, holding the area that was hit with your own fingers, but failing to react angrily enough because you swear you nearly cum from just that.

"Fucking brat," he adds, tone a little melancholic and his expression unreadable at this point.

He holds your chin with one hand and uses the other to pry your fingers off your face, holding your wrist down.

"Get on the desk, ass to me."

You look up at Jay, biting your lip and hesitating in front of him. He's intimidating, and you don't think you've felt so excited before.

"Face down ass up, you know the rules." Jay corners you into the table, throwing his blazer elsewhere and rolling his sleeves up to his elbows.

"The door is open." you tell him.

"It won't be because I'll close it." he rolls his eyes, stalking over to lock it before returning to his previous position, watching you expose yourself for him.

"I bet you're dripping, aren't you?" he smirks, leaning over you once again to mutter in your ear. "All for Jay. isn't that right?"

"Yeah," you sigh breathily, not feeling the need to lie anymore as you press your cheek into the clean desk.

He laughs over you, head lolling down as his shoulders shake for a few seconds. When he stops, his eyes return to you and begin to rake up the expanse of your back and legs.

You swallow harshly, not knowing how to feel about his reaction.

Pressing his hips into yours, Jay groans as his covered semi-hardness comes in contact with the material of your skirt. The way your hands reach back for god knows what, makes him physically shudder and finally realise fuck this is really happening. Using one hand, the other pressing into the desk beside your waist, he presses his palm into the back of your hand and puts it in front of your face, flat on the surface.

"Tell me again." He whispers, lips brushing the shell of your ear. You feel Jay's fingers now under your skirt and they press into the sopping material on the crotch of your panties. "Who made you wet?"

Biting your lip, you gulp. "Um-"

"No ums - we don't do that here. You speak to me properly."

You breathe in deep and answer softly, "You, Jay. You made me this wet."

"Hm. And remind me," he smirks to himself. "Did you or did you not insult me just then?"

You swallow again. "Yes Jay."

"Are you going to apologise?"

"Will you fuck me if I apologise?"

"Talk back to me again-" his grip on your hand tightens. "We're making some rules, okay, love?"

Love?

"Yes."

"You call me Jay and Jay only. If you insult me, or disobey our rules, don't expect to be able to sit properly for the next two weeks." you're tempted to mutter a playful ooooh scaryyyy but shut up before you do. "Don't talk back to me, and if you do - same thing." he affirms. "If you're good, my good girl, expect to be rewarded. Do you understand?"

When he moves one of his hands to your waist and the other rubs at your clothed slit, you let out a breathy "Yes, Jay." the petname doing whatever the fuck your stomach was doing in the moment.

"Apologise."

"I'm sorry Jay."

"Properly."

"I'm sorry for calling you a pretentious ass and a dick." you stop yourself from laughing, luckily.

"Better." he mutters. "Can I take your panties off, sweetheart?" you nearly choke on your spit at the next petname.

"Yeah, please Jay." you whisper, feeling his lips on your jaw and just under your ear. He kisses at your skin, sensitive, and continues, using both hands to hook his index fingers into the elastic and tug them down slowly.

They eventually come off under your converses and Jay puts them in his pocket for safekeeping.

He finally flips your skirt up and has to hold back from absolutely going to town on you. "Fuck."

Your pussy is out on display for his greedy eyes, messy and wet. So ready. Ready to be eaten out so good. Ready to be fucked into just like that with no necessary prep. “Will you let me eat your pussy, baby?”

“Yes, Jay. Please touch me.”

At that, he falls to his knees behind the teacher’s desk, coming face to face with your pretty pussy and winking asshole. “God, I wish I could take your ass today too.” he lifts a finger to wiggle the tip in. “But I’m saving that for another day.” he sighs, eyes moving to your sopping cunt.

“Please Jay,” you whisper.

He pulls his fingers away, big hands going to hold your hips in his tight grip before diving in feral, eating your pussy like a straight up animal. His tongue slips over the sides of your lower lips teasingly, “Tastes so sweet hon’.”

“I eat a lot of fruit.” you respond with an airy moan, his tongue penetrating your hole.

He laughs, “I like to eat sweet things too,” suckling at your folds and teasingly pressing a kiss onto your clit. You don’t see him look up at you, completely smitten as he fucks his tongue into you, listening to your pretty as fuck moans and whines of his name. The vibrations of his chuckles leave you shaking, knees knocking against each other as your abdomen tightens with pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so good at this.” you whine, bucking your hips into his face. His nose presses into your puckered hole and he sucks at your clit again.

With one final tug at your labia between his lips, he stands up. You groan at the loss of warmth, but gasp when he shoves you around and sits your ass on the desk, your legs around his hips. He dives in to kiss you and it feels as if his lips meeting yours, and the taste of your sweetness still on them is all you need to fall for an ass like him even more. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, he lies you onto your back and swoons internally as you spread yourself open for him. “Please baby,”

He kisses you deeply again, “You’re fucking mine,” he groans, “Not gonna date anyone but me,” Jay adds, “Not gonna spread this pretty pussy for anyone but me, not gonna ever fucking kiss anyone but me, baby.” lips pressing to yours once again, he sucks the breath from your lungs along with the words you were about to articulate.

“Please fuck me, Jay.” you bring him down to your mouth, licking in to taste him again. Your tongues tangle in a passionate battle and he almost loses his balance when he tries to unzip his slacks.

“Yeah, pretty girl, Jayjay’s gonna fuck you so good.” he mutters, tongue swiping at his lower lip. “Spread your pussy for me, baby.”

You bring one hand down and flip your skirt up, using two fingers to spread your labia and expose your winking hole to him.

“Gorgeous, sweetheart. Mine.” he smiles at you, pulling himself out of his boxers, tip already at your entrance. When he eases into you, your eyes are focused on his dark ones. You bite your lip shyly and Jay kisses you softly, hearing the sweet airy satiated sighs escape your lips. “You’re always so pretty for me,” he pulls away, lips cherry red from your tinted lip balm and you coyly smile at him, letting out a hiss and when he finally pushes in fully.

Your eyes drop to your belly and you gasp, stealing the class president’s attention. “Fuck. You see that baby? That’s me deep inside you.” he grins, eyes flicking to yours again.

“Yeah,” you nod softly.

“Fuck, you’re so cute.” he groans, pulling out and pressing back in again until you’re full. Jay leans down to cuddle into you as he fucks you slow and deep, taking in your pleasure-filled gasps.

When your hands find his hair, he looks up at you with soft eyes, completely unlike his earlier demeanor. You pout your lips in need of a kiss and he giggles, submitting to your non-verbal request. He continues fucking you as he kisses you, “This isn’t where I wanted to fuck you this softly.” he whines, holding your waist.

“You can fuck me slow when you come over tonight.” you tell him, stroking the sides of his head, “Right now I recall you called me dumb,” you laugh.

He pulls himself up, the snaps of his hips quickening in pace, making you hiss. “Ah, fuck.”

“You’re my dumb little girl,” he corrects you, smirking. “How about I fuck you here, then we go to your house and I stay over,” Jay adds, “And I take you out tomorrow,” he continues,

“And then I fuck you again,”

author’s note - I like this one lol

#jay park smut #enhypen jay smut #enhypen smut #jay enhypen smut #kpop smut asks #kpop smut requests #kpop smut #enhypen smut requests #enhypen smut asks

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thora-jane · 3 years

Text

Excuse me, Bus Boy? (Shang Chi x female!Reader)

(a/n) Wow...you all REALLY like my last fic. This one's a little more thought out and also hopefully better written. Enjoy you lovely nerds!

Summary: After finally finding Shaun again, you too share an oddly intimate moment in his morning workout routine.

Warnings: nothing unless you need a warning for Shirtless Shang Chi.

Word Count: 1287

“Shaun I swear to god,” You mutter under your breath, raising your fist to pound on the door again. Shaun and Katy had been gone for a week almost and left no word as to where they were going. In fact, the last you saw of them was a video of someone’s live stream where Katy was driving a bus falling apart in chaos and Shaun was kicking a sword-handed man’s ass.

At least, you were 99% sure that was them. You’d watched the video over a hundred times, and though you’d never think Shaun could beat anyone up (he was too sweet, this man was the perfect gentleman, some days you weren’t even sure if he could throw a punch) you could recognize that face anywhere.

But like...there was still no way that could’ve been Shaun. Yeah, Shaun was pretty amazing, an absolute genius, a sweetheart, but like...he couldn’t be a badass. Right? You chuckled, this man had to have SOME flaws, right?

“Shaun you better be in there,” you called a little louder, running a hand through your hair. You thought about filing a missing person report, but something about all this made you feel like he would be back soon. So here you were, knocking on his door for the...6th? 7th day in a row? “Shaun! Are you there?” you raised your fist, knuckles ready to hit the door again.

“Woah, hey there (y/n),” Shaun said, startled but still half sleepy as he looked down at your fist against his bare chest.

“Shaun oh my fucking god where the fuck were you?” You let out a sigh of relief as you flung your arms around his neck, “I’ve been coming here for days and you haven’t been here - Also, Bus Boy?” You ask, almost accusatory, squinting up at his face to gauge his response, “Oh my god are you hungover? You were out last night? Where have you been?” your voice was frantic as your hands went from his shoulders to his face, then back to his shoulders as you realized he was shirtless, “Oh crap I’m so sorry maybe I should uh...maybe I should come back later do…” your voice dropped to a whisper, “shit, Shaun do you have a girl in there?”

He laughed, and you decided to ignore the melting of your heart, “Yeah because that’s believable,” He joked, running a hand through his hair with a yawn, “I just woke up. Why are you even here?” he opened the door wider and gestured for you to come in.

“Because I was worried!” you kick off your shoes and step into his tiny apartment garage, “you hear nothing from someone for days while they become internet famous and you wouldn’t get worried either? Like, I was worried you were killed or something!” Your voice lost its accusatory tone and sounded more frantic as you tried to look anywhere but the six-pack you had no prior knowledge was waiting under your friend’s shirt, “Apparently you can handle yourself though...Bus Boy?” you ask, trying to suppress a laugh, “Seriously, was that real? Like, that was you and Katy?”

Shaun chuckled, sitting down on the floor, “Yeah that was uh...that was me,” he nodded, rolling onto his stomach and getting on his hands, “Bus Boy, the internet sensation,” He let out a grunt before starting pushups. Whether it was his heavy breathing, his muscles, or the occasional grunt through clenched teeth, you found yourself falling quiet as he worked out. Something about his arms and the rest of his body made feelings you had suppressed for months harder to ignore.

“Are you enjoying this?” he smiled, turning his head to face you as he pushed himself up from the ground and went from flat hands to fists.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, hiding your blush behind a hand, “What was happening while you were gone, anyway?”

He paused in thought, arms suspended at a perfect 90-degree angle as you were suspended in disbelief at his strength, “I had a...surprise visit. With my family,” he said before returning to his pushups, “It’s pretty complicated. But I figure there’s something you might as well know.”

You looked up from the floor, “What’s that?” you asked.

You thought you saw him blush, but you figured he was just heating up from exhaustion “First of all, could you help me out with this? I’ve been meaning to add weight to my pushups and…”

“What do you want me to do?” You asked, brow furrowing.

“Could you...Could you sit on my back? You’d probably help out a lot and-”

“Are you sure?” you blushed, “Like, I don’t want to crush you,” you stumbled out.

“Trust me,” He smiled, “I can handle it.”

You hesitantly shuffled over to the other side of the room and perched yourself on his lower back, “Is...is this ok? Do you want me to move or-”

“No that’s great. Now hold on,” he said before going down into his pushups again. You yelped, hand reaching to grip his shoulders and you thought you heard him laugh.

“What was it you wanted to tell me?” You asked, focusing on the feel of his shoulders below your hands.

“My name isn’t actually Shaun,” he grunted, you could feel his body working a little harder with you on top, “It’s Shang Chi.”

“Shang Chi?” You asked, trying to repeat the intonation he spoke with.

“Yeah. There’s also a ton of other things I should tell you about, like my family and why Katy and I were gone so long, but that’s definitely the easiest one to get out of the way,” he let out a grunt as he lowered himself down and sighed, laying his face flat against the smooth concrete of the floor.

You scootched off of him and laid down on your back by his side, “I can handle Shang Chi. What else does this man with a new name have to through at me?” You smiled, looking over at him as you felt your face heat up.

He let out a laugh, flopping onto his back, “Oh you have no idea.”

“So...do you want me to still call you Shaun? Or do you want to be called Shang Chi or…?”

“Shang Chi is nice, but you could also call me ‘at seven o’clock tonight’?” He said, confidence as stable as his heart rate, “Like, for a date? Or maybe you just want me to explain everything but also-”

“Shang Chi, are you asking me out?” You asked slack-jawed, still lying on the floor.

“Yes? For the record, this may have been Katy’s idea. But the past few days have made me realize a lot of things, (y/n). And I...I’d like to take you out on a date. Or if you want we can just go out for coffee some time and I can explain everything that happened. But you should probably know I think you’re amazing and-”

“Seven sounds perfect,” You interrupt, “You and me having a date at seven o’clock tonight sounds great and I would love to be there,” You sit up, and he does the same, face flush all the way to the ears.

“Perfect! Great!” He smiles as you get up from the floor at the same time, “Yeah that’s...that’s awesome!” he nods before wrapping his arms around your waist and murmuring into your hair, “I did miss you, (y/n).”

“I missed you too, Bus Boy,” you smiled into his bare shoulder as he let out a groan.

“Please not that name.”

“Alright, you leaned back, resting your forehead against his, “I missed you too, Shang Chi.”

#shang chi x reader #shang chi #shang chi x y/n #shang chi oneshot #shang chi imagine #shang chi fluff #shang chi and the ten rings #shang chi fanfiction #shang chi x you #shang chi imagines

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floatingpetals · 2 years

Text

Call of the Mountain || Ch. 11

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes (Werewolf AU!)

Warnings: language, maybe a tiny bit of angst if you squint. like really squint, danger prone reader tbh

Word Count: 2600+

Summary: (Werewolf-AU!Stucky x f!reader) Life had begun to overwhelm her. Work was insane and her life was a mess. There was a tug in her soul that called her to take this trip, deep into the forest away, where there was the peace and stillness of nature. She didn’t know why, but she knew she needed to listen. It was meant to be a relaxing trip, but one misstep on some moss sent her tumbling into the rapids of the flooded river. She thought she was gone and the earth decided it was time to reclaim her. She didn’t expect was to be pulled from the river nor the creature that saved her. Her entire world is turned upside down and all it took was an accidental step to the left. (18+ Only Story)

A/N: Oh helloooo. Yeah, I totally had this done a month ago but completely forgot to post this lol. I did tweak it a bit cause I wanted to add a little more razzle dazzle to it. I also didn’t edit it too much so there will be errors. I hope you all enjoy!! Also uhh, things are finally gonna pick up a little bit in the story. Not speed round obv, if you’ve read any of my my other stories you’ll know I’m big on slow burns, but things will FINALLY start to happen. Please reblog and let me know what you think!!! Enjoyyy!!!!

Also don’t forget this is a 18+ only story cause it will get spicy later on.

Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 *Coming Soon* | Series Masterlist

Y/N wasn’t stupid; at least she believed she wasn’t. Maybe oblivious and a bit naïve at times, but not stupid. She caught the looks Bucky and Steve shared, noticed the pity and remorseful looks the cluster of people surrounding the table gave her. She could practically feel the friction in the room and the malice that wafted from the table of her damaged possessions.

No one needed to say a word, she knew this was a purposeful attack and meant something to these people other than just someone ripping her stuff to shreds. Not to mention, there was something else at play here. Most likely had to do with the strange way people were acting, and the bizarre pillar that she could still see pulsing outside the windows. She did not have the slightest clue what, but she damn sure knew there was a secret going around she wasn’t privy to.

Coupled with her nerves, this attack only added to her anxiety. She felt sick to her stomach. Her insides churned and the back of her mouth started to get that uncomfortable tingle that signaled if she didn’t find a toilet or trashcan or something, things would get messy. Danger prone she might be, but Y/N was not about to add ‘stress vomiter’ to the list of things these people saw her as. She stumbled back from the table, hands trembling at her side.

“Y/N?” Natasha asked, startled at her abrupt movement.

Y/N gulped in air and glanced around. All the new faces, unfamiliar and possibly threatening, stared back. She didn’t know these people and didn’t trust them further than she could throw them. The simple notion that she couldn’t lean on anyone here, not even Bucky or Natasha, sent her into a tailspin.

Mumbling an apology, Y/N rushed out of the living room and out the way she came in. Bucky made a move to follow, jolting forward in shock, but Natasha stopped him short with a hand on his bicep.

“Give her a moment. This is a lot for her to process right now.” Natasha soothed. “We need to discuss the other things we found without her in the room anyway. There’s also the twins we haven’t heard from yet.”

His wolf whined internally, torn. They wanted to go after his mate, but also knew that he needed to protect his pack from this danger. She wasn’t visible, but Bucky could still scent the bitter salt in the air. Y/N wasn’t far. Setting his jaw, Bucky shot one last glance over his shoulder to the back door and turned to the rest of the pack. Nat was right, even if he hated admitting it.

Oblivious to the tension going through the pack, Y/N staggered down the back steps, her knees giving out from under her. She collapsed to the grass with a gasp for air, her chest heaving and tears beginning to pour down her face.

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?! Y/N thought, petrified. Her chest tightened to the point she could hardly breathe, I just had to go on a break, I just had to push my luck! First I fall in the river, then I find myself stuck with a reclusive potential cult in the middle of the woods, and now this?!

Rocking back onto her heels, Y/N wrapped her arms around herself and started to sob. The motion jostled her wrist, her stomach lurching at the pain. It drove home the reality of her predicament and that this wasn’t one big nightmare. She gritted her teeth and sobbed harder.

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!! She berated herself, wishing she were still at home, safe. Any place would be better than here, where no one gave her a straight answer and she at least felt some semblance of control. She couldn’t even call her mom to let her know she was alive or even to just hear her voice. Never in her life has she felt this hopeless, this lost.

Curling in tighter to herself, Y/N sobbed out all the bottled emotions she’s kept the past two days, completely uncaring that she might be found with red, puffy eyes, and a runny nose. Sobs racked through her body, her cries drowning out the world around her. To hell with what they think of her, they already thought she was an idiot. Might as well run with it.

Leaves shook in the trees, trembling at the emotional sobs that reverberated through the forest. The bird heard her anguish, echoing back their own sad song. Pain needed to come, it was a necessary step towards bliss, nevertheless, it didn’t mean fate enjoyed the sorrow that struck. In response, a hum blindly sought to comfort and still the sadness with tender wisps reaching through the winds. Perhaps it could help if only the intentions could be felt.

Standing tall and vigil, the pillar drew in the sorrow that was tangent in the air, holding it close to the heart that lay at the center where the power grew and grew until it began to press against containment. Exploding from the pressure, shockwaves rolled over the land, causing the birds to calm and animals to lift their heads in the direction. With a guiding hand, it reached for the person the earth sought to comfort. In its search, it found others that needed its guidance as well.

Y/N gasped, the sudden affection draped around her, the foreign caress stilling her cries. Slowly, she raised her head, her eyes wide. Rolling waves of blue skimmed the top of the ground, stretching further than it originally had. She stared for a few moments before she realized the rolling was similar to a beat heart. Standing on shaky legs, Y/N turned towards the strange lights pivotal point.

Whatever it was seemed to realize her curiosity, beckoning her towards the front of the cabin. Shooting one final look towards the backdoor, Y/N made her way to the front. Her eye’s landed on the totem, the intricate designs carved deep into the wood were glowing brightly and pulsing with each wave of light. Y/N stilled in front of it, her head tipped back to stare in wonder and awe.

The pillar had a calm aura void of anything malicious, a phrase she never thought she’d say in her life about an inanimate object. It almost felt pleading in its fast pulses that continuously rolled throughout the clearing. A sense of desperation grew the longer she remained stagnant, begging her to reach forward and place a hand on the cool wood.

Y/N closed her eyes, counted to three, and let out a heavy breath. She just couldn’t have a normal vacation out, could she?

Listening to the strange call, she lifted her hand, fingers trembling as she reached to touch the cool wood. The pads of her fingers brushed against the wood, forming a connection between her, the pillar, and the earth beneath her. There was a pull drawing the power inwards to the pillar and once her hand fully pressed against it, the band snapped.

It latched on to the link, forcing all the contained power through her fingertips in one fierce push. Y/N let out a strangled cry, her breath caught in her throat. Her head flew back at the rush of strange sensations flowing up her arm and into her chest, eyes wide and blankly staring at the cloud floating above. She could hear whispers of a song she couldn’t understand echo in her ears, curling behind her ear, down her neck, arms, and towards her lower back. It felt like vines creeping along her body and taking root inside her.

There was a sting that followed, starting at the base of her spine that crept back up along the invisible curves and patterns traced up her back, to her neck, down her arms, and up towards her ears. It bit down her cheekbones and inched towards her eyes.

Y/N had a distant thought to panic at the pain and strange feeling of another whispering inside her mind. A final and stronger pinch, directly below her eyes shot that thought straight from her mind as her eyes seemed to fade to black.

It was only a split second, not enough for her to be terrified or even wrap her mind around what was happening when her vision seemed to lurch forward to the right in a blinding flash. Lights and sounds rushed past her eyes, shades of green, white, and shapes blurring as she seemingly raced through the forest towards something. What, she hadn’t the faintest clue, just that she was an unwilling passenger on this ride.

The feeling was the strangest thing she couldn’t describe. She could still feel her body rooted in the spot, her hand still resting against the pillar. But her eyes, seemingly separated from her body and took her to a place she had never seen before, deep in the forest miles away. Her ears seemed to follow, the rush of the wind deafening. Then, both went silent and still

Y/N looked around, a faint glow of a white vignette around the outer edges of her vision. Wherever this was, was in a small clearing against a rock wall. There was a cave directly to her right, too dark for her to see in from this far away. She could hear the trees sway around her, along with the soft sounds of the birds and animals flitting about. Nothing felt a miss. Hesitantly, Y/N took a step towards the cave, a gentle tug leading her towards the entrance. Her feet made no noise against the ground, nothing to alert anything around she was there.

As she neared the entrance of the cave, the scent of copper hit her nose. Her breath caught in her throat, and she took another step forward, this time with more purpose. The cave wasn’t nearly as deep as it appeared, dropping down to a small hollowed-out room that was only a few feet deep and tall enough for her to stand in.

Y/N squinted down into the darkness, searching for the source of the smell. She nearly flew out of her skin- well perhaps back into her skin- when the shadows moved. The shadow whimpered and whined low. Careful not to startle the animal, Y/N lowered herself to get a better look.

Curled in the furthest part of the cave were not one, but two wolves, tucked tightly against each other. With the little light that peaked through the cave, Y/N could see the blood soaking both. Whether it was only one that was injured or both, the amount of blood that shined on the floor and the two was alarming. One lifted its head as if it could sense Y/N approach, its movement sluggish. It locked eyes with Y/N and she felt her breath catch in her throat at the pair of eyes that held her gaze.

They were startlingly human, cloudy from the pain, but no less intelligent. The wolf’s eyes widen at Y/N's cautious approach, disbelieving that it was seeing what was in front of it. Slowly, Y/N reached a hand towards the wolf, ignoring the sight of her translucent glowing hand, and brushed her fingers along the wolf’s muzzle. It was like a live wire exploded under her touch. The pained whimpers translated to words she knew.

“Please, please don’t let this be it. I can’t be dying. We can’t die! Please, let help come! Bucky, Steve-!”

Over top the face of the wolf, a faint image of a woman with bright green eyes appeared, tears streaming down her face and blood smeared over her cheeks stared back, her mouth moving with the pleas.

Startled, Y/N wrenched her hand back, confused more than ever. A sharp tug around her waist pulled her backward. The wolf let out a startled yip, watching in a mix of fear and awe as Y/N was wrenched backward, flying through the walls of the cave and forest back towards her body. It was only a few seconds later she slammed back into her body, every sensation overwhelming as they returned to her. She gasped painfully while her lungs drug air back into them, her chest tight and her fingers clawed at the band around her stomach.

“Hey, hey! It’s okay! It’s okay! You’re alright, Y/N.” Deep baritone cut through the panic and soothed her hysteria. It took her a moment to recognize the voice and smells of the man that held her tight. Bucky shushed her softly into her ear. “You’re alright.”

Y/N opened her eyes, the light blinding her temporarily. While she blinked rapidly, she felt Bucky rub his thumb along her cheek, tracing something against her skin. Body trembling, Y/N’s vision returned, Bucky blurred shaped sharping into focus.

He was kneeling in front of her, hunched over and holding her against his chest. He loosened his grip just enough to let her sit back once he was certain she would remain sitting upright. He cupped her cheek and stared at her intently.

“What happened?” he asked carefully.

Gasping with wide eyes, Y/N lurched forward to grip his shirt. She might not understand what exactly happened, but she had a feeling it was just as real as everything that had happened so far.

“They’re hurt! They need help!”

“What?” Natasha asked, rushing forward out of her peripherals. She kneeled beside Bucky, her face serious. “Who?”

“I- I don’t know.” Y/N shook her head. “There’s two of them, both covered in blood. There was a cave-I don’t think-No one of them doesn’t have much time left! Oh god!”

“Y/N. What are you talking about? How do you know?” Bucky asked skeptically.

“I don’t-I can’t explain it! I just know!” She needed him to believe him! She was crazy! “They were wolves, but… but when I touched one of them, there was a woman? I don’t know how else to explain it but they’re in trouble and the other one wasn’t moving! Please you have to believe me!”

Natasha and Bucky exchanged a look, but neither doubted Y/N. Despite how odd this was. Clint had caught sight of her walking towards the pole out of the window, alerting everyone in the room and they watched as she seemingly moved in a trance. Before anyone could go out to keep her away from the totem, she placed her hand against the wood. There was a blinding flash of white that stunned everyone and then a feeling of relief that shot throughout the clearing. It was like someone long lost to them had finally come home. When the pack members finally got their vision back, Y/N was a few feet away, staring off towards the southwest, eyes and skin glowing a bright blue.

Natasha stood quickly and motioned for Sam and Clint to follow the direction she had been gazing off towards. Steve nodded sharply at her as she passed him and crossed over to crouch in front of Y/N beside Bucky, who was still trying to calm her down with soft words of reassurance.

Tears had started to pool in her eyes, overwhelmed and freaking out over what had happened in the past ten minutes. He felt a part of his heart crack at the fear in her eyes, completely and terrified. His wolf whined low in his chest, wanting to soothe and reassure her everything would be alright. Hell, even if he was a werewolf, he still would have been able to taste her fear in the air. Staring at her face for a few moments, his eyes followed the delicate and intricate swirls of the vines now engraved into her skin.

They were beautiful, standing out as a slight shade lighter than her skin tone and raised against her skin as if a fresh tattoo that had yet to heal. His gaze drifted to the totem pole, now laying dormant and cold, where similar carvings stretched up from the base along the backside of the pillar.

Eventually, Steve let out a sigh.

“I think it’s time we all had a talk.”

No tags this round cause it’s been so long lol If you want to be added back just let me know and I’ll update the list!! ❤

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xoxo-teddybear · 3 years

Note

Heyo! I'm a REALLY REALLY REALLY! Big fan of angst and your works, so I have a suggestion! So like, in this au Bakugou and Y/N are aged up and they have a daughter (let's just say her name is either Katsumi or Kirumi). So, the child is 4 years old and she didn't get her quirk yet. Let's just say Bakugou got drunk when his friends dragged him to a bar and this woman decided to hit him up and let's just say he cheated- so Y/N found out because kiri just had to tell her because it wasn't manly at all for him to keep a secret and Y/N left him with his child and boom! Bad ending. Please tag me in this one tyy!

Bet.

(Changed it up the slightest bit to make Katsumi remember bc I kinda wanna do a part 2 for this)

Nobody to Blame but Yourself - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: ANGST, cursing, cheating, alcohol consumption

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

Pt.1 Pt.2

You have a small, beautiful family. Your loving husband, Katsuki and your adorable daughter, 5 year old Katsumi.

Katsumi was your precious baby girl. She had Katsuki’s ash blonde hair with your silky smooth hair texture. She had your E/C eyes and Katsuki’s porcelain skin. She had Katsuki’s bravery and boldness along with your kindness and compassion. She was a perfect mix of you both.

Y/N and Katsuki have been together ever since their childhood. Their families were close and they grew up together. Katsuki always swore to protect his princess. They got together in their junior year and about 5 years after they graduated from UA high, Katsuki proposed.

—

“Be back soon, okay Suki?” You sweetly said to your husband as he got closer to the door. He pulled you in with a smile and pecked your cheek.

“Yeah, yeah Teddy Bear. I’ll probably be back sooner than you think, don’t even wanna go with those losers.” He complained with a strained face. You giggled at his expression and went on.

“Those losers have been your best friends since high school. You love them. You know you do,” you teased. “Besides, you haven’t spent some time with them in forever.”

“Yeah Y/N. I’m a husband and a dad. I don’t need to be around my friends, I need to be with my family.” He exclaimed with a playful voice.

“Well your family will still be here when you get back. Just as long as you always come back to us too.” You said with a wink.

“Always will Teddy Bear.” He said holding you tight. He held you close until you both heard the little pitter patter of feet running to the front door. You both looked down and saw your daughter in her pjs and watched as she jumped onto Katsuki.

“Be back soon daddy!” She said with a squeal. Katsumi was definitely a daddy’s girl. Her and her father were attached at the hip the second she was born. They were best friends and you loved their father-daughter dynamic.

“Katsumi, you’re supposed to be sleeping, love.” You said with a chuckled as you held her tiny hand while Katsuki picked her up in his arms.

“I wanted to say bye to daddy before he went to see uncle Kiri! And uncle Denki and uncle Sero and Auntie Mina!” She said and watched as you and Bakugou lip synced to her voice as she said the Bakusquad’s names. She laughed at her parent’s teasing as Katsuki assaulted her in kisses.

“That’s sweet baby bear. Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon. So get to bed you brat,” Bakugou said as he placed his daughter down and ruffled her hair. Others would look down on the rough treatment but you knew Katsumi never took it seriously. She always laughed and played back with Katsuki whenever he put on his ‘mean guy act.’

“M’kay.” Katsuki bent down to kiss her cheek and you followed doing the same action before Katsumi ran back off to her room. You and Katsuki said bye to each other after Katsuki gave you a loving kiss. He walked out the door to meet with his friends as he knew he was in for a long night.

It would soon shock him to see how true that statement would be.

—

The night was going well. Katsuki left around 8:30 and he said he would be back sooner than you thought so considering he was now a family man, you thought he’d be back by midnight. However, you woke up in the middle of the night and saw it was 3 in the morning...and he still wasn’t home. You were starting to get worried now.

If this was back in your earlier years of marriage, you’d say this was okay. Not great but okay, except now, Katsuki has responsibilities and promises that he vowed to keep. He should’ve been home a long time ago. Where was he? You stayed up deciding to sit and wait for him to come home and after almost 2 hours, your phone rang.

You picked it up quickly with a little bit of fear and anger sitting in your stomach. You didn’t even bother to check who it was so when you heard the voice of your husband’s best friend instead of Katsuki, you grew concerned.

“Katsuki! Where are you?!” You asked with worry as you slightly shouted into the phone.

“Hey Y/N..... It’s Kirishima. Umm...I have something to tell you.” He said with sadness detected in his voice.

“Kiri? Is everything alright? Wheres Katsuki?” You asked.

“I’m so sorry Y/N...”

Listening to the red head’s voice made your eyes pop. Your body trembled and tears began to pool in your eyes as you shook your head in denial. Katsuki loved you. You both had a daughter! A family! He would never....he wouldn’t....right? After talking to your friend for some time and getting the crucial information you needed, you made up your mind on what you had to do.

“T-Thank you, Kirishima. Goodnight.” You said into the phone with a hiccup.

“I’m sorry Y/N. You don’t deserve this. You and Katsumi....goodnight.” He said and hung up the phone. You placed it down and sat in silence for a moment. After about a minute, you broke down again and cried into your hands. You sobbed as tears flowed down your cheeks. Rivers of heartbreak and anger streamed down your face as you cried the night away.

Well..you couldn’t cry all night. Katsuki would probably be back in the morning and you had plans. You’d have to save your tears for later. You looked at the time.

4:18 a.m.

You set your alarm for 6 and went back to bed. The whole night, all you could think about was your precious baby girl. This was going to break her little heart. Instead of crying over your husband’s betrayal, you wept for your daughter’s future without her best friend. Eventually you cried yourself to sleep and the sun rose in time.

—

10:00 a.m

Katsuki opened his eyes to the alarm on the nightstand. He yawned a bit before adjusting his eyes to morning light. The more he looked at the stand, the more he realized he didn’t recognize it. Nor the alarm clock. He looked around and noticed he wasn’t in his bedroom. Katsuki shot up and sat on the bed and looked down to notice he was completely undressed. He looked to the side and saw some random woman. A complete stranger who was also naked in bed with him. His heart grew rapid as his eyes grew frantic.

“No, no, no, no, no, no this can’t be happening..this can’t be happening!” Katsuki said as his hands found way to his hair as he tugged on the blonde locks. The woman next to him awoken to his shuffling and smiled up at him. She placed her hand on his bare chest and cuddled in close to him as she sighed in content.

“G’morning handsome. Had a fun night?” She teased, reminding him of his affair and unloyal actions.

“Get the fuck off me!” He said as he jumped out of bed and found his pants. He pulled them on and continued to scream. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! The hell did you do to me you fucking slut?”

“What’re you talking about? And who the fuck are you calling a slut?” The woman said with sass.

“Just tell me where I am!” Katsuki demanded.

“A hotel! You know, the hotel you dragged me to so you could get your dick wet.” She said as she sat up from the bed but still covered herself with the blanket.

“Why the fuck would I do that?!” He screamed.

“You tell me. All I know is that I saw you in that bar, you drank a hell of a lot with your friends, I came up to you and flirted with you, you flirted back, we shared a few more drinks, and you dragged me here. I mean, I consented of course but still.” The stranger explained. Bakugou shook as he looked around in a frenzy. “Anyway, round 2?”

“You fucking bitch, I have a wife!” He screamed at her as he got himself dressed.

“Heh, wow. Well when your wife leaves you after she finds out you cheated, give me a call.” The woman said as she layed back down on the bed. Katsuki seethed at her as he squinted his eyes in disgust.

“You shameless slut. Like hell I will! And Y/N’s not gonna leave me! She loves me! And I love her-“

“Sure didn’t seem like it last night~” the woman said. Bakugou had enough and blasted the bed she was on with his quirk before cussing her out and leaving her there. He quickly ran out the hotel and found his car. He hopped inside and started it as he quickly sped off home.

“Shit!” Bakugou screamed at himself. How could he do that?! How could he cheat on you?! You were his everything! You and Katsumi! His two girls were his entire world! And he betrayed the both of you by doing this. He could only hope that you wouldn’t find out. He can’t tell you what he did. He would lose you! He can’t lost you! This whole thing just has to pass over and things will be fine. Right? Well something didn’t sit right with him as he inched closer and closer to his house.

—

When the 6 o’clock alarm rang, you woke up, ready for the day to begin and the drama to unfold. You were quick to get yourself ready. Brush your teeth, shower, get dressed, a little makeup, and you packed your important belongings and your clothes. Everything else would be replaceable. You put on a pair of shoes and put the rest in the large suitcase you had.

You made a quick call to Mina, assuming she already knew what happened. You asked if you could drop Katsumi off for some time and she of course said yes. After saying ‘thank you,’ you brought all your bags into your car and went back inside to get your daughter.

You walked into your daughter’s bedroom to see her sleeping peacefully. Next to her bed, a framed picture of your once happy family. It was Katsumi’s 4th birthday and she didn’t want to spend it with anybody else except for Mommy and Daddy. Now, you were gonna have to take someone out the picture. You shook your daughter awake and watched as she opened her beautiful E/C eyes that resembled your own.

“Katsumi..hey baby, wake up.” You softly said with a reassuring smile to not alarm her. You watched as she rubbed her eyes with her tiny fist and looked up at you.

“Mommy? What’s going on?” She asked as she looked around in a daze.

“You’re gonna have a little play date at Auntie Mina and Uncle Kiri’s house. Uncle Denki and Uncle Sero will be there too! You excited?” You asked with enthusiasm to hide your pain.

“Really Mommy?!” Your daughter asked with excitement.

“Mhm! Get ready and get dressed for Mommy. They’ll be here at 8, okay?” You said rubbing your daughter’s back before she quickly jumped out of bed and into her own bathroom.

“Okay Mommy!” She said as she ran into the bathroom, turning on the sink to begin her morning routine. Some time passed and Katsumi got dressed and you went back in her room to help her dry her hair. You helped her put on her shoes and by the time they were on, Mina and Kiri were already at the door.

You opened it with a soft smile and the couple looked at you with supportive, sad eyes. “Hey guys..”

“It’s okay to be sad Y/N, we’re here for you.” Mina said. Your eyes teared up at her words but you shook your head and gave her a hug.

“Thank you, but I promise myself I wouldn’t cry. At least, not when Katsumi’s around. I gotta be strong for her. Her whole life’s about to change after all.” You sadly said as you looked down and released your hold on Mina. Your pink friend nodded before walking into the house to find Katsumi in her bedroom. You and Kirishima stayed at the door and talked a bit more.

“I’m so sorry for all of this Y/N. I should’ve been watching him more.” Kirishima said as he looked down in sorrow.

“Kiri, you shouldn’t have to watch him. He cheated and that was his choice. Your choice was being a true friend and telling me. A true man,” you joked. You both gave a little bittersweet laugh before calming down again. “Thank you so much Kirishima.”

The red head did nothing but pull you in for a tight hug. You almost cried on his shoulder before your daughter came to the both of you. “Uncle Kiri!”

You both separated and looked down at the excited 5 year old. She jumped onto her uncle and he happily held her in his arms. “Hey squirt. Ready for a day full of fun?”

“Mhm!” Katsumi replied. You all talked some more before Katsumi said her goodbye to you and went off with Kirishima and Mina. You shut the door and took a break as you allowed a few silent tears to drop. You wiped them away and went to pack your daughter’s bags. Just a few more hours and he’d be home..probably. All you knew was that you’d have to face him eventually.

Finally, you finished packing your daughter’s things and placed them in your car. You put on a jacket and waited for Katsuki to walk through the doors. Soon, this perfect little family would go crumbling to the ground.

—

Katsuki pulled into his driveway and his eyes took notice of your car still there. He smiled at the sight and quickly got out of the car. He slammed the vehicle door shut and ran to the entrance. He unlocked the door in a rush and to say he was happy to see you on the couch, still there, was an understatement.

“Y/N! Hey Teddy Bear! I am so sorry!” He said as he ran to you and sat down next to you on the couch, pulling you in for a tight hug. He was too happy to even notice your jacket and shoes that you wore.

“Katsuki, you were gone all night. Where were you?” You said in a soft voice as you placed your hand on his chest so you could face him.

“I-..I overdid it and spent the night at Kirishima’s. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, love. I was passed out the whole night.” He said and attempted to pull you in again but you pressed a hand to his chest to stop him. You couldn’t believe he was going to lie to you. Actually, now that you think about it, cheating wasn’t below him so why would lying be either?

“So why didn’t Kirishima call me? Or Mina?” You questioned. Unfortunately, you underestimated Katsuki’s quick tongue. He was a good liar, and if you hadn’t already known the truth, you’d probably believe him.

“Shitty hair’s phone died and Alien girl was asleep by the time we got back. By the time he put me in the guest bed, I knocked out so don’t asked me what happened after.” He said. Your anger and fury grew at his lies but he didn’t notice. “Look, I’m so sorry I came back so late but I can make it up to you Teddy Bear. Now would you just give me a hu-“

“SHUT! UP!” You screamed as you pushed him off of you. You stood up from the couch and Bakugou watched you in “confusion.” Bakugou felt his heart racing as he had a guess at why you were so mad but he refused to believe it.

“T-Teddy Bear, whats wrong?” He asked with shaky hands as he tried to reach out to you but you dodged all his attempts.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?! You’re fucking lying to me! You’re lying to me after doing what you did! Katsuki, are you just gonna act like you don’t know what you did?! Because I know! So why don’t you?!” You screamed at him. Bakugou still couldn’t believe you knew so he tried his soft attempts once more and reached out to you again.

“Baby, please calm dow-“

“Are you fucking serious Katsuki? You’re gonna tell me to calm down?!” You laughed out in disbelief. You watched as Katsuki’s lip began to tremble and he looked down in shame. “Say it.”

“What?” He spoke softly.

“Say what you did.”

“......”

“Say it Katsuki! Tell me what you did and how you betrayed not only me but your daughter too.” You specified. It took Bakugou a second before he spoke up in a soft, quiet voice.

“I cheated on you...”

“Louder.”

“I cheated on you!” He said while standing up and facing you with tears in his eyes. “I cheated on you! Okay?! I got drunk last night and slept with someone else but baby I swear I didn’t mean it!” He said as he walked to you and tried to hold you. You once again pushed his hands away before speaking back.

“It doesn’t matter if you meant it or not Katsuki! You still did it!” Your voice grew dry as it began to break. Your eyes pooled with tears as you continued. “I would’ve NEVER done that to you. I wouldn’t even be CAPABLE of doing that to you Katsuki! Because I love you!”

“I love you Y/N! I swear I do!” He fought back but you retaliated.

“It doesn’t seem like it! Because you slept with someone else! You promised me you would never hurt me. You promised you would always protect me. You promised me that you loved me and only me! Not only that but you promised your daughter that you would never bring harm to her! Guess what?! You’re the reason her whole life is going to be so fucked Katsuki! Do you realize that?!” You screamed at him.

“I do, Teddy Bear, I do!” He said.

“Don’t fucking call me that Katsuki!” You said with an exasperated voice. Bakugou shook his head as he walked to you and kneeled infront of you.

“Baby, please! I’m sorry! I was drunk, it didn’t mean anything! It was a mistake but if we can forget about this I promise I’ll make it up to you!” He begged.

“Forget? Forget?! Are you insane?! I’m never gonna be able to forget any of this Katsuki. How the hell am I supposed to forget that my first friend, my first love, my first kiss, my first everything betrayed me like this! How am I supposed to forget that my husband, who I’ve known since we were fucking babies, cheated on me?! Tell me!” You said as the tears finally fell.

“I don’t know...I don’t know but I promise I can make it up to you! So please forgive me! Please stay!” He pleaded. The whole time he couldn’t let go of you. Every time you pushed him off, he just came right back.

“How am I supposed to trust that you’ll actually keep that promise?” You said softly with a sad voice. “If it wasn’t clear already, I’m not staying. We’re getting a divorce, Katsuki.”

Bakugou felt his heart shatter. He looked at you with his trembling body and shaky irises. “W-What?”

“Katsuki...you cheated. There’s no other way around it. No explanations or excuses. And you can’t even blame it on the alcohol because I’ve been blackout drunk before too and the idea of cheating on you never even crossed my mind. You have nobody to blame but yourself.” You said with a broken voice and a shrug. “We’re getting a divorce and I’m taking Katsumi with me.” You said and began to walk to the door.

Bakugou couldn’t believe what he just heard and so he got up from his knees and ran after you. He ran in front of you and held you by the shoulders. “What?! No! Baby!! Please, that’s my daughter! You can’t just take her from me, please!”

“I won’t be taking her from you,” you said and pushed his hands off your shoulders. “We can co-parent, but when she’s old enough, when Katsumi asks why we’re no longer together, I’ll be telling her the truth. So you can still see her, but when she’s ready to know, if she decides she hates you and doesn’t want to see you ever again, then you’ll have to accept it.”

At this point, Katsuki began to openly cry as he allowed his fat tears to flow down his face. Hiccups left his mouth as he shamelessly sobbed infront of you. “Y-Y/N....please don’t go. You guys are my family, you’re both my entire world..I-I love you both so much,” he said and went in to grab your hand, which you allowed. “I know I hurt you both a-and I know I fucked up, but please just give me another chance. I swear this was just a mistake, I never meant to do it. Please stay...please let me fix my mistake. I love you.”

Tears once again filled your eyes but you didn’t allow them to flow. “.....I love you too Katsuki,” at those words, Bakugou felt a bit of hope. “But I just can’t stay with you. If it was just me..I probably would give you another chance..but Katsumi is your daughter Katsuki. She’s your own flesh and blood and you betrayed her. You’re supposed to be her hero and you betrayed her like this. I just can’t trust the fact that you won’t do something like this again, and not just for my sake but for our daughter’s too. I’m sorry, but this is where we end.”

Once you said that you walked away from Bakugou, leaving him in shock. He stood there, regretting everything. Not just his mistake, but all the times where he could’ve been a better husband.

‘I should’ve held her more..I should’ve been home more...I should’ve been more for them,’ he thought until he heard the door open and slam shut. He turned to face it and looked around the now very empty house. He allowed silent tears to drip down his face and then he took a little tour of his new environment.

He walked to the master bedroom and saw all your belongings gone. He saw your closet was empty, all your shoes gone. He went into the bathroom and saw all your stuff was missing. The tears flowed faster and when he walked into his daughter’s room, it made it 10x worse.

He opened the door to the pink room and saw her bedsheets missing, all her toys gone, her closet was barren, and her bathroom was hollow. He walked back out to his little girl’s former bed and sat down. He cried on the bed and sobbed into his hands. He broke down as he thought back to your words. You were right.

‘You have nobody to blame but yourself.’

Katsuki looked up from his hands and when he did, he took notice of the picture frame that was left faced down on the night stand. He picked it up and his heart turned to dust. It couldn’t break anymore. He looked at the picture of his once happy family. His beautiful wife, his blessing of a daughter. His two girls who had a protector...that protector was supposed to be him...and he failed. He smiled at the picture but continued to cry. It was a beautiful sight but you left it behind.

He took the picture with him as he walked to his bedroom. He sat on the bed and held the frame close to his chest as he layed down on the cold mattress. Tears still freely fell as a shadow casted over his eyes. No words could be said except for a few.

“N-Nobody to blame but myself.”

@darl1ngmei

A/N: Hey Cubs! It’s been awhile since my requests have been closed AND THEY STILL ARE but the reason why I took this one was because I’ve been on a writing spree recently (I literally have 15 drafts full of different writing pieces🤣) and I rly liked this request! Please don’t start sending requests because they may just get lost. When I open up my requests, then you guys can send some because I love to satisfy! Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this piece and thank you to the cub who requested this! 🧸💗

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

TO LOVE AND BE LOVED - Part Six (Harry Styles)

a/n: LAST PART OMG!! im a little emotional this story has come to its end but it already ended up like twice as long as i planned it to be haha! thank you so much for reading and loving the story, it means so much to me and i loved seeing your reactions as the plot developped! i hope you guys will be happy with the ending our pair got and i can’t wait to read your thoughts about the series as a whole!!

pairing: CEO!Dad!Harry X Reader

warning: mentions of death, cheating and divorce, sexual content

word count: 14.8k

SERIES MASTERPOST masterlist

Waking up next to Harry is probably your most favorite thing in the entire world right now and you’ve been able to experience it every morning since you dropped Izzy off at Anne’s. You’re missing her like crazy and can’t wait to have her back, but part of you is desperate to stretch these days as long as possible, because you’re not sure if Harry will be comfortable with you sleeping in his room once his little one is back under the roof.

It’s always the same, yet you can’t get enough of it. Harry grumbles as he turns the alarm off, snuggles back to you for just a few minutes before he forces himself to take a shower. In the meantime you start breakfast and his coffee waits for him ready by the time he joins you in the kitchen. You eat together, sometimes talking, sometimes just silently enjoying each other’s presence and it’s the perfect way to start your days.

Then Harry is off to work and you go for whatever shooting you had planned for the day. Luckily, you’ve been keeping yourself busy. If your day ended early, you always found something else to do, you picked Trevor up another time and also managed to have lunch with Harry on Thursday which was such a nice change, even if it was just eating takeout in his office because you were in the neighborhood and he had some time to see you.

Now it’s Friday and you’re spending it with some editing and eventually packing, since you’re leaving to the countryside for Sarah and Mitch’s wedding when Harry comes home. You’ve been looking forward to this weekend all week, you had a few phone calls with Sarah and the two of you hit it off quite well, you can’t wait to finally attend the wedding. And also because Harry is coming with you, so it’ll be a kind of weekend getaway even though the two of you have been alone home all week.

Harry runs a little late from work so you leave about an hour later than you planned, but it’s all good, since nothing is planned for the evening, you just wanted to be at the location on time. It’s going to be a small wedding, nothing extra and it’s held in an inn near the beach, the perfect spot in your opinion, especially because even the weather seems to be celebration the occasion and it won’t be raining cats and dogs.

Heather: A double date? I don’t know, who’s the guy?

You’re texting Heather in the car and you finally bring up the possibility of going on a double date with Niall.

Y/N: Photo attachment

Y/N: He is a cool guy, I think you would like him!

Heather: He surely is hot! Alright, we’ll see. Anyway, have fun with your super hot and rich boyfriend this weekend! Tell me all about the wedding next week!

Y/N: Thanks!

Your eyes scan over the word boyfriend. You didn’t want to correct her and tell her that you are not boyfriend and girlfriend, just dating, because you kind of enjoy the thought of being an official item. It’s been just a few weeks since it all started and you know that Harry needs to take things in his own pace, but that doesn’t mean you don’t like to play with the thought.

You’re aching to finally call him your boyfriend or what’s better, hear him call you his girlfriend. The thought of calling this man yours is making you go nuts but you need to be patient with him. He has gone through so much change lately, you can’t let your silliness ruin it for the both of you.

It’s late by the time you arrive to the Inn and you both feel exhausted from the ride so you want nothing else than to get a good night sleep before the wedding tomorrow.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” Sarah greets the two of you when you walk into the Inn. She envelopes you in a warm hug before doing the same with Harry. IN the meanwhile, Mitch has also appeared and he greets you with a short hug as well before giving a brotherly hug to Harry. “Had a safe ride?”

“Yeah, everything went fine,” you nod smiling.

“Great. Well, here is your room key, made sure you two are getting one of the larger rooms,” Sara smiles slyly, but you’re taken aback by something else.

“We’re sharing a room?” you ask turning to Harry, who seems nervous about your question, though it wasn’t your intention to make him ashamed in any kind of way.

“Oh, yeah. I mean, Sarah asked me this week which room I want and I told her we would be sharing… Is that okay? We-we could ask for a room for you as well if y—“ “Harry,” you chuckles softly, giving his hand a squeeze. “I would love to share, I just wasn’t expecting you to want to do the same is all,” you tell him and you can see the relief in his eyes instantly.

You talk over a few things with Sarah before taking your stuff up to the room and calling it a night. Harry takes a shower first in the small bathroom that’s joined to your room and in the meantime you hang your dress up so it doesn’t get too wrinkly by the morning. Then you just get all your equipment done, making sure everything is full and loaded for the big day tomorrow. When Harry is done you take your turn and the hot shower feels nice, quite relaxing. Walking out you find Harry lying in bed, typing on his phone, he smiles up at you when you join him in bed.

“My mum sent me this. They went to the park today.” He turns the screen towards you and a photo of Izzy is shown with ice-cream all over her face, grinning happily into the camera.

“She could literally live on ice-cream,” you chuckle, making yourself comfortable under the sheets.

“And gummy bears,” Harry chuckles before locking his phone and putting it to the side table. He is quick to wrap his arms around you, pulling you against his side and you smile as you snuggle to him, enjoying the heat of his body. “Good night, love,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Good night, H,” you softly reply before letting yourself drift to sleep within seconds.

You already have a lot of experience with weddings and no matter how big or small it is, the day is always a little bit chaotic, everyone is all over the place, there’s no time for just messing around, especially for you.

Following a nice breakfast with Harry on the tiny balcony that’s connected to your room, you are forced to part since Harry is supposed to be with all the other guys, getting ready in the room that’s reserved for Mitch, while you kind of need to be everywhere at the same time, but you obviously spend the most time with Sarah, wanting to capture all her best moments.

Sometime around noon you get about an hour off while everyone else is getting lunch and Harry texts you to join him on the mole down the beach that runs just below the inn. When you arrive he is already sitting on one of the old wood benches with a pizza box on his lap.

“Hey,” you smile softly and leaning down you peck his lips quickly before joining him on the bench.

“The boy ordered pizza and I got one for us too, hope it’s okay.”

“Of course, I didn’t even think about lunch until you texted,” you chuckle as he settles the box between the two of you and you both take a slice.

“So how are the photos coming up so far?”

“Good, I’ll have a ton of editing to do, but I think they will like the outcome.”

“Can I have a sneak peek of them?” he smirks playfully, but you shake your head.

“No, the first ones to see them will be Sarah and Mitch, sorry,” you chuckle as he pouts his lips at you, but goes back to his slice right after.

You both are just enjoying the quiet for a little, having had a busy day so far, exchanging very few words, but it’s still a nice time spent together. It is just the two of you until a guy approaches you on the mole.

“Hey guys! Mitch wondered where you went, H,” he smirks down at Harry before his eyes land on you. He is tall, but not as tall as Harry, rocking a noticeable beard and he is wearing the same outfit as Harry: maroon pants with a crispy white dress shirt. “Oh, you’re the photographer, right?” he smiles at you.

“Yeah, I’m Y/N,” you answer nicely, holding out a hand for him.

“I’m Landon, Mitch’s cousin,” he nods with a charming smile. “Sorry for interrupting your lunch guys. Just wanted to let you know that Mitch wants to do a round of shots when everyone’s back,” he chuckles.

“He is gonna be so hammered,” Harry chuckles shaking his head. “I’ll be back soon, thanks Landon.”

“No worries. I’ll see you around, Y/N,” he smiles at you before turning around and walking back to the inn. You catch Harry’s eyes for a moment and you have a guess what he is thinking about. Landon seemed to like you, with his flirty smiles and friendly introduction, he was surely thinking about shooting his shot, but he might not know that you’re dating Harry.

However he doesn’t say anything, just continues to eat his lunch in silence and quite frankly, you forget about Landon’s existence pretty fast.

After lunch it gets a bit hectic. The ceremony is starting at 3, so you don’t have much time left. You do the first look reveal thing and this time their son, James is included in it, which is honestly such a pure moment and capturing it feels like a privilege.

Soon enough the guests are starting to arrive and you quickly run up to the room to change into your dress. Most of the time you are not required to dress up for the job, but you like to blend into the crowd so you usually choose to wear a nice dress and you’re doing the same this time as well. You’ve brought a pastel yellow satin dress that teases a little cleavage, and you pair it with a cream colored cardigan, creating a simple but still elegant look for the rest of the day. You’re fixing your makeup in a hurry when the door opens and Harry walks in.

He immediately stops in his tracks upon seeing you in front of the mirror, his eyes traveling down the lengths of your body, a stunned expression adorning his handsome features.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were… in here,” he mumbles and you can see the blush forming on his cheeks. “You look… You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you chuckle softly. He takes a few steps closer to you and reaching up he brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers leaving a trail of delicate touch on the side of your face.

Leaning down his lips hover over yours for a moment, as if he was giving you the chance to pull back, but who are you to deny anything from Harry Styles? So when you stay in place, he finally presses his lips to yours in a slow and tender kiss filled with passion. His hands cup your face in his and you bring yours up to wrap around his wrists as you kiss him back, already craving more than just a kiss.

But it feels like you are not the only one growing hungrier with the seconds, one of Harry’s hands wander down to your butt and you feel his palm’s warmth through the thin layer of your dress, though you wish there was nothing between his skin and yours. When he starts kissing down your jawline and neck, pushing you backwards you hate to break the moment, but there’s no time for any funny business. So painfully, but you pull back, already missing his lips on yours.

“I would really love to continue this, but I need to be with Sarah in about three minutes,” you chuckle softly.

“Yeah, I need to get back to Mitch too,” he sighs, pecking the corner of your mouth before his arms fall from around you.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” you smile up at him, fixing the collar of his shirt.

“Yeah,” he smiles with a boyish smile before you part ways again.

All through the ceremony you are kind of all over the place, trying to get the best shots, you don’t have much time to spare. Sarah’s entrance with her dad and James walking down the aisle is so beautiful and you get some amazing shots of Mitch’s emotions upon seeing his future wife. They tell their vows, touching every guest with their sweet words to each other and then they finally say ‘I do’ and become husband and wife.

You snap a series of photos of that moment as well, but then you allow yourself to peek over at Harry who is already watching you with a soft smile. You can feel yourself blushing, his gaze is warm but also quite intimidating in this sentimental moment.

And then the party finally starts. You try to follow the newly weds around as much as possible, but you also get around the tent, shooting pictures of the guests as well. You only get to have a few moments with Harry, because either you need to rush off or sometimes someone finds him and wants to have a few words. He is quite popular among the guests, but it’s no surprise. You’d want to have the chance to talk to him too if you saw him.

“Have you even had a bite yet?” A male voice calls out for you when you’re trying to sneak from one point to the other. Glancing over your shoulder you see Landon with a drink in his hand.

“I’ll eat later. The dance is about to happen so I need to be ready for that,” you smile at him.

“Mitch told me they found a really good photographer, but he surely forgot to mention how devoted you are. I’m excited to see the photos.”

“Thanks, I’m trying my best,” you chuckle.

“Save me a dance later?”

“Oh, um, sure,” you nod with a nervous chuckle. “But I really gotta go now,” you excuse yourself before he could even get another word out.

As you slalom between the tables you spot Harry sitting at one of them and he is staring at Landon from across the room, a not too friendly look plastered across his face. You wonder if he has seen you talking to him and now he is feeling jealous or if you’re just seeing things. But you don’t have much time to ponder on it, work is calling you.

As the happy couple share their first dance, soon enough more and more guests join them and you’re standing at the side, snapping the cute dance partners slow dancing to the music with Sarah and Mitch in the middle. You’re adjusting the settings on your camera, when a tall figure appears in front of you.

“May I have a dance?” Harry asks, holding out a hand for you like a true gentleman.

“Oh, I should—“

“If you are about to say you should be taking pictures, the bride told me to ask you,” he tells you with a soft chuckle and as your eyes fall on Sarah, she is smiling in your way happily, nodding her approval to get off duty for just a little.

“Then, I would love to,” you smile shyly, taking Harry’s hand as he takes you to the dance floor. Placing his hands to your waist he pulls you close to him while you rest your arms around his neck, swaying to the rhythm very gently.

“I always get a little emotional at weddings,” he confesses with a small smile.

“Yeah? Why?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “I just… love seeing people in love. Especially when they are my friends,” he adds chuckling.

“It really is a nice thing.”

Harry pulls you tighter against him, his cheek pressing against the side of your head and you let your eyes fall closed for a few seconds, enjoying this moment with him. He starts to softly him the song and his voice flows through your ears smoothly, you’re in awe how good his voice is. He never told you he is a good singer too above being an amazing producer.

When the song ends some couples stay, but some make their way off the dance floor and you have to get back to your job as well. Leaning back you squeeze Harry’s arm as his hands fall from your frame too.

“Save a slice from the cake for me,” you smile at him and he nods with a smirk.

“I will. I’ll have it ready for you at the table.”

You place a short kiss to his cheek before you disappear from his sight, leaving him alone again.

The night carries on as usual, sometime after dinner your phone dies so you leave it on the charger up in your room before running back down. The party starts to unfold as the time passes, more drinks are being consumed and this is kind of your secret favorite part, because the more people drink, the more they are willing to pose for funny pictures. This is the time that births the best group photos, in your opinion.

Though you are having an amazing time, you can feel yourself growing tired. When it’s finally cake time you take some time off to sit with Harry who saved you a slice, just as you asked him. It’s nice to have a breather, just enjoy the evening with him by your side again.

“Mm, didn’t know you could eat icing without getting it all over my face,” you tease him, referring back to the time you made such a mess out of the kitchen when you tried to make cupcakes for him.

“Very funny,” he narrows his eyes at you, before dipping his finger into the icing and wiping it onto your nose.

“Hey!” you pout at him, cleaning it up, but he just smirks at you playfully before pecking your lips shortly. It’s the first time he is kissing you in with so many people around and it surely makes you giddy, knowing that he is not trying to hide you in any way.

Weddings are a lot of fun, but they always stretch so long. The party can last till the morning sometimes and you can’t just decide to call it a night and stop doing your job, you need to be there until the DJ shuts the music off and all guests disappear. And it seems like this wedding won’t be any shorter either.

It’s already past midnight when you decide to sneak out for a short break. You’ve been on your feet for way too long and you stole some food too. You hesitated if you should sit back to your table, but you felt like you could use some quiet so you left the tent and found a bench nearby.

As you sit and eat the food you snatched from the buffet table, you hope the party won’t last until the Sun comes up. You get so into your own little world that you almost don’t even notice the approaching tall figure.

“Having a break, huh?” Landon calls out as the gravel crunches under his fancy dress shoes.

“Ah, yeah. I needed a few minutes away from the music,” you chuckle softly. Landon stops in front of you and hides his hands in his pockets as he blinks down at you with tired looking eyes. It might be from the long night, but you are guessing the drinks he’s been consuming don’t help his energy either.

“May I say that you look really pretty? I haven’t been to many weddings yet, but the photographers went for the more comfortable look since they are not on the photos, but you chose to glam yourself.”

“Thanks,” you chuckle softly. “I like to blend into the guests.”

“Well, you don’t blend in this way either, because you look prettier than most women in that tent,” he compliments you and you’re starting to feel awkward. It’s not that you don’t like it when someone is talking highly of you, but it’s obvious what Landon wants and you are definitely not on the same page.

“Um, thank you.”

“I’m sorry if I come off too brash or pushy, but I promised myself I would never miss a chance to compliment a pretty woman when I see one.”

“That’s nice, but I’m afraid I’m not the right person to spend your energy on,” you answer with a tight-lipped smile. Landon narrows his eyes at you, but keeps his playful manner.

“So you don’t find me good-looking, is that it?” he teases and you shake your head with a soft chuckle.

“That’s not what I was talking about.”

“Then you like to break hearts, right? You must enjoy making men fall for you,” he carries on with his little joke and just as you’re about to speak up to tell him you are seeing someone, Harry’s familiar deep voice interrupts the conversation.

“There you are, I’ve been calling you.” He is talking to you, but his eyes are clearly glued to the man standing in front of you.

“Oh, my phone is in the room, I had to charge it,” you tell him.

“What are you guys doing out here?” he asks, clearly not liking the situation, you and Landon alone outside with no one else around. Jealousy is dripping from his eyes that appear so much darker now in the dim lighting.

“I’ve been dumped by this amazing woman right here,” Landon sighs dramatically and Harry cocks an eyebrow at him before glancing over at you.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah, she is clearly not interested in me, my charm didn’t work on her,” he laughs lightheartedly.

“I hope it didn’t because she is my girlfriend,” Harry answers simply and your lips part at what he just called you.

Landon stumbles back, his smile quickly vanishes from his face as he stares back at Harry. You feel like you’re watching some kind of documentary movie where male animals are trying to win over the female, only that Landon stands no chance in this situation, but you find it quite funny.

“Man, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t—I didn’t know!” he apologizes right away as he realizes why Harry has been kind of spicy around him. Landon then faces you. “Y/N, I didn’t mean to make it awkward and all that, I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you smile at him nicely. He mumbles something about checking up on Mitch before walking away, leaving you and Harry alone. He joins you on the bench, staring after Landon for a few moments before turning to face you. A much softer expression is showing on his face this time.

“So, you just called me your girlfriend,” you point out, trying your best to hold your growing smirk back.

“I, uhh—I did, didn’t I?” he chuckles nervously. “I’m sorry, it just slipped out, because I didn’t like how Landon was trying to chat you up all night…”

“So you didn’t…. You didn’t mean it?” you ask, furrowing your eyebrows, feeling yourself growing disappointed.

“Well, I… I mean, I didn’t mean to say it like that, without discussing it with you, but… I would love to call you my girlfriend,” he admits shyly and you can’t believe that this nervous man next to you is the same man who owns a record label and manages his million dollars business every day without a problem.

“I like the sound of that,” you smirk, leaning closer to him so your noses are almost touching.

“Yeah?” he smiles, a lot more relieved and playfully than he was a moment ago.

“Mhm,” you nod, biting your lip. You blindly put your plate to the side before cupping his face in both of your hands and pulling him in for a kiss, your first one as boyfriend and girlfriend. Part of you feels silly that it makes you so ecstatic, like you’re a high school girl, but in this moment you couldn’t care less.

What starts as a sweet and innocent kiss quickly turns into something more, something heated. When Harry’s hands find your bare thighs and they slightly slide under your dress you can’t help but yearn for more, pulling him closer as your tongues meet. Your fingers lace through his curls, tugging on them gently and you’re fighting the urge to throw a leg over him and just sit on his lap straddling him. When he starts kissing down your jawline and neck, you have to stop him for the second time today, not that you wanted to do it anytime, but the time and place hasn’t been right.

“We can’t…” you sigh, pulling back even though every fiber in your body is telling you otherwise. Harry lets out a long sigh, nodding his head.

“Yeah, I know.”

“But hopefully, the party will end soon and then we will be all alone in our room,” you smirk at him slyly and it brings back the shine into his eyes.

“I can’t wait,” he mumbles before kissing you one last time.

From that moment, Harry lingers around you at all times for the rest of the night. He is always either right by your side, or within a few feet away from you, keeping an eye on you, but not in an obsessive and intrusive kind of way. His eyes are filled with lust every time you share a look at each other and you can tell he can’t wait for the party to finally be over. Whenever he is next to you, he makes sure to touch you in any kind of way. Placing his palm to the small of your back, your arm or your hips, or when you sit next to each other he rests his hand on your thigh or knee without hesitation. And you are loving all the affection you are being showered with.

By the time the wedding officially ends and you can finally call it a night, you are both touch starved and hungry for each other. Harry pulls you against him on the stairs up to your room, not even giving a damn that you are still out in the public. His mouth attacks you hungrily, kissing you anywhere he can reach as the two of you stumble up your way to the room.

Pushing the door open you basically fall inside, giggling against Harry’s lips as he shuts the door closed and presses you up against it, making you gasp at the action. He is so much more demanding and confident than the last time you shared an intimate moment and though you’re not sure how far he is planning to go, you know you are ready to give him anything he desires.

“As much as I love this dress on you, it needs to go,” he playfully smirks as his hands bunch your dress up on your thigh before grabbing it and pulling it off your body, leaving you only in your underwear so fast.

Your lips find his as your fingers work fast on the buttons of his shirt while you inch further into the room towards the bed. You both kick your shoes off on the way and when you fall to the mattress Harry’s shirt is already gone. He climbs above you as you sink into the way too many pillows and you blindly throw a few off the bed to give you more space. Harry licks into your mouth one last time before he moves down your neck and collarbones, peppering your heated skin with his kisses, his hands already sliding under your back to unclasp your bra. Arching your back you give him space to do the task on hand and a few moments later you are lying under him with your chest completely bare. His name falls from your lips as a whimper when his mouth comes in contact with your left nipple, kissing, licking and sucking on it while his hand kneads your other breast before he switches, giving both sides the same amount of attention. Your fingers lace through his unruly curls as you enjoy his touch that’s burning and soothing at the same time.

When he kisses down your stomach and hips, he hooks his fingers into your lacy underwear, but stop before doing anything, looking up at you for reassurance. You give him the green light by nodding and he carefully pulls the fabric off your body, baring you in front of his eyes completely. His kisses pepper his way up your inner thighs until he finally reaches your dripping wet core.

“Harry!” you moan when his tongue and lips press against your clit, swirling and sucking on it just right, making you shiver under his touch. He curls his arms around your legs, keeping them in place as he keeps working his magic, making you a whimpering mess with each lick.

He does the same thing as last time, teases you with his finger dancing around your entrance until you are basically ready to beg him for more. Then he finally pushes two fingers inside you and starts pumping in a slow pace that drives you nuts, leaving you ache for more of him.

You pull him up before he could get you to the top, because that’s not how you want it now and you need to know if he is ready to take this step with you. He understands what you want from just a look as he hovers above you and you cup his face in your hands tenderly.

“I want it,” he breathes out and you could come just from those three words.

“Are you sure?” you ask, though you just want to jump right at it already. Still, you want to make sure he is completely fine with everything that’s about to happen.

“Yeah. I am,” he nods before leaning down he presses his lips against yours.

Your hands reach down and undo his pants, pushing them down along with his boxers before he does the rest of the job kicking them off. His erection presses up against your thigh as his hips fall down a bit and you moan with just the feeling of him on your skin. Wrapping your hands around his shaft you start pumping him while your kiss never breaks.

“Oh fuck,” he moans in sensation and you grin against his lips, enjoying the thought that you are the one making him feel this good.

“Do you have a condom?” you breathe out.”

“Shit, I don’t…”

“It’s alright, I have one.” You sneak out from under him and rush over to your bag to look for your toiletries, you know you have one somewhere in there. When you finally find the little package you quickly get back to the bed where Harry is now lying on his back. Kneeling next to him you give him a soft, reassuring look.

“Do you want me to…?” you imply, holding up the foil.

“Oh, um, yeah, sure,” he nods and you swear you see him blushing. Ripping the package open you lean closer and roll the condom down his hard length before throwing a leg over his lap and get back to kissing him. You take your time with him, running your hands up and down his toned, inked chest as his palms warm the skin on your waist while your lips move together in sync perfectly. You could tell he needed a moment to get settled and wrap his mind around what’s really about to happen.

“Everything alright?” you ask, a little out of breath as you hold yourself up above him. He nods shortly. “Do you want me on top or you want to switch?”

“C-can you stay on top for now?”

“Yeah,” you smile at him warmly, before capturing his lips in a sweet kiss while your right hand wanders down his body until you reach his hard cock. Harry whimpers against your lips when you wrap your hand around the base, lining him up with yourself.

“Tell me if you want to stop, alright?” you ask him and in any other situation you’d find it a little funny that it’s you asking him that, usually this request comes from the guy, but you just want to make sure he is comfortable with everything that’s happening. Harry nods again and as he gulps hard his Adam’s apple bops up and down. Leaning down you kiss him again as you slowly ease down yourself just enough so that the head of his cock slides inside you. You stop, giving both him and you the chance to get accustomed to the feeling. It’s been quite some time for you as well, and your fingers do not compare to Harry’s size, that’s for sure.

He keeps one hand on your hip while the other reaches up and cups the side of your head, panting against your lips from the feeling of finally being inside you. Once you’ve made sure you both adjusted to the feeling, you allow yourself to sink further down until his whole length disappears inside you. You stay still, shutting your eyes closed as you let your walls stretch around his erection, making that slight pain you feel go away. Adding the length and thickness of his cock to the long drought you’ve had in the field of sex is making it feel like you are having your first time again in a way. It’s not that awkward and definitely not that painful, but still, that’s what it reminds you of.

“Are you good?” he asks, squeezing your hip gently. Your eyes snap open and meet his green ones that are now clouded with a little bit of worry.

“Yeah, it’s just… You’re big, Harry,” you admit with a soft chuckle that brings a cocky grin to his lips as well. “Just give me a moment.”

He just nods again and both his hands start running up and down your sides reassuringly as you take a few seconds to yourself before you start moving your hips. You start off slowly, dragging your movements out, trying to see what feels the best and judging from Harry’s moans and grunts he is enjoying himself no matter what you do. Your hands sprawl out on his chest, fingers digging into his skin as you lean onto him while starting to move up and down his throbbing cock.

“Fuck, you feel so good!” he whimpers, almost as if he was in pain, but you can see the pleasure in his eyes.

Your thighs start to burn, but you keep moving yourself, not wanting to stop, because you’re feeling your orgasm building up inside you. When he starts thrusting up to meet your movements, you moan his name so loudly there’s a chance the people next door heard you, but you couldn’t care about that now.

Harry might have noticed that you’re starting to get tired, so pushing himself up he wraps his arms around you and turns you over until you’re the one lying on the bed and he holds himself up above you on his arms. Your legs circle around his waist as he starts moving in and out of you, the new position making you both moan and gasp at the sensation.

“Harry!” you whine as he keeps hitting that one spot inside you, pushing you closer to the edge dangerously fast.

“Am I making you feel good, baby? You like it?”

“You’re making me feel so good, please don’t stop!” you beg him as he buries his face in your neck, sucking on the soft skin, most definitely leaving a mark on you that you’ll wear proudly tomorrow. You would never want to hide the fact how good Harry fucked you, let the world know that your boyfriend made you feel so amazing!

“Oh my God, I’m getting close. Are you feeling it too? Are you gonna cum for me, baby?” he asks, his lips brushing against your earlobe. Grabbing his face you pull him into a kiss, pushing your tongue into his mouth mercilessly and the grunt he lets out is making your insides tremble. It’s animalistic, so passionate and sexual, you want to hear this every day for the rest of your life.

“I’m close, go a little harder, Harry!” you plead and he does as you asked without hesitation, his hips slamming harder against you, making you gasp for air as your head sinks into the pillow, your back arching in pleasure.

“Cum for me, Y/N. Let it go!”

“Harry!” you whine, as you can feel your orgasm threatening to burst inside you any moment.

“Say my name when you cum, I want to hear who’s making you feel so good, baby!”

Your fingers dig into his hair as you chant his name over and over again with each thrust he makes and then your release finally arrives. You moan and whimper, shaking under his naked, sweaty body, his name falling from your lips as an endless glorification. Your walls clench around his cock and it’s the last straw for him as well, his thrusts become sloppy and uncoordinated as he cries out your name, his hips slamming hard against you while he rides his orgasm out. Reaching down you drag your nails down his back until you reach his perfectly round ass, giving it a cheeky squeeze while he buries his head into the crook of your neck, thrusting into you a few more times before coming to a stop.

Turning your head you kiss his temple, running your hands up and down his back while you both try to catch your breath, coming off your high. Soon Harry pulls out and rolls off of you, his body smashing into the mattress beside you, his face glowing from that post sex euphoria. After a few moments of just panting and blinking into the void you finally feel yourself returning to reality and rolling to your side you cuddle to Harry’s body, his arm instantly coming to circle around you.

“Everything alright?” you softly ask, placing a tender kiss to his chest under one of his swallow tattoos. The last thing you want is to have him freak out now that the deed has been done, but when he gifts you with a tired but genuine smile, your worries vanish into thin air.

“Yeah. I’m all good. More than good,” he chuckles before lifting his head and placing a soft kiss to your forehead. His fingers are dancing up and down your naked back, following the line of your spine and your ribs, his smoothing touch already working as a lullaby on you, but you’re determined to stay awake just a little longer.

“Are you turned on by hearing your own name during sex?” you tease him with a sly smile as you think back to how much he enjoyed you scream his name over and over again.

“I might have a bit of a praise kink,” he admits truthfully with a smirk.

“Mm, interesting.”

“What’s yours?”

“What do you like during sex?”

“You, balls deep inside me,” you bluntly answer, making him laugh at your words. “And I like doggy,” you then add to actually answer his question.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, and maybe some hair pulling. Not in an extreme way, but I like a little.” “Alright, noted,” he hums nodding.

You both clean yourselves up in the bathroom, moving around each other naked without any shame. Harry then puts on a pair of clean boxers and you change into your night clothes, though the moment you make yourself comfortable in Harry’s arms in bed his hand sneaks up your back under the shirt, tugging the material up. You could have just stayed shirtless, but now you’re too tired to even move. His fingers are drawing little patterns over your skin as you listen to his steady breathing before drifting off to sleep.

Sunday feels like a day after a sleepover in high school, when you’re thinking about everything that has happened the day before, and you’re so happy it happened but you’re kind of tired and just want the comfort of your home already.

Sarah and Mitch leave for their honeymoon early in the morning. You say goodbye and Sarah just keeps thanking you for your work even though she hasn’t even seen the picture yet.

“But I’m sure they are amazing! Can’t wait to see them!” she beams at you when you try to tell her to just wait for the actual outcome.

You leave the inn a little before noon heading to Anne’s to pick Izzy up. You have lunch somewhere on the road and then you sing along to the music in the car, enjoying yet another roadtrip together, making the best out of your last minutes alone. You’re happy to see that Harry hasn’t seemed to spiral after what happened last night, he seems delighted and pleased, maybe even excited. Driving down the highway he keeps a hand on your thigh whenever he doesn’t need to use it on the shifting gear and every time he reaches for you, it turns you into a giddy little girl.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Izzy chants upon running into Harry’s arms the moment you park down on Anne’s driveway. Apparently, she’s been sitting by the window for an hour, waiting for her dad to finally arrive.

“Oh, I missed you so much, baby!” Harry cheers, catching the running girl and lifting her up into his arms, hugging her close. It’s such a sweet sight, seeing the two purest people you know be so happy to see each other after a week spent apart.

“I missed you too!” Izzy sighs, wrapping her short arms around Harry’s neck, nuzzling into her daddy’s embrace and your heart is fluttering in your chest for sure.

Anne invites the two of you inside for a tea, Harry helps Izzy pack all her stuff while she is nonstop blabbering about everything she did with her grandma during the week, and Harry listens to her intently, even though she already shared everything with him on the phone when he called every night.

“How did the wedding go?” Anne asks you cheerfully as you help her in the kitchen.

“Oh, it was amazing! Sarah looked so beautiful and everything went smoothly.”

“That’s great, they are such a cute couple!”

Anne is quick to ask you about photography, how long you’ve been doing it and you even show her a few of your works seeing how enthusiastic she is about the whole thing. You were a little nervous about meeting her, but she is just as sweet and kind as her son, making it so easy to treat her just as a friend, not as the mother of your boyfriend.

Before leaving Izzy insists on showing you all the paintings she made for Anne this week, she has them on the wall in her little home office. While you’re shown around in Izzy’s personal gallery, Harry joins his mother downstairs, finishing up his tea.

“I assume the weekend went well, you two are glowing,” she smiles slyly at him and Harry can’t hide his boyish smile.

“I uhh… I asked her to be my girlfriend,” he admits and Anne gasps happily, thrilled about the news.

“I’m so happy for you, Har. I think she is a really good match for you!” she beams, pulling him into a motherly hug, kissing his cheek as if he was just a little boy, not a grown man.

“Thanks, mum. I’m happy too.” “You deserve it. It’s so good to see you living your life again.” Soon enough, Harry loads the car with Izzy’s stuff and it’s time to say goodbye.

“Bye Anne, it was so nice to see you!” you smile hugging her.

“Come back soon, Darling! Nag this old man to visit me more often!” Anne jokes giving Harry a playful look who leaves her comment unnoticed, giving his mother a tight hug.

“Thank you for everything mum, love you, I’ll call you alright?”

“Drive safe!” she calls after you all as you get into the car and wave her goodbye leaving.

The drive home tired Izzy out, or maybe it’s just the change of settings again. Whatever it is, she can barely stay awake until dinner, so once her tummy is filled Harry decides to put her to sleep early.

Izzy asks Harry to lie in bed with her as he reads her a bedtime story, she is extra clingy now that she is back with her daddy, but Harry is enjoying having his little one back so he doesn’t mind it. Izzy snuggles to his side, playing with the ears of the bunny she chose to sleep with tonight as she listens to his steady, smooth voice talk her to sleep.

“Daddy?” she asks quietly, already half asleep.

“Yes, baby?”

“Are you going to marry Y/N?”

The question catches him off-guard, he was definitely not expecting it especially since Izzy hasn’t even seen the two of you kiss yet.

“Why are you asking?”

“My new friend, Loretta from the park told me that if a boy and a girl live together they are probably in love and want to get married.”

“Loretta seems to know a lot about adult stuff,” Harry chuckles softly. “Well, it doesn’t exactly work like that, Iz. But… would you be happy if I told you Y/N is now my girlfriend?” he asks, feeling a little nervous, as if Izzy’s word on the question could destroy any possible future between the two of you. She stays silent for a few seconds and Harry starts to think she has fallen asleep, but then she finally speaks up again.

“Did you kiss her?” she asks and Harry can’t push down a soft chuckle. Izzy’s idea of relationships probably doesn’t go further than kissing and holding hands so this is how she is trying to put the picture together in her head.

“I did, yes.”

“Oh!” she exclaims. “I like Y/N.”

“Well, I like her too.”

“She can be your girlfriend,” she then replies, giving her blessing. “Are you going to get married?”

“Um, not for a while, no. But… it could happen if things go right,” he chews on his bottom lip, he is definitely not in the phase of thinking about marriage yet, not just because you barely just became an official couple, but that would be a huge step in his way of processing the end of his last one.

“Okay,” Izzy simply nods and that brings the end of the discussion. Harry has been a little nervous to have this talk with Izzy, he was afraid she might get a little confused about the idea of him having a girlfriend and the thought of her mother, but she seemingly didn’t even bring Maggie into her train of thoughts. Luckily.

When Izzy is finally asleep he closes the door and makes his way downstairs where you’re lying on the couch, watching the rerun of the news. You smile up at him upon his arrival and as he joins you on the couch, he is quick to pull you into his arms, making you snuggle into his embrace.

“I just told Izzy that you are my girlfriend,” he confesses and you lift your head up, not even trying to hide your surprised expression.

“Really? And what did she say?”

“Well, she asked if we are getting married,” he tells you chuckling shortly. “I told her that we shouldn’t get that far ahead. But she basically gave her blessing. She said she likes you.”

“Well I was hoping she doesn’t hate my guts after spending almost every day with me,” you chuckle, making him smile too. “But I’m happy she likes the idea of us.”

“Yeah, me too,” Harry nods before pulling you closer for a sweet, innocent kiss.

You finally get around to have that double date with Heather and Niall one month into your relationship. Harry’s weekends have been a little busy these past weeks, he had to go into the office on a few Saturdays, but now he has finally finished a huge project he has been working on so he can actually take some time off.

Ruth comes over to look after Izzy that evening and she keeps looking at you and Harry like a proud grandparent whenever she sees the two of you interact as a couple. Little touches and kisses have been more regular around home ever since Harry told Izzy that you are together. So far, she’s been handling it really well, she doesn’t seem to be confused about you and her mother and it might be because Harry has had a talk with her recently about her mother and where she really is now. His therapist suggested to be open about it with her as early as possible, and though she doesn’t seem to completely understand the idea of life and death just yet, she has definitely started to put the picture together in her head.

You’ve been spending all your nights at Harry’s room, so by now your bedroom is more like an office space for you and a storage for all your stuff, a place where you can be alone whenever you have some editing to do or just simply need some time on your own. Luckily, Harry totally understands the feeling of needing some space, he has his own limits as well and the two of you have been trying your best to coordinate around these lines when it comes to your relationship. After all, it’s been a pretty unusual situation, you were already living together when you became a couple, jumping a few steps in the timeline of a regular relationship.

Just as you were expecting it, Niall and Heather hit it off quite fast upon meeting at the dinner. Niall is in awe of Heather’s confidence and raw sense of humor that matches perfectly with his, while Heather finds him entertaining and somewhat like a challenge, since you honestly told her about Niall’s reputation as a womanizer, but it’s not something that could scare her away.

“He is cute, desperately wants to prove how good he is doing on his own, but I think that’s just a façade,” Heather tells you when you ask her about her date in the restroom. She fixes up her lipstick, staring at herself in the floor to ceiling mirror.

“So you think you want to see him again?”

“I’m not gonna run after him, if he asks for my number I’ll give it to him. But if he doesn’t, I won’t let him see my disappointment.”

“And what if he asks you to go home with him tonight?” you ask, feeling like teenagers gossiping in the girls restroom between classes. Heather smirks at you through the mirror before turning to face you.

“Oh, I’m not going home with him. That would bruise his ego so badly he won’t be able to think about anything else.”

You stare back at her stunned from how big of a genius she is. You would have never schemed like this when it came to men, but yet again, you never really needed to. Before Harry you were busy with Keith and that relationship came so easily to you. There were never really games, it took you about three weeks to get together. But Heather is a player and a very good one, apparently.

“You two look cute, by the way,” she smiles at you quickly washing her hands before the two of you head out, back to the table.

“Thanks,” you blush, eyes finding the guys sitting right where you left them.

After dinner you decide to stay for a few drinks at the bar a corner away and it’s been so long since the last time you were out just having fun, enjoying some time with good friends. If someone told you a few months ago that you’d be sitting here, sipping on a cocktail with Harry who is now your boyfriend, you would have laughed hysterically.

When Harry reaches for you thigh under the table, resting his palm on it, giving it a gentle squeeze just as a sweet gesture, you glance at him and he smiles at you as his eyes meet your gaze. It’s the first time you actually feel like any other couples. Having a nice evening with your friends, touching each other, holding hands, simply living in the moment knowing well that going home he will probably sneak into Izzy’s room, pressing a kiss to her forehead before joining you in bed, falling asleep with his arms curled around your figure.

It’s no surprise when Niall invited Heather over his place for another drink at the end of the night and you can barely hold your smirk back when she refuses and his face completely falls, especially because he was so confident in himself, the evening went well and he was probably sure she would say yes. Instead, she grabs herself a taxi and heads home upon parting ways. Niall is shocked, but he is quick to ask for Heather’s number from you before you say goodbye and you happily give it to him.

On the way home you think about how weird it is that you are still basically working for him. It’s not that you mind being the one who is looking after Izzy, it doesn’t even feel like a job, she has grown so close to you. It’s about getting paid for it when you’re Harry’s girlfriend and even though you know how untraditional everything has been with the two of you, now might be the time to make a change.

Harry checks up on Izzy while you get ready to bed and he joins you under the covers soon. Your thoughts about your possible quitting keep racing in your head and you decide to bring it up, just to see how he sees the situation.

“H?” you softly ask while he is checking a few things on his phone, propped up against the headboard.

“Yeah?” he glances at you, letting you know he is listening.

“Don’t you think it’s weird I’m still working for you?”

He stops and locking his phone he puts it to the nightstand to fully focus on the conversation. He just stares at you for a few seconds before knitting his eyebrows together, that crease between them making an appearance and you fight the urge to smooth it out with your finger.

“You don’t like taking care of her anymore?” Your stomach drops at the way he interpreted your question, because it’s not at all the situation.

“Harry, I love taking care of her!” you smile at him softly and can see the relief in his eyes. “It’s just a little weird that you’re paying me to be with her. I would do it for free,” you explain, hoping he now gets the whole picture.

“Oh!”

“Are you… Are you planning for the long run? With us?”

“Of course,” he nods and now you’re the one relieved at how naturally the answer came to him.

“Then maybe we should look for a solution that doesn’t make me feel like I’m a kept house woman,” you chuckle softly and a small smile tugs on his lips as well.

“What were you thinking about?” Sighing you bite into your bottom lip, not sure what he’ll think about the idea that came to you.

“I’ve been getting a lot of requests for photoshoots. I thought that maybe I could take two more days out of the week to work on them and stay home with Izzy for the rest of them. We could look for a nanny for those days. They wouldn’t have to move in, because I would be home by three probably. I think… I think it could work pretty well.”

Harry takes a few moments to think it through and you know he has to be considerate, the only reason he was so quick to hire you was because Izzy already knew and loved you. Bringing a stranger into the picture is a big change and everyone has to be fine with it to make it work.

“Would that make you happy? Staying home for half of the week with Izzy? I wouldn’t want to ask you to sacrifice your time for her… for us, if it doesn’t benefit you.”

For a few moments you’re just processing his words, but then you finally understand what he meant by that. He is thinking you might take it as if he is using you to take care of his daughter and he doesn’t want you to take responsibility for her if it’s not what you really want. But you see being in Izzy’s life as a privilege, you haven’t truly processed it yourself, but you start to look at her as your own daughter. Having spent the majority of your days with her these past months, it was inevitable to grow so fond of her.

Scooting closer to him you cup his face in your hands as you smile down at him softly, his green irises filled with worry and doubts, probably thinking that he is doing something wrong again, but he is not. He needs to have more trust in himself.

“I would love it, Harry. I love spending time with her and… with you,” you admit and there’s one thing that you’re aching to add.

And I love you.

But you keep that one back, not sure if he is ready to hear it just yet. It’s still so early in your relationship, and it might feel like a bomb if you just dropped it on him. You need to be a little more patient before taking this next step.

Bringing his arms around you he pulls you to his chest, a deep but happy sigh leaving through his nose as he kisses into your hair. Nothing else is said, but no words are needed. It’s been settled that you both are planning for the long run together and you’ll start to alter your life to make it fit into the picture.

You don’t jump into it right away, but a few weeks after the discussion you had about hiring a new nanny, you take the first step. Ruth agrees to cover one day every week, Fridays, so you can have it off for your sessions. Summer brings a lot of events and occasions and your calendar has been getting busier as your circle of customers has been growing lately. Though Ruth is more than happy to spend some more time with Izzy, you all know she won’t be able to do it too long, you need to find someone at last by the end of the summer.

Harry would never admit, but he is very anxious about bringing a new person into Izzy’s life. He is not the toxic kind of parent who wouldn’t let anyone get near his daughter, but he surely is considerate about who he lets to take care of her and it’s understandable.

On an afternoon spent at the park you are chatting with Ava, Yara’s mom when she mentions a nanny agency they’ve tried out before and had a really good experience.

“They hire people with at least three years of experience and many of their nannies have a degree in some kind of field in connection with child care. We had a nice girl from Russia watch after Yara, she is a primary school teacher but she moved here with her boyfriend for a year. She was amazing, really. Yara loved her, Saige and I loved her, it was a good match.”

She gives you a phone number and later that day you look up the agency, presenting the idea to Harry, who seems interested, but a little hesitant.

“We could still have an interview with them, right? Or I would have to just choose someone from the website like from a catalogue?” he voices his concern as the two of you lie in bed with your laptop propped against your thighs.

“I’m sure we can have an interview,” you smile at him.

Harry just nods, ergo he doesn’t reject the idea, but you can tell he has quite a few doubts about it, but there’s not much you can do.

In the course of three weeks you and Harry have five interviews with nannies that the agency sent and at the end of the day, Harry finds something wrong with all of them, even though they are only minor things.

“You rule out people for the tiniest things, Harry,” you sigh after the fifth interview with a kind middle-aged woman, Kaitlyn. “Based on these interviews you wouldn’t have hired me back in the days,” you joke.

“You know it was different with you,” he points it out and you just nod. He has told you so many times how you were just the perfect fit which is very charming, but it doesn’t help the situation on hand right now.

That evening, when you’re lying in bed, reading, while Harry checks up on Izzy one last time, you see that something is on his chest when he walks in and as soon as he is under the covers next to you, but you don’t ask him, instead just wait for him to bring it up himself.

“Y/N, I’m sorry for being such a pain in the ass about the whole nanny thing,” he sighs tiredly. Closing your book you place it on the nightstand before turning to face him fully.

“You’re not a pain in the ass, just very careful and maybe a little picky,” you add with a soft chuckle.

“Do you think I should be the one staying home with her?”

“Most kids spend the majority of their days separated from their parents in daycare, kindergarten or preschool. It’s not a crime that you are not a stay at home dad, not many like to do that or even fit for that role,” you shrug and it’s your genuine opinion. Just because parents don’t devote one hundred percent of their life to their children, it doesn’t make them bad. Parents deserve to be selfish sometimes.

“I just… I can get so into my head about everything I do wrong,” he sighs, closing his eyes and he seem so tired all of a sudden, like he has been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Brushing his hair out of his forehead you kiss him gently before his eyes open again.

“You’re not doing anything wrong, Harry. Believe me, Izzy is having the best childhood she could ever wish for. She is secure, loved and taken care of. Everything is going well.” He doesn’t answer, just nods as his arms wrap around you, pulling you to his chest and you gladly snuggle into his embrace.

That evening it felt like Harry was shifting in the right direction, but you can never know what really goes on in someone’s head and you couldn’t see what was coming.

A few days later another candidate comes for an interview, you, Harry and the young girl called Rachel sit outside at the terrace as Harry goes through the same questions he asked every other applicant while Izzy is playing around the swing set.

Rachel just finished her bachelor’s and is now taking a gap year before moving back to her hometown to work at her father’s law firm. She grew up with three younger sisters and took care of them most of the time to help her parents out who worked a lot. She is nice, very well educated and it’s clear she is great with children. Yet again, when you glance at Harry you don’t see him as satisfied as you are and you already know he is going to find something against her.

“Alright, so what is it this time?” you sigh once Rachel is gone and you can finally talk openly about her.

“She basically doesn’t have any official knowledge about kids, she just grew up with kids, that doesn’t qualify her as a professional.”

“Raising children is the best knowledge you can get, Harry,” you argue, feeling a little impatient this time. Rachel is perfect for the job, but any other applicants would have been fine too. You’re running out of time and Ruth won’t be able to help much longer.

“I would just be a lot more comfortable if it was a professional staying home with my daughter,” he answers, marching into the kitchen and you follow him.

“There were plenty of professionals between the previous ones as well. You are ruling everyone out!”

“I’m not ruling them out, I’m just trying to make the best decision for my child!”

“By being absolutely insatiable?!”

“Why is it so bad that I want the best choice?” he growls throwing his hands into the air.

“It’s not, but the best choice is not always one without any flaws, Harry,” you point it out, hoping he gets what you’re talking about.

“But I want this to be flawless!” he snaps and you can see that he has lost his patience at this point, but so did you. “I’m not settling for less than what I want, Y/N!”

“So then what? You lied when we talked about all of this? Because without a replacement, I can’t start working more!”

“I didn’t fucking lie, I’m just asking for more time!”

“Well it seems like you just want to push me into changing my mind about switching jobs and eventually say that I’m staying home, taking the blame off of you!”

“I’m not pushing you into anything, Y/N. We still have time until the end of summer, I just want to find the perfect person, give me some time!”

“Harry, there won’t be a perfect person!” you raise your voice, done with running the same circles at this point. “Any of the previous applicants would have taken good care of Izzy, why are you ignoring it?!”

“Stop telling me what to do when it comes to Izzy!” he then snaps, his voice beaming through the room, taking you by surprise. But what he says after this is what really hits you hard in the chest. “She is my daughter, not yours!”

Part of you knows he didn’t mean it the way it came out. Like you had absolutely no relations to Izzy, like you weren’t partially raising her way before you got together with Harry. You can see that it just slipped out in the heat of the moment, but your anger is making you selfish and not care about that anymore. His words hurt and you’ve stopped making excuses for him.

“Yeah, you’re right. Why am I still even here?” you calmly ask before simply turning around and heading out.

The calm but warning tone snaps him out and he is quick to realize he has crossed a line. He launches after you and almost catches you in the hallway when Izzy runs inside, calling out for him.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

Harry stops and turns around to see if she is alright and it gives you just enough time to escape. You rush out of the house and throw yourself into your car, igniting it and driving away as Harry shows up at the front door, calling after you, but you ignore it, making your way to your mom’s. You need a familiar place to calm yourself down at.

Harry tries to call you several times, and though the first few times it rings out, you send his calls to voicemail almost immediately after a while.

“Damn it,” he growls after another failed attempt to reach you. It’s been almost an hour since you stormed out and he is losing his mind, not knowing where you are, especially after what he said.

He regretted it the moment the words fell from his lips, but he knew it was too late. He let his anger bring the worst out of him and it all crashed down on you when you didn’t deserve any of it. Harry knows you’re right, he’s been trying to find something bad about every applicant because… part of him thinks that he is a bad father for not being the one taking care of Izzy all the time. If it wasn’t enough already, he’s been feeling like a failure for years… ever since he lost his wife because he wasn’t ready to commit more time for his family. He’s been dealing with the thought of being the worst father for so long, sometimes he convinces himself it’s the truth.

If I was ready for another baby, Maggie wouldn’t have had to die. If I put my family first, she would still be alive, he tells himself often when he is feeling the darkness clouding over his mind. Little does he know that it’s all just in his head. It doesn’t make him a bad father that he wanted to wait a little longer before having another baby. He never put his work above his family, he was always there when he was needed and made sure his loved ones are safe and taken care of. Never in his life did he ever put his work before Izzy or Maggie or anyone in his life he cared about.

But sometimes, your mind can play dirty tricks on you. And Harry fell for them.

As time is passing by he is growing more and more anxious when he doesn’t hear from you. No calls, no texts, he has no idea where you went or when you’re coming back. Sitting on the edge of the bed he stares out the window blankly before his eyes wander to the side where you usually sleep and it hits him hard when he realizes how eerily similar the situation is.

Following a fight his lover runs away, doesn’t answer his calls and he can’t get a hold of her. It’s like history is repeating itself all over again and as realization creeps up his spine, his throat tightens and he gasps, tears flooding into his eyes. With shaky hands he grabs his phone and dials Niall’s number, hoping he is not out somewhere at a bar, ignoring his phone.

“What’s up?” he answers the phone delightfully.

“Call Heather now and ask if she knows Y/N’s mom’s address,” he snaps immediately frantically.

“Woah, what happened?”

“Niall! Just do what I asked!” he barks and ends the call, giving his friend the chance to obey. Luckily, Niall feels the seriousness of the situation and does as Harry asked. A few minutes later a text arrives to Harry’s phone with the address.

Putting Izzy into the car he speeds down the streets to Gemma’s house who is shocked to see her brother in this state, but she doesn’t have the chance to ask anything as Harry drops Izzy off and asks her to watch her for the night.

“Okay, yeah, but—“

“Not now, Gemma!” he calls back, already running back to his car, heading to your mother’s house where you sought comfort following the fight.

“Not that I don’t like having you here, but you really should go home and talk it out.” Trevor joins you outside where you’ve been sitting on the steps of the terrace, staring out into the darkening sky. It’s been a few hours since you basically ran away from home and Harry has been blowing your phone up so you put it into airplane mode, sending all his calls to voicemail until you feel like dealing with him.

Trevor sits beside you, his long legs coming up closer to his chest as he sits the same way as you, his arms hug his knees.

“I know, I just… I’m a little tired,” you mumble.

“You don’t have to discuss it, but Harry would want you home for the night, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” you nod breathing out. “Do you think I overreacted?” you ask him, feeling unsure about the way you acted. Was it too much? Did you have the right to do it? You’re not so sure about it anymore.

“Well, he didn’t lie about Izzy not being your daughter,” Trevor huffs. “Though he could have handled the situation better. I get it that he just wants what’s best for her, but you were right too.”

Sitting in silence Trevor doesn’t try to convince you to apologize or keep holding a grudge. He just lets you figure it out all by yourself.

Not long later you go back inside and grabbing your phone from the dining table you decide to turn it back on, missed calls and texts flooding the device, but for your biggest surprise, not just from Harry.

Heather: Niall just called me to get your mom’s address urgently, everything alright?!

“Oh shit,” you gasp, typing a quick reply to assure her that you’re fine and then you open Harry’s text seeing how frantic he grew over time and you realize what it must feel like to him. The situation is way too similar to the way he lost Maggie and though you didn’t mean to hurt him by putting him through it again, it’s already too late.

Just as you are about to call him to let him know you’re fine a car pulls up on the drive way and you know it’s him. You rush out the front door the moment he jumps out of the car, eyes wide, chest heaving as he finally lays his eyes on you.

“Oh my God!” he breaks down in tears as you smash against him, wrapping him in your arms, he does the same, his strong arms circling around your waist tightly as he sobs into your chest painfully.

“I’m fine, everything is alright. I’m fine. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for running away like that,” you mumble, kissing the side of his head, holding him for dear life.

“I was so scared it happened again!” he whimpers, his whole body shaking. You slowly start pulling him until you reach the little front porch where there is a small bench kept next to the front door. You sit and pull him with yourself, he doesn’t even loosens his hold around you, as if you would turn to dust if he lets go of you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think it through,” you hum, fingers combing through his hair as you try to calm him down. He is still shaking, but his sobs are starting to die down finally, his hands still fisting your shirt at your waist.

“No, I’m sorry for being such a dick. I didn’t mean it. You are doing so much for Izzy and I, I don’t know what I would do without you!” he whimpers and when he finally lifts his head up, your heart breaks at the painful look in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. You were right about everything! Please forgive me!”

“Oh Harry,” you breathe out, the tears already welling in your eyes as you brush his messy curls out of his forehead.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to hurt you, what I said was bullshit! Please forgive me, I can’t… I don’t want to lose you, Y/N,” he stutters with one breath and then he adds: “I love you.”

Your lips part as you stare back at him in total awe at his sudden confession. Though it’s been an emotional ride, you weren’t expecting him to drop this bomb on you. A smile cracks on lips as you cup his face in your hands, feeling a hot tear rolling down your cheek.

“I love you too, Harry,” you answer, both of you letting out a relieved chuckle as he finally presses his lips to yours. His kiss tastes salty from both your tears, it’s needy and a little uncoordinated, but it means the world to you at this moment.

Sitting on the little bench you finally talk everything out once you both calm down enough to speak. Harry admits that he’s been so picky about the nannies because he is still struggling to be the best father he can and is reminded of being alone in this every time he faces a struggle. It constantly reminds him that he is supposed to have his partner with him, solving everything together, but now he is on his own and has to provide the best possible life for Izzy.

“Harry… you’re not alone,” you breathe out, heart aching for the man you love with everything in you. “And I’m not only talking about myself. Your mom, Gemma, Niall, even Saige, Ava and Linda are always happy to help you out with everything. If Maggie was still here, it wouldn’t be just the two of you. Raising a child needs a whole village,” you chuckle softly. “But if you want a partner in it… I’m here. And I really mean it. I see a future with you, I want to be part of your family, of course, only if you let me.” Reaching over your hand finds his on his lap and you squeeze it gently as he looks at you, his expression still a little torn, but it’s not as painful as it was when he arrived.

“I would love to have you be part of my family, Y/N.”

It’s like a rock is lifted off your chest upon hearing his reassuring words. This is all you ever wanted, have a partner in life who is willing to build a future together with you and Harry is offering you just that.

You stay on that old little bench for so long, you don’t even realize how late it has gotten, only when your mom shows up at the door, wearing her nightgown and a fluffy robe.

“Don’t want to bother, but do you want to spend the night? Just asking if I should get you some extra pillows and blankets…”

“Oh! Um, no. We are going home, but thank you mom,” you smile tiredly, noticing it’s nearing midnight now.

Harry stands from next to you and as he steps to your mother you realize they haven’t even met. Harry stands tall in front of your mom, but you notice the nervous flash in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even have the time to introduce myself,” he mumbles with a nervous chuckle. Your mom blushes, most likely finding your boyfriend quite handsome though you already showed pictures of him to her. “I’m Harry,” he says, holding out a hand.

“Oh, no worries! I’m Tina!” she smiles charmingly as they shake hands.

“Nice to meet you, Tina.”

“I know we should have probably had a better introduction, but we’ll come around some other time under better circumstances,” you chuckle softly as you stand up from the bench too.

You say goodbye to Trevor and your mom and finally head home. Harry tries to convince you to ride back in his car, but you don’t want to leave yours here, so you tell him it’s going to be fine. Both of you arrive in one piece and you only realize that Izzy is nowhere to be found when you walk into the house.

“Dropped her off at Gemma’s. I’ll have to explain a lot of things to my sister tomorrow, but it can wait,” he chuckles softly before his hands reach out to you, grabbing your waist gently as he pulls you closer to him. “I’m so sorry for tonight, Y/N.”

“Hey, we agreed that no more apologizing,” you remind him of the deal you made earlier. “It’s all in the past.”

Harry nods, huffing through his nose before leaning down he kisses you softly, as if you were some kind of fragile artwork that needs to be handled with so much care.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips, his eyes barely open under his thick lashes.

“I love you too,” you smile back, your hands coming to rest at the base of his neck.

“I will never get tired of hearing that,” he chuckles lowly, making you laugh too.

“Good, because I’ll be saying it a lot.”

“Perfect.”

“Stop picking on your lip!” you warn Harry when you catch him fidgeting with his bottom lip. He wouldn’t admit, but he is surely nervous as the two of you are waiting for Izzy to join you downstairs. She just got home from the zoo with Gemma, they had an amazing day together, but it had a purpose. You needed her to be looked after while you went to the doctor. It was your first ultrasound since the time you went to see if you’re really pregnant or the tests just fooled you, but it was one hundred percent legit. You were indeed pregnant.

You and Harry got married a few weeks before Izzy turned six. She was the cutest little flower girl in the small ceremony held at the backyard of your own home. Both of you agreed that you don’t want anything big and flashy, just an intimate little wedding with your close family and friends. It’s been two months of being husband and wife and it’s almost completely sure the little baby growing now in your tummy was conceived on your wedding night…

You’ve been keeping it a secret, wanting to tell Izzy first before sharing the news with your friends and family.

“Do you want to talk first or do I do it?” Harry asks in a whisper, as if Izzy could hear anything from upstairs.

“I have a feeling you wouldn’t be able to get a word out so I’ll take the lead, if you don’t mind,” you chuckle softly and Harry doesn’t argue.

He has been such a nerve wreck thinking about telling Izzy that she is going to be a big sister. These past years she has dealt so well with processing everything about the situation with her mom, you and the idea of her dad having a new wife. You felt like she was a little confused at the beginning, but once you had an actual, mature talk with her, answered all her questions, you could see things shift to place in that cute little head of hers. Now she knows what it means that her mom passed and how you came into the picture. This is why you have no doubt she’ll take the news well, but Harry is still afraid she might flip.

Little feet tap against the floor somewhere upstairs and then Izzy runs down the stairs, joining you at the dining table.

“What’s the surprise?” she asks in excitement. You told her you have a surprise for her when she arrived and now she is pumped for whatever is coming.

“Izzy, you know how Zac has a little brother, right?” you ask, smoothly starting the discussion.

“Yes! His name is Jeremy!”

“Yeah. So Jeremy is a little younger than Zac, they are siblings. Zac’s parents wanted to have more than just one kids and so they decided to have Jeremy.”

“Mrs. Rumbald had him in her belly!” she explains cleverly. The topic of babies has already came up earlier, so now she has an idea of what really happens when a couple decides to have a baby.

“Exactly,” you nod smiling. “You know how your daddy and I are now married, right? We talked about what it meant.” Izzy nods, glancing at her father who is sitting beside you, sweating his balls off even though it’s going smoothly. “Married couples often decide to have babies. This is what your dad and I did too and now there is a baby in my belly too. That means that you’re going to have a little brother or sister soon.”

Izzy blinks a few times, processing your words before her face lights up with excitement as she gasps.

“Can I play with her?” she asks, making you and Harry laugh.

“Might be a boy, baby,” Harry chimes in.

“Okay, then can I play with him or her?” she corrects herself.

“Well, you have to be careful with newborn babies, but I’m sure she or he will love to play with you!”

“What’s it gonna be called?” she asks her next question.

“We don’t know that yet. But you can suggest names if you want to,” Harry offers.

“Can it be Elsa if it’s a girl?” she immediately suggests and you smile at her first thought. Of course she says Elsa, she is going through her mandatory Frozen obsession like every other kid at her age.

“We’ll put it on the list,” you tell her. “Do you want to see a picture of the baby?”

“You can take pictures of the inside of your belly?” she asks with a confused look.

“Well, not with a camera like the ones I use,” you explain as you place the black and white, messy picture of the tiny baby in front of her. She grabs it and starts inspecting it as if it was some kind of puzzle and you can tell she is having a hard time making out where the actual baby is. “That’s right there. It’s still tiny and has to grow a lot,” you tell her, pointing at the right splotch in the picture.

“Can I keep this picture?” she asks smiling up at you sweetly. “I want to put it to my wall!”

A while ago Harry has gotten her a huge frame right above her bed that has wires running across it with tiny clips attached. You’ve gifted her her favorite polaroids from your stack you’ve collected through the years, most of them featuring the three of you. It’s touching to know that she wants her little sibling there already.

“Of course!” you breathe out, touched by the idea.

You follow her up into her room and while she stands on the bed, you put the sonogram next to a photo that was taken of her and Harry on her sixth birthday.

“Can I tell my friends at school that I’m going to have a brother or sister?” she asks, still standing on the bed so now she is almost as tall as you are.

“Um…” glancing over at the door your eyes meet Harry’s who just shrugs, letting you know it’s up to you. “I guess you can, yes.”

“Thank you!” she beams, throwing her little arms around your neck as she hugs you tight and you return it gladly. “Can I watch some TV, please?” she asks with an angelic look she knows you can never resist.

“Yeah, but only for an hour,” you tell her as she jumps in victory before climbing off the bed. Running to the door she gives Harry a hug before disappearing down the hallway. Harry walks in, a proud and soft smile tugging on his lips as he steps to you, his hands finding your waist. He pulls you against his hard chest, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“This went well, right?” he asks.

“Yeah, you were such a big help, sitting there in silence,” you chuckle teasing him.

“But you handled it so good, baby. I didn’t want to interrupt,” he smirks and you just roll your eyes at him before circling your arms around his neck.

“Uh-huh, sure,” you smirk. “So… are you ready to be a daddy again?” you ask him with a shy smile.

“Technically, I never stopped being a daddy,” he points out. “The real question is, are you ready to become a mommy?” he asks turning it back to you.

“I’m… a little nervous, but very excited. I think I’m ready,” you nod smiling.

“Don’t worry, it’s gonna be alright,” he hums, kissing into your hair.

“Wow, when did you become the emotional support in this relationship?” you tease him and he just rolls his eyes.

“Learned from the best,” he nudges his nose against yours before kissing you softly. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” you smile against his lips, thinking about how long the two of you have become since you first met and you are happy you got to be the person who taught Harry how to love and be loved again.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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panda-noosh · 3 years

Text

the game {draco x reader}

masterlist

---

you’ve been tormenting the malfoy family for what feels like forever.

it’s become a kind of game at this point, a game everyone is involved in. the malfoys pretend they don’t expect your presence, and you pretend you are tormenting them because you don’t like them. it’s back and forth, back and forth, and you’ve been doing it too long to back out now.

it starts the same way every time - the gate is open, and they pretend it’s because they forgot to close it. nobody mentions the fact that lucius malfoy hasn’t forgotten a single thing in his entire life. nobody mentions draco’s blonde head peaking out from behind the living room curtains, waiting for the arrival of a person he claims to despise.

you stroll in with the ease of someone who owns the place, smiling and waving at the white peacocks that have become so familiar with your presence by now that they don’t even make a noise upon seeing you. they lift their graceful heads, and then they bow them again - it’s as simple as that.

you knock on the door, grinning even wider when you hear narcissa’s faux exclamation of, “who could that possibly be?” you know for a fact that draco has warned her of your presence already, that all three of them have been expecting your arrival since they woke up this morning.

and then the door opens, and narcissa stands there in all her glory. such a tall, graceful woman, and you tell her that on a daily basis, making her blush because you are her favourite little Mudblood, and she lets you get away with things like that.

you lean against the door frame, spinning your wand between your ringed fingers. narcissa glares at you without speaking, her jaw working as she inspects you.

“evening,” you drawl. “how are you today, my dear?”

her nostrils flare. “how many times have we told you to stay away from our home?”

“oh, plenty of times. i’ve quite lost count.” you straighten, craning your neck to see over her tall frame, into the hallway beyond. standing in the foyer, just as you predicted, just as he always does, is draco. you give him a wave before turning back to face his mother. “is he alright? i haven’t seen him much at school recently.”

“my sons wellbeing is none of your business.”

draco appears at his mothers elbow. “you can tell professor snape i’ve been feeling ill.”

you smile - draco giving you orders is moreso his way of answering your questions without looking like he gives a shit. you appreciate it, this code you two speak in, because in all truth, you do worry about the malfoy boy quite a bit.

you met him in school, your very first year at hogwarts. you were crushed beneath adrenaline, having found out about your powers only a few weeks before being shipped off to this strange and wonderful new school. you had a wand, and a robe, and there was a giant man ushering you into a tiny boat, ready to take you to the future.

and then draco appeared, and he knew who you were. he must have looked through the first year list, must have looked you up and realised you were a muggle-born. he did his research, and that was the first point of respect he earned off you.

“let them in, mother,” draco says now. “the elves made too much food anyway; might as well put them to use whilst they’re here.”

you give a mock bow. “much appreciated, malfoy.”

he snarls, before mother and son turn on their heels and lead you into the home you have become so familiar with these past few years. you’ve traced these walls with your fingers a thousand times before, and you do the same now. upstairs, you hear the elves marching around, putting stuff back where they belong, chuntering amongst themselves; silently, you wonder where lucius is.

draco and narcissa lead you to the kitchen, where stacks upon stacks of food are set up along the grand dining table. draco hands you a glass of water before gesturing to the plates and saying, “dig in. and be grateful we haven’t got the ministry involved.”

“the ministry?” you raise a brow, taking a long, loud sip of your water before continuing. “draco, what would the ministry possibly do? you’ve been letting me into your home for years - it’s starting to get a little old hearing you say you don’t want me here.”

draco blinks, startled.

narcissa steps in, grabbing the water from your hand and slamming it upon the table. “we don’t want you here. the last thing we need is some filthy mudblood knocking on our door at all hours of the morning.”

the word doesn’t even sting any more - it’s a wound that has been closed long enough now to no longer hurt. so instead, you smile and say, “very true, narcissa. i’ll have my water back now, if you please.”

narcissa growls, turns and walks out of the kitchen. she always does this. it’s become part of the routine.

you grab the water yourself and take another sip. draco continues staring at you, a habit he adopted only recently. you remember the first time he did it, the first time it was more than a glance, more than an accidental brush of eye contact between you; he was standing on the opposite side of the kitchen, those slim fingers tapping a rhythm against the expensive granite. you and lucius were chatting, lucius asking - yet again - why you’re here, why you can never leave them alone, why you aren’t at school. you were going to answer, but draco’s gaze was burning a hole into the side of your face, and you truly felt as if you had no choice but to pack it in early and go home, just to recuperate.

you’ve gotten better with it. you don’t have any plans of storming out any time soon, though his gaze still makes your face heat up and your stomach squirm.

“so, you’ve been ill, have you?” you begin. “i won’t lie, draco, you look pretty spritely to me.”

“i wouldn’t expect you to understand,” draco shoots back. “you should just mind your business.”

“i never asked you what was wrong. i was just saying - seems like you’re looking for a muggle excuse to get out of going to school.”

draco glares, though the expression has less effect now that he’s taken to never taking his eyes off you, no matter what his emotions towards you are in the moment. “i’ve told you not to call me that.”

“didn’t call you anything.”

“you called me a muggle.”

you narrow your eyes in faux confusion. “i said your excuse was muggle. don’t blow it out of proportion, mate.”

he throws his hands up, turning away for what feels like the first time since he laid eyes on you. “why are you here this time, y/n? what could you possibly want from us now?”

“i’ve never wanted anything from you.” you inspect the endless plates on the table. “although i will pinch a scotch egg, if you don’t mind.”

draco watches as you reach across the table, picking at the assortment of foods. you don’t break the eye contact, because that’s what he wants you to do. he wants you to show some sign of intimidation, some sign that he has wriggled beneath your nerves in the same way he manages with everyone else. you’re determined to show him you’re not afraid of the malfoys, have never been afraid of the malfoys, and that’s exactly why you’re here. you wanted something, and you were willing to go to the highest rank to get it.

“you know, if my father finds out about what you get up to, you’ll be sent to azkaban with a life sentence.”

you freeze, scotch egg halfway to your mouth. “so you’re bringing that up now, are you?”

“i’m just warning you.” draco shrugs, the sleeves of his black blazer stretching against the motion. “one day you’re going to walk in here, and he’s going to know. he’s going to see it in your eyes that you’re guilty.”

“he’s going to figure me out.” you scoff. “you really think the sun shines out of your father’s arse, don’t you? he’s not as smart as he likes everyone to think, draco. i’ve been running circles around that man for years now, and he’s none the wiser.”

“and what if i tell him?”

the room falls silent. your heartbeat rings in your ears. you hate talking about this with draco, because you never know whether or not to take his threats seriously.

he folds his arms over his chest. “you’re lucky i haven’t blabbed yet.”

“are you threatening me, malfoy?” you lean forward, lowering your voice to a purr. “why don’t you tell me the real reason you’ve taken two weeks out of school, hm? then we’ll both have stories to tattle to the ministry.”

draco pales. he glares at you for a moment longer before the kitchen door opens, and narcissa malfoy strolls inside once again. you straighten up, schooling your expression into one of immediate calm, like not a single thing is wrong. you pop the remaining scotch egg in your mouth and say, “i should get out of your hair now.”

narcissa simply scowls.

you give her a grin, nod at draco once before walking out the door, trying to ignore that blue-eyed gaze still burning into the back of your head.

----

it gets easier over time.

all of it does, really. the guilt becomes non-existent, and the act itself becomes second nature after a few good attempts. you’ve nearly been caught a handful of times, and you know if your actions were to come to light, you would be expelled from hogwarts in a heartbeat; not even dumbledore could show you mercy, no matter how much he likes you.

it’s easiest when the streets are full. muggles are so careless, clumped together with wallets jingling in their pockets, unprotected. they don’t even think about what might go wrong, don’t even think a wizard may be lurking amongst them, ready to snatch their belongings right from their person.

you don’t need it, of course. muggle money means nothing where you come from, but there’s some wizards and witches who would pay hundreds of galleons in trade for the things collected off muggles. it’s a black market kind of situation.

tonight, you are dressed in a black hoodie and jeans, wand stowed in your back pocket. you don’t need it; you’ve mastered the magic-free manoeuvres of sneaking things from people, and you use such skills to your advantage tonight. a man by the name of richard carpol has put in a request for a muggle passport - an irish one, preferably, but he’ll take anything you can get your hands on.

you search for what feels like hours before zoning in on the dark red booklet peaking out of a teenagers jacket pocket. their source of ID, you assume, and you feel no guilt whatsoever when you stroll past them and pluck the book free. you stuff it in your hoodie pocket before picking up your pace, ducking into a dark alleyway.

you flip it open - it’s a british passport, but richard will still pay. he’s not a picky customer, which makes your night ten times easier.

you make your way back to hogwarts, waving at people in hogsmeade before you disappear for the night. you sneak into the slytherin dormitory with no problems, stuffing the passport beneath your mattress. you wriggle beneath the sheets, ignoring pansy’s insistant questions about where you have been, if you’ve seen draco, how you managed to sneak past filch - she asks this every night, and you have never replied. you just fall asleep, another day successful.

----

“he’s back.”

like he’s some kind of god. you nearly roll your eyes, the whispers repeated over and over again throughout morning breakfast. all around you, the slytherin table is alive with anticipation, waiting for draco malfoy to stroll in through the double doors, head held high in that way it always is.

you knew draco was returning before anyone else did, as he told you the night before in a fit of faux rage at the sight of you in his bedroom, yet again. you had offered to leave, leaned casually against his mahogany wardrobe, and it could almost be considered hasty the speed at which he rushed for his door to close it, uttering a quiet, “no, you’re here now, so you might as well stay.”

but now he’s back in school, and you’re sick of him. you haven’t even seen his face once, but the whispers and the praise from your house mates is enough to set your teeth on edge. it reminds you that there is indeed a draco living outside of the malfoy manor, a draco you cannot tease and torment as easily.

“i saw him in the common room this morning putting his robes on. i think his parents got him new ones,” a fellow slytherin whispers. “and his hair has been cut a little shorter - he looks so grown up!”

you snicker into your porridge, smothering the noise to no avail. the slytherin girl singing draco’s praises shoots you a glare before noticing who you are; her glare folds in on itself, and she quickly retaliates by pretending she didn’t hear your snicker in the first place.

breakfast ticks by, and it’s only near the end does draco finally decide to grace the dining hall with his presence. the double doors open, and the chatter amongst the slytherins falls short almost immediately. you’re ashamed to admit that even you look up at the speed of light, catching one of the first glimpses of draco malfoy as he returns from what many people assumed was the dead.

his fangirl certainly wasn’t lying, you notice; his hair has been cut shorter, and he does look plenty grown up. he walks with a fresh confidence that makes you want to roll your eyes - it’s not like he needed a further confidence boost. his robes are clean, brushing the floor. his eyes are trained on the head table, though they linger there for only moments before snapping to where you are seated.

you raise a curious brow. he blushes, looks away, and takes his seat next to crabbe and goyle, both of whom clap him on the back like he’s just returned from war.

you ignore him the rest of breakfast, which is a rare action for you. you used to revel in tormenting him, coming face to face with him at every corner just to give another snide remark; it was a game back then, back when the two of you were younger and felt as if you could get away with it.

breakfast ends shortly thereafter, and you hurry to gather your things. swinging your bag over one shoulder, you duck your head down and escape into the crowded corridors, losing yourself amongst the sea of black clad students.

but you’re a fool to ever think you - of all people - could escape draco’s magnificent return to school. his cold fingers wrap around your wrist before you have a chance to turn the corridor to your next class, stopping you in your tracks. part of you wants to spin around and punch him, just floor him in front of everyone, show him that you’re not just some silly person showing up on his front doorstep every other night.

instead, you slowly turn and give him a smile, one of your big ones to let him know you don’t mean it, that you’re being hostile.

his face is set in stone, that frown so perfect and soft looking it makes you want to sob.

“where are you off to in such a hurry?” he asks, keeping his voice low because god forbid anyone catch him speaking to you.

“class,” you reply. “so kindly let go of me, malfoy.”

“not until you tell me where richard got another muggle passport to sell.”

you freeze, though you knew this would be coming eventually. richard is one of your best customers, but he’s not very bright; he’s never understood the concept of subtlety when it comes to the trading of muggle artefacts.

“he has a new one, does he?” you say. “good for him. his collection must be getting awfully big by now.”

draco scowls. “my father is starting to get very suspicious, y/n, and i don’t know how much longer i’ll be willing to cover for you.”

you pry your hand out of his grip, nearly stumbling from the momentum. “is that a threat?”

“it’s a warning,” he says. “i might not like you, but i don’t need you going down for something like this. people know we’re familiar with each other, and i don’t want you tarnishing my family name.”

you scoff. “your family name has been tarnished since you-know-who was in power.”

“shut up. don’t talk on things you don’t understand.”

“all i need to do is pick up a history book.”

draco scowls, those blues eyes ablaze. you’ve seen this look on him when he’s speaking to those gryffindors he hates so much, when a teacher takes someone else’s side over his own. you’ve seen this look on him plenty of times, but never aimed at you; for some reason, his expression is always so soft around the edges when trained on you.

“i’m trying to do you a favour,” draco mumbles. “because i’m serious when i say my father will snap you in half if he finds out you’re the one providing these artefacts to the dark market.”

“i’m not afraid of lucius,” you reply. “and i think you’re kind of forgetting the fact that your father actually likes me. at least a little bit.”

draco’s eyebrows fly up in amusement. “what’s given you that idea?”

“the fact that i’m still allowed in your house after all these years.” you grin, basking in the way draco’s own smile fades at the realisation you have indeed recognised this behaviour within his family. “yes, malfoy. you all try so hard to convince me i’m the scum of the earth, but the truth is, you appreciate my company. the truth is, you make me tea every time i visit. the truth is, you’re all a little fond of me, whether you want to admit it or not.”

his face pales even more, a feat you didn’t think possible until seeing it with your own two eyes. it’s a delicious win, a point for you in a competition you didn’t even realise you had entered.

“you’re delusional,” he mumbles. “you say you picked up a history book, then you must know how my family feel about your kind.”

“my kind?” you raise a brow, feigning ignorance just to annoy him. he hates outstretched conversations, especially with you. “are you talking about half-bloods, or pickpockets? oh! or people who can run circles around you without fear?”

you don’t give him a chance to reply, because quite frankly, you’re done with this conversation. you’re done with him for today. you prefer it when you’re in control of your daily draco interactions.

you turn on your heel and leave, rushing for your next class even as he calls your name. you can’t believe the nerve of him, approaching you like that, telling you to quit the job that’s gotten you off the streets, that’s helped you fund an education for yourself. these robes you’re wearing, the books you read in class, the wand that is an extension of your arm by now - all of it was funded by you, from your own pocket. just because the business is ruthless, not some posh, clean dealing that malfoy is used to, doesn’t mean it’s any less important.

you want to shove that explanation down his throat, just so he’ll finally look past his own privileged little bubble. you hate admitting it, but the truth is, draco wouldn’t be so bad if he wasn’t so blinded by his upbringing. he knows how to be nice - you’ve seen it before, experienced it before, though you never talk about those experiences with anyone. there have been a few times where draco has seen you walking past his house, soaked to the bone from the rain, and he’s let you in, warmed you up by the fire, placed a hot chocolate in your hand. he’ll insult you and call you stupid and claim he wants you out of his house as soon as possible, but he was still the man who made the move to get you out of the rain.

your feelings for draco are a jenga tower. built up to full form, but slowly, pieces get chipped away until the entire thing is falling, and you have to rebuild it and try again.

you don’t know why you keep rebuilding it after so many disasters, but as he calls your name at your retreating back, you can feel yourself already putting those blocks back together.

----

charms class really is a pain.

flitwick is nice enough. he’s patient, which is good, and very much needed when it comes to your skills in the classroom. you’re an intelligent person, always studying because you want to be the best. you love seeing the look on draco’s face when he looks over and sees you’ve got a higher grade than him. it gives you such a thrill.

but charms is your downfall, because nothing makes any sense. flitwick explains the spell, and the hand movements, and he leaves you to your own devices, and you always somehow end up messing everything up.

today, all you’re doing is tossing a pillow to the other side of the room. it’s a simple spell, a simple gesture, and yet you still manage to smash a window in the process. flitwick merely sighs, explains the charm again, and gets you to repeat the process until you’ve got it right.

it takes a while. you don’t like it when things take a while.

by the half hour mark, sweat is running down your face, and your teeth have been gritted for so long it’s starting to hurt. you throw your wand down on the table, rake your hands through your hair and say, “i’m taking a break.”

“please do,” flitwick grumbles, rubbing the spot on his head where a vase smashed into his skull, thanks to your handiwork.

you slump down on one of the pillows you have failed to charm and run a hand along your brow. it’s actually disgusting how much energy gets taken out of you from doing such a simple thing. it’s also very confusing, considering you’re able to master the most difficult spells in defence against the dark arts without so much as a second thought. why tossing a pillow to the other side of the room is getting to you is both a joke and a mystery.

as you pull yourself together, savouring your moment of rest, someone slumps down next to you. you glance over, an eyebrow raised at bailey o’boyle, a boy you’ve done business with a few times in the past. he was only dabbling in the black market at the time, too young to understand what it was actually all about, but you weren’t going to be the one to ward him off, not when he had a good few galleons with your name on it.

he looks at you now with a smile, big and dopey, just as it always is.

“can i help you?” you ask.

“yes.”

you wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. he just keeps staring at you.

you grit your teeth. “with what?”

“i need an electric scooter.”

you raise a brow. already the word ‘electric’ has got your attention, because that’s not something the wizard world is very familiar with. what bailey is doing right now is forming a business deal. you’re not usually a fan of bargaining in the middle of class, but since you have nothing better to do. . .

you turn, ducking your head and lowering your voice. “what the fuck do you need an electric scooter for?”

“to sell,” he replies. “i’ve got a man who collects them. he’s willing to pay big money, y/n. big, big money.”

you like the sound of that.

“i’m a pickpocket, you know,” you say. “it’s not going to be easy pickpocketing an entire scooter from a muggle.”

bailey shrugs. “i said i’d see what you could do. but if you’re not up to it. . .”

your eye twitches; you hate that phrase. realistically, you know this is far beyond your expertise. you steal wallets, and passports, and house keys, tiny things you can sneak away without detection. trying to get something like an electric scooter from a muggle without being caught is close enough to impossible that even the lure of galleons isn’t enough to convince you to do it.

still, of course you’re going to think about it. there are many different side streets in muggle london that you could go down, and if you do it at night, the shadows could be used to your advantage. nobody would even bat an eye if you wore-

draco grabs your wrist and pulls you from the floor.

you yelp, stumbling into his chest. he lifts you like you weigh nothing, and you’re more surprised at his strength than you are at his actions.

bailey’s eyes widen. he stutters, trying to feign innocence, but neither you nor draco are interested in him any more. you whirl on malfoy, shoving him away.

“what the hell?”

“what the hell, is right.” he grabs your arm. “come with me.”

you struggle against his grip, but truth to be told, you’re not really putting up much of a fight. you’re still in shock at how easily he was able to lift you, at the feel of his fingers around your upper arm.

he drags you from the classroom. flitwick being flitwick doesn’t even bat an eye; he’s probably relieved that’s two more students he doesn’t need to worry about.

in the hallway, draco finally lets go of you. you jerk away so fast your back hits against the wall. draco raises a brow, but he still looks furious. his nostrils are flared, his face is pale, and god, he keeps clenching his fists like he wants to wrap his hands around your throat.

god help you, you kind of want him to. just to know what it feels like.

“again,” you say. “what the hell?”

“i knew you were stupid, y/n, but that’s bad even for you.”

“excuse me?”

“you do realise blaise was listening to every word you and bailey were saying in there?” he shakes his head, jaw clenched. “i was trying to talk over you, but your loud mouth is quite difficult to ignore.”

you blink. firstly, wow. bargaining in class really isn’t a good idea, and you really should have known better.

but also, wow, draco actually tried helping you out.

you swallow and fold your arms over your chest. “i had it under control. blaise isn’t gonna do shit.”

draco laughs. “blaise’s dad is in the ministry, idiot.”

“stop calling me that. i’m smarter than you!”

“do you understand what i’m telling you, y/n? if blaise says a word about what he heard to his dad, that’s you done. there’s no getting out of that.”

a chill runs down your spine. draco glimpses the movement, and you swear his features soften slightly.

“i just can’t believe you were so careless.”

“why do you even care?” your voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. you kind of hope draco doesn’t hear it, but his eyebrows shoot up, and his cheeks gain a tiny red tint that lets you know he doesn’t really know the answer to that question.

you swallow, looking up to meet his eyes. “why do you care, draco?”

“because.” his throat bobs. there is a moment of hesitation where you think he’s going to tell the truth. maybe he’s going to shock the world and just tell the god damn truth, but then he clears his throat, pulls his shoulders back and says, “i’ve already told you, y/n; if you go down, you’ll tarnish my family name. i can’t have that.”

your insides wilt like his words are acid being poured down your throat. you laugh a little too loudly, a bark more than anything close to amusement. it’s so vicious, so filled with hatred that draco actually flinches away. in that moment, you want to give him a real reason to flinch, a real reason to be afraid.

but you don’t, because he’s the boy who pulled you out of the rain.

instead, you shake your head and say, “tell flitwick i’m ill. and don’t bother talking to me ever again. let me handle my own business, thanks.” and without another word, you rush down the hallway to the dorm rooms, refusing to look back at him. this time, he doesn’t call your name, doesn’t chase after you in that hopelessly stupid way you want him to. of course he wouldn’t.

you throw your robes off the minute you burst through the doors of your dorm. it’s empty besides a fellow slytherin’s cat laying on the bed. the black and white feline lifts its head at the sound of you, and you ignore it’s confused little mews as you scramble into your own bed, pull the privacy curtain over and bury your head in your pillow.

you hate him. you really, really hate him, and that’s not even an exaggeration. he’s the worst person you’ve ever met. he’s this tormented little shit who thinks he has every right to throw his anger at everyone else, just because he isn’t tough enough to stand up to mummy and daddy. he’s so desperate to stay in line with everything his parents say, and it’s ridiculous. it’s embarrassing. it’s a cowards move.

there are so many things you wished you said to him before storming off, but there’s always that moment of hesitation when it comes to anything you want to say to draco. you either have to check it’s not too nice, and even when it’s mean, you have to check it’s not going to actually upset him, because you don’t want to do that either. you don’t know why. you should spit in his face for the shit he puts you through, the confusion he makes you feel. and he doesn’t even care. he just carries on being a little prick, like nothing is wrong in the world.

but surprise, surprise, draco. not everyone can live a lavish life, worry free.

---

you manage to ignore draco for the rest of the day. it’s easily done, considering draco doesn’t like to make a big deal out of the fact that you two actually have history; he likes to pretend he associates only with people of the purest blood, the most talented wizards, ones that come from the old families.

but he can’t keep his eyes off you.

he knows he’s hit a nerve. the way his eyes follow every movement you make, the way his jaw ticks when you don’t even give him the time of day - he’s not a stupid boy, as much as you like to tell him he is. he can see when he’s upset you.

classes drag in the rest of the day, and it’s a massive relief when you’re finally released from the confines of lessons, free to do whatever you want. after stealing a bit of food from the dining hall, you head up to the slytherin dormitory; you like it best when it’s empty, when you can just sit with your own thoughts for a while. you need it today, because today you actually let yourself be a normal teenager, and you hate it. you hate the feeling of hormones and overreactions, but sometimes it’s hard to help it. sometimes you need to let yourself feel emotional.

alone in the dorms, you reach under your bed and pull out your handy box of trinkets. most of the contents are just things you’ve stolen that never found a home - a penny from a london sidewalk, an old napkin with a mystery person’s phone number scribbled on it, a black and white photo of a couple standing in front of the ocean. however, tucked away amongst those simple, boring things is a green emerald - one you stole from the malfoy manor a few years ago.

you got it from draco’s room, because you weren’t meant to be in there, and you wanted to let him know that you had, in fact, been in there. the emerald was stitched into the collar of one of his shirts, all expensive looking and wasted. you nearly scoffed at the sight of it - when would draco ever get to wear something so glamorous anyway? plus, the emerald looked far too heavy to be confined to a shirts collar; it would be very uncomfortable, you assumed.

that’s why you grabbed a knife and cut the stitching to shreds, plucking the emerald from it to claim as your own. you tossed the shredded shirt back into draco’s wardrobe, tucked the emerald into your pocket and then walked out, content with the knowledge that draco would be yelling at you in due time once he noticed his missing jewel.

but the yelling never came.

draco knew you had stolen it. again, he isn’t stupid. his shirt was shredded, and the jewel was missing, and it was obvious who had done it - the known pickpocket who was strolling through his house every other night.

he just never said anything, like he wanted you to keep it, like he didn’t mind it was in your hands now.

you stare at it, legs crossed beneath you. you’ve always prided yourself on how little you care for expensive things - you don’t complain that you haven’t got much, that you grew up poor, never able to afford the grand things draco has. but you still handle this emerald with so much care, flipping it round in your fingers, looking at every curve and delicate groove in it’s cut.

the dormitory door opens. you trust it’s just someone who’s eaten too much and wants an early night, so you don’t panic or falter. you listen to their footsteps patter across the room, the thump of their robes hitting the floor, followed closely by their shoes. you listen to their privacy curtain screeching open, their sigh of annoyance at something you can’t see-

and then draco pops his head round your privacy curtain.

you yelp, fumbling with the emerald. it slips from your fingers, however, and crashes to the floor at draco’s bare feet. he stares at it as you curse, an eyebrow raising, and you don��t even try and hide it. you just let him stare, arms folded over your chest, annoyance brewing in your stomach just at the sight of him.

finally, he slowly looks up. “mine, i take it?”

“good guess, rich boy. can i have it back?”

he picks it up and tosses it into your lap. you’re pleasantly surprised at his cooperation, but still keep that frown on your face.

“what do you want?” you ask, violently stuffing all your belongings back into the cardboard box.

“you weren’t at dinner,” draco replies. “i wanted to make sure you weren’t causing any more trouble.”

you scoff. “oh, trouble, yes. tarnishing the malfoy name. the end goal for us all.”

draco stares at you, lips pursed. his gaze is always so warm, a physical thing that makes your skin crawl. “that comment bothered you, did it?”

“nothing you say bothers me, draco. it just baffles me how you can be so dense sometimes.”

“ouch. that one hurt.”

you roll your eyes. “why are you here? i have nothing to say to you.”

“you don’t have to say anything. i just wanted to make sure you’re alive.”

“not like you care, though, is it?”

draco’s nostrils flare. his throat bobs, eyes tracing the length of your throat like he’s a hungry vampire. his lower lip slips between his teeth, the expression startling you. he looks like he’s trying to reel himself back, like some unwanted emotion is fighting for dominance in his brain.

“you’re really stubborn, aren’t you?” he asks after a moment.

“you think?”

“i still don’t know what i did to piss you off so much.”

you bark out a laugh. “no, of course you don’t. god forbid a malfoy is self-aware for once.”

he groans. “can you not just make things simple? why do we have to go around in circles like this? it’s a waste of time!”

“is that meant to be an apology?”

“how can i apologise when i don’t even know what i did?” he’s starting to sound desperate, like this conversation is taking the life from him.

you lean back, pulling the box into your lap protectively. in truth, you don’t even know how to word why you’re so upset - it makes sense in your head, but articulating it to someone else is just going to make you sound stupid, maybe even a little delusional. you should know draco by now, people will say. you should know what he’s like, that he cares for no one besides himself. getting upset over him showing his true colours is stupid, a waste of time and energy.

but you look into his blue eyes right now, wanting nothing more than for him to just understand. understand what, you don’t even want to admit, not to yourself or anyone else.

“you hurt my feelings,” you mumble.

draco inhales sharply. “i didn’t think i could do that. i never thought you’d let me.”

“well, you did. congratulations.”

“jesus, y/n, it’s not like i wanted to. what did i even say?”

you stare at him. he stares back. the ball will drop eventually, you know, because draco is smart, smarter than you’ve ever given him credit for. he examines your expression, and you watch the moment his eyebrows start to relax in realisation, the frown form on his face. it makes anxiety coil in the pit of your stomach, because maybe this is just a little too vulnerable. maybe letting draco figure this out on his own was a bad idea.

but it’s too late now. he draws back slowly, hands curled around the privacy curtain until the fabric is creasing and knotted in his fingers. “wait. . .”

“go, draco,” you demand. “i have shit to do. business to take care of.”

“y/n-”

“go, draco!”

he stares at you a moment longer before running a hand through his hair and walking out the room. you wait till the door is closed, and then you wait till his footsteps can no longer be heard, and then you throw the box of trinkets to the ground, watching the emerald slip across the wooden floor.

---

the streets of london always look a little different when you’re angry. a little more violent. a little more real.

muggle london in itself has always felt like a very hostile place to you, but when you’re angry, things get clearer. you notice the vomit stain on the curb, the neglected baby pram in the bush, the beer bottles smashed beneath window sills. it becomes a different place - it just depends on how you’re feeling.

tonight, you are angry, and everything around you is angry, too.

you just want a set of car keys, not the actual car. muggle car keys sell at a good price, depending on who you’re dealing with. nobody has requested them, and usually you don’t go out unless asked to do so by a client, but tonight, you just want to be out. you want to be away from the wizarding world. you want to cause havoc with your fingers in the best way you know how.

it’s busy. it always is. you can guarantee that almost everyone around you has car keys in their pocket - that’s why global warming is so bad. some of them even wear them around their neck, dangling from multicoloured chains with little souvenirs banging against their chests. those would be so easy to just rip off and run away, but you’ve decided to be subtle, which means your eyes are trained on the bulges in people’s coat pockets. so many of them, so careless.

a man in a tracksuit seems like the best option. you follow him for ten minutes, keeping your head down, before he finally breaks away from his group of drunken friends. he laughs to himself, stumbling just the perfect amount - he’s drunk, but not drunk enough to be falling over himself, which makes slipping your hand into his pocket a pretty easy deal.

you go for the kill, quickening your pace, dipping your hand into his pocket-

he grabs your wrist, and before you even have a chance to blink, you’re on the ground.

a gasp is ripped from your throat at both the shock and the pain that spears up your spine. the guy is yelling, stumbling back, and holy shit, if he doesn’t shut up right now, the whole of london is going to be on you.

gathering as much strength as you can, you roll onto your side and push yourself to your knees. “hey man, calm down. sorry. i thought you were my friend.”

“did you just try and rob me?” he yells.

“no! no, of course-”

“you psycho bitch!” he lunges for you, all drunken vowels and grabby hands. you have no idea what to make of his intentions, you just know you’ve fucked up, and you need to get out of here.

his hands slam into your shoulders, knocking you on your ass. a cry escapes you, but not from the pain. a tiny snap sounds from your back pocket, and you know without having to look that your wand has just broken in half - yet again. dumbledore is going to start getting very suspicious.

“son of a bitch,” you growl, before raising your hands. “listen, hey. i’m sorry. i’ve said that already. you need to calm down before-”

“before what?” he howls. “you kill me? are you threatening me?”

your eyes widen. “no! would you just-”

the man opens his mouth to say something else, but his words are sucked back in when a hand wraps around his arm and yanks him back. you wince at the sound of his head cracking against the tarmac, but you don’t get a chance to comment before draco is kneeling beside you, one hand cradling your head, the other resting on your knee. his touch alone is enough to spread warmth through your previously frozen limbs, and you hate that. you hate it so much.

you tug your knee from his grip. “what the hell are you doing here?”

“are you bleeding?” he runs his thumb along your bottom lip. when he pulls away, his fingertip glows with a red liquid.

“oh. i guess i am.”

“christ, y/n. do you ever just...” he closes his eyes, taking a moment to redirect his anger. it’s an amusing sight, and you almost smile until you remember you’re mad at him. forever mad at him.

you jerk your head out of his grip, too. “i’m fine. stop worrying.”

“clearly i have to, or else you’re going to get yourself killed.” he glances over his shoulder, where the drunken man is struggling to sit up, still slurring protestations. “by a muggle.”

“he wouldn’t have killed me,” you grumble. “although my wand is broke, so maybe he would have.”

draco’s eyes widen. you wave him off before he has a chance to chastise you again - in truth, you just want to get out of here, car keys be damned. hastily, you push yourself to your feet, wobbling only slightly, but draco must see this tiny action as a full-on collapse risk, as he wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you close, grumbling curses under his breath. you’re such a pain in the arse, apparently, and god, he wishes he wasn’t stuck with you all the time, and he’s so baffled by the fact you’re still alive, it’s probably all thanks to him, blah, blah, blah.

you listen to him rant the entire way back to malfoy manor. you don’t argue his choice of location, because you can see narcissa standing in the doorway, hand over her mouth, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise, and you already know she’s got a cup of tea waiting for you in the sitting room. you almost smile, but that would ruin the effect.

she rushes out to meet you and draco halfway, immediately grabbing your face and tilting your head back and forth. you can taste blood on your teeth.

“what happened?” she breathes, but doesn’t give you a chance to reply. “draco, take them into the lounge.”

“oh, the lounge,” you coo. “you are spoiling me!”

“be quiet,” draco hisses, doing as his mother says. he tosses you unceremoniously onto the plush sofa, and you have to ignore the inappropriate thrill that shoots up your body.

narcissa appears not ten seconds later, a steaming cup of tea in her hand. you give her a grin, which she rolls her eyes at, even as she sits beside you and brushes your hair away from your face. you take a sip of the tea, smile in thanks, and then lean your head back.

“sorry about this.”

narcissa sighs. her breath tickles your cheek, smelling oddly of incense. “i don’t know what we’re going to do with you, y/n.”

“put me down.” you make a stabbing gesture into your arm and mouth lethal injection at draco. he purses his lips, clearly not taking the joke in stride. “i didn’t mean to worry you so much.”

“you’re always worrying us,” draco hisses, which earns him a sharp look from narcissa. he meets his mothers eyes and his shoulders deflate. he runs his hands down his face. “you’re just . . . always doing something.”

“i know,” you mumble. “sorry.”

“draco, don’t stress them out,” says narcissa, which surprises you; you’ve always known narcissa has a secret soft spot for you, but she’s always tried her hardest to keep it just that - a secret. yet here she is, combing your hair back, giving you a cup of tea, telling her son to treat you nicely. it’s like you’ve entered a different world. “i’m gonna go and make some calls. keep them comfortable, okay?”

draco nods, lips still pursed, forever displeased. you used to laugh at that expression on his face, but now it just makes you feel bad.

narcissa leaves the room, and then it’s just you and draco. you watch as he watches you, eyes never wavering, shoulders never relaxing. he’s got his arms folded over his chest like he’s keeping guard.

“i meant it, you know,” you say. “i didn’t mean to worry you. i thought it would be an easy job.”

“who are you doing business with now? bailey again?”

“no.” you look down, surprisingly shameful. “it was just for myself. i needed out of the castle, and. . .” you shrug. “you know me. i can’t do anything easy.”

he scoffs. “yeah, i know.”

“so i’m sorry.”

draco closes his eyes and rubs his temples. the rings on his fingers glisten beneath the fancy lights. his knuckles pop, the veins in his arms protruding. “please stop apologising.”

you blink. “alright.”

“you act like i don’t understand why you’re doing all this, but i do.” he looks at you, hands dropping to his sides. “just because i don’t have to do it myself, doesn’t mean i don’t understand. why else do you think i haven’t stopped you?”

your breath catches. you raise a brow, tilting your head cruelly. “you wouldn’t have been able to stop me. you think i’d listen to you?”

“yeah. i think you would.”

you reel back, jaw dropping open. “excuse-”

“you always act like you hate me, but you forget you’ve been coming to my house for years. you forget i’ve known you since we were eleven. you forget that i don’t just put up with anyone. i’ve had time to figure you out, y/n, no matter how much you like to pretend i haven’t.” he folds his arms and leans against the door. his hair is rumpled, along with his shirt and jeans. so casual, so unlike himself. “but earlier on, in the dorms. . . you surprised me with that one.”

your stomach curls. oh, good god, he’s bringing that up now. you’re sat here with a busted chin and a potential criminal charge, and he’s bringing this up. you could headbutt him.

despite your glare, he continues. “i knew you didn’t hate me, but i never thought. . . i never thought you liked me, you know? especially not-”

“don’t say it.”

his lips twist. “i have to.”

“no you don’t.”

“do you love me?”

your heart falls into the pit of your stomach, which is answer enough for you. love is such a strong word, and you could easily say no, that what you feel for draco is nothing more than a little crush. he’s got the nice blue eyes, and the money, and the perfect hair. he’s got a smile that lights up rooms. it’s a crush. you fancy him, and that’s all there is to it.

but love sounds pretty accurate. more accurate, actually.

you swallow. draco watches the bob of your throat, and you watch his. above your head, the massive clock ticks, ticks, ticks.

slowly, he reaches forward and swipes his thumb over your chin. it stings just a little, but you’ve felt worse pain, so you let him do it without jerking away.

“cat got your tongue?” he whispers.

you shiver. “i don’t. . . i don’t know what you want me to say.”

“it’s not about what i want. i was asking a simple question. just give me the truth.”

“you want the truth?”

he inhales, hesitates, and then nods.

“yeah, draco,” you whisper. “i think i love you.”

slowly, draco draws away. his eyes never leave your own, that frosty blue colour reminding you of the winter sky, or a cold december morning. you remember all those christmas’s at hogwarts when draco would stay at the castle, waking him up because you thought it would annoy him to have your face be the first thing he sees. you always commented on the dreary smile that played on his lips when you did that, and he would always say, “i thought you were someone else.”

but that dreary smile is returning, pulling across his face, and it doesn’t falter. right now, there is no mistake. his eyes are on you, and he knows it is you, the person who has apparently made his life a living hell for so many years. you’re the ache in his spine, the one he can’t wait to get rid of.

but you’re also the one he rescued from the rain.

you’re the one who cursed hermione granger when she punched him in the nose.

you’re the one who’s just confessed your love to him.

shit.

“don’t look at me like that,” you say, voice hoarse. “don’t pretend you didn’t know.”

“i didn’t know,” he says immediately, like he’s desperate for you to know he was clueless. “did you know?”

“kind of. i wanted to ignore it-”

draco shakes his head, waving a dismissive hand. “no, no. did you know that i love you, too?”

you open your mouth, but no words come out. your brain just short circuits, taking a second to catch on to what he’s said. that dreary smile is still playing at his lips, and you’re waiting for the moment it turns into a sneer, a mocking little smirk.

it doesn’t.

“oh right,” you mumble. “no. i had no idea.” you pause. “are you taking the piss out of me?”

he laughs, a rare and pleasant sound. he approaches you, kneels at your side on the sofa and cups your head in his hands. you melt into him, even though every instinct in your body is telling you to pull away, to run away, because this is nothing more than false hope. he’s playing a trick on you. you’ve annoyed him to breaking point, and now he’s found the perfect chance for revenge.

but his hands are so warm, and nice, and your cheek dips into his palm so easily, like it belongs there.

“you’ve always been kind of not smart in my eyes,” he says.

your eyes widen. “hey!”

“kidding. i’m kidding.” he chuckles, running his thumb along your lower lip. “but you’re not doing your intelligence any justice right now. i thought i was making my feelings pretty clear.”

you glare; he knows full well he hasn’t made his feelings clear. neither of you have. you’ve spent the past seven years pretending to hate each other.

he grins. “okay, maybe i didn’t make it so easy. but you didn’t make it easy for me, either.”

“i still don’t believe you.”

he raises a brow. “why?”

you shrug. “it just doesn’t seem possible that someone like you could fall in love with someone like me.”

his eyes soften. “wow. maybe you are not very smart.”

before you have a chance to protest, he kisses you. just like that, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, or maybe like it’s an action he’s been waiting to do for years, and now he’s finally got the chance. that’s what it’s like for you, this coil unravelling in your gut after years and years and years of ignoring it’s existence.

you run your hands through his hair, tugging on those pesky strands at the back that always stick up because he refuses to wear anything other than collared shirts. he growls into your mouth, pulling you closer, closer, closer, until your legs are tangled with his, and his fingers are tracing a line down the centre of your throat. he stops at the hollow, just to feel the bob of your throat as nerves spiral through you. he grins against your mouth, pulling away to see the shock in your eyes.

he’s so proud of himself. he’s made you a mess.

you smile awkwardly, trying to regain some amount of composure. he watches you, heavy lidded, one hand still clutching your knee as the other curls around your throat, just where your neck and shoulders meet. the way he stares at you, it’s like he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.

“so,” you begin. “you’re worry wasn’t actually just for your family name, was it?”

draco sighs, plonking his forehead against your own. “no, y/n, it wasn’t. my worry was losing you. which i very nearly did tonight.”

“don’t be so dramatic. i wouldn’t have died.”

“you could have.”

“but i wouldn’t have, because that guy was drunk, and a muggle, and-”

“are you two arguing again?”

you and draco jump apart as narcissa storms into the lounge, wand clutched to her chest. her narrowed eyes are firm on draco.

“i told you to keep them comfortable!” she exclaims. “can you not put your differences aside for ten minutes?”

you grin, teasingly running a finger along draco’s spine. “yeah draco. listen to mummy.”

he growls, but turns to narcissa and says, “sorry, mother. you know how y/n gets.”

“yes, i know,” narcissa mumbles. “but they’re injured. now, let me take this phone call, and then we’ll set up the guest bedroom. can i leave you alone for ten more minutes?”

“yes,” you and draco both reply immediately. narcissa hums, and walks out.

draco immediately spins, grabs your wrist and pulls you to him, slamming his lips to yours. you laugh against his mouth, melting into the embrace for only a second before pulling away and saying, “she’s trusting us to behave for ten more minutes, draco. this isn’t behaving.”

“oh, fuck that,” he scoffs. “come here.”

you let him pull you closer, closer than you have ever been with him before, because you’ve always been so convinced he never wanted you more than a few feet away from him. suddenly, everything draco has ever said to you is reconstructed in your mind, every action, every little look.

you wonder if he’s doing the same.

#harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fanfiction #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #hp fic #hp #draco x reader

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myelocin · 3 years

Text

Postcards From: Kanazawa | Tsukishima Kei

Synopsis: The fear that comes with love is the realization that it isn't always just light. Love, rediscovered as both the fear and the drive that depicts the push and pull of whether it's worth it to say "I do," if the unknown is what's to come beyond the vow. In which it's a week until the wedding, and the both of you return to Kanazawa--to day one--as strangers.

Characters: Tsukishima Kei

Genre/Tags: Engagement!AU, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending | WC: 10,200+

A/N: this is a piece commed by @tsukishumai ;w; tq for trusting me w u and ur bb boi ily to the moon n back

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commissions | ko-fi

The illusion of the soul is the false belief that love must always—always—be just light.

The truth is, it’s not. Love is many things. Primarily, love begins from desire. Then, that desire seeps into a drive that pushes you to keep wanting. Then finally, when it’s seeped in through the skin deep enough, love pools in the soul.

Love is bound to be raw at the very core. A desire. To say, “I want you,” and think it holds as much credibility as “I love you.” To look at what you know is only the tendrils of something at the very most, and trick yourself into thinking that it’s enough. A beating heart—bloody red. The line just barely hanging in-between what’s selfish and selfless, before it ultimately sways and becomes selfish sometimes.

Sometimes, being right now, Tsukishima thinks.

Sandwiched in-between you to the left, and Yamaguchi to his right, he finds his eyes flickering towards the clock a lot more often than he would have liked. Akaashi, who sat across from his seat on the table, was the first to catch on.

He quirked a brow, presumably in question earlier, and mouthed the question if he was in a rush. Tsukishima’s never been known for having too many words, but because Akaashi pauses and insists to relieve his question with an answer, he shrugs, waving him off and mouthing back that he’s alright.

“So,” Bokuto starts, his voice already slipping into somewhat of a slur. “How’s it feel to be the first to pop the question?”

You laugh, finding amusement in the man’s enthusiasm. Turning to Tsukishima, you sit and wait, expectant of a reaction.

In response, he just shrugs, but a smile breaks through and redefines the nonchalance of his expression anyway. Raising the glass to his lips, he takes a quick sip before answering smugly, “It’s nice to finally settle down. You should try it sometimes.”

Bokuto waves him off, cheeks flushed and eyes already drooping from the inebriation. “Nah,” he slurs, shaking his head. The exaggeration warrants a quick laugh from Sugawara, who sits on the other side, nursing his own drink. Continuing, Bokuto huffs and takes a slight pause before he connects the last of what he says with, “—getting married is nice and all, but I don’t know, man,” he laughs. “Just feels like I’ll end up hitting a fucking blank space after I do or whatever. Not my vibe.”

Visibly, Tsukishima shifts a little, the smile on his face maintained but the lighthearted energy that earlier fueled it just slightly more drained now.

From the corner of your eye, you notice it. Though, Akaashi’s the one who gives him a pointed stare, to which the former simply ignores.

“But—“ Bokuto continues, as if trying to remedy the cracked part of the atmosphere that isn’t even visible in the first place—“If that’s your thing, then I’m obviously not going to judge you for that.”

Tsukishima responds by his silence. Bokuto, with his head still warped around the heavy state of his inebriation, doesn’t do so much other than sip a little more of his barely filled glass of beer, Tsukishima’s apathetic expression just a blur in his eyes now.

“You seem happy, though,” Bokuto notes, then raises his glass towards you.

Blinking at being the sudden subject of his interest, you raise your own glass of water. The ice inside shifts, clinking against the sides of the glass, and slowly, Tsukishima watches. There’s familiarity in the way it moves down: trickling slow like the patience inside him that’s suddenly running by the clock. His palms just barely gripping the utensils, clammy. While his head, still whirs at Bokuto’s halfhearted words.

It’s halfhearted, he reminds himself.

The thought of hitting a plateau after “I do,” in a way is terrifying.

But he is happy, right?

The way his palms respond solely through tensing suddenly spikes the fear that maybe his ring will slip. So he looks at you, trying to find an anchor to keep the love he pushes to stay intertwined with his truth afloat as he responds, “Of course I am. I’m happy.”

You look back at him, eye to eye, though you find something waver just for a split second— wondering if there’s credibility in the saying that gold will always deliver truth.

The rest of the night flows easy.

Almost naturally, he’s quick to wave off Bokuto’s invite for more drinks at the bar just down the street, tugging your interlaced hands towards the parking lot as soon as the group found its way to the exit.

“You know he probably just wanted more company,” you laugh. Thirty minutes after making it back home, instead of jumping straight into the shower and getting ready for the night routine, you instead take out the suitcase and take your place, seated on the floor in the living room.

“We needed to pack,” you hear him respond, his voice a little distant from the bedroom down the hall.

You shrug. “Yeah, but we could have made time.”

“Sometimes we can’t just make things, if we don’t have any to make it with in the first place,” he sighs.

You chuckle. Perhaps it’s just one of those nights again. In the ten years you’ve known Tsukishima Kei, you found that he had a tendency to become a multitude of things.

A stranger, at the start, because that’s where every connection begins. The neighbor who lived with his grandfather across the street from your childhood home. Kanazawa was a long way from Sendai, but before his parents had whisked him off to Miyagi some years later, he had been the friend that oftentimes spent his afternoons with you.

Strawberry cake and tiny sips of boxed juice from the convenient store down the street, and not much conversation exchanged between the both of you. He’d tell you about the things on his grandfather’s old encyclopedia, and you’d listen with rapt attention, finding it nice how he seemed to carry a little bit of the stars the more his eyes gleamed. He just talked about dinosaurs, you remember. At ten, Tsukishima had always been a wonderer.

Then he moved.

From the friend who told you stories and shared his juice boxes with you under that tree, to the occasional email that would pop up on your phone, when you were in highschool and weaving your way in and out of pathways and dead-ends. Miyagi was a little like Kanazawa, he said. There was a lot of quiet in the two cities. His email would come once a week, then twice when you reckon he felt a little lonely.

You’d reply with the same kind of enthusiasm as he had established, though you still couldn’t deny the fact that the notification with his name on it never failed to have you smiling—at least just a little bit. At fifteen, Tsukishima was far from a stranger, but he was also falling just a little short in making it to the halfway mark of being a friend too.

The once-a-week emails were welcome, none the less. It stayed like that, until once a week turned into twice. Though most were just the customary how-are-yous and obligatory holiday greetings once the seasons came and went, one year it turned into emails about the little nothings.

‘I had strawberry cake today,’ it once read. ‘The one we used to share tasted sweeter.’

‘I joined the volleyball team.’

‘Winter here is a little colder. I remember your puffy green jacket.’

‘I don’t know if you want to know…or if I should tell you...but our team won, and we’re going to nationals.’

Somehow, you were managed to be convinced by one of your friends that same week to travel with your own highschool’s volleyball team to assist in the preparation for nationals in Tokyo. It was just a coincidence, you used to reason. You were there, and so was he. There was a hundred other courts his team could have played at, and your priority was assisting your own team in what they needed.

But still, you couldn’t help but wave back and cheer the loudest from your stands when he perfected the block and scored the winning point for the first set.

It was then, where you realized that perhaps Tsukishima Kei wouldn’t just be a stranger.

Kanazawa to Miyagi, but somehow Tokyo became the in-between. Childhood friends to the sort-of friends from the other ends of the country sharing a few scattered memories in slices of strawberry shortcake and random dinosaur trivia from an old man’s outdated encyclopedia.

He was the first to approach you after that match. A hand held out to shake, perhaps to commemorate the evident shift between strangers to friends—but it was nice.

Because after that, friends turned into something more.

Maybe Tokyo really was the middle ground. After you graduated and moved out of your respective cities, Tokyo became the third place of hello.

Then things just slipped into place. He was here, and so were you. He had plans to stay, and you just signed the contract that bound you to the city for the next two and a half years. The apartment right down the hall from yours was recently vacated, and he was looking for a place to stay.

His new work place, coincidentally enough, was just a stop away from the train station closest to your place.

You had always doubted the presence of serendipity and everything that had to dictate with the celestial control of fate, but the ease that came with the relief of him signing the lease the very next week almost seemed to validate what had been just a farfetched something.

From strangers, to friends, to lovers, then to this:

Ten years later, a ring on your finger, and an I do, bound to be said just a little over seven days from now.

Tokyo was kind to the both of you. His mother’s close enough to visit on the weekends, while Kanazawa was just a shinkansen away from Tokyo station. A new apartment with enough space for two, plus maybe an extra, and a bakery right down the street with the best strawberry shortcake made fresh every day.

The wedding’s just a week away. His grandfather, still living in Kanazawa was meant to travel with Akiteru to Tokyo last week, but because plans changed, the both of you were instead tasked with going there yourselves to travel with him. While Tsukishima hesitated, you didn’t. Yes was easy to say in a situation like this. Though your parents had moved to Tokyo some years ago, you were aware that his grandfather didn’t.

The house across the street was still his, while the one you grew up in just now became a summer home your family would frequent to when Tokyo became too swarmed with tourists.

You look at the half-filled contents of the suit case on the floor in front of you. The right side’s meant to hold your clothes, while the left was left bare for Tsukishima’s. You turn and look at him.

“You can just grab the stuff you need me to bring for you and I’ll fold it in. We should probably catch the first train tomorrow if we wanna get there before sundown.”

What comes as a reply is only prolonged silence.

You let what he started stay for a little, but because you had never been the type to be fond in gouging out answers from the blank spaces, you sigh, and break the impending silence before it could get a chance to even settle. “You’re quiet again, Kei.”

When he makes it to the living room, instead of coming back out with a stack of clothes, he stands by the wall with his hands in his pocket. His eyes shift from wall to wall, but skip over you.

Knowing that you’ll just prompt another conversation again the more he keeps his silence, he sighs, swallowing the hesitation and clinging onto the bits of courage that floats by him in the moment. Grasping at the very tips of it, he forces the words out of his mouth. “Are you really coming with me?”

You raise a brow. “Back to Kanazawa? Of course. I’m from there too, you know. Plus I haven’t seen Grandpa in a while.”

He shifts his gaze to the side, thankful for the blur that came with forgetting to slip on his glasses. He’s always had a tendency to give in the moment he looks at you, so the vagueness in the blur was a welcome change. “It’s just for a week,” he mutters. “I think I’ll handle the trip just fine.”

“Plus,” he adds, the hike in the tone of his voice giving away his panic. “—I heard there was a problem with the florists? Maybe one of us needs to go in and fix it ourselves just in case.”

In the ten years you’ve known him, you’ve always considered it a given that you’ve well perceived him by now. In front of you, he’s stammering. While Tsukishima has never been the face to poise and perfection—because at the end of the day he still is just a boy—you knew he only stammered when he was nervous.

Perhaps trying to manipulate the situation through a wordless exchange was his way of doing so. In your head, you chuckle. Tsukishima Kei is many things, and is witty when it counts—but he could never be blunt when it came to the things he was unsure of.

You try to gouge out his truth. Speaking straight to the point, you let him know that there’s no purpose in trying to skirt around. You turn to him, his sweater half folded on your lap. “You know I could have believed what you just said, but,” you pause, giving him a pointed look, “—you’re not even looking at me.”

“Is this about what Bokuto said earlier?”

The way he shifts his weight from one foot to the other awkwardly, confirms your suspicions that that it is about that, before he can muster up the courage to even say it. “Tell me,” you initiate. You’ve never been afraid to speak what needs to be said. “What’s got you so afraid?”

Once more, he hopes for the silence to speak for him. And like before—it doesn’t. Silence was never meant to fill in the blanks. What it did, rather, is add three seconds more on the clock that’s ticking regardless. Tsukishima bets on a timed clock to speak for him, and because you’ve never been the type to shrink at the presence of raw truth, you huff and poke into what obviously hits for him just a little deeper.

“You’re afraid we’ll hit a blank space after we get married, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t look away, but little by little, his body language starts slipping bits and pieces of the truth you’ve already long sensed. “I think I just need to think this through.”

“What?” you scoff. “You planned to go to Kanazawa by yourself for a week to what? Soul search? To decide if you even wanna marry me?”

“I’m sor—“

“That’s what you’re not supposed to say,” you interrupt him. “You don’t say you’re sorry for how you’re feeling, because you’re allowed to feel it how it is, but shit, Kei,” you exhale, pausing to suck in a quick breath. “You couldn’t have just said this earlier?”

He looks away again, the guilt evident on his features. “You’re mad.”

“Do you blame me?”

This time, he turns to you. “No,” he murmurs. “I don’t, but I’m gonna be blunt here—“

“—first time—“

He gives you a pointed look, but in the moment, you don’t really have much in you to care too much.

“I think I need space to clear my head.”

“Sounds like you’re contemplating on whether you wanna stay with me or not,” you respond. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that.”

Tsukishima’s steady, this time. “Of course I wanna stay with you.”

“But,” you counter. “You aren’t sure if you want to marry me.”

He looks away. “What if—we hit a plateau after.”

“That’s still not an excuse to back out before we even try, Kei,” comes your reasoning.

“You’re right,” he sighs. “It’s not.”

Then it’s you, who shrugs this time, giving in a little and throwing him what you hope he doesn’t see as a lifeline. There’s no comfort found in knowing that an out is a means of mercy when it comes to love. Why should there even be an out?

You settle for just cracking the door open instead. Though it was never locked, the fact that it remained close must have been understood differently by him.

“Let’s go back to Kanazawa separately, then,” you propose. The open suitcase in front of you still has the right half filled with his half folded clothes, so you reach in, taking it out one by one. “You stay with your grandfather and I’ll stay at my parent’s house.”

Tsukishima raises a concern. “He’ll wonder why we aren’t staying together.”

In response, you shrug. “Just make something up then.”

“Is this just a passive aggressive way to say you’re mad at me?”

You scoff. “When have I ever been passive aggressive, Kei? I’ve said shit as it is since day one.”

He flinches, maybe because of what you said or the tone of the deliverance, but either way, you decide you can’t give much of a shit. It’s a given that you’re angry, but because being hurt just paves the path to silence more than lashing out, it’s not much of a surprise that you probably look deflated in front of him.

“What I’m saying is,” you explain. “Let’s go back to Kanazawa as strangers. Do what you gotta do, however you’ve gotta do it to get your head sorted out, and then we’ll talk. I’m not dancing around in circles with you on this. Either we get married next week, or we don’t.”

He panics. “I don’t want to lose you—“

“You’re already talking like you’ve decided that you won’t be at the other end of that aisle, Kei.”

Words feel lacking all of a sudden, so you pause. The absence of the split second brevity has Tsukishima standing still, his breath held, throat dry.

But like always, clarity seems to weave its way through the cracks in the room and find you first. “Yes or no isn’t easy to decide between,” you finally mutter. Eyes to the half folded sweaters you meant to tuck into the other half of the suitcase, you realize that you’ll need to switch to a smaller trolley now because you won’t be needing this much space anyway. “I don’t know what I should tell you, because I don’t know that we’d be having a possible fallout a week before the wedding. But at the same time—I don’t want to say you’re despicable for feeling like that, Kei. It just—“

“—fucking sucks,” you sigh.

“If you feel like you need a week to figure whatever this shit is, then okay,” you nod. “Okay. Let’s be strangers for a week and by the time we’re back in Tokyo, you give me a yes or no and be fucking blunt with it.”

Later that night when you turn your back against him and face the wall, his whisper breaks through the quiet. “Why are you still patient with me about this? You could have just left me.”

You shift, laying on your back and sighing to the makeshift glow in the dark stars stuck to the ceiling of your room. “Because I love you,” you sigh. “Loving someone just means you have to exhaust every other option before even thinking of throwing in the towel.”

He sleeps that night, feeling heavy.

He woke up later that morning, feeling the same too.

In a sense, things admittedly started weird. You woke up before he did this time, when he usually would be the one trying to be quiet when he slipped out of bed. Even though early mornings had never been a thing for the both of you, there was still something unpleasant in waking up to an empty bed.

The sheets on your side were done, and your phone that usually would be pinging with email notifications by now wasn’t there.

It’s odd, he thinks. While he agreed to be strangers for a week, the walk to the train station was the same. Silence was normal, but the five extra inches that added to the distance between the both of you wasn’t. You nodded his way when he pointed at the shinkansen’s direction, and wordlessly would hand him his usual brew when you stopped at the coffee shop just before going in.

Seated beside you in the train, he tries to ignore the urge to poke you on the side and make conversation. Words have always come easy when it came to moments with you, he noticed.

Tsukishima’s aware that he’s always been dubbed as the kind of person who never preferred to say too much, and while that was true—to an extent—he realizes that there is some truth to the saying that silence kills.

You’re seated beside him on the train, eyes to your phone, and earbuds in place. He resorts to just staring at you through his peripherals, caught in between wanting to satiate the want to talk to you by breaking the silence, or keeping it as is.

This is where fear grips him a little tighter. The deal was, as you had pointed out just last night, that the both of you would move through the week pretending to be strangers again. You’d stay on your side of the street, while he stayed in his.

It’s a given that his grandfather’s bound to ask about you, and so in the event that it does happen, you would just spend a few hours with them and pretend like everything was fine.

You made it clear that you’d try to exhaust all the options before resorting to that, though. And it’s easy, he thinks, doing so. It doesn’t take much to fake a phone call from work or a last minute meeting with an old friend that wouldn’t be able to make it to the city for the supposed wedding.

The lines were drawn, and the outline of what was to be expected in the next week was made clear.

He thinks of what you said before you slept. Love, as that one drive that has you exhausting all your options before even thinking of quitting. It’s fair, he thinks. You’ve always been the rational thinker in the relationship.

But then again, he doesn’t doubt your hurt either. A week was lengthy, he realizes, and to act as strangers again just a week before the wedding was a different kind of test when it came to your patience.

Still, he owes you truth.

You’ve always told him to lay things bare, and even though what’s bare is ugly, because love always pushes to try—he stays, doing just that.

Undoubtedly, this is a jump. There’s no question in the fact that the possibility of reaching the peak and coming face to face with a plateau scares him. But still, his thoughts counter, to face a drop that doesn’t guarantee a landing somehow terrifies him even more.

The sound of your phone vibrating snaps him out of his thoughts. Before you answer it, he snags a look of the name written on the screen—Akiteru’s.

Tsukishima sighs, shooting you a cautious stare as you pick up the phone and turn to him.

The tone of your voice is easy, though you look at him, unbothered. “Hey,” you answer. “Just got in the train, so Kei should be calling you in about three hours when we’re there.”

In comes a pause, before you chuckle a little. Unconsciously, Tsukishima scooches in, curious. But before he could get a chance to lean in too close, you pull away a little, looking at him curiously, an eyebrow raised. “I meant to tell you,” he hears you say, and as you look at him, he chooses to hold your stare.

“Kei and I will be staying separately for the week.”

Beside you, he shifts, fighting the urge to turn away and face forward.

Assuming that your flinch afterwards was only a response to what he’s only certain is Akiteru’s sudden outburst, the prior nervousness of his stare shifts into concern. Understanding the are-you-okay that he mouths, you wave him off. “We’re fine,” you laugh. “I just miss staying at the house that’s all, and I’m pretty sure Kei wants to spend quality time with his grandfather.”

You stay silent after that, which truth be told, doesn’t exactly help with his nerves.

“He’s right next to me,” you add. “We’re fine, I swear. Just wanna enjoy Kanazawa in different ways that’s all.”

To put it bluntly, the first day is awkward.

His grandfather’s waiting from outside the gate the second you make it to that familiar street. Nothing much has changed, the two of you notice. The gate’s rusted a little by the edges, and the door’s still got the same chip on the left side he always said he’d take a look at.

“Heard they were cutting down that tree,” his grandfather says, when it’s a little over three hours later and you’re all seated at a local restaurant for dinner. His old friend owned the place, he explained. Low lights, home cooked meals, and a family run business you vaguely remember your father talking about when you were young.

Tsukishima pauses, eyebrows rising in question. “What do you mean that tree?”

“The one you used to run off to,” he laughs.

Elbowing him, you nod towards his grandfather before pointing out, “We met by that tree, you know.”

His grandfather’s quick to responding, laughing at Tsukishima’s perplexed expression. “Seems like your grandfather’s memory is doing better these days than you, boy.”

You suppose that at the end of the day, it shouldn’t have been a big deal that he forgot. You’ve never been one to dwell too deep within the symbolic little nothings that’s bound to come with life. Rationally speaking, maybe you’re just a little miffed because of what he said the night before. And maybe that’s the reason why you’re taking this a little harsher than you would have on a normal day.

But strangers, you remember. Strangers wouldn’t care if the other forgot.

So with that, you shrug. You take another spoonful of the food in front of you and shift your body just slightly to the left—to which Tsukishima took noticed—and leaned forward. Without even saying much, his grandfather already has his attention on you, the smile on his face kind.

He’s always been kind, you remember. With a smile, you choose to keep the peace in the room at bay, willing yourself to ignore Tsukishima’s stare boring holes into the side of your head from beside you.

“Now that I think about it, I don’t remember a lot of people stop by that tree,” you comment, as you take a step into nostalgia.

His grandfather shrugs, absentmindedly nodding his head as he mulls over your word through a spoonful of broth. “It was in the middle of a residential area. Bound to get taken down if you ask me. People nowadays need a place to park.”

This time, you really feel his stare beside you almost intensify. Truth is, you can make sense of what you know he only fears. The point in life was to brave through the unfamiliar to establish a consistency in familiar grounds. To continuously rise from day one, only to hit the peak and possibly come face to face with a plateau instead of something greater than even the height of all highs—you admit that it’s terrifying.

The plateau, that perhaps works sort of like that tree.

It’s been there, so here it still is.

You’ve both been at that tree—at the start—so here you both still are. Side by side back in Kanazawa, sharing a meal like I do, isn’t hanging on the line.

His grandfather’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. “You’re not wearing your ring.”

Tsukishima’s voice is quick to cut into the conversation, his voice smooth. “She just doesn’t wanna lose it.”

You nod along to his lie, undecided with how to feel in regards to how smooth he seemed to have delivered his lie.

“You know, now that I think about it, it’s good that they’re cutting down that tree.”

Tsukishima speaks his mind this time. “Last week, you said you were looking forward to coming back home so you could visit that tree again.”

You don’t look at him when you answer. “I know, but your grandfather has a point. When things change, what else can you do but get rid of it?”

“Oh nothing’s changed,” he laughs across you. “Even before the two of you were born, people would always talk about how it’s just there when the space could have been used for parking.”

“Then why put off cutting it down this long?”

“Who knows,” he laughs. There’s an unfound wisdom in his eyes that read through your soul when he looks at you. “Maybe cutting down what people already see as a permanent fixture will do more harm than good in the long run.”

“Even if it doesn’t contribute anything?”

Tsukishima thinks of his fear, then of the plateau.

Through the rim of the glass, he keeps a steady eye on his grandfather, breath held as the anticipation for his words begin to really settle.

“People these days just see what’s the most obvious from the surface and consider it as the only fault then run with it. Maybe it’s not the tree,” he laughs. “Maybe it’s just the people. They want convenience so they cut off everything around them instead of adjusting to it.”

The food tastes bland in his mouth, suddenly.

“Goes to show how selfish people can get sometimes,” his grandfather finishes, as an afterthought. “A shame, really. That old tree’s done nothing but give people shade.”

At the end of the day, you really had to give his grandfather a lot more credit than what was due.

The second and third day was awkward. Even though you tried to stay inside for most of your day, venturing outside and meeting up with old friends was inevitable. And really, you should have remembered that he often started his day with a couple laps walked around the block.

On day two, he hinted that he could sense something was off. Tsukishima had been a lot more silent lately, he pointed out. First, as just a passing comment, then by the third time he’d bring it up and wouldn’t get too much of a response out of you, there came more emphasis to what he says.

He passed by the tree every time you’d round the street too. It occurs to you that passing through it was a shortcut, and contradicted his prior statements to having a route that catered towards the long way home, but you chose to not comment much about it.

The second day was curiosity, and you figured that you could live at least just a week with it.

The third day, on the other hand, gave you a little more trouble than you had bargained for.

You’re on your way home from an old friend’s house, and ironically enough, both Tsukishima and his grandfather are out by their front door, tending to the weeds of a garden that doesn’t even look remotely grown.

Tsukishima’s the first to look at you.

Stubborn, and frankly intent on upholding your end of the deal in staying strangers, you attempt to wave them off with a passing greeting as you look through your bag, feeling around for the keys to the gate.

“You don’t have to think of an excuse,” you hear him say. “He’s back inside now. It’s just you and me here.”

It’s funny how ever since you’ve made it back to Kanazawa, he’s been the one to break the silence a lot more lately.

You don’t turn. Strangers, you think. The deal was to pretend the other was a stranger.

“Cam,” he calls out again, the desperation in his voice inching more and more out of its shell. “I’m really sorry.”

You turn around, the buried anger getting the best of you in the moment. “You know the more you say that, the more convinced I am that I should just give you back your ring right now and go back to Tokyo alone. You talk like the only thing you’re sure of is the fact that you won’t be marrying me next week, Kei.”

The moment you shift your gaze from the ground to his eyes, a part of you aches at the idea that you may have to bid farewell to gold. Swallowing down the mass of emotions you hope isn’t entirely just made of anger, you steady yourself and sigh.

It hits you that it’s been a long day.

“It’s just you and me here,” you repeat, slowly. There’s a flutter in your heart that tells you it’s still love that stares back when you look at him. “Then why do you feel so far away, Kei?”

He doesn’t sleep that night.

Day three of being strangers, but he hasn’t had anything figured out. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but what only grew was the silence. The distance is really just a few feet away—across the street and through the leaves of that tree that your father would always say he’d get to.

The light from your room is still turned on, though the curtains are drawn.

8PM and it’s early. 8PM, and on a usual day, you’d usually be seated beside him in your Tokyo apartment’s living room, mulling over the nothings that went on in your day.

It’s nice to talk about the rest of the world as if all they’re meant to be is just a passing blur in the background, he thinks. He’s never been much for words, but you were.

Then again, you had always been one for truth.

Reality is, he knows he could always swallow his doubts, walk across the street, cover the distance, and apologize to you with an I’m sorry, that covers all that needs to be addressed in a standard apology. Life can be lived as easy as that. You swallow your own thoughts, adhere to what they say needs to be done in the way they tell you how to do so, and be done with it.

But he knows you just as well as he knows himself.

You’d call him a coward—and truth be told, he’ll think the same.

Present wise—he does think he is a coward.

Tsukishima sighs, knowing that blinking at your closed curtain visible from his window won’t do much of a difference. Begrudgingly, he sits up, grabbing his glasses from the bedside table.

The streets around the neighborhood are quiet this time of night. The perks about living away from the city was the silence, he thinks. As soon as he tugs on a sweater, he makes his way downstairs, carefully, so he doesn’t stir his grandfather he presumes is sleeping on the room across the hall.

He exhales, relieved at the barely audible creak the door clicks to as soon as he shuts it and turns the lock from the outside. The keys, jingling in his pockets, is the only sound that rings in the quiet.

It isn’t lonely, but it isn’t comfortable either.

Kanazawa has always been a town he’s considered as a piece of constant that’s meant to drift inbetween.

Neither like Tokyo or the towns by the outskirts of Okinawa, it stays as is. Twenty years ago, the crack on the sidewalk was there, and now, twenty years later, it remains.

There’s comfort in recognizing constants, Tsukishima admits. The tree just down this road, the crack on the asphalt, and the fact that your room is still the second window to the left visible from his on the second floor.

When he was younger, he remembers he often would stand under your window, caught in between wanting to knock on your door and ask permission from your parents if you could accompany him for the afternoon, or just wait around until you’d come down yourself.

While he left a lot of things on chance, the conscious choice to stay rooted in the spot by your window remained constant.

The gravel under his feet crackle everytime he’d take a step. The moon’s hazy behind the clouds tonight, he muses. While you’d wish for the stars, he found a temporary safety in the midnight clouds. A timelessness felt when it’s midnight, stays.

Before he turns to the corner that would lead home, he stops midway—recognizing the tree from a good few meters away.

There’s a sense of feeling an urgency to let something go, the more he stares at it. Nearing autumn, the colors start to change, and just like that, he’s reminded of the impermanence in life.

As the earth eventually changes throughout the years, he fears that perhaps in love—it would too.

“You’re out late,” is the first thing Tsukishima hears as soon as he enters the room.

From the genkan, he peers over the shelf, noticing the lights from the kitchen is what floods into the dim living room. Slipping on his house slippers and making his way around the corner, Tsukishima gets a feel of the warmth that’s radiating from the familiarity of the space.

After his grandmother had passed, his grandfather stayed in Kanazawa. Though his mother often expressed her desire for him to move with the rest of the family in Tokyo, every time, he’d only wave them off and say that there’s too much rooted here for him to just up and leave.

Walking into the kitchen, his grandfather’s the first to raise a mug his way and offer a smile. “I’d ask you if everything’s fine, but I think I’ll just wait around and see if you’re even willing to tell me.”

Tsukishima chuckles airily. “Sounds like you wanna ask anyway.”

He takes a slow sip. “Okay then,” he nods, smiling like he’s just struck a deal. “First question is—are you okay?”

In response, Tsukishima smiles, pulling the chair and taking the seat across his. He nods. “’Course I am.”

His grandfather’s eyes don’t leave him. “You’re not wearing the ring, and neither is Cam.”

Suddenly feeling like he’s caught in between a blocked exit and the spotlight, Tsukishima freezes, but wills himself not to look away. “Just needed some space, that’s all.”

“To think?”

He sighs. “To reconsider.”

“Ahh,” the older man sighs. “Cold feet. Pretty normal, if you ask me.”

He raises a brow in question. “It’s normal?”

“To be nervous, yeah,” his grandfather laughs. “But looks like it’s a different case for you.”

Tsukishima doesn’t respond, his eyes fixated towards a spot on the wall that feeds more into the blank space of his thoughts than anything more.

“You’re afraid,” Tsukishima hears, and as soon as the retaliation he tries to string together at the very last minute don’t come—he realizes the core of all the chaos in his head is meant to be just like that—

Blank.

“What are you so afraid of, boy?”

In the silence, he lets the rawness of his truth slowly spill. “What if I hit a plateau after this?”

His grandfather wastes no second in countering. “How is it life if we just keep climbing? What’s the point in doing all that work if we never get rest?”

Tsukishima laughs. “You know, by that logic it can just go the other way around too.”

He settles in his seat, trying to appreciate the silence instead of looking for company in the noise, before he adds, “What if we decide we don’t love each other anymore?”

“That’s not all there is to a plateau,” he laughs. “It’s a valid fear, but being afraid isn’t all there is after you marry someone.”

“Then what’s there?”

With a smile, his grandfather leans back, raises the mug to his lips, and relaxes—his eyes looking fondly at a faded photograph hung beside the wall clock. “Everyday,” he answers. “What’s there after I do is just everyday.”

Sensing that his grandfather means to say more, he chooses to retain his silence. Sighing softly, his grandfather keeps his smile steady as he continues to speak. “Everyday you wake up. You roll over in bed, you think about the checklist you do to consider a day done, then you come home, eat a meal, rest a little and start the whole day over the next day. Everyday’s like that.”

He shifts, leaning forward with his arms crossed supporting his weight on the table as he eyes his grandson with a smile. “Best part is, you can do all that with someone you love. Makes the boring part of the plateau a lot more bearable.”

“You wake up with them and complain about how boring the rest of your day will be, then come home and eat a meal with them. Wash the dishes, share the silence, and just go to bed knowing you’ll wake up with somebody.”

The smile on his face is honest, then he shrugs. “It’s nice, though. The plateau after you hit a certain point in life is just inevitable, Kei. You can either complain about life alone or complain about it with somebody. At least there will be two pairs of slippers by the genkan waiting for you everytime you come home. You’ll say you’ve made it home and someone will greet you. You’ll roll over in bed at 2am and someone will be there with you. The point of climbing in life is to get somewhere, not ascend past the norm.”

Tsukishima stays quiet, pondering over the truth in his grandfather’s words. “So life’s just meant to stay in the middle?” he asks, slowly coming into terms with his grandfather’s redefinition of the plateau. “Life’s meant to find a consistency in everyday,” he corrects.

A few moments pass before he stands back up, pointing to the counter with a thermos. He knows it’s yours. The old one that your mother refused to throw away, because there’s a crack by the lid and a couple faded sailor moon stickers stuck by the side.

“Look at that,” Tsukishima hears. He turns his head just in time to see the old man offer him a patient smile, the message in his eyes delivered without a hitch. “That old thing’s seen a couple of decades, but it still gets to you when you need it, right?”

It’s not so bad to have an old thing be your constant, right?

Twenty minutes after his grandfather climbs back to his room upstairs, Tsukishima’s seated on the side of the table beside the window. Peeking through the half-opened blinds, he can still see that the light from your room is still flicked on.

Without mulling over the decision, he takes his phone out, scrolling through the contacts until he taps your name. A swipe without too much pressure, because even his thumb’s memorized where your name is by now. Kind of like muscle memory, he supposes.

Bypassing the unannounced rules about what to do as the strangers you had claimed from the start of this week, it results to the lack of hesitation as he types a quick text and presses send without a thought that would counter it.

I love you, it reads.

From his spot in the kitchen, he leans back and smiles, pouring himself a cup of the tea he knows you brewed yourself on the nights where he can’t sleep.

The lights from your room stay on for a few more moments before it dims, but before the metaphoric silence could take root, the screen of his phone lights up.

Stop walking around at night. Drink the tea and try to get some sleep.

Exhaling almost in relief, it’s the slow beating of his heart that resettles him back into the love he’s known everyday.

It’s not quite the end, but it isn’t exactly somewhere unpleasant either.

Two days before you’re meant to return to the city, instead of spending the day in your room—like you had initially planned—you somehow found yourself in the passenger seat of his grandfather’s old car, with a grocery list in hand.

You sigh, understanding what his grandfather’s trying to do.

As you look down, there’s nothing much written in the grocery list. He had complained about some back pain earlier, followed up by his insistent request of desperately needing his groceries done so when Akiteru was to arrive later on, dinner would be taken care of.

Beside you, with his hands on the wheel, Tsukishima sighs. “We could have just ordered in food for dinner. It’s just Akiteru coming,” he mumbles.

Keeping your eyes to the window to your left, you shrug. “He likes making the ordinary special, I guess.”

Tsukishima stays silent after that, mentally thankful for the green light and the empty roads. The more stops, the longer silence would stay. And even after the sort of middle ground from the night before, he doesn’t know what to say to you.

After making a quick turn, he pulls up into the parking lot and kills the engine. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he turns to you, with an expectant look. “You can just stay here if you don’t wanna go in with me,” he offers. “It’s a short list, I can be in and out in a bit.”

You wave him off, already slinging on your bag and opening the car door—the list on your hand. “It’s alright. I think I’m more familiar with this area than you are, so we can just meet back in the car in thirty minutes if that’s okay with you.”

“You don’t need me to come with you?” he raises a brow.

You shake your head no, but upkeep the smile on your face anyway as you exit the car and close the door.

Something about what you say sticks with him, the more he thinks about it.

He can distinguish the hesitation laced each of your decisions. You look past him, but not exactly at him. You speak to him, but keep the conversations short. Though conversation was rare between the both of you this past week, the times that you did speak to him, your words often were clipped short.

It’s your means of upkeeping your end of the deal, he realizes.

You’ve always been one for communication, but then again, patience can only stretch so much.

He respects your wish for distance and walks the opposite way from the grocery store, towards a building he doesn’t really known. It’s a gallery, he realizes. Three steps past the entrance, he notices that he’s one of the few that’s in the room.

Traditional artwork line the wall, hung in frames that have rusted throughout time.

Tsukishima stares, eyes drawn to the pieces of art he recognizes from the few scattered memories in his childhood that relate to his time in the city.

A fieldtrip, when he was seven. He remembers leaving the house upset over the yellow hat he had to wear, and the rain boots his teacher wouldn’t let him change out of. Unlike the present, rain was present that day. He stood beside you in line, and had to tilt his head up at the piece of art he always thought was the prettiest out of the bunch.

And now, almost two decades later, he still thinks the same.

He smiles at the memory, finding the comfort of returning to what’s familiar, pleasant.

As if caught by an epiphany, and suddenly enveloped in a sense of a rediscovered home, here, within a room that’s familiar, he finds purpose in the permanence of love.

Love, that’s never meant to be stretched into the likeness of what the poets declare as the absolute form of love after “I do.”

Staring at the piece of art with the rusting frames, the strokes within the canvas still depict the same story. It still is beautiful.

It’s doesn’t become more—but it stays as is.

And maybe that’s what his grandfather was trying to convey.

To fear a certain phase in love is something that comes and goes, but it often never stays. It can linger, but eventually, it too, fades.

What stays is what’s rooted.

Primarily, just you. Truly, just love.

That tree in that old street, these paintings on the walls, and the kind of serenity that washes over him at the thought of you.

The fear in life comes in the form of thinking that beyond the peak lays a plateau. Beyond “I do,” what’s next to come is love, dwindling until “I don’t love you anymore,” is the only thing left to be said.

It’s fear, that spoke to him the past few weeks, so this time, as he gives in, he listens to love.

It’s quiet.

But through the smoke in the room, the message that’s meant to deliver truth comes in full clarity. Illuminated, it appears before him as it is. A painting that’s struck him as beautiful then and now, and the thought of you as the face that’s always been the first to greet him every morning for more than just a few years now.

An old man stands not too far from him, hands clasped behind his back as he stares—with a smile on his face—at a similar painting on the wall. Sensing Tsukishima’s presence, he looks over and redirects the smile his way. “Been coming here for years, and looking at this still feels the same.”

Poking at the doubts, Tsukishima responds, “Are you afraid that it won’t get old?”

The gentleman laughs, though soft enough so it doesn’t echo too much in the halls. The joy lingers around Tsukishima, on the other hand. “To have something grow old with you isn’t a bad thing. Day one, this piece was beautiful, and now, almost forty years later, I look at it and think the same too.”

A beat of silence passes, but the man speaks once more.

“My wife, when she was alive, showed me this piece. Maybe I look at this and still find it beautiful after all these years because I think of her, but I don’t think trying to focus on that matters much. The feeling’s the same, even if it grew old.”

Reciprocating the older man’s goodbye with a nod to the head, it’s then where he laughs, a little bit more of the truth unraveling as each moment comes and goes. Thinking of his words, he dwells on its meaning.

Standing there, alone in the museum hall, the smoke clears, and he presents himself his words of blended truth and patience.

Love is timeless, his thoughts say. The plateau after the peak is as possible as the drop, but life’s meant to be lived in the lows and in betweens as much as the highs. Time moves in waves, and perhaps love doesn’t always grow stagnant. It can be timeless, even though the frames rust. His hair will grey, and maybe you’ll stop linking your pinky with him beneath the sheets during the rainy season’s thunderstorms, but the root of love stays.

Within the plateau, time will move, and you’ll both grow old, but the taste of the tea you’ll brew for him will remain the same.

And thirty minutes later, when he makes it back to the parking lot with you waiting by the door, the love that steadies his beating heart will be the same too.

Steady, present, and timeless.

Eyeing the dashboard, you’re the first to break the silence. “Why’d you buy a postcard?”

Rolling into a stoplight, he eases on the brakes and shrugs. “Lived here for so long, and I don’t even own a postcard from here.”

“Me neither,” you blink.

A couple minutes pass, and the car’s rolling again, but he misses a turn. Assuming that he’s just not used to the usual route, you stay quiet—until about he pulls up to a familiar street.

Parked to the side, through the windshield, you find yourself face to face with a familiar tree. “Kei.” He hums.

The coming autumn has a few leaves beginning to change its colors, you notice. The summer hues, unbalanced, as bits of red begins to bleed through the green. “You were supposed to turn there, not here.”

He shifts the gear into park, then takes his hands off the wheel, leaning back. “I know.”

It’s quiet after that, but it isn’t all that unpleasant either.

This is the part where the questions begin to poke at you, the what-ifs in love let out in the open as you voice a little bit of your vulnerability. And because the truth is daunting, you hope he understands you through the metaphors. “Do you really think they’ll cut it down?”

He doesn’t allow the silence to take more than a moment. “I think so,” he nods his head.

“It’ll be good though, I think,” you add, nodding your head.

It’s quiet in the room even though the words of your truth coaxes the unhealed wound to resurface. As it comes into light, it doesn’t sting.

Sitting shoulder to shoulder beside him in the car, the tree that witnessed the first hello stays rooted, and watches.

He doesn’t turn to you as he speaks, but in a way, you feel as if a farewell was the finale that was meant to be delivered somehow. “It’s good,” he starts. “Letting go of something that needs to be let go of.”

Tokyo

Tsukishima’s the first to speak.

“I’m not good with words,” he starts.

There’s a hush in the crowd, so you stay with it, knowing you’ll only add to the silence should you choose to respond. It wasn’t your turn anyway, so you will yourself to be still and listen.

“Hey Cam,” Tsukishima continues, choosing to begin his vow with a hello. “I think a lot about what love’s supposed to have meant, mean, or eventually mean in the long run. I thought too much about it to the point where it…” he trails off, blinking at the piece of paper before flicking his eyes up to you with a slight shrug. “—to the point where love began to scare me.”

For a brief moment, he closes his eyes, confident in the fact that when he opens them, he knows he’ll see the world in clarity this time. With the smoke cleared and the scattered pieces of all his doubts set in order, the words of his truth may not speak of the most tender poem of love—but within the lines lies his truth.

As he lays his truth on you, he holds a breath and lets it all go. “I wanna wash the dishes with you for the rest of my life,” he laughs, exhaling softly, his shoulders shaking a little. “Never occurred to me how much of a liar the downside of your thoughts are when you listen to everything that isn’t love,” he continues.

Your shoulders relax, and even through the blur of the veil, you can tell his eyes are steadily watering.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the microphone just barely picking up what he says. You nod your head anyway, wishing you were holding his hands instead of the bouquet. Reassurance comes in many forms, but you know he’s always been the type to receive it well through physical touch.

A kiss on the cheek, your head on his shoulder, or your hands squeezing his. But the smile you give him suffices for now, you think.

“I wanna wash the dishes with you for the rest of my life. I’ll wash, and you dry. Nothing much happens in our day usually, but nothing has to. I’ll listen to you talk about how shit the traffic is in the city, because I know you’ll listen to me talk about the same complaints I have from Monday to Friday anyway.”

You realize he’s written his vows in the back of a postcard—the one you saw on his dashboard a few days ago, from Kanazawa.

He sniffles a little then looks up, laughing to himself at how emotional he’s getting. Allowing more than just truth to trickle out slow is a part of love too, he realizes, so with a soft laugh, he lets the tears be and speaks again. “What needed to be let go of was let go of,” he exhales, like he’s been holding his breath for this long.

In a sense, maybe he has. Sometimes fear grips you tightly enough that it shifts your point of view from one thing to another. What’s love, becomes fear. Then what’s fear, becomes the smoke that buries the core of truth too deep within the haze.

“I let go of the thought the thought that after marriage, if nothing great would come then that would be the end of love,” he breathes. “I stared at that tree and thought of Grandpa’s words again and again then wrote my apology and I love you on the back of a postcard that only had one a couple of blank lines at most.”

He waves it for you, then to the crowd, to see. The words, jumbled up together look almost incomprehensible written so closely together, but in a way, you have a feeling that he’s just speaking the rest of his truth as it comes in the moment.

The truth in love, you realize, is that its truth comes, fully unraveled the moment the initial plan falls apart.

He puts down the postcard, and just looks at you.

“There’s a lot I don’t think I will ever understand when it comes to love, but maybe I’m here to just feel it and not try to decipher it.” He pauses, ignores the few tears that roll down, and shrugs his shoulders, admitting to himself that the truth in his love is the first thought that comes.

“Love doesn’t have to the greatest,” he tells you. “I just wanna wash dishes with you for the rest of my life and hear about how traffic was unbearable.”

You smile, and your assurance reaches him.

“I think that counts as love too,” he finishes, the smile on his face tender.

As he leans in after I do, he murmurs a question in your ear that you’ve been expecting since the start.

You could have just left, he said. How did you deal with me and still choose to stay?

Your answer was said without a hint of hesitation. With a shrug, and an honest smile, you told him, “Because I love you.”

“I think we both had to let go of the thought that to love always means to have the biggest reasoning behind it. We do things for love, and because of love. That’s just how it is,” you shrugged.

Oddly enough, it’s in that same exact moment where he remembers Bokuto’s question from that dinner a week and some days ago.

How does it feel? he recalls, and even though words have never found him first nor met him in the middle easy, he gathers what he can and just settles on the conclusion that it just feels like love.

Wherein love, is this.

An identical band on his and your finger, and the taste of I do pleasant on the tongue. I love you, as a truth that’s easy to fathom and healing to hold, and the fear of what comes next just a passing thought that goes as soon as it comes.

Later that evening his grandfather sits him down and asks him what he really thinks about why people have been putting off cutting down that tree for a few decades now.

With a laugh, the hesitation that often turns decisions is made clear to him. “You know I think that people would decide things and think they’re so solid on it before even being face to face with it. The second they get to that tree with a chainsaw, I promise you they changed their minds. You think you go there and cut off or let go of one thing, then realize you’re cutting off something else in the end. They go back to what’s been there and realize that it’s not the problem at all.”

Tsukishima sighs, and his grandfather watches, the smile on his face easy. It’s like watching some emerge from a smoked out room, he thinks. Clarity’s always been a blessing, and he’s glad his grandson’s finally found it.

“Sometimes going back to the start is the one thing you need to be reminded that it’s worth it to keep going.”

“Sounds like you’re not talking about the tree,” his grandfather comments. Looking at you, Tsukishima smiles. “You could say that too.”

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baecvlt · 3 years

Note

Oh my gosh! I love Kazuichi!!

Can I request a Kazuichi x female reader where she's a quiet nerd who spends a lot of time studying so she doesn't really have many friends but one day she's extremely stressed out for an exam and she asks Kaz straight up "Fuck me like an animal" just to relieve the tension.

(so kinda rough, feral, lots of dirty talk from Kaz if that's possible please ❤️)

Kazuichi x Quiet Reader

a/n: i love this idea sm i will be projecting onto this

“Hey, thanks for helping me study, it means a lot, really”

“Of course. What are friends for?”

There was a pause as you picked up your pen and began writing in your notepad. “Hey, me and the boys are gonna go out Friday night and they’re all bringing their girlfriends”

You finished jotting down a note in your notepad, clicking your pen. “Yeah? Sounds like fun”. Then, another pause. “So I was kinda wondering if you wanted to come with me, y’know so I don’t look like a complete and fucking loner”. You sighed softly, running your hand through your hair. “I’ll think about it,” you answered, only for Kazuichi Soda (your college friend) to call your bluff. “But that’s what you always say, I’d prefer you say ‘no’ straight up!”. He was right, but that wasn’t gonna change your mind.

“You know I don’t do well around people, you’re one of the only few people I feel comfortable around. I’m sorry”

He shook his head. “No, don’t be. I’ll figure it out, thanks anyway”.

He walked away, not looking back. Part of you felt bad, but you didn’t want to put yourself in this situation where you had to endure being around people you had no business being around. It’s not that you don’t like them, but you never seemed to click. You packed your things an hour later, deciding that regardless of the fact you didn’t do enough, it was getting late and you were sleepy. Upon leaving the library, you noticed Kazuichi was still outside, now by his truck (that used to belong to his uncle because that’s totally worth noting). He waved at you, you waved back and approached him.

“What are you still doing here? Thought you had to be home?”

“I don’t live there no more. I’m rooming with Hajime!”

“That’s great, but why are you still here?”

“I came to take you home!”

You raised a brow, he hardly does that. Why now? Especially, why after you denied accompanying him? “You look so sleepy,” he said softly,“It’d make things easier on ya”. You smiled, rolling your eyes. “Alright,” you said. He became giddy, taking tiny, but quick steps to you door. He opened it for you, then got to the driver’s seat. Now, you were off.

He played soft classic rock on the radio, volume low. He was right, you were sleepy. You leaned your head against the window, looking out of it: the sun was setting and the closer you got home, the darker it became. Finally, the sun was down, stars in the night sky. Then, you didn’t remember much else. Blackout.

“Hey, princess—”

You felt cold against your cheek, wincing a little. The cold turned warm, as your eyes fluttered open. The blur cleared and there was Kazuichi. “You must’ve really been sleepy, huh?,” he teased,“Well, we’re here now”. You looked around, seeing the familiar parking lot of your apartment complex. “How long was I out?,” you asked, still familiarizing yourself with your surroundings. “Maybe ten minutes,” he said,“I think I’m gonna take you home from now on. Pretty long walk, don’t cha think?”.

“I don’t get paid well, I don’t want to burden you on gas money—”

“It’s no burden. It’d be so cool to take my favorite chick home”

You blushed, smiling softly. “Let me walk you up, yeah?,” he asked, getting off the car. He wasn’t about to take ‘no’ for an answer. It was dark, anything could happen going up. I mean, it’s not like Kazuichi has that much fight in him (worst case scenario), but hey, it’s the thought that counts. He took you up the 3 flights of stairs as you told him about your studious day of reading books, taking notes, citing sources—boring shit. All he could do was grin and say,“Damnit, you’re so smart”. You shook your head, snickering.

“Shut up”

“No, seriously. You could be a doctor or lawyer if you wanted to. Something smart, ya know?”

“I guess”

You stopped, letting him know this was your door. “Nice”. You grabbed your key, opening the door slowly. “Alright, well, thanks,” you smiled,“It means a lot that you’re offering to take me, y’know. It gets dark and stuff and I’m always so tired so that just means a lot—”. As you ranted, he wasn’t smiling anymore. His eyes, they just remained fixated on your lips, but you couldn’t have known. You were in your own little world.

“—and don’t worry! I’ll find a way to repay you. I can’t let you do this completely free, even if we are friends, because that’s what we are right? Hey, are you even liste-”

Suddenly, he raised his hands to both sides of your jaw, pulling you in and kissing you. He pulled away, still close to your lips as he whispered,“I’ve always wanted this”. His hands remained on your face, now caressing your cheeks. “I know I’m not that kind of guy that can be smooth and pick up girls, but you’re so sweet to me. I’d do anything for you,” he whispered still,“And you work so hard, you’re so amazing...I just want to make you feel so good”. Just as you were about to speak, his thumb pressed gently against your lips.

“Don’t say anything, Just...if you ever need me, Imma be here”

“Yeah and do what?”

“Leave you shaking a little”

He walked away, leaving you almost on your knees. Almost. “Goodnight, princess,” he said. You said ‘goodnight’, now running back into your house. You nearly squealed and your face burned as you held a pillow. Why did he do that? Why to you? Was he okay?

That didn’t matter. You weren’t upset about it either.

The next day, you walked outside pf your complex, seeing him outside. “Hey, you!,” he said running up to you,“I’m so sorry about yesterday. I don’t know what got into me and—”. You shrugged his apology off. “Don’t even worry about it,” you said,“it’s all good”. He smiled, opening the door for you.

Kazuichi and you decided he would be taking you to school and home, so that was a great thing that happened today. Last night’s incident wasn’t discussed, although you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Later that day, you found yourself still studying and studying for that test. When Kazuichi, came to you to study, you seemed a little aggravated. “Hey, I’m here for our hour together,” he said. “Okay, just sit down and let me know if you need anything,” you told him. He noticed your tone, it was irritated and tired. As he opened his book and took some noted down, he look at you. You had very noticeable tics (hard blinking) and your hands kept rubbing your temples. It wasn’t until he heard you sigh that he asked,“Hey, are you doing okay?”.

“Yeah, I’m just...—”

You were terribly stressed, you knew that. You looked him up and down,“I need to get something in the archives”. You left him there, but all he could do was follow you. Once there, you saw him head inside,“I don’t like seeing you like this. I think I should take you—”. You closed the door as he spoke, dropping to your knees in front of him. “H-Hey, what are you?-”.

“I’m so stressed, Kaz”

His bulge grew in his jeans, just to see you like that made him hard. You took your right hand, softly palming his growing erection. “Oh— fuck, I~,” he sputtered. “Fuck me like an animal, Kaz,” you whined softly,“Make me feel good”. You pushed him back onto the nearby table where he sat, but propped himself up. He unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock out. He stroked himself a little with one hand as he told told you to “come here” with the other. You got got closer to him, but he didn’t give you time. He sprung out of his seat and got on his knees. He pulled down your skirt and panties, making you squeak. Grabbing your hips, he pushed you back and made you land on the table. As soon as your bare skin touched the cool table, he used his mouth on your dripping cunt. “Ngh!~ Kaz, no! S-Stop,” you whined.

“Mmm, but you taste so sweet”

His hands reached up to rub your trembling thighs as you gripped his hair. “Such a pretty pussy,” he whispered,”so wet too”. His tongue moved from your clit, bow thrusting inside you. His tongue was long, sometimes when you’d hang out, you wondered how it’d feel to have him eat you out, always cursing yourself for it, but bow he was here, tongue fucking your pussy and thrusting it in and out of you. “Kaz...”.

You were wet and close to cumming as he pulled out his tongue, simply placing kisses along your pussy. “So pretty,” he muttered, thumbing your clit. He got up, positioning himself between your legs. He rubbed his cock between your folds. You groaned, feeling his cock play with your warmth. “How do you want this?,” he asked. “This is okay, just please I need you inside me”. He snickered, ramming his cock right into you. You gasped as he kept his pace fast, stroked rhythmic. His tight and painful grip on your hips stopped hurting, your skin easing into his touch. He wasn’t just holding them, though. He was pulling you by them, making sure his cock ruined your insides. “I’m gonna rip you in half,” he spat, tearing your button-up open. You had subconsciously planned this, that’s for sure. You just realized you wore this bra that hooked from the front. “Tits...”, he mumbled, unclipping the front. Your bra burst open, your breasts having some recoil from his thrusts. “God, your face, your fucking face,” he groaned,“When I look at you, I just want to stuff my cock, deeper and deeper in you”. Each time he said ‘deeper’, he thrust hard with his hand on your throat. It was easy to see how little experience he had, he wanted to try everything all at once. You weren’t complaining because everything he was doing just fucking worked. Your eyes rolled back as you covered your mouth to muffle your moans. He took your hand off, but now you were noticing how flushed his face was. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he grunted, cumming inside you,“I can’t stop, I’m still so fucking hard”.

“Don’t stop, Kaz”

He leaned forward, kissing you softly. You whined against his mouth as you felt his cold hands pinching and rubbing your nipples just right, keeping you in this deep state of arousal. He tried keeping his composure as his only goal now was to make you cum. Watching you cum is something he’s always wanted. Now you’re here, in the backrooms of the school library with him, your cunt sloppy on his cock. “Oh, g-god, you’re so pretty,” he choked out,“Y-Your face remains...angelic as I ruin your— Ah!”. He trailed a butterfly kiss from your lips to your jaw to your neck as he life your leg up, wrecking your uterus at this point. “Ah!~ T-Too deep, too deep!,” you cried. “I know,” he whispered. You felt your orgasm rattle through your body, but before you could cum, you wrapped his legs around you. “H-Hey!-”. You had gotten the best of him.

“Fuck, I-I’m cumming!”

You came along his cock nicely, your spreading warmth making him ejaculate once more inside you. He pulled out slow, watching his cum drip from your hole. Once he got a view of that, he collapsed onto your chest. He pecked your jaw a little, nuzzling you after. “I came too quick, didnt I?,” he asked, insecure about his sexual performance. “No, you went long enough,” your reassured him,“Christ, my legs feel so funny”. He was now concerned.

“Did I hurt you?”

“You were a little too rough”

“I-I’m sorry. I guess I got a little carried away. You’re just so fucking hot”

You kissed him, hoping it’d shut him up. “Don’t say that..just, com on. Help me get dressed”.

He helped you but your panties and skirt back on, handing you his jacket to deal with the ripped shirt issue. He was being cute and slipped your flats back onto your feet. Quickly, you grabbed your school bags from outside and left the library. He took you home, his hand on your thigh the entire way back. You didn’t hate it, though. In fact, when he took it off and apologized for it, you put it back. He smiled, eyes back on the road.

He took you upstairs, this time you decided to invite him in. Now, you were both in bed. He lay on your stomach, caressing your thigh. He suddenly gasped, with a hand on your stomach. “I felt a kick!,” he joked. You rolled your eyes, hitting him with a nearby plush. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you the pill tomorrow,” he assured. “I should shower,” you noted,“You wanna join?”. He became flustered, giving you a look as to ask if you were serious. “Uh, yeah,” he muttered.

“Not right now, though. I’m still a little tired”

“About that, did it help at all with the stress?”

“Sure did”

He smiled, becoming shy,“I didn’t think we’d ever...y’know..”. You kissed him all over his face, making him smile. “Hey, I kinda decided,” you began,“I decided I’ll go with you. As your girlfriend”. He looked at you wide eyed. “Really?!”.

“Yeah”

“I love you— no, wait, I’m sorry-”

“You are so cute”

He blushed, muttering,“Let’s just go take that shower”.

#danganronpa #danganronpa goodbye despair #fanfic #send asks #send requests #smut #kazuichi x reader smut #kazuichi smut #kazuichi imagine #kazuichi headcanons #kazuichi x reader #kazuichi souda x reader #kazuichi soda x reader #kazuichi #kazuichi danganronpa #kazuichi soda

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dem-obscure-imagines · 3 years

Text

Nightcrawler and the Princess

Kurt Wagner x Reader

Fandom: Marvel/X-Men

Summary: Being the princess of a small kingdom has its perks. However, you’re not sure this is a secret you can share with the rest of your friends…

Note: Did I make this a subtle crossover with the Princess Diaries? Yes. Yes I did. Don’t worry about it.

Reader is: Female

Warnings: Swears

Word Count: 1.8k

You carried the large box to the lunch table and set it there, in the middle of your friend group. Jean eyed it curiously.

“What’s that?”

“Care package from my mom.” You replied, using the pair of scissors you kept in your school bag to cut open the packing tape. “She said there’s stuff for the rest of you in here too. Probably candy or something.”

“That’s nice of her.” Scott smiled, watching as you opened the cardboard box.

“Ah, yep.” You reached into the bag and pulled out several packages of Genovian chocolates. “Here you go, guys.” You told them.

Kurt’s eyes narrowed at the bags, his tail hovering behind him curiously. He recognized that packaging. “These…I know these chocolates. Does your mother live in Genovia?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m from there, actually.”

Peter thought for a second, already munching on chocolate. “Wait, I thought you were American.”

“Nope.” You laughed, reaching further into the box and pulling out a handful of little Genovian flags she’d sent. “Ah, right. Independence day is coming up.”

“Where even is Genovia anyway?” Warren asked, admiring the little flag once you handed it to him.

“It’s a tiny little country between France and Italy.” You explained. “It’s really beautiful there, though.”

“It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever been.” Kurt reminisced, sighing fondly.

“When did you visit?” You asked him.

“Several years ago.” He said. “The circus had a few shows there when I was young. The people were so kind, and the coast sparkled like diamonds.”

“You were with the Munich circus, right?” You asked him, trying to remember. He nodded proudly, a smile settling onto his face. “I was at one of your shows! I knew you looked familiar! Oh my god…” You laughed and shook your head. “I should have put those pieces together sooner.”

“You were there?”

“Yeah! My mom took me for my birthday.” You smiled, remembering the show fondly.

And Kurt knew then the information that you were withholding from the rest of the group. His eyes widened slightly and he studied your features. He remembered you. He remembered that day and he remembered the feeling of his heart hammering when after the show, the Queen of Genovia herself introduced him to her daughter, who was about his age. She’d taken her there because it was the princess’ birthday. Though your meeting was brief, he’d remembered it all this time, thinking of it every once in a while…the time he’d met a princess.

You didn’t look all that different now than you had then. Why you hadn’t told the rest of your friend group, he wasn’t sure, but he would keep the secret for you. Of course he would. He smiled softly, admiring you with his new revelation in mind. Even before he’d figured it out, you’d already been a princess to him anyway.

Peter studied the look on Kurt’s face and squinted. Something was going on. Something was going on and he would get to the bottom of it…

***

Over the weekend, your friend group had decided to go to the mall, but before you left, Kurt knocked on the door to your room.

“It’s open, come on in.” You told him.

He pushed open the door and stepped into the room timidly. You were at your desk, reading what appeared to be a letter written on a piece of paper.

“What’s up?” You asked, not looking up from the letter when you asked it.

“You’re coming to the mall, right?”

“Yeah, what time is it?” You glanced down at your watch. “Oh shit. Sorry I’m late.” You chuckled, folding the note and tucking it into your dress drawer. “My mom wrote me a letter with her package.” You explained.

“How nice!” Kurt smiled and you couldn’t stop your heart from fluttering at the way it lit up his face. “Do you write each other letters back and forth?”

“When I have time to, yeah.” You nodded, shoving your hands into your pockets. “Well, shall we?”

Kurt nodded and offered you his arm. You took it and in a poof of smoke, suddenly, you were standing in the living room, where the others were all standing.

Peter had a weird look on his face and you weren’t sure why, but you knew he was up to no good. He always seemed to be…

The squad piled into the car, as usual, and arrived at the mall in under thirty minutes. Jubilee picked the tunes, which was always a good choice, so the ride there was pleasant and relatively uneventful.

You all walked inside and started the routine of shopping around in all of your usual stores. The prom was coming up, so you all spent some time in the dress place on the upper level of the store.

“What color dress do you think you’re going to get, (Y/N)?”

“Mmm, I’m not sure.” You thought for a moment. “Maybe something pink. Or…blue?”

“I think blue would look great on you.” Jubilee grinned, flipping through the rack of blue dresses.

“I agree.” Jean smiled, her eyes flicking over towards Kurt, who was on the other side of the store with the boys.

“Hey now.” You warned, your cheeks warming at the thought. “What did I say about reading my mind?”

“I didn’t need to read your mind. You’re more obvious than you think you are.” She chuckled.

“What she said,” Ororo agreed, causing your cheeks to flush even hotter. “Why don’t we ask the boys which one you should wear?”

“That’s a great idea.” Jubilee agreed, despite your shaking head. “Hey boys!”

“Yes? What’s going on?” Kurt bamfed over beside you, looking at Jubilee curiously.

“Which dress should (Y/N) wear to prom?” Ororo held up one pink dress and one blue dress.

“The blue one.” Scott said knowingly, crossing his arms and smirking. Okay. So he and Jean had talked, then. “Definitely the blue one.”

“I agree.” Warren nodded.

“What do you think, Kurt?” Scott nudged the teleporter.

“I think you’d look beautiful in anything. But I do like the blue one. It brings out your eyes.”

“T-thanks.” You blushed, giggling. None of you committed to dresses, so after looking around for a while the squad decided to hit the food court while looking over movie times.

“So…” Peter looked up at you and cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the rest of the group. “When were you planning to spill the beans…your highness?”

You swore your blood ran cold. You looked up at him, your heart racing in your chest and the color drained from your face. “Excuse you?”

“You heard me.” Peter raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair confidently. “When were you going to tell the rest of us your little royal secret?”

You froze, staring at him for a long time. “Maximoff,” you said through gritted teeth, your eyes glowing faintly. “Choose your next few words very carefully.”

“Oh I have. (Y/N)’s the princess of Genovia.”

“Pfft. As if.” Scott scoffed, chuckling, but he stopped when he looked at the look on your face. “Oh shit, is he serious?”

“Who the fuck told you?!” You asked him, your voice raising the teeniest bit. “The only people who know are Professor Xavier and Dr. McCoy, so which one do I have to kill when we get home?”

“Neither. I snooped in Xavier’s office. Found your file.” Peter shrugged. “And of course, that begs the question: Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Listen…” You exhaled a long breath, looking to each of your friends faces for a moment before fixing your eyes on the table. “When people know, they treat me differently. I don’t think they mean to, but they do and it sucks. I like having friends and I love hanging out with you guys and I didn’t want to ruin that because of something as stupid as status.”

“You’ve got us.” Jean promised. “We’re not going anywhere. This doesn’t change anything. And…I already kind of knew. Not that you think about it often, but every once in a while…”

“I figured that might happen, yeah.” You chuckled. “Thanks for keeping it on the DL.”

“Of course.” She nodded.

“I knew too…” Kurt confessed, looking you in the eye.

You crinkled your eyebrows and then nodded, understanding. Of course he knew. You two had met before, after the show. You’d asked your mother if you could meet some of the performers, and she’d pulled some strings to make it happen. You distinctly remembered meeting Kurt. You remembered his smile and his adorable pointy ears.

“That’s right.” You smiled. “We met.”

“We did.” He agreed, nodding, a smile tugging at his lips and a faintly purple color creeping across his cheeks. “Although, I’ll admit, I didn’t realize it was you until…very recently. We aren’t kids anymore.”

“We sure aren’t.” You agreed, a chuckle escaping your lips.

And it was fine after that. It was normal. Much more normal than you’d expected it to be. Another week came and went. You finished your letter to your mom, Queen Clarisse, and when its response came back in the mail, you found it accompanied by a small picture she had saved all these years. As soon as you looked at it, a smile on your face, you knew you had to show Kurt.

So, you ran out to the courtyard, where you knew he was, and found him reading under the shade of a large tree in the front yard.

“Kurt!”

“What’s up?”

“My mom sent a few copies of this photo. Do you want one?” You asked, sitting next to him in the grass and handing him the photo. He looked it over, holding it very carefully in a large, three-fingered hand.

“This is us, ja?”

“Mmhmm.” You hummed, nodding. “A very long time ago.”

“We were so young…” He murmured, admiring the smile on his face as well as yours. He remembered you’d been nervous to meet him and at first, he thought it was because of the way he looked, but quickly learned it was because you’d been enamored by his performance. Absolutely blown away. You’d been so kind to him then, just as you were so kind to him now.

“We really were.”

“Do you mind if I keep this?”

“It’s all yours.” You told him. “So, what’cha reading?”

“Beauty and the Beast.” He told you. Ever since remembering that one of his best friends was a princess, he’d been on a bit of a fairytale kick.

“Mmm, that’s a good one.” You smiled and tilted your head, your eyes sparkling. “Read to me?”

“Of course.” He laid back against the tree again, holding the book open with his tail.

You got closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting your head against his lean chest. His arm wrapped around you and tugged you closer, and without even thinking about it twice, he pressed a soft kiss to your hairline before starting to read again.

Kurt decided then that there was no place in the world he’d rather be than under his favorite tree, a princess resting contently against his chest.

Part 2?

#nightcrawler #nightcrawler x reader #nightcrawler imagine #xmen #xmen imagine #xmen x reader #x-men #x-men imagine #marvel #kurt wagner #kurt wagner x reader #kurt wagner imagine #kurt x reader #kurt imagine

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mustardyellowsunshine · 3 years

Text

When the End Comes

Chapter 1: Cold is the Night

Kagome Higurashi was in deep shit.

“You didn’t really think you could get away, did you?” his voice slithered through the phone. His tone was almost chiding, laced with mock concern as though for a misbehaving child. She could almost see his raised eyebrows, the sneer curling his lips.

Kagome’s entire body went rigid. Despite herself, her pulse quickened, heart pounding a painful stuttering rhythm in her chest. She inhaled a hissing breath through clenched teeth. “Funny,” she spat into the receiver, “I think I already have.”

She was moving even as she spoke, leaping off the motel bed and shoving her arms into the sleeves of her green hoodie. She grabbed the sandy yellow duffel bag she always kept within reach and slung it over her back, the strap a thick diagonal across her chest.

“Tsk, tsk, Kagome,” he crooned, still with that goddamn paternal censure. “You won’t get far. You never do.” He paused, and his voice deepened, as though he relished every word. “I’m only telling you this for your own good. You know that when you’re caught you’ll have to be punished.”

Her heart gave a particularly painful thump as she threw open the door of her motel room, her car keys gripped tight in her fist. The neon-lit night air punched into her lungs. She could feel her breath growing shallow as her chest constricted. Her temples were beginning to throb in tandem with the rapid beat of her pulse.

But she wouldn’t give that bastard the satisfaction of knowing she was scared.

“If you just come back,” he was saying, voice smooth and dark as an oil slick, “it’ll be easier on you in the end. You won’t—”

“Shut up,” she said, ragged and guttural, the words ripped from her very core. “The only way I’m ever going back there is in a body bag.”

She snapped the flip-phone closed and tossed it into the bushes lining the motel’s exterior—it was a burner cell phone, she’d have to get another now—but she didn’t do it quickly enough to miss his whispered promise.

“That can be arranged.”

_________________________________________________________

As she peeled out of the motel parking lot—the engine of her decade-old Honda Fit chugging to keep up with the sudden acceleration—she tried to figure out how he’d gotten the number of her burner cell. She wasn’t stupid, she knew burner cells didn’t guarantee anonymity. But it was a new burner. She’d only had it for a week, and hadn’t used it for much of anything yet. Not for fake credit card applications, not for hotel reservations or car rental paperwork. This number she’d kept to herself. She didn’t even have the phone turned on most of the time. And he’d still found it.

Her breathing was still too rapid and shallow, her heart still beating an abnormal jerky rhythm. She needed to calm down. She needed to plan her next steps. If she didn’t, she risked making a stupid mistake that might get her caught.

As she turned a sharp left onto the Shuto Expressway—going much too fast if the squeal of her tires was any indication—Kagome forced herself to take deep breaths and relax her shoulders. She tried to focus her mind on the measures she’d taken in the last month to avoid his detection.

She’d learned from painful experience that if she wanted to disappear, it wasn’t enough to just cover her trail. She had to keep her hunters busy, too. Keep them preoccupied with looking for her in the wrong places.

Disinformation was a powerful tool. Kagome had learned that if she left enough bogus trails behind her, she could give herself the precious advantage of time. A head start. All it took was the right paperwork trail: an application to rent an apartment, resulting in a credit check from the landlord, creating an inquiry on her credit report. Any tracker running a credit report on her would see the inquiry and follow it back to the apartment’s location. And by the time they’d traced her there, she’d have already developed a whole mess of fake information to keep them tangled in dead-ends for awhile: applications for utilities and phone service at the apartment she would mysteriously never move into; a fake employment address at a large local company that would require investigation to verify; small bank accounts opened in her name all over the area.

It was all about wasting their time, so she could give herself more time to get further away.

And it had been working. For the last month she’d kept two steps ahead of him.

So she just had to do it again, that was all. She had to start another fake trail. Maybe this time it would be another bank account, another credit card application.

It didn’t matter that he’d somehow gotten her burner number. She’d just get another. And another. Maybe a burner SIM card this time, so she could actually use smartphones again.

Exhaling long and slow, Kagome finally felt her heartbeat return to normal. The throbbing in her temples eased, and she could think more clearly.

She just had to keep doing what she’d been doing. Fake trails, constant moving, never staying in one place—or even one region—for too long. She’d been doing fine, and she could keep doing fine if she just played it smart.

She’d never allow Naraku to catch her again.

_________________________________________________________

Kagome Higurashi only allowed herself enough possessions to fit into her yellow duffel bag. Three pairs of jeans, four shirts (two white t-shirts, one knit sweater, and one nice floral blouse for the right occasions), one hoodie, one pair of sneakers, one pair of thick rubber-soled boots, five pairs of underwear and three bras. She kept a thick winter coat in her car, in addition to a pack of water bottles and emergency food supplies in the trunk.

She didn’t carry a purse. She had one leather trifold wallet—with RFID blocking, of course—in which she kept no more than ¥30,000 in cash; three state-issued ID cards, one real, two fake; six credit cards, four under fake names, two under her real name for the sake of bogus trails.

She had a passport. She had basic hygiene supplies—toothpaste, face cleanser, shampoo, tampons. She had two screwdrivers and one wrench. She had exactly one picture of her family, tucked away into an inner pocket of her duffel. She had one novel, dog-eared and spine-creased. She had a 9mm pistol and four boxes of ammunition.

Whenever she stayed in a hotel, she kept her duffel within easy reach. Always ready for a quick exit. She never unpacked it. Never. If she was feeling especially anxious, she would use it as a pillow, or sleep with her legs draped over it.

The duffel was one of the last things she'd grabbed before she was taken. Somehow having it with her felt like having a tiny piece of home.

__________________________________________________________

Over the next few days, she made her way steadily north, towards the Miyagi Prefecture. She’d taken a detour and left some fake trails to the south around Yokohama. Now she wanted to head in an entirely different direction. She didn’t know how long it would take Naraku’s hunters to find the Yokohama trail, but she wanted to be far, far away when they did. Hopefully they would think she’d kept heading south.

She’d found a car junkyard on the outskirts of Tokyo, where she’d snuck in after hours and lifted the license plates off a few junkers. As a precaution, she’d swapped her car’s license plates that night, and she planned to do it again after her next stint on the expressway.

The next day she stopped in a little suburb an hour outside Fukushima. She hoped to get her hands on a burner SIM card—surely this place had a decent electronics store?—but first she had another problem to fix. She was starving.

She walked around until she found a decent-looking ramen shop. It was small and cramped—a stretch of bar long enough to accommodate eight stools, behind it a kitchen partially hidden by curtains—and it smelled heavenly. She sat at the bar and ordered a bowl of chuka soba.

Sōta’s favorite.

But, delicious though the ramen turned out to be, Kagome began to feel more and more uneasy the longer she sat there. She glanced around her. The shop was nearly empty. Two old men sat on the farther side of the bar, noisily slurping their noodles. The man in the kitchen, half obscured by the curtains, had his back turned to her as he stirred something in a huge stock pot on the stove. And anyway, nobody had hardly looked at her the entire time she’d been here.

She turned her head enough to look behind her, through the sliding glass doors of the shop. The street beyond was quiet. A handful of pedestrians passed by on the sidewalk as she watched. An occasional car swept by.

But the unease turned to a persistent hum of anxiety, prickling along her skin. She couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her.

She tried to ignore it—it wasn’t as though paranoia was new to her—but it kept getting worse. Soon the ramen started to taste like cardboard in her mouth; a cold leaden weight settled in the pit of her stomach.

Scrubbing her hands down her face, Kagome sighed. She stubbornly willed away the prickle of tears she felt collecting in the corners of her eyes.

Crying was a distraction she couldn’t afford.

Pulling her wallet out of her back pocket, she dropped the Yen she owed onto the counter of the bar and left the shop.

Kagome retraced her steps to where she’d parked her car. Out on the street, she watched the people milling around her without looking like she was watching them. Her ears were hyper-sensitive to the street sounds: every pedestrian’s footstep sounded like it was right on her tail, every voice felt raised and aggressive, every vehicle on the road seemed to break right when it passed her. Her shoulders were hunched up to her neck. She tried to relax them.

She rounded the corner of the street where she’d parked. Her eyes sought the familiar shape of her little Honda—and suddenly she came to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk

A man was leaning against the passenger door of her car. And he was looking right at her.

He was tall, maybe six feet. Lean athletic build. His muscular arms were crossed over his chest, legs crossed at the ankle as he casually lounged against her car. Shoulder-length silver hair. Yōkai ears—dog? cat?—sat atop his head, angled towards her. Claws tipped the fingers that rested against his arms. And his eyes—still staring directly at her—were gold.

Kagome sucked in a breath. She felt the muscles in her shoulders bunch up again.

Her thoughts started whirring as panic squeezed her lungs. She shouldn’t have stopped. Shouldn’t have acknowledged his stare. She should’ve kept walking as though she hadn’t seen him, as though that wasn’t her car at all. She might have blended in with the crowd if she hadn’t just made herself so obvious. She hardly could’ve given herself away any faster, except maybe if she’d shouted “Hey, look at me!” How could she salvage this now?

He’d already noticed her, and unless he was a complete idiot, he knew she was suspicious—probably knew she was afraid. She couldn’t take that back by trying to blend in.

Her only hope here was speed, and maybe the relative safety of being in public.

Kagome abruptly whipped around and ran.

She’d barely made it ten feet before she felt a large hand clamp down on her shoulder. It spun her around with a strength that nearly sent her toppling over on the sidewalk.

On impulse she opened her mouth to scream—but his other hand smothered her lips, stifling her cry.

Golden eyes narrowed down at her. “You Kagome Higurashi?”

She jerked fiercely against the hand on her shoulder. It didn’t budge.

A small smirk lifted one corner of his mouth. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, his voice a deep rumble.

“You’re coming with me.”

#Inuyasha #Inuyasha fanfiction #Inuyasha AU #InuKag #my writing #When the End Comes

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bitchassbucky · 3 years

Text

ＢａｃｋＴｏＹｏｕ (ＳａｍＷｉｌｓｏｎｘＦ!Ｒｅａｄｅｒ)

📎Word Count: 1.5k

📎Warning/s: some heckin’ words. Bucky’s in this, he’s a bit annoying (affectionately) <3 MINORS DNI.

📎A/N: omg my first Sam fic! i wanna thank my boo @babyboibucky for enabling me hsakjdhak ily! this is for you, bee!

📎Masterlist || Ask || AFTERDARK

📎 Follow the story: Back To You, Dimples, Inked

“Are you even listening to me?” Bucky says, annoyed that Sam has been looking down on his phone, remotely giving attention to their conversation.

Sam grins, fingers dancing over the keyboard on the screen, “Yeah, yeah. Something about motel rooms—or beds.”

“I said that they gave us two beds in one room,” the former spots their door number, quickly walking to it. The tactical bag swinging over his cybernetic arm freely.

The night was warm, the air blew the ocean mist towards the town. The parking lot is empty save for a black sedan that’s already been through a lot. They chose to stay low instead of getting a room at a decent hotel close by–something about them not likening the crowd.

Once inside, both men cleared the room in 30 seconds flat. The window opens out, the door stays closed and locked. The TV has to be on but kept on low volume. The beds are made, it’s clean; beats the flat beds on the plane.

Sam throws his bag over to the bed closest to the window, calling dibs. “Hey, you got headphones?” He asks.

“No,” Bucky answers, settling his things below the foot of the bed, “why?” He catches Sam again smiling giddily over something, “what you got a girl there or something?”

“It’s none of your business,” Sam retorts, quirking his eyebrow upwards, “well? Do you have headphones?”

“If you listened to me, you would’ve heard me say ‘no.’”

Bucky should’ve had brought headphones. Sam has been droning on and on with a ‘friend’ over on a video call.

Not that he’s eavesdropping and nosy but he saw how Sam lit up when a voice came in from his phone.

“Hey, Sammy! I finally get to see your face.” You say, your voice crackling over Sam’s speakers, “am I on speaker right now?”

Sam smiles, focusing on your background and seeing pictures and posters plastered on the wall, “oh, yeah. Sorry, I forgot my earphones somewhere.”

“What? Old man Barnes rubbing off on you?” You laugh, your glasses reflecting your laptop’s screen. Your joke sending Sam into a laughing fit.

“You know he’s in the room, right?” Sam clarifies as he turns the camera to Bucky, much to the former’s dismay. But despite himself, Bucky waves to the camera.

“Heard a lot about you, Barnes! Hope you’re ready for frequent bathroom trips from this one.”

Sam faces you again, a mischievous glint shining in his eyes, “Shut up or I’m gonna drop the call.”

You quickly send him an emoji via text, Sam rolling his eyes as you giggle. “Anyway, since you can’t join in on the fun, you’ll be my audience tonight.”

Sam gives you a confused look, a hint of crease appearing between his brows. “Tonight? What’s tonight?”

A fake gasp and an overdramatic show of hurt had him chuckling, “You already forgot the karaoke night you promised me, didn’t you?”

He grins apologetically and looks at the camera, as if looking into your eyes, “I’m sorry. Been busy these past few weeks.”

You smile softly, the imagery giving Sam a burst of butterflies in his tummy, “it’s okay. I was just being dramatic. I got that from you, you know.”

You are not a good singer. But you confidently belt out the highest of notes like one. Complete with hand gestures, you hold out the last note of the song.

“Thank you,” you bow down to your imaginary crowd off-camera, “I’ll be here all night.”

“On god, please don’t,” Sam interjects with a tender smile and soft eyes.

“Sammy!” Your eyes glazing over your screen, a deep pang of homesickness hitting you, “I missed this. I missed you.”

He nods, his lips pressed tightly as he tries to find the words to respond, “I missed you too, bub.”

A soft note of a love song sounds over your speaker, traveling to his, “you love this song.”

Sam nods, reminiscing the moments he had with you during college. The one time you almost kissed—where are these memories and feelings coming from?! “Yeah, and---”

The doorbell rings on your end. Your eyes glinting as you stand up. Food delivery!

“Hold that thought, Sammy. My food’s here,” you say, your voice faint as you’re practically halfway through the door.

“She is a god-awful singer,” Bucky expresses, “but you love her, don’t you?”

“What?” Sam quickly taps a button on his screen—stupid Bucky and his stupid mouth. He covers his phone’s mouthpiece as if that could help, “shut the hell up.”

Sam’s changed demeanor confirms Bucky’s growing suspicion, “so you do love her!”

The latter glances at the empty screen, hoping you didn’t hear anything. Or maybe, he does?

The only sign of life from your end is the sound of various utensils cluttering and a metal bowl falling to the floor, making both men wince at the sudden noise.

Sam lowers the volume of his phone, facing Bucky from their respective beds.

“Shit,” Sam exclaims, running a hand over his handsome face, “maybe I do.”

This time, he finally lets himself go through the memories you made together before he left for the military.

The coffee dates, the late-night calls, the breakfast hangouts, the study sessions. You light up even the most boring of things. The texture of your skin, the sound of your laugh, the twinkle in your eyes bring Sam into a warm place.

You make him feel enough. You see him through and through.

Oh shit, he is in love with you.

Bucky just looks at him, boring holes in his face, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. “You really just realized, just now?” Sam’s not sure if it’s a rhetorical question.

“The way you talk about her. The way you talk to her. You see her and the things she like everywhere we go and you realize it just now?” So, it is a rhetorical question.

The revelation leaves Sam amused but unable to form words, “I… Do–I do love her. I’m in love with my best friend.”

A silent beat drops in the room—save for the faint hello? coming from Sam’s phone.

Ah, fuck.

Bucky put on his jacket planning to head out (to the motel’s ice machine) to give you two privacy. He bids Sam good luck and you a good night before walking towards the door.

As soon as the door shuts, Sam increases the volume on his phone again.

“Sam?” You call out, “I can’t see you, your cam’s off.”

In panic, he realizes that he tapped the wrong button—maybe Old Man Barnes had rubbed off on him.

You smile and sat up a little bit straighter when his face lights up your screen again.

“So… how much did you hear about the whole thing?” Sam wants to tread carefully around the subject, the first time he feels uncomfortable opening up to you.

He fully expects you to dismiss the topic, turn in for the night, and leave him lamenting about his feelings. And he’s somehow okay with it.

“Kinda, everything.” You confess, there’s nothing holding you back now, “I, you know-- I’m glad you got ‘round it. Even if it took you years.”

Another pin drops inside Sam’s head, “what do you mean?”

“Look, I confessed to you before we graduated but you never acknowledged it. So, I never brought it up again.” Even miles apart, Sam’s presence was around you. The bracelet he gave you during junior year, his favorite mug you borrowed from him, a ton of his shirts and hoodies that he gave to you before moving out after graduation.

“You confessed to me? When?” Sam racks his brain for the smallest of details, for the quietest of whispers.

“I wrote you a letter. Remember? I slipped it under your door after finals week.”

After all these years, Sam never quite found out who wrote him that letter, “you never signed it.”

Sam didn’t expect you to laugh, to double over such a serious conversation, “dude, I did, I signed it. Why would I send you a deep proclamation of love without signing it?”

“It was written on pink paper, right? I still have it. You wanna bet that you don’t have your name on it?”

Your eyes widen in embarrassment, heat creeping up your cheeks, “oh my god, are you serious? I didn’t sign it?”

Sam laughs softly, his eyes crinkling the same way. There are lines decorating his eyes but he was still your Sam.

“No, ma’am.” He declares, the air somehow lighter now, “if you did, I would’ve said something.”

A hum escapes your lips, curling into a gentle smile, “good to know.”

The comfortable silence envelops the room, years of yearning and pining finally coming to end.

“Hey, after this mission - I was thinking if you want to go out. Catch up and you know, finally, talk in person.” Sam asks, there’s still a tiny voice inside his head not believing the talk that had transpired.

“I’d love that, Sam.”

The sentiment crashes and closes in on itself as Bucky barges into the room, holding a bucket of ice in one hand and a pack of beer in the other, “congratulations, idiots.”

#bitchasbucky writes #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x reader fluff #sam wilson x reader angst #sam wilson x reader smut #sam wilson fluff #sam wilson angst #sam wilson smut

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